Chapter 2
A Friendly Push (Straight Into the Fire)
Violet
I’m stirring a pot of pasta and still replaying my argument with Ella, when my phone starts buzzing.
Cami’s name flashes on the screen, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, stranger,” I answer.
“Vi!” Her voice bursts through the speaker, bright as champagne bubbles. “Finally! I was starting to think I’d have to hunt you down in Jersey just to hear your voice.”
“Never,” I laugh. “So what’s new in the glamorous life of Cami the Conqueror?”
“Oh, you know, the usual,” she says, dripping with mock drama. “I rubbed elbows with royalty last week, left a shoe at some gala, and accidentally turned a fundraiser into a dance-off. Momzilla was not amused.”
I shake my head. “So basically, nothing’s changed.”
“Basically,” she giggles. “Now tell me you’ve done something fun. How’s Ella? She finally driving yet, or still refusing to get her license?”
“She’s good,” I say, smiling despite myself. “Got her license last month. And she just got accepted into Langport’s gifted program.”
Cami gasps so loud I have to hold the phone away. “Langport? Are you kidding? That’s huge!”
“Yeah, she’s thrilled.” I hesitate. “It’s an incredible opportunity for her… but it’s expensive, Cam. Even with the scholarship.”
Cami doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll make it work. You always do. You’re Vi. You turn chaos into miracles.” Her faith in me hits like a small ache behind my ribs.
“Thanks, Cam. That means a lot.”
“Now that we’ve confirmed you’re still amazing,” she says, her tone lifting again, “let’s talk about me missing your face. When are we seeing each other?”
“Seeing each other?” I tease.
“Yes, Violet, like actual humans. Face to face. Without a screen or bad Wi-Fi between us.”
I laugh. “It’s been a while. I don’t know if I can keep up with you anymore.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You’re the most grounded person I know. You balance me out. Let me borrow that adult energy for an hour. Just coffee, promise. I’ll behave.”
I snort. “I don’t believe that for a second, but coffee sounds good.”
“Perfect! Tomorrow at ten. There’s a new café downtown. I’ll pick you up at the terminal.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
“Yay! I can’t wait, Vi. It’s been too long.”
“It really has,” I whisper before the line goes quiet.
When I set the phone down, something inside me feels lighter. Cami always has a way of reminding me life used to be bigger than bills and bedtime routines. Tomorrow won’t be just coffee—it’ll be a date with a part of myself I refuse to share with anyone else anymore.
Once Ella is out the door and on the bus, I grab my bag and hit the road to the ferry.
I rarely go to New York these days, but something about the ferry always seems almost magical.
The boat rocks gently as it pulls away from the dock, leaving the grind of New Jersey behind for something brighter, noisier, and wilder, as wind tangles my hair, and salt rises sharp in the air.
New York City has a way of punching you in the face the moment you arrive.
It’s the crush of bodies everywhere. The sounds that never stop, and the energy that hums through the atmosphere — it’s unlike anywhere else.Where else in the world do people run into the traffic without fear and scream at cars as though it were an Olympic sport?
The air fills with horns blaring in the style of a chaotic symphony.
It’s madness, but it’s beautiful. I look at the skyscrapers stretching toward the sky, their windows glittering in the sunlight, while older buildings stand defiantly between them. Their stone faces weathered and alive.
And the food. God, the food. The smells of hot pretzels, roasted nuts, and sizzling halal waft rise through the air as we arrive at the dock.
Stop by Prince Street Pizza on my way home.
Ella loves it, and to be honest, so do I.
There’s nothing like a Spicy Spring—it's the perfect blend of buttery crust, tangy sauce, and fiery pepperoni. I’ve had all kinds of pizza, but Prince Street in New York is something else.
Even when we went to Prince Street in LA during college, it just wasn’t the same.
I’m convinced it’s the water here that makes the dough magic. My stomach growls at the thought.
When I exit the terminal, I see her right away—Cami’s impossible to miss.
She stands next to her signature black town car, sunlight catching in her gold hair, while her long legs cross at the ankle like she’s posing for a magazine cover.
Every head turns when she moves. She’s that kind of beautiful—effortless, expensive, and entirely self-assured.
“VI!” she shouts, waving like she’s greeting royalty.
“Show-off,” I call, grinning as I walk toward her.
She laughs, yanking me into a hug. “God, I missed you. Come on. I’m overdressed for a ferry terminal.”
The café she takes me to is the kind of place where every table has a single flower, and the baristas look like models, accidentally wandering behind the counter.
“Okay,” I say as we sit, “what’s wrong?”
Cami blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You only suggest coffee before noon when something’s wrong. So spill.”
She smirks. “You still know me too well.” Her voice softens. “Dad called this morning. He’s retiring next month. Which means my allowance is officially done. No safety net. No more ‘Cami’s tab.’”
I raise a brow. “That’s… huge. You okay?”
She laughs once, a brittle sound. “I will be. At almost thirty, I realize I shouldn’t need him. In fact, most of the time I don’t, but if the safety net is gone, then it’s truly all on me to survive. I’ve never had to do that before.”
I see the worry in her eyes; the same kind that lives in mine. “What can I do?”
“Funny you should ask,” she says with a smirk.
“Cami, no.” I shake my head, knowing that look all too well. “Whatever it is, the answer is probably no.”
“Hear me out, Vi. Just… hear me out.” Her eyes sparkling with a dangerous mix of charm and ambition she’s always possesses. “Remember Z?”
My stomach drops. “Cami, don’t.”
“I’m serious, Vi. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and it could be huge—for both of us. You know how much people enjoyed it back in college. It wasn’t just a party drug; it was the party drug. And now, with the right people and contacts, we could take it to a whole new level.”
I look around the coffee shop, suddenly keenly aware of how public this conversation is. “Cami, I have Ella. I can’t—”
“That’s exactly why you should think about this,” she interrupts me, her voice low but firm. “Ella. Langport. You said it yourself—it’s everything she deserves, but you just can’t afford it. This could change that. This could be everything for her.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words stick in my throat.
Cami blue eyes sparkle like a challenge, “You think I don’t get it? You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re barely scraping by, Vi.”
My jaw clenches. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” She tilts her head, looking at me a little too closely. “You’re going to tell me Ella’s Langport scholarship includes a flight down? Dorm essentials? Living expenses?”
My stomach twists. I look away. Arguing with Cami feels like trying to stop a moving train by standing politely on the tracks and hoping it respects your boundaries.
Cami smirks. “Five thousand for one night. Do the math.”
The room suddenly feels too small. I stare down at my coffee, hands trembling under the table.
I can’t. I shouldn’t.
Cami eyes me closely. “Just come see what I’ve set up. I’m not asking you to commit. I’m just asking you to look. If it’s not for you, fine. But at least come see what I’m offering.”
My chest tightens. I shouldn’t even allow myself to think this way, but Langport’s tuition hangs over me like a black cloud. “Fine. I’ll look. But that’s it.”
Her face lights up, and I instantly hate myself for agreeing.
Cami rattles on about her most recent event on the drive down to the docks, a charity gala for clean water, education, or some other noble cause, but I can’t focus. By the time we get to what appears to be a dilapidated paint factory, I’m on edge.
The building itself is huge, and its crumbling brick walls and shattered windows contribute to its spooky atmosphere. Ocean smells fill the air, and seagulls circle above my head. The sound of their caws bounces off the deserted warehouses.
“This is it,” Cami says, rushing to the door.
Inside the building, the contrast is insane. The massive open space is crowded with elaborate, over-the-top pieces like marble statues of Gods and Goddesses, giant arches decorated in golden detail, and huge fountains that could be in a European palace.
“What… what is all this?” I ask, running a hand along a cold marble column.
Cami grins. “Party supplies. Rentals, mostly. This is where I put everything before events.”
“Party supplies?” I ask, gazing at a massive crystal chandelier tipped on its side on the floor before us. “These are… extravagant.”
“I want the best for my clients,” she winks and shoos me towards the back of the building.
As we walk deeper into the warehouse, the space starts to change. All the beautiful, opulent things stop, industrial shelves begin to line the walls, and the faint smell of chemicals fills the air.
Then I see it: the lab.
It’s a small but efficient space, with stainless steel countertops, industrial sinks, and rows of neatly labeled glass jars. My eyes scan the space when the boxes stacked in the corner stop me in my tracks. My boxes.
“Are those?” I trail off and head toward them.
Cami strolls next to me. “I kept them. After you left, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I thought… I don’t know. Maybe one day you’d want them back.”
I run my fingers over the label on one of the boxes, and my chest feels heavy.
I know inside these boxes are the remnants of a life I have buried—notes, equipment, and everything from before.
The memories hit me hard. I remember the first time I made Z, and Cami had looked at me with wide eyes as the drug hit her.
“This isn’t X,” she said, “This is way beyond. We should call it Z.”
I try to shake it off. “I can’t, Cami,” I whisper. "I have Ella to think about. I can't risk her losing anyone else."
“Just think about it,” she says softly. “This could be the answer, Vi. For all of us.”