Chapter 25 #2
“What did he think I’d do if he told me earlier?
Contract or no …” I would not have kept that secret.
“Okay. Fine! You win!” I shout out to the empty car.
“I would have gone after Dick Shitaker with a bat in my postpartum, absolutely mindless state.” Because to me, this loan was an attack on my family.
A horn beeps behind me, making my heart leap in my chest. “Sorry!” I wave my hand over my head, then out the window in a weird, swirly motion, then turn to Joe’s bar.
But before I head inside, I make a quick phone call to a family friend. Just to double-check a couple of things.
“No fucking way!” Becky shouts, slamming her drink on the table with a wild hoot that sets the others at the table off again.
“Then he says—he says, ’Ms. Dew-Champ, I was intoxicated by your presents.
’ He even spelled it wrong, and my name was on the message thread!
No, my online dating career was short-lived, and good riddance. ”
Vicky is cackling next to her. She looks surprisingly young up close, but you’d never know it from the wild clothing she wears.
She has Jamie Lee Curtis circa the Nineties mixed with the crazy aunt style.
She’s maybe in her mid to late forties, so I’m not sure why she’s acting like a spinster widow.
Maybe I’m being oversensitive, but she seems uncomfortable in the role.
Next to her is Sonya Hall. One of my son’s favorite teachers.
She keeps giggling like a madwoman, sipping her drink with ill-advised enthusiasm.
She’s twenty-four—older than I originally thought, but not by much.
She gives off younger energy with her bouncy nature.
Vicky meets my eyes from across the table and nods very slightly to Sonya.
“I got her,” she mouths, and adds a wink.
Apparently, I was projecting my thoughts. I nod and ignore the heat climbing my cheeks as I tune back into the conversation between Becky and Sonya.
“You need to read more romance books.” She turns to me, grabs my hand, and squeezes it, looking like she’s giving me the world’s best-kept secret.
“All of you do, and then hand them to your men.” Her smile turns sly.
“Sometimes, Carter reads mine.” Her voice drops to the world’s worst stage whisper, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing outright.
“He reads the spicy scenes. It is—” She looks past me, and her charming, impish look falls into something small and sad. “It was amazing.”
“Trevor has done the same, but never tell anyone I told you, deal?” Her face lights up again, and she chuckles, taking another large sip of her drink.
When she tilts it to me, I shake my head.
“Driving, Love. We talked about this before.” I don’t turn fast enough, though, and the smell hits.
I can’t stop the wrinkle in my nose or the roil in my guts.
I back away and start my slow, deep breathing.
Becky narrows her eyes at me, but then Sonya starts talking about her man again.
I rest against the back of my seat and take in the moment. I breathe through the discomfort.
“It’s her. Over there! I heard that Caroline left because of the blond one with the massive—”
I can’t see them, but based on the dress I’m wearing, that is definitely not meant for these pregnant kitties, it doesn’t take much effort to imagine who they’re referring to.
“Yes. Apparently, they started sleeping together, and poor Carri walked in on them. And her husband didn’t do much better! He—”
“I need to pee!” I shout it to the ladies at the table, standing quickly from my seat, and a tipsy, smiling Becky gives me a thumbs up, then an okay symbol.
“Want me to come with you? Buddy system?” Becky begins to stand, but I shake my head.
“No, no. Vicky wanted to tell you another story. Right, Vicky?”
She smirks at me. “Yeah, sure. Want to hear about how Jill pissed me off the other day?
“Absolutely!”
“What did you do?”
Both women are refocused on her, and I race to the bathroom. Ignoring the women tittering at the bar. They don’t know me.
I fly into the bathroom and thank my lucky stars when I realize there’s an open stall. I crash through there, fall to my knees, and finally vomit. I thought I was over this part.
“Oh, no. Partying too hard on Wasted Women’s Wednesday is a rookie mistake, lovely!”
“Shh. Don’t be weird, Patricia.”
I’m having a hard time with it, and the audience is the worst. The name and the voice are oddly familiar, though.
“I’m giving her some tissues.”
“There’s toilet paper.”
“Shh, Hey, honey. I’m going to put this little thing of tissues on the TP dispenser. It’s cleaner than the other stuff they have in here, alright?”
“Dammit, Patricia. Let’s go.”
“I’m coming! Anyway, feel better, hun. Cute dress. Bye!”
I don’t hear their exit, but Patricia was right. The tissues were a major boon.
I wash my hands and look at myself. I do look good in a way I haven’t in a long time, though some of my eye makeup ran from the tears of vomiting.
My dress is extremely flattering, and the growth of my breasts has turned it almost indecent.
But, other than the puking and the gossiping, I feel good.
I’m doing fine. “I’m not the woman they’re saying I am.
” I need to get back to the table and enjoy the rest of the night.
I pull my flowy dress tighter across my midriff and turn to the side.
“Oof. This is not going to be a secret much longer, beans.”
In the low light of the hallway, a familiar face appears, half shadowed in the corner by Joe’s office. He’s leaning over a woman, a familiar shit-talking woman, whispering practically into her neck. She giggles at whatever he’s saying, and I want to throw up again in my mouth. Bobby is a snake.
His eyes pin me where I stand as if he just heard my thoughts, and the sly grin he is sharing with the other woman becomes downright predatory.
Fear flashes through me, rendering me motionless.
He whispers something else to the woman before shooing her away.
She sashays away, but when she looks back to see if he’s watching her, she finds that he’s watching me.
Her eyes widen in recognition before she scuttles away. Go gossip somewhere else, asshole.