“You know what your problem is?” Paloma, my best friend and second-in-command at my digital marketing firm, stares at me from four feet away. She raises her eyebrows, one hand on her hip while her other arm extends to hold up her side of the mylar photo backdrop we’re affixing to the hotel room wall. “No,” I grunt from my side, using a disproportionate amount of strength to push a thumbtack into the wall and wincing at the dull pain it sets off. “But I bet you’re going to tell me.” She blows a strand of black hair from her face. “You’re the floor.” I frown as I suck the pad of my thumb between
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