“Who says it’s about me?” I kept my face hidden from Sydney, who was trying to get a rise out of me. She’s been going on and on since she got here about Ryder’s latest hit and how it was all about me. “I’m telling you, that’s all anyone can talk about. It’s so damn obvious.” And she sounded so pleased at that prospect.

“Don’t you want to at least hear it?” This was a change from her usual refrain. She’d have cut her arm off just a few weeks ago before ...