Air by Lisa Glass

particularly since she was an only child who’d spent years in boarding school.
    “Oh, I love him! When did that happen?”
    “It’s only been a couple of weeks. He’s going to be at the media launch party on Thursday actually. What are you wearing, by the way?”
    “Buying a dress here. What about you?”
    “I have a vintage Valentino that used to belong to my mother. It’s terribly revealing, however, so I might wear my new Prada.”
    It was times like this that I remembered just how different Saskia’s financial situation was from mine. I had two grand in a savings account and a few grand in my current account. Saskia had once let slip how much she had left in her trust fund, after burning through some of it on a lavish trip to the Caymans, and I knew she was worth more than my mum and dad put together.
    We dropped Saskia off at the Colony and the manager drove us on to the Grove.
    “Y’all have a good night,” he said, as we climbed out. “And don’t forget to go do the gator tour!”
    “Sure thing,” Zeke said. We gave him a wave and then walked up to the entrance of our hotel, where the doormen rushed to open the door for us. Zeke slipped them a few dollars and said to me, “Hey, it’s so cool that Saskia’s here!”
    “Yeah, she’s the best. Did you know she has a thing going with Gabe?”
    “No, but I can see that. They’re both the same way.”
    “Are they? They seem completely different from me.”
    “No, they’re the same. Super-organized. Driven to succeed. Type A.”
    I was none of those things.
    “And they both have a thing for cleaning. Gabe’s condo is like a show home, just with a whole lot of computers. And you know Saskia is obsessed with interior design. Even the pillows on her couch have places.”
    I felt a pang of disappointment in myself. I knew for a fact my constant messiness was getting to Zeke. He never said anything, but I could tell he was irritated when he had to move my stuff off all the surfaces to find whatever he was looking for.
    We stopped outside the lift and Zeke said, “I think I’m gonna call Anders see if there’s any news about Burnsy.”
    “Good idea. Say hello from me.”
    Inside the lift, the reception on Zeke’s phone cut out, so I phoned from mine.
    Anders answered the phone with, “Problem? Zeke OK?”
    This was the sort of thing that wound me up about Anders. It was as if he was determined to prove to me how inconsequential I was in his eyes.
    “Yes, he’s terrific.” And so am I, thanks for asking , I thought. “We’re just ringing to see how Arron’s doing.”
    “Not great.”
    “I thought you said he was going to be all right?”
    “Physically, yes. But he says as far as surfing goes, he’s done.”
    “No way!”
    “I mean, I hope the lad’ll change his mind, but it’s not looking likely. He really thought his number was up there. Says he’s out.”
    Zeke was staring at me, waiting for me to tell him what was going on.
    “Put Zeke on.”
    “Shall I put you on speaker?”
    “Pass him the phone.”
    We stepped out of the lift, and I passed Zeke the phone.
    “No, I haven’t,” he said. “No, nothing. Maybe next week. I don’t much care either way. Yeah, I’ll let you know if I do. OK, bye.”
    He passed it back to me.
    “Iris?” Anders said.
    “Yeah?”
    “Hang tight and look after Zeke.”
    And there it was again. Typical Anders. Always trying to protect his most valuable asset.
    “He can look after himself just fine,” I said. “Say hi to Arron if you talk to him and send him our love.”
    “Will do.”
    I hung up and turned to Zeke. “I can’t believe Burnsy’s saying he’s given up surfing for good.”
    “He nearly died, Iris. He’ll come around, but he’s in shock.”
    “I hope so. Nothing sadder than an ex-surfer,” I said, trotting out the old surf-bum phrase that had been knocking around for decades.
    “He’ll surf again for sure,” Zeke said, letting go of my hand.
    “You don’t know