Page 8 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

"It's Margot."

"Yep, okay, have a good night."

He disappears into his office, leaving me with fifty pages of revisions at 4:08 on a Thursday afternoon. I pull the report closer, find the document on my laptop, and start working through his notes.

By the time I leave the office, it's six-thirty and I've made it through thirty-one pages. The drive home should take twenty minutes, but traffic has other plans, and I've barely made it onto the freeway when Mom calls.

I answer through the car speakers. "Hi, Mom."

"Oh, sweetheart, thank God. I've been trying to get hold of the pharmacy all afternoon. They said they can't refill my prescription until Dr. Dickson approves it, but I called his office twice and nobody answered. I don't know why they make these things so complicated."

"Did you leave a message?"

"I think so. There was a beep."

I close my eyes for half a second as traffic comes to a complete stop in front of me. "Okay. I'll call the doctor's office tomorrow morning and make sure they send the approval through."

"Would you? You're so much better at this stuff than I am."

"Yeah. I'll handle it."

"I don't know how you manage everything." There's a rustle on her end, followed by what sounds like a cupboard opening. "Have you eaten?"

"Yep."

The granola bar and cold pasta counts. Right?

"Something proper?"

"Mom."

"I'm only asking. You work too much." She pauses. "Have you spoken to Bree today?"

"She texted me this morning. I haven't had a chance to reply yet."

"You should call her. She sounded stressed when I spoke to her yesterday."

Of course she did. I've been avoiding opening the message all day because I have a pretty good idea what's waiting for me.

"I'll check on her when I get home."

By the time Mom lets me go, traffic has only moved half a mile.

I check Bree's message when I get home.

Bree: I know I said last time was the last time but my card got declined and rent's due Friday and I just need $300 I swear I'll pay you back this time

I stand in the entryway with my bag still hanging from my shoulder and read it again, although there's nothing in it I haven't read before.

Then I open my banking app and transfer three hundred dollars.

I don't reply. There isn't much point. Bree will send a string of hearts and promise to pay me back as soon as she gets paid, and I'll tell her not to worry about it, and next month we'll do some version of this again.

My apartment is cold enough that I keep my coat on while I put my bag down. I consider turning up the heat, remember last month's bill, and change into a sweatshirt instead.

Dinner is cereal. I eat it standing at the kitchen counter with my laptop open beside me and the show my oldest friend Tess Moran recommended playing on my phone. I'm four episodes in and couldn't tell you the name of a single character. Every few minutes I realize someone new is on-screen and wonder if I'm supposed to know who they are.

Eventually, I give up pretending to watch and take the laptop to the couch.