“You know what I’m fucking sick of? You two. You two and your fucking jobs. You’re constantly overworking yourselves and buying into this tech hustle culture bullshit. At my job, we work like normal people.”

“Our jobs?” I ask. “What do you mean? We have to work. That’s the only way we can afford to be here.”

“Oh, fuck off. You don’t need to work ninety hours a week. You only like those jobs because they make you feel like you’re better than me.”

The winds of her storm pick up. I try to smooth things over.

“No, no, it definitely isn’t that,” I say. “We don’t think we’re better than you.”

“Oh, fuck you both,” Nicole continues. “You and your secret projects and your panic attacks.”

“What?” Maria asks. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“We’re just trying to get by,” I say. “It’s hard to live here.”

It’s the wrong sentence; as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it is. Nicole rears back like an arm about to throw a hard punch.

“Hard to live here?” Nicole shoots back. “It’s sooooo hard for you, huh? Soooo hard to be in this beautiful city and make six figures. Nothing is good enough for you two! Nothing! You’re bottomless pits. You’re ungrateful bitches! You’re two black fucking holes!”