Pretty Guilty Women

by Gina LaManna

  As Ginger stepped into the shower and cranked the water onto the hottest setting, she vaguely wondered how she could ever hope to relax. Maybe when she was sixty-five and retired, and her children were grown and married. Even then, all it would take was a phone call from one of them with some problem or another, and wabam. Her back would turn into a knotted mess all over again.

  After her shower, Ginger took some much-needed time to set up the room, organize clothes and suitcases and sleeping arrangements, pull out necessary nighttime gear and teddy bears and books and special pillows and pajamas. The process of getting everything in order calmed Ginger’s nerves and gave her a breath of fresh air she desperately needed.

  When she finished, she sat on the bed and looked around. The room was all set for bedtime…minus the children. In a strange way, Ginger already missed the noisy ruckus that was the Adler household. What would she ever do when she had an empty nest? She could barely last five minutes alone without twiddling her thumbs.

  When Ginger’s phone pinged, it was with relief she picked it up to find a message from Frank. Surely there was some catastrophe (Poppy’s seventh ponytail had come out, for example) that Ginger needed to attend to at once. In a way, Ginger felt like a bit of an addict: Give me something to do! I need something to keep me occupied. Busy, busy, busy, dammit!

  Frank: You’re forbidden from worrying about us for the rest of the night. Have a glass of wine. Read a book. Soak in the Jacuzzi. We love you.

  The one time Ginger actually wanted to be needed, and her family was a happy little gaggle of good. It hardly seemed fair.

  Ginger: Maybe I’ll come down and check Poppy’s temperature. She looked a little peaked on the plane, and she was complaining about her stomach…

  Frank: She’s fine. They’re all fine. We’re fine for a few hours. RELAX!!!!

  Ginger had to snort with laughter at his last instruction. It sounded like something she’d say, like something she had said.

  Shrugging on jeans and a sweater, Ginger decided to make the most of her first night “off” in years. One glass of wine couldn’t hurt. Her family seemed fine without her, and her husband had all but threatened her to relax. She picked up a book, a light beach read someone had left behind at the hotel where she worked, and she glanced at the title. Something about love.

  Good enough, she thought and slipped from the room with the second key in her pocket.

  The elevator carried her back down to the first floor, and Ginger stood for a moment taking in the luxury of it all. The hotel where she worked the front desk wasn’t seedy by a long shot, but it wasn’t anything fancy. It was no resort. It was a get-in, get-out sort of place meant for business travel. The place was efficient, clean, and fluff-free—exactly how Ginger liked.

  Serenity Spa & Resort, however, was quite the opposite. All plush furniture and calming decorations, the lounge was lit by fake torchlight and subtly scented by diffuser reeds protruding from tall, elegant vases tucked in corners. Combined with bushels of fresh flowers that had been carted in for the wedding festivities, the room had a wash of floral ambiance.

  All in all, simply stepping foot into the lobby should be relaxing, but as Ginger stood there, clueless, she realized she wasn’t sure how to relax. Did one order a glass of wine alone? Was it a normal thing to bring a book to the bar?

  Ginger heard the titter of laughter coming from one end of the lobby bar and saw a group of four women. The fourth woman stood a bit to the side, slightly turned away, yet distinctly part of the group. That young mother, Ginger realized—Sydney.

  Ginger deliberately ignored Emily, who was standing somewhat near Sydney, and made her way over to the bar and quietly ordered a glass of red wine. She wasn’t much of a drinker, save for a glass of wine with dinner or at holiday functions. Aside from her former friends, she didn’t—and wouldn’t—recognize anyone here, she figured as she glanced around the lobby at the influx of finely dressed couples. Whitney was busy, and Kate was…Kate, and Emily was a bitch.

  “Hi, thanks,” Ginger said as the bartender delivered her drink. With a jolt of horror, she realized she’d left her purse upstairs. “Can you charge this to my room? I forgot my cash upstairs. Otherwise, I can run and get it.”

  “Sure, ma’am,” she said. “What’s your room number?”

  “Charge it to the room of Max Banks,” a woman called from across the bar. She was part of the small group gathered in the corner. “She’s on our tab. Don’t pretend you don’t know us, Ginger.”

  “Um, you really don’t have to do that.” Ginger felt her face flush as she recognized the voice as belonging to Kate.

  Glamorous, perfect Kate Cross. The very perfect Kate who’d bossed Whitney around in their odd little friendship and wore makeup to 8:00 a.m. classes. Kate who never looked hungover. Kate who dated glamorous men, paid entire bar tabs for parties, and wore designer clothes. Kate who…was everything Ginger wasn’t.

  “It’s not like I don’t have the money,” Ginger spluttered. “I forgot my wallet, and—”

  “Oh, we all have money,” Kate said with a tight smile. “We’re old now. We’re trying to rack up my ex-boyfriend’s bar tab. Come closer so we don’t have to shout.”

  “I should probably just pay,” Ginger said, but she inched her butt slightly closer to Kate, as if following instructions. Kate was still very bossy. “It’s only ten dollars.”

  “He’s worth four million,” Kate said with a fuzziness that indicated she’d gotten into the bottle of champagne sitting on the counter. “I don’t think he’ll miss ten bucks.”

  “I would rather pay for myself.”

  “You never could follow my instructions, could you?” Kate snapped. “I’m really brokenhearted tonight, so can you please help me run up my ex’s goddamn bar tab? Is that really so much to ask from an old college pal?”

  Ginger stared at her, gaping at this full-grown, adult, superstar lawyer until a snort of disbelief came out of her nostrils. It was unladylike and unconscious, and Ginger coughed to cover it up. “Well, I think I could do that. How have you been?”

  Kate cracked a smile. “It’s good to see you, Ginger. Obviously, I wish the circumstances were different, but…what can you do?”

  Ginger watched as Kate waved a glittery hand, pretending she didn’t feel a slight smugness at the other woman’s glaring lack of a wedding band. Kate might have sparkling rings and beautiful hair and real diamond earrings, but Ginger had something she didn’t. A husband. And children, though Ginger doubted Kate wanted kids. Kids were messy. Kate Cross was classy, elegant…and bossy.

  “It’s good to see you too,” Ginger said, realizing the small group of women had gone silent. “It’s been a long time. You look marvelous as usual.”

  “I know,” Kate said. Then added, a beat too late, “Thank you.”

  In the silence following the compliment, the woman next to Kate shifted on her barstool and smiled politely at Ginger. She was an older lady, her hair flecked with gray, her face quite beautiful. She was clearly a woman who cared for herself with weekly spa dates and appointments that kept her looking more put together and exquisite than Ginger, who was probably close to half her age and deteriorating at a much more rapid pace.

  “Hello there. My name’s Lulu,” the woman said, her smile crinkling the slender laugh lines around her eyes. “Why don’t you take this seat? Unless you’re busy, of course. What are you reading?”

  “Oh, this? I don’t actually know.” Ginger stared at the book in her hand, mystified, as if a ghost had put it there. “I grabbed it off a shelf. I don’t have much free time, and my husband is trying to give me the night to relax, so I figured…” Ginger gave an odd little shrug. Why the hell could she not seem to carry on a conversation like a normal person? Had it been that long since she’d interacted with other women?

  “Well, why don’t you join us?” Lulu pressed, noddi
ng at the empty bar stool. “You already know Kate, obviously.”

  “She knows Emily too,” Kate said. A moment of dead silence passed in which Emily, staring a bit drunkenly at Sydney’s baby, swiveled her unfocused eyes on Ginger. Kate added, “Oh, don’t you two be difficult. It was a disagreement. Ten years ago. Over a stupid man.”

  “Frank,” Ginger said. “It was over Frank.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said, not sounding sorry at all. “I didn’t mean Frank was stupid. I meant that it was an accident. Things happen.”

  “Ah, I see,” Lulu interrupted in that soothing, knowing voice of hers. “Well, it sure looked like all of you were great friends back in the day. I happened to see a few photos of the four of you. Emily and I had a nice chat earlier this evening.”

  Emily cleared her throat, not making eye contact with the other women. “I was putting together a photo album for Whitney as a wedding gift and trying to come up with some captions for our college pictures.”

  “Ah.” Ginger took a swig of wine, vaguely curious about the reason Emily had chosen to include her in the project. If it had been Ginger making the album, she would have expertly cut Emily’s face out of most of the pictures. “Things were different back then.”

  “They always are. Change is never easy,” Lulu said softly. “By the way, has anyone seen Whitney? I’ve been wanting to congratulate her in person, but she seems to have been MIA since we arrived.”

  “I texted Whitney when I landed,” Kate said. “Her schedule is booked full. I let her know we’d be down at the bar tonight, but I don’t expect she’ll show. If I had to guess, we won’t see her until the rehearsal dinner. And even then, it might just be a sighting from afar, the way things are going.”

  “Well, that sounds”—Lulu hesitated—“vigorous. What a shame she won’t have time to catch up with her friends.”

  Ginger wondered if Lulu’s particular way of speaking had developed with age, or if Lulu had been born with it. Brisk and businesslike, but gentle, somehow filled with experience. Maybe if Ginger had that sort of tone, Elsie wouldn’t freak out every time Ginger tried to talk to her.

  “Yeah, well, that’s Whitney for you,” Kate said easily. “What about you, Ginger? Are you going to come over here and tell us what’s bothering you or not?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Ginger’s nerves told her it would be easier to go sit in the corner, sip her wine, pretend to read her book, and count down the minutes until she was needed in her mommy role again. Her feet, however, were traitors. And before Ginger could say no, she found herself standing next to her old college friends. “I have a boring life. I’m a mom to three, and I work all the time at a hotel that isn’t even in the same stratosphere as this one. I don’t have much that’s exciting to say.”

  The woman with the baby smiled. “Not boring at all. I think we met before. I’m Sydney, and my daughter’s name is Lydia.”

  “She is the cutest thing,” Ginger said with genuine fondness as she studied the young woman who looked to be closer in age to Elsie than Ginger. The mere thought of Elsie with a newborn frightened Ginger to the core. “I remember you. Are you here for the DeBleu/Banks wedding?”

  “Most of us are,” Kate interrupted. “But if I’m being honest with you ladies, I’m debating staying. My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ordered two different rooms when we arrived and dumped me in this very lobby. I mean, Whitney is a doll and all, but I might fly home tomorrow.”

  “Hence the credit card bill,” Ginger said. She surveyed Kate with a new, sympathetic eye. Where Ginger was a bit dowdy in her mom clothes, Kate was all slick Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and big sex kitten hair. Ginger’s mind wandered back to that moment of wondering what it would be like—shipping off her husband and kids for a few days, and trading lives with the esteemed Kate Cross. “Sorry, but what sort of idiot would dump you? You’re gorgeous. And I assume wildly successful. I mean, we always knew you’d be the one to make the big bucks.”

  “Yes,” Kate said without modesty. Somehow, it didn’t come off as cocky. “But I can’t have children, and my boyfriend didn’t approve of my…flaws.”

  Ginger shifted uncomfortably. She now felt incredibly guilty over the wave of smugness that had hit when she’d realized she had a husband and Kate didn’t. Despite all Ginger’s troubles, she’d never actually wish her children away. She couldn’t imagine life without them.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ginger said. “You deserve better. That was awful of him, and I can’t imagine all you’ve been through. Or what kind of person would say those sorts of things to you.”

  “Yes, well,” Kate said briskly. “We’ve all got problems. Sydney over here is a single mom. I don’t know how she does it.”

  Sydney shifted uncomfortably under the attention. “We’re managing. I mean, it’s a bit tight financially because it’s hard to find a job at the moment, but we’ll be okay. That’s small potatoes in the scheme of things.”

  Ginger’s heart clutched. She suddenly felt so dangerously lucky, she wanted to ditch these intriguing women and rush to be with her husband and babies. To soak them all in while she could. If the successful and stunning Kate couldn’t manage to be lucky in love, what hope did Ginger have?

  “I slept with a stranger this afternoon,” Emily said in a monotone sort of way that told Ginger it wasn’t the first time she’d said it tonight, nor was she proud of it. “I met him on the plane, and now I call him Henry Anonymous because I don’t know his last name.”

  Ginger took another sip of wine. “And that’s a problem?”

  An awkward silence settled over the group as Ginger stared at Emily, locked in some sort of bizarre standoff. Ginger was well aware of the wine making her more forthcoming and bitchier than normal, but these other two women had laid severe, life-altering struggles on the line. Emily’s vacation fling didn’t exactly compete in the race full of awful problems. Then again, Ginger wasn’t all that sure Emily was aware of what she was saying. Her eyes were a bit bleary, and her champagne glass seemed to have a hole in the bottom for how fast it drained.

  “Well, we all have issues of different shapes and sizes,” Lulu said, smoothing the situation over as Kate and Sydney gratefully nodded. “Not that it compares to what Kate’s been through, or the challenge Sydney has of raising a child on her own, but I myself am wondering if my husband is preparing to leave me for another woman.”

  “That most certainly counts as a problem,” Ginger said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Lulu waved a hand dismissively. “It’s your turn. What’s on your mind? We’ve all told you our worries.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ginger hedged. “Nothing that compares to what you ladies have shared.”

  “Ginger,” Kate instructed. “It’s your turn to share.”

  Ginger swallowed a fortifying sip of wine. Part of her wanted to clam up and listen to these other women discuss their lives and loves and problems, but the other half of her was ready to contribute. To join in on the first adult, female-centric conversation she’d had in months, maybe years.

  Turning from Kate’s expectant gaze, Ginger focused on Lulu’s patient expression. “Well, if you insist… I found condoms in my daughter’s backpack,” she finally confessed, feeling like a breath of fresh air as she came clean. “She’s fifteen. And she hates me. I feel like a horrible mother.”

  “There,” Kate said. “Was that so hard? Now you’ve gone and joined the itty-bitty pity committee! Welcome to the club. Another round for everyone.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ginger said. “I haven’t done this in so long. It feels…” Ginger couldn’t quite bring herself to finish her thought.

  Lulu’s eyes twinkled. “Friends are wonderful, aren’t they? Men come and go, but women, you can count on the good ones.”

  Ginger nodded. It was all sorts of wonderful.

  Hesitantly, sh
e raised her glass as Kate muttered a nonsensical toast. When she finished, Ginger clinked her flute against the other glasses, beginning with Lulu’s, then Kate’s, then Sydney’s water glass, hesitating only when Emily’s arm remained extended toward her.

  Ginger bit her lip as she felt the pull of old anger swirling in her stomach. She should have let the emotions fade away. Everyone knew forgiveness was healthiest for the forgiver, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t seem to let the grudge go, preferring to hoard it close to her chest for all these years. And where had it gotten Ginger? Married to a wonderful man with three beautiful children.

  Where had it gotten Emily?

  Drunk and alone at a bar with old college pals. Ginger met Emily’s gaze and saw a world of hurt in her expression. She could see it in the limp spiral of her former friend’s hair, in the nervous blink of Emily’s eyes, in the tremble of fingers as she held her glass hopefully, pitifully, toward Ginger as if this olive branch meant the world to her.

  And Ginger wondered if maybe it was time to let go. Maybe karma had run down Emily in the years since college, or maybe there was something more to her story. Ginger wasn’t entirely sure she cared. So with a guttural sigh, she extended her arm, pasted on a smile for Emily, and clinked glasses with an old friend.

  * * *

  Detective Ramone: Ms. Pinkett, please state your occupation for the records.

  Ashley Pinkett: I’m so glad Allison told me you were interviewing people. I would be happy to help however I can. I work the front desk for Serenity Spa & Resort, and I’ve been here for, oh, five years. I love my job.

  Detective Ramone: Were you working on August 16?

  Ashley Pinkett: Yes, I worked a full day because Dylan called in sick, so it was me and Allison behind the counter. I started at noon and didn’t finish until after bar close…around 3:00 a.m. after cleaning up. As I said, I enjoy my job, Detective.