“Start a frat house. I wanted to be in a fraternity so bad in college.” “You did?” Sasha couldn’t really tell if she was kidding or being serious. “Yeah, but instead I just fucked all the sorority girls,” Darcy said. Sasha didn’t doubt it was true (Darcy could be a womanizer, a femme-for-femme Casanova; this much was well documented), but she sensed that Darcy said this for her own benefit—and maybe Lou’s, as they were within earshot—rather than Sasha’s. It was part of Darcy’s never-ending, continuous narrativizing of her own life: the crazy people she’d fucked or dated, the art she was
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