Pft. I’m glowing because I finally let the real me out of her mental cage. Whoopie!
I stuck to the contrived story about growing apart, midlife crisis crap, and the ladies bought into it. Carl’s name was dragged through the mud, which was rather fun, and lessened the sting of the barbed comments.
The fun ended when Denise asked: “Where’s Elaine?”
“Well, I swore I wouldn’t tell,” Sasha gushed.
The three glasses of wine she’d downed while rambling on about what a piece of shit Carl Davenport was, and most men in general, loosened her tongue. This wasn’t something new, for Sasha Rice didn’t need alcohol to help her spread gossip. Liz and I secretly nicknamed her Sling-It Sasha.
The woman had a lot of nerve spilling gossip. Jesus, the stories she’d shared with me about her bedroom activities with Jermaine, and others, made the erotic romance novel we were supposed to be discussing look tame. Sasha would go from dark, chocolate skin to white cocoa if I opened my mouth and shared her dirty laundry. So would Denise and the others. For some reason, the women seemed to forget they had a habit of coming to me in private, sharing their disgusting exploits. Denise and her husband enjoyed role play, and had even swapped spouses a few times with Sasha and Jermaine. Neither one of the bags had a clue the other had told me, and I kept my word and never told a soul. Not even Liz.
Idiots.
“But you’re going to anyway since you can’t keep a secret from your besties, right?” Denise urged, her blue eyes dancing with eager anticipation.
“Or her legs together when the pool boy is around!” Jeanette Dickson added, giggling.
“I may give the boy a show now and then, but he’s never cleaned this undercarriage!” Sasha laughed.
“Sasha, stay on topic! Why isn’t Elaine here? She never misses book club, and I know she’s been dying to talk about the erotic novel! Is she sick or something?” Denise groused.
Lowering her voice, Sasha shook her head. “She isn’t sick, but Coco is, er, was.”
“What does that mean, Sasha?” Jeanette prodded.
“It means,” Sasha rubbed her flat stomach, “that the sickness was removed yesterday, sparing Coco and Elaine a lifetime of embarrassment.”
My stomach dropped.
Denise gasped. “Are you saying Coco was—?”
“Yep,” Sasha cut off Denise’s words. “Knocked up at sixteen. Elaine made her get an abortion yesterday. She’s beyond devastated her future model was deflowered.”
My vision blurred and a weird buzzing sound filled my head. I caught only snippets of the remainder of the hen party as my mind burned with fury, shame, and humiliation. No, it couldn’t be Carl’s! Though I despised Blow-Up Barbie, she was a knockout. There was no way Coco’s slit only welcomed Carl’s dick. She had to be giving it up to other, younger men—hot studs with bulging biceps and erections lasting for more than ten minutes that arose naturally rather than from little blue pills.
Okay, stop freaking out. If the little bun in Coco’s oven was placed there, courtesy of random Rufus sperm, the evidence was all gone. It seemed Coco was keeping her mouth shut, which was probably a first. I wonder how many times she’d sucked on ol’ Raging Rufus? Did she nickname Carl’s cock, too? Knowing her ditzy ass, it was something even more ridiculous than Rufus, like Krull or The Thing.
Gag. Triple gag. Dammit! Had Carl fucked every female in Cherrywood Estates? Damn him and those puppy-dog eyes and sensual smile. He wasn’t supposed to use them on anyone but me!
My ears perked up when Denise said: “I’m surprised Mr. Shock hasn’t been arrested. He’s certainly the type to take out his anger physically. Remember what he did to the car of the man who rear-ended him last year? And the man? He beat them both up! Maybe he doesn’t know? Did Elaine and Coco keep it a secret from him?”
“Oh, he knows. Coco just refuses to give up the identity of the father. She’s knows how her daddy is about his precious daughter. According to Elaine, he took his anger out on the hedges in the backyard and cut them all down to the ground! Bet he was imagining cutting something else with the clippers!”
“Ladies, enough!” Liz interjected. “We’re supposed to be shredding apart the latest book, not each other!”
“Look who’s on her high horse,” Rebecca slurred from the hallway.
Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better! I wanted to kick myself for letting Liz convince me to come. I should be home, drunk, lamenting the twists and turns of my life, and plotting out the gruesome deaths of my enemies, like Coco and Ginger.
“Just arrived and already sauced?” Denise shot back.
Plopping down on a chair, Rebecca smiled. It was anything but nice or friendly. “It’s been a really long day. Forgive me for indulging before I arrived. What did I miss? Who should be getting beat up?”
It took everything in me to remain seated. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t. I knew the minute I left Sasha’s living room my troubles would be open season once they finished ripping the Shock family to pieces. I’d make the uncaring, cold-hearted bitches wait to shred my life apart.
So, as per my usual experience at book club, I remained quiet and listened, only offering a few “Uh-huhs” or “I agree” and even the occasional “That’s awful” to the discussion. An hour later, mind wandering to places it didn’t need to visit, Rebecca’s drunk ass tottered over, swaying in front of me.
“Excuse us for a moment. Smoke break.”
“Make sure to take something to put the spent butts in,” Sasha urged. “Jermaine was pissed after our last meeting.”
“Of course, Sasha,” Rebecca cooed.
I knew that tone. It meant Sasha’s back deck would be littered with dead smokes before we left. Wouldn’t surprise me if Rebecca ran to her car, retrieved the ashtray, and dumped the contents all over.
Once out back, Rebecca lit up and so did I.
“Thanks. I needed this. Listening to them grouse was making me—”
“I didn’t save you from those witches for nothing, Roxy. We need to talk. Well, I’ll talk and you’ll listen.”
This can’t be good. If she was about to tell me she’d fucked Carl, too, I’d lose my mind. “About?”
“You and your situation, idiot. What else?”
God, sisterhood. Gotta love it! “You’re concerned now? Gee, it only took you a week. You must be growing a heart, Grinch.”
Glowering at me, Rebecca snorted. “It took me a week to go over things, figure out the best course of action. Excuse me for trying to keep you out of the poor house.”
“Come again?”
“You forget, big sis, I’m your accountant. I know how much is in the bank, what you owe on the house, cars, and credit cards. What’s in Carl’s retirement account and the amount left from his inheritance.”
I didn’t like where this was going. At all. “What are you getting at, L.B.?”
“I’m saying you’re going to be in a hurt locker without a job.”
“I’ll be fine. Carl’s already agreed to my terms. I get the house, my car paid off, credit cards out of my name, alimony, half of his retirement—”
Rebecca put a finger to my lips, shushing me. I contemplated butting her head with my own.
“Roxy, shut up and listen! You can get all of that, and it still won’t matter. Have you forgotten how much the yearly real estate taxes are on that enormous monstrosity you live in? How much the attorney fees will be for this divorce? The possibility the judge may not let you have all you want? What then? What if something happens to Carl?”
“Well, uh,” I stuttered.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You have no idea. It’s a good thing I’m the levelheaded one. I’ve solved your dilemma, which is why I haven’t contacted you all week. I’ve been trying to figure out the best solution to this issue, and I finally did.”
Curious, yet still wary, I asked: “And the solution would be?”
“You need a job. Not some piss-ant minimum wage job
. To stay in the house, continue to live close to the same lifestyle, you need a good paying position. Forty grand per year plus benefits will give you the ability to breathe and not stress about money.”
Snorting, I laughed. “Gee, I hadn’t thought about that! Oh, wait, yes, I did. I nixed the idea because those types of jobs simply aren’t available for someone with my limited work skills. Period.”
“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I already found you a job.”
My jaw dropped. “If you’re about to suggest I work a pole or a street corner like Sasha, I’m going to beat your ass.”
“You’re too old for that type of work, dear sister. I believe 25 is the cutoff,” Rebecca snapped back. “As I said, I found a workable solution not a fantasy.”
Fuck you, L.B. “You did? Seriously? No bullshit?”
“Cross my heart, sis. No bullshit.”
A spark of excitement made my heart pound. “Doing what? Where?”
The teasing look on Rebecca’s face changed. Now, she looked like a spider ready to pounce on the fly trapped in the sticky web. “Accounting. I need an assistant because mine just put in her two weeks’ notice.”
It took several seconds for the foreign words to sink in. When they did, I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I worried I might lose control of my bladder. “You? Work for you? Are you high? Reliving the Eighties by doing blow again?”
“Not funny, Roxy,” Rebecca whined, a slender finger reaching up involuntarily to touch the tip of her nose.
“We can’t handle being in a room together for more than an hour without going for the jugulars, and you want to spend forty hours each week together? As my boss? Um, no thanks. I’d rather flip burgers or gouge my eyes out with hot pokers. Be drawn and quartered; burned at the stake. Suffer a massive stroke and keel over in the driveway.”
“That’s mean, Roxy. I’m your sister! When Mom’s gone, we’ll be all the family each other has left. I need an assistant and you need a job. You’re going through a really tough time because your husband is a slimy douchebag, and I have the ability to make things easier for you. End of story. You start Monday at 8 a.m. Don’t be late.”
Before I could get any words to pop out of my gaping mouth, Rebecca was gone. I stood there looking like a fish struggling for air, mind stunned by the offer. The job would give me a legitimate excuse to cancel the appointment with Dr. Rotten-News. Not that I needed one—I didn’t plan on going anyway—but in case he groused when I called to cancel the appointment, I wouldn’t look like a terrified fool. The part of my brain in charge of handling the Davenport finances knew Rebecca was right; agreed her solution was a viable offer.
The other part, the older sister who despised the younger lunatic, hated the idea. Rebecca had gone through assistants like tampons: Use them up then toss them in the trash. I had no desire to be treated like a bloody feminine product.
***
“Roxy? You okay?”
Blinking twice, I glanced over at Liz, who stood in the doorway. “Uh, yeah. Just finishing this smoke.”
Liz stepped out and shut the sliding glass door. “You mean the one that isn’t lit yet?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“What’s going on? Were you and Rebecca arguing? You look upset.”
Shaking my head, I let out a low chuckle. “Arguing? No, but I sort of wish we were, because I think I might have just suffered a stroke or someone spiked my wine and I’m hallucinating.”
“Not funny, Roxy. What happened?”
Lighting the smoke, I took a deep drag. “Well, it seems L.B. is using the opportunity of being without an assistant, again, to her advantage. She wants me to work for her.”
Liz blinked several times. “I’m sorry, but I think your stroke is contagious. Did you just say Rebecca wants you to work for her? And she was serious—not joking?”
“Dead serious. She expects me to be at work on Monday.”
“Give me that,” Liz chirped, snatching the smoke from my fingers.
“No! You quit!”
“Yes, I did, but I sneak them now and again when shocked or upset. You just shocked the hell outta me, so share.”
“Fine,” I muttered, letting her take the cigarette. I pulled another from my purse and lit up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. If she’s serious and this isn’t some sadistic prank, it’s a good deal. Great money. Benefits. Work experience. I mean, hell, if I can suck it up and work for that lunatic bitch for a year or so, I’ll be able to get a job anywhere.”
Liz laughed. “That’s true! Her reputation in the business world is legendary. Does this mean you’re actually considering doing it?”
“Why the hell not? Everything else in my life is up in the air, so maybe a job will help ground me. Things can’t get any worse, right? Besides, I lived with her for years. If she pisses me off or tries to get all bossy, I know which buttons to push to send her into the stratosphere. Did it all the time when we were little.”
“I need another drink. No, several.”
Stubbing out the smoke, I laughed. “Why? I’m the one going to work for the Queen Bitch, not you.”
“Because, once book club is over, I’m going home and fucking Roger’s brains out. I don’t want to lose him and be forced to go work for my sister. I’d kill Tanya. Guaranteed.”
***
Laughing, we returned to the living room, just as the long-awaited discussion of the book was underway. For the next half-hour, the fake hags laughed and giggled, actually blushing for Godsakes, when certain chapters were the topic of conversation, especially Chapter 37.
That’s it. I’d heard enough. Let them talk about me and the demise of my marriage when I walked out the door, I didn’t care.
“I’m going to call it a night, ladies. It’s been a really long week, and I need to go check on Carol. She had freshman orientation today, and I’m dying to know how it went. Enjoy the rest of the discussion. Oh, and next month, can we please pick something other than a romance or smut? I’m ready for a thriller.”
Rising to her feet, Sasha put her hand on my elbow, giving me a fake smile. Her dental implants were so white they could double as a flashlight in a pinch. “Of course, we understand. Go, take care of Carol. She’s such a wonderful girl, and I’m sure the news has devastated her. Sheesh! Right before school starts. Carl’s such a bastard. I’ll walk you out.”
Liz rose, too, but I motioned for her to stay. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Liz. Ladies, have a nice night.”
***
Sasha led me to the front door. “Goodness, what’s the neighborhood coming to? First you and Carl are kaput and then this whole sordid mess with Coco? It’s so sad. I always thought living in suburbia was a buffer from the sins of the city.”
Something about her tone, the underlying superiority, infuriated me. Yanking my arm away, I leaned closer and whispered: “You’re such a hypocrite, Sasha! You’ve got a lot of nerve spouting off your little act of shock and innocence. The others may buy it, but I know the real you, and exactly what street corner you worked, along with how you got pregnant with Jermaine’s baby on purpose. Remember telling me? Adding in how you like to get all nasty and funky in the bedroom because part of you misses the old days? No, you probably don’t. You were so drunk when you spilled your secrets you couldn’t even walk.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped open.
“Not only did you tell me all the disgusting details, but the ones you left out, Denise filled me in on. That hoochie of yours has been around the block more times than Mrs. Goldberg walking her dog during the last ten years. Actually, I’m surprised it still works after all the abuse it’s taken. From now on, maybe you should think before unleashing gossip, because one day, you might be on the receiving end, and I don’t think you’d like it.”
Sasha’s big brown eyes widened. “Roxy! What’s gotten into you? Why would you say such—?”
“I’m sick and tired of your pious attitude, Sasha, and your fake friendship. That’s what’s gott
en into me. Elaine Shock thinks you’re her best friend! She entrusted you with painful, sensitive events in her life and what did you do? Opened that big mouth of yours and spilled the beans. Imagine her surprise had she overheard you earlier! Would you have said the same things, or even brought the subject up, if Elaine had been here? That’s a rhetorical question, so don’t bother answering. You wouldn’t. You’d pour out a bunch of fake concern, cooing and grousing, trying to be supportive if Elaine opted to tell the rest of us. Grow up, bitch. This isn’t high school or one of those staged reality shows you love to watch. This is real life, with real feelings and families on the line. Act like an adult for once and show a little class.”
Leaving a stunned Sasha on the stoop, I turned and left, satisfied with myself for finally saying things I’d wanted to for years.
Roxy’s New Rule Number Eight: Put obnoxious, fake friends in their place.
Check!
CHAPTER 6
Welcome To Hell – Also Known As Entering The Workforce
Staring at the elevator door, my hands shook. I hated driving downtown, and I despised what I was about to do: Walk in and start a job as the assistant to Rebecca Wilson, CPA. The situation was made worse by the pounding hangover.
After returning home from book club on Friday, I’d spent most of the weekend in the water, glass of wine always nearby. Screw the housework. The choices were simple: Pool during the heat of day; hot tub when the air turned cooler at night. Carol joined me for a while Friday night, laughing and giggling with me, celebrating my new job with “crazy Aunt Becca” and dishing on her afternoon at orientation, until her fingers shriveled.
“See, Mom? I told you: we’re all here to help you. You’ll be so busy working, you won’t even notice when I leave for school. I’m really glad I’m going to be close enough to come home on the weekends. You know, to bring home my dirty laundry and such? Eat real, homemade food?”
My daughter. She was my reason for living. Always had been, always would be, so the decision to lock up the beast inside me was made that night in the pool. The possibility was high that, after the last few weeks, I was moving away from being Wicked Witch of the West to Glinda.
Marriage Made Me Do It Page 9
