I broke off a chunk of brownie. “And even if Wendy doesn’t know, I still feel bad, because I know.”
“Maybe she’s cheating too.”
I shook my head. “That’s what Jake said, but I doubt it. The way she talks about her huuusband is so over the top. I don’t see how you could fake that.”
“Maybe there’s a reason it’s over the top.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I never thought about it that way. So you think she knows?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never met her. But people have their reasons, and you never know what’s going on behind the scenes.”
I took a sip of water. “So you think I should just keep quiet?”
“It’s your call, but I would.”
“And Andie?”
“I wouldn’t say anything to her either because it’s her cousin. Getting involved, even if you mean well, could get dicey.”
I pressed my palm against my forehead. “Andie can always tell when I’m hiding something. She’s superhuman that way. And you know my tendency to blurt things out of my big fat mouth.”
Kristina smiled. “Well, you’re going to have to try to keep it shut, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “Apparently so.”
On Friday, I rose as usual at the crack of dawn, this time to interview a married couple in their nineties who had lived in the same Upper West Side apartment for more than seventy years. My body was slowly getting used to the early mornings, although I still hated starting my day when it was dark outside. This morning, though, I had a spring in my step because Andie would be in town soon! She was coming straight to my apartment from the airport early that evening, and after a brief tour of my neighborhood, I planned to take her to the trendy Meatpacking District for dinner. With Paige off in Vermont, I had a rare weekend respite from my Honey line, and unless Scotty called with a last-minute assignment, I was also free from Honey on Your Mind. I couldn’t remember the last time I hadn’t worked for at least a few hours on either Saturday or Sunday—or both.
The buzzer in my apartment rang a few minutes after seven. I jumped up from the couch and practically sprinted to the intercom.
“Hola?”
“We’re here!”
I paused for a moment.
“Did you say we?”
“Yes, we! Now buzz us in, it’s freezing out here.”
Huh?
“OK, I’m on the fourth floor.” I pressed the button and cracked open my front door, then walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. Huh? Had Andie brought her boyfriend with her? I loved Nick, but I’d been so excited for a girls’ weekend. How could we talk about boys over drinks if one of the boys we’d be talking about was drinking right there with us?”
A couple of minutes later, I heard the elevator door open, then footsteps, followed by the sound of Andie’s voice. “Hey, TV star, I brought you a present,” she yelled from down the hall.
I stood up and ran to the front door. I was expecting to greet Nick, but I jumped up and down in excitement when I saw the tall blonde standing next to Andie.
“Mackie! Oh my God!” I wrapped my arms around her.
“Hello? Am I invisible?” Andie put her hands on her hips.
I laughed and hugged her too, then looked back at McKenna. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m visiting my famous friend in New York. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I can’t believe you’re really here! How did you get away?” I took her suitcase and wheeled it into my apartment.
“My parents flew down from Oregon to help Hunter. I pumped enough breast milk to feed a small village, and then jumped on a plane with Andie. And here we are.”
I looked at Andie. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”
She lightly pounded her chest with her tiny fist. “Hey now, you know I’m a champion at keeping secrets.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I thought of Paige. I hope I can be a champion at keeping secrets too.
• • •
Three hours later, we were contemplating dessert at Spice Market, a trendy Asian fusion place in the Meatpacking District. For the latter part of dinner, McKenna had been sharing stories of how much her life had changed in the six months since Elizabeth was born. Diapers, breastfeeding, crying, more diapers, more breastfeeding, more crying, very little sleep. She’d gone from a high-paying banking job to an endless cycle of caring for a helpless blob whose only form of compensation was a heart-melting smile. Despite it all, she was obviously head over heels in love.
“Thanks for the birth control, I mean the updates,” Andie said, signaling to the waiter to bring us another bottle of wine. “Sounds just like the life I’ve always dreamed of…if by ‘dreams’ you mean ‘nightmares.’”
McKenna laughed. “I do love it, and I do love her, but good God, it’s a lot of work, and the amount of work is inversely related to the amount of sleep I get. I’m spending a small fortune on concealer to hide the bags under my eyes.”
“Put Benadryl in her bottle,” Andie said. “That would knock the little crier out.”
“Andie!” I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh.
She put her hands up. “Hey now, I’m just trying to help.”
“I think I might end up in jail if I did that, but thanks for the suggestion,” McKenna said, also trying not to laugh.
Andie shrugged as the waiter opened a new bottle for us. “It’s only illegal if they catch you, you know.”
McKenna put a hand on Andie’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m going to have to start writing your little sayings down.” Then she looked at me. “So let’s talk about you, Wave. Are you loving your new job?”
I nodded. “Yes, I really am. When I first started, I had literally no idea what I was doing. I mean no idea. But it gets easier every day.”
“Do you like seeing yourself on TV?” Andie asked. “I don’t think I’d like that. High-definition is not a friend of the thirty-something complexion.”
I put a hand on my cheek. “Tell me about it. Thank God for the makeup artists. They’re like Photoshop for real life.”
She sipped her wine. “Are you getting more comfortable in front of the camera?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be entirely comfortable, but I’m getting used to it. Sort of like how I feel about wearing a thong.”
“What about the unpredictable schedule?” McKenna said. “I know how much you hate getting up early.”
“I still do. I’m getting used to the erratic hours, but I’ll never get used to rising before the sun does.”
“Are you getting any exercise?” McKenna asked.
I slouched in my seat. “Not really. I went to a yoga studio down the street once, but the teacher was a total yoga Nazi, so I never went back.”
“A yoga Nazi?” McKenna said. “How so?”
I played with my earring. “It was advertised as just a regular vinyasa class, but it was super hot in there, and I was dying. I mean dying. At one point I literally thought I might sweat to death.”
“Gross,” Andie said. “Sweat is yet one more reason not to exercise.”
“So I asked the teacher to open a window. That’s a reasonable request, right?” They both nodded.
I tapped my palms on the table. “Well, by the look on her face, you would have thought I’d asked her to throw her newborn baby out the window while she was at it, and maybe a couple puppies too. She gave me the evil eye, then walked away, window still closed.”
“Skinny yoga bitch,” Andie said.
“So that was the end of me and yoga. Namaste.” I pressed my palms together and did a little bow.
“What about running?” McKenna took a sip of her wine. “Have you found any good routes around your neighborhood?” Back in San Francisco I’d never been in great shape, but I’d run more or less regularly, or at least enough to make up for my more or less regular ice cream consumption.
I frowned. “I know I sho
uld get into some sort of a routine, but I just can’t seem to make myself. I’ve gone for a run a handful of times, but that’s about it. I suck.”
Andie picked up her wine glass and waved her free hand dismissively. “I still don’t know why you would want to do that anyway.”
I looked at her. “You mean run?”
She nodded. “It’s just so, I don’t know, unnatural.”
McKenna laughed. “Unnatural? What do you mean?”
Andie set her wine glass down and cupped her cheeks with her hands. “I mean just think what all that jarring up and down is doing to your skin, which is already in a losing battle with gravity. I like to think that by not running, I’m preserving the structural integrity of my face.”
I laughed. “Did you just say you’re preserving the structural integrity of your face?”
McKenna pretended to look for a pen. “I’m writing that one down too.”
Andie nodded. “My mom used to say that all the time when I was little. Now that I think about it, it may be the one thing she and I actually agree on.”
I laughed again. “You’re nuts. Did you know that?”
“We’ll see who’s nuts when we’re fifty.” She shrugged and took a sip of her wine.
I tapped my palms on the table. “So hey, we haven’t talked about Nick yet. Are you going to move in with him?”
“Oooh yes, do tell,” McKenna said. “Now that I’m married with a baby, I need to live vicariously through you two.”
Andie shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight, my friends.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t? Is everything OK?”
She nodded. “Everything’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“You sure everything’s OK?” McKenna asked.
She nodded again. “I’m sure. I just need a night off from thinking about my future, all right? I’m sick of thinking about my future. Tonight I just want to celebrate my birthday with my best girlfriends and live in the moment.”
I knew how that felt.
“OK, birthday girl, we’ll table that discussion for later.” I turned back to McKenna and refilled her wine glass. “So when are you going back to work?”
“I’m hoping next month.”
“Are you looking forward to it?”
She sighed. “To be honest, yes and no. I mean, on the one hand, I’m dying for more intellectual stimulation, because taking care of a baby can be mind-numbingly boring.”
“Now there’s a shocking piece of information,” Andie said.
“But on the other hand…” McKenna’s voice trailed off.
“On the other hand what?” I said.
Suddenly, McKenna began to cry.
“Mackie are you OK?” I put my hand on her shoulder.
She nodded and wiped a tear from her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You sure aren’t acting fine,” Andie said. “What’s going on? Are you still all hormonal? Do I need to give you a shot in the butt or something?”
McKenna laughed. “No, really, I’m fine, I swear. It’s just that, while I’m eager to get back to work, the thought of leaving Elizabeth…it’s just…hard.”
I kept my hand on her shoulder. “You really love her, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Wave, you have no idea. It’s indescribable.”
“You know what I love?” Andie said, standing up to use the restroom.
We both looked at her.
“Uninterrupted sleep. And sex whenever I want. And spit-up-free clothes.”
McKenna laughed again and wiped her tears away with a napkin. “Stop it.”
“And of course I love you as well.” Andie blew McKenna a kiss as she walked away. As soon as she was gone, I flagged the waiter and told him it was Andie’s birthday. He nodded politely and quickly disappeared.
“So when will you know for sure when you’re going back?” I picked up my wine glass and turned back to McKenna.
“We just need to find the right nanny, which is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Now that Elizabeth is an actual person and not just the idea of one, the thought of leaving her with a stranger all day every day is scary.”
Andie reappeared and sat back down. “What’s scary?”
“The thought of leaving Elizabeth with a stranger,” McKenna said.
Andie shook her head and lowered her voice. “I can only imagine. I get nervous when I let a stranger wax my privates.”
“And there’s another one for the list,” McKenna said.
I laughed. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Andie Barnett.”
“And oh, how Andie Barnett has missed you back.” She rubbed her hands together. “So let’s get this party started. I heard there are great places to go dancing in the Meatpacking District. What do you ladies think?”
“Dancing?” McKenna and I said at the same time.
Andie stretched her tiny arms over her head and nodded.
“Are you serious?” McKenna said.
“Yeah, why not?”
McKenna looked at me. “Do you go dancing very often?”
I laughed. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“How many times have you been dancing since you moved to New York?” Andie asked.
I held up a fist to start counting on my fingers. “That would be…zero.” I kept my hand in a fist.
McKenna looked at Andie. “We’re in our thirties, now, Andie. I have a child. I think dancing in the Meatpacking District is in the rearview mirror.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder.
“On the contrary.” Andie shook her head. “That pathetic, fat egg Waverly just showed us is exactly why we should go dancing. Come on, ladies, we’re in New York! It’s Friday night, and it’s my birthday, and now you want to, what, just go home?”
McKenna and I exchanged glances.
“Yes?” I said.
“Wrong answer.” Andie pounded her hand lightly against the table. “I’m the birthday girl, so you two have to do what I say. And I say that we are not going home.”
“We’re not?” I said.
She shook her head. “Definitely not.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” McKenna said.
“Have you ever noticed that you’re sort of bossy?” I said to Andie.
“Why, thank you,” Andie said.
Just then, the waiter appeared with a slice of cake, a big candle on top.
Andie grinned and put her hand on her heart. “For moi?”
I grinned back. “Of course! Nothing but the best for the birthday girl.”
She pushed her hair behind her ears and leaned toward us. “Nice. Now ladies, before I blow out this candle, I want you to remember something.”
We looked at her.
She held up three fingers with each hand. “I’m thirty-three, and this weekend it’s all about me. You got that? Thirty-three, and it’s all about me.”
McKenna laughed. “Noted.”
We sang happy birthday, and as Andie blew out the candle, I scooted next to her and put my arm around her. “Did I mention how much I’ve missed you?”
• • •
“How much?”
“Sixty-six.”
“Sixty-six dollars for three drinks?”
The bartender gave me a curt nod. “Would you like to open a tab?”
“Um, I guess so.” I reached into my purse, but just then, Andie appeared and shooed me away.
“Move aside, amateur.” She handed the bartender her credit card. “Can you add three tequila shots to that order? Top shelf, please.”
The bartender smiled at her. “Coming right up.”
As I stepped back, I looked to my right and saw two younger women aggressively jostling for bar space next to Andie. They looked just out of high school and were dressed in spandex, ultra-short minidresses that barely covered their behinds, not to mention their water-balloonish cleavage.
I turned the other way and lowered my voice to McKenna. “Holy underage
prostitution ring, do you see the outfits on the other side of me? Those girls look like they’re about fourteen. Did you dress like that when you were fourteen?”
“I wore a headgear when I was fourteen.”
I laughed, then leaned toward the bar and poked my head over Andie’s shoulder. “By the way, did you just say shots?”
She grinned and nodded. “Oh yes, I did.”
“I can’t remember the last time I did a shot,” McKenna said.
“It’s got to be hard to do a shot with a headgear on.” I looked behind her at the crowd, which was filled with girls in outrageous outfits that were equally—if not more—slutty than those of the two at the bar. Who were these people?
Andie handed each of us a tiny glass. “I remember the last time you did a shot, McKenna.”
“You do? When was it?”
Andie grinned. “About five seconds from now.”
McKenna laughed. “Thanks for remembering.”
“Anytime. Ready, girls? Here’s to a night full of birthday memories so fun we won’t even remember them.”
I laughed. “What?”
“You heard me. Now drink, TV girl. I’m thirty-three, and it’s all about me, remember?”
I looked at McKenna, who was preparing to take her shot.
“You’re really doing it?”
She shrugged “When in Rome. Or the Meatpacking District, I guess.”
“Down it,” Andie said to me.
“OK, OK. Thank God your birthday doesn’t come around every day.”
We held up our shots, and then threw them back like old times. Despite my best effort to appear poised and dignified, I made a face as the tequila stung my throat. I set my empty glass on the bar and sucked on a lime. “That was disgusting.”
“You’re welcome.” Andie gestured toward the bar. “Fresh cocktails are waiting for you both right there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pee.”
She took off for the restroom, leaving McKenna and me to observe the scene around us. The place was getting more crowded by the minute.
“Can you believe we’re in a club? And in Manhattan?” I reached for the drinks.
“I can’t believe I’m up past eleven.”
I laughed and handed her a glass. “I still can’t believe I live here. How did that happen?”
Honey on Your Mind Page 13
