You’re losing me as a neighbor… not as a friend.”
A single sob burst from her and she contained the rest as her face contorted in another fit of crying. He was a relatively successful broker on Wall Street in his mid-thirties who just so happened to be attending one of her performances when they first met. Oh my god, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. When she turned eighteen, she attended NYU to study theater and became a moderately successful actor. “It’s okay,” I said and reached up to wipe away a few fresh tears already slipping down her blotchy cheeks. “Alright. “Yeah. “Cool. “‘Specially now that you have all that money.”
Phoebe winced at her husband’s rude tone. She filled me in a little about her time in LA, but never the whole story. Unsure of what to say, I simply rubbed her back as we stood in the middle of my wrecked apartment.
