Clara turned off the podcast. “Wanting to belong is normal. There are lots of places, lots of people, that make you work for it.”

“You don’t understand.” Everywhere made Naomi work for it. Every academic institution she wanted to work for wanted her to jump through hoops. Every reporter interviewing her wanted Naomi to fulfill their stereotypes.

Clara reached over and squeezed Naomi’s free hand. “Okay, but I want to.”

“My mom’s a Quaker,” Naomi said, barely believing she was going into this whole thing.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know how much you know about Judaism . . .”

“Not a lot, honestly,” Clara said.

“Well, Reform Judaism considers a child of an interfaith couple to be Jewish if one parent is Jewish. So in my case, because my dad’s Jewish, and because I was raised Jewish, Reform Judaism allows that I’m a Jew.”

“Allows,” Clara repeated.

“Exactly. I received a Jewish education and had a bat mitzvah and everything, and it’s not like every time you show up at shul someone asks, ‘Oh, by the way, is your mom Jewish?’ but it still always made me feel like kind of an outsider.”

Clara nodded in understanding. “And you already feel like an outsider in a lot of other ways.”

“Yeah.” There was the understatement of the year. “I grew up uneasy in my faith, knowing that for many Jews, I don’t even qualify as a member of my own marginalization. Then you add on the fact that society consistently erases and undermines bisexuality . . .”

How many times had she been told to “pick a lane” or “stop making excuses to be slutty”? That one was always extra charming for its added misogyny.

“. . . Then you add in the whole sex worker thing”—people loved that—“and the sum of all my parts, my entire identity, becomes either invalid or unwelcome. It’s . . . it just gets exhausting.”

Constantly having to justify herself, to fight for who she was. Facing endless rejection or reproach. “I’m tired.”

Clara squeezed her hand one more time and then gave it back, as if she knew Naomi wouldn’t tolerate any coddling, any apologies or advice.

“I can continue exploring my connection to Judaism without Ethan. He’s not the sole source of religious knowledge.” If anything, it seemed like his religious interpretation was outside the norm. “You should hear him talk about God and faith, Clara. It’s different. Or at least it feels different to me. The reverence in his voice. It’s not just about following rules or practicing traditions for him. It’s like he’s discovering the secrets of the universe or something. He lives and breathes Judaism. And if he found out about my mom, I’m sure it wouldn’t change the way he sees me, but . . .”

“But what if it did?” Clara finished. “I get it. The coffee shop is up here on the left. And hey, I promise not to mention your crush or your religious reeducation. But . . . for what it’s worth, I think at some point you should.”

Naomi sighed. No one had given her advice in ages, and now here she was, getting lessons in bravery from a socialite. Either she’d truly gone soft, or Clara had grown a skin thick enough that Naomi’s admittedly empty threats could no longer penetrate it. Both ideas were terrifying.

Naomi pulled into a parking space but kept the doors locked. “Just stick to PR in there. Please.”

Clara leaned over and kissed her cheek before opening her door and hopping out.

“You got it. My lips are sealed. Strictly shop talk. All business, all the time.”

“Stop issuing platitudes,” Naomi commanded as she shut her own door.

Rusty aches inside her stirred, angry at being disturbed. She put the odds of this encounter not ending in disaster at slim to none.

Chapter Eight

IT HAD TAKEN Naomi less than forty-eight hours to deploy her plan to subvert the board.

“Sorry for the delay,” she’d said when she’d called to arrange a meeting between Ethan and her friend Clara at a Silverlake coffee shop. If this was slow, he was terrified to see what full speed looked like.

The two women, a study in contrasts, were already seated at a small corner table when he arrived. Naomi wore sharp, straight lines and a lipstick that turned her mouth into a stop sign. Clara, on the other hand, had on a white dress and matching smile.

“Ethan, this is Clara, one of my business partners. She used to work in PR, and now she oversees publicity for Shameless,” Naomi said in a droll tone. Then, shifting her gaze to Clara, she continued, “She’s going to be extremely professional during this meeting and not stray from the lane of her very specific expertise.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ethan said, shaking her hand and pretending he hadn’t noticed any tension between the two of them. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” Clara gave Naomi’s arm a little squeeze. “It’s a treat to meet the man Naomi can’t stop talking about.”

Ethan’s grin froze on his face until Naomi cleared her throat loudly.

“I’m going to grab us all drinks,” she announced. “Ethan, what would you like?”

“A green tea, please.” Naomi nodded and set off for the counter without asking for Clara’s order. Either she knew it already, or her friend wasn’t getting a beverage.