These Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

reached out, and I’d like to meet you, too. A visit to New York sounds good. But only if you let me pay for half the cost of the trip!
    She sent a silent apology to her beleaguered bank account, wrote a few more lines, then added her cell phone number atthe bottom. She hit Send before she lost her nerve, then went into the kitchen to eat an apple before her walk. As she leaned against the counter to stretch her calves, she noticed a piece of paper propped against the fruit bowl. It looked like someone had crumpled it up, then smoothed it back out. It was from Naomi, who, at the age of twenty-three, still dotted her i ’s with little hearts.
    Renee read the two-sentence note, grateful that Cate had broken the news in person. A third roommate who was actually around all the time would make the apartment feel so much more crowded. But they’d have to get someone else, or the rent would demolish Renee’s already strained budget. Cate’s big promotion meant the end of her financial worries, so Naomi’s move was just a minor inconvenience for her, not a potential financial catastrophe, like it was for Renee.
    “Damn,” Renee said, her voice sounding too loud in the small space, as she reached into the cabinet for—for what? Something like cookies or graham crackers. Soft carbs that would slip down her throat and soothe her tummy with a comforting fullness.
    Renee forced herself to shut the cabinet and walked out the door, her head hanging low. It seemed as though every time she tried to get a handle on her life, it slipped out of her grasp.
    Cate leaned up against the wall in Trey’s apartment, nursing a bottle of Sam Adams and taking in the scene: Men and women clustered into small groups, then split apart and recoupled, while others wandered through the crowd, holding glasses of wine or bottles of beer high to avoid being bumped. Thelonious Monk’s music soared from the speakers, but it was almost drowned out by the sounds of laughter and the buzz of a dozen conversations. The lighting was low but good, and Trey’s placewasn’t the stereotypical bachelor pad that Cate had expected.
    Trey favored oversize chairs, rugs that looked so soft Cate was tempted to kick off her shoes and sink her toes into them, and bold, textured pieces of art that probably came from the countries he’d visited. He also had a balcony, window seats with red cushions, and an open kitchen–dining room combination with cement countertops that held nothing but a top-of-the-line espresso maker. Chunky candles filled the room with little glows of amber that made Cate think of fireflies. Few writers could afford to live like this in the city, but Trey’s last several articles had been optioned for film, and Ryan Gosling was attached to one of the projects. Trey was currently under contract to write a book about extreme sports addicts—the kinds of guys who ran three-day ultramarathons, or sailed solo around the world in tiny boats.
    At the age of thirty-two, Trey’s professional star was soaring. “The next Sebastian Junger,” trumped the headline in a Sports Illustrated article. When magazines featured articles about journalists, you knew those writers were heading for the big time.
    Cate felt someone watching her, and she turned to meet the eyes of Jane, Gloss ’s art director. Cate raised her beer in a silent greeting. Jane gave a quick smile, then turned to the woman next to her, leaning over so that her lips were close to the other woman’s ear.
    Were they talking about her? Cate wondered as her hand tightened around the cold Sam Adams bottle.
    Images of what had happened earlier that day at work filled her mind: She’d walked by Nigel’s office, and he’d motioned for her to come in. She’d tried to stand a healthy distance away from his desk, but he’d waved her to a chair and pulled his own up next to it.
    Being alone with Nigel in the quiet room had made her heartbeat quicken for all the wrong reasons. He was the pictureof