Eventually, with a deep breath, she picks up the keys and tips her cabbie 100 bucks for bringing her Louis Vuitton bags up to the apartment and for being so patient with her. When Ginger finally arrives-her pudgy video game-playing preteens stomping around the house-Jasmine, who is staying until she gets back on her feet, mentions that she flew first-class. "How did you fly first-class?" her sister asks. "I don't know, I just did," the supposedly destitute Jasmine spits back, violently shaking her head. It's hard to know in moments like this where her privilege ends and her mental illness begins.