Chapter 20
Natalie
As usual, the PTA meeting this week was a total snooze fest. Betty went on a rampage about Candace’s behavior being inappropriate for someone with a prestigious title.
I was chomping at the bit to climb over the table and gouge that bitches eyes out, but Candace gave me the side-eye. Meaning, not today.
God, it’s exhausting watching these Botox Barbies pretend to take the moral high ground. Hundred bucks says their husbands are all jacking off to granny porn at night and banging the nanny while they stay busy injecting their faces with poison to look younger.
Candace is a doormat, just sitting back, letting them walk all over her.
It’s infuriating how nobody stands up for her, even more so that she doesn’t stand up for herself.
The skeletons hiding in these cookie-cutter closets have got to be amazing.
These twats don’t fool me, I see right through the bullshit.
“We’re still on for karaoke tonight, right?” Candace asks, once we wrap up.
“Yeah, but I’m gonna need a handful of painkillers to get rid of this headache after the hell I just sat through.”
“The girls are staying the night at Betty’s. So, once Court and I drop them off, we’ll meet you at the bar. Is that still okay?”
Candace is bundled up today, wearing a beige monochromatic outfit that vaguely resembles a catalog cover I once saw with a mom baking homemade apple pie, a drug-induced smile plastered on her face.
“Can’t wait.” Knowing that we’re in public and she wouldn’t dare let me come within a foot of her, I give her arm a brief but firm squeeze. “See you tonight,” she says, squeezing mine before turning to her minivan.
The bar Candace picked catapults me back in time, reminding me of a place you’d host a sixteenth birthday.
What’s someone like her doing in a dive like this?
It makes no sense. This must be her sister's influence. Randomly, there’s a valet out front with a young kid outside showing off a card trick to a teen girl about his age.
There’s no need to valet my Gio. Who’s gonna steal it besides a teenager high on magic mushrooms?
The double glass doors take me into a deep purple room, filled with large leather booths.
Plastic menus and ashtrays on each table give the impression that retirees hang out here on Friday nights.
Pink and purple lasers bounce off the walls as I get to the larger room reserved for karaoke.
A woman is butchering a familiar oldies pop song, as she stumbles through her words, keeping a tight grip on her glass beer bottle.
Tables scatter around, hosting a few couples and a rowdy group of teens in the back corner, shouting their requests.
“Hey, you made it.” I hear her voice before I see her.
Candace looks comfortable in a short leather skirt paired with an oversized white cashmere sweater.
Besides the lighter color, it’s similar to her concert outfit.
She’s even got the red flats I love so much.
Her hair’s pinned up in big curls, and she added a little pink to her lips, making them extra plump.
“What the hell is this place, and why have I never been here?” I ask in bewilderment. “If someone tries to sell me a pager, I’m leaving.”
Her legs are wobbly as we make our way to her sister, and the seductive sway in her hips gives away that she’s not entirely sober.
Servers walk around with colorful drinks and trays of appetizers.
A large screen projects the lyrics, and if only the woman singing, knew that maybe the teens would quit throwing out insults.
Candace leads me to a table filled with colorful martini glasses, and I see her sister has one hand on a glass and the other dipping a tortilla chip in an artichoke dip. “Nice shirt,” she says before taking a bite of her appetizer.
Taking pride in my choice of–your boyfriend wants me, as I join her. “I like yours too.” She looks down and laughs, knowing I didn't really mean it. It’s a long-sleeve black shirt with not a single design.
“Oh, I'm next.” Candace jumps up from the table, moving towards the stage to pick her song.
“Okay, you’ve gotta explain this to me. Betty Crocker, over there, doesn’t go to concerts and thinks sneaking a cookie in the middle of the night is living dangerously. What the hell is she doing on stage to sing some random pop song?” I ask Court, who is elbow deep in artichoke dip.
“There’s a lot about Candace that you don’t know yet.” Her focus stays on her clumsy sister, trying to find her footing.
“Enlighten me, then.” I drum my fingers against the table.
“She used to be a blast, seriously.” She smiles, admiring her sister.
“Before she got married and still lived at home, we’d sneak out constantly and go to bars or sneak into clubs.
The concert part is true. She really doesn’t care about that, but the girl knows how to have a good time.
When she was in high school, I kidnapped her and took her to spring break with me, while our parents thought we were on a college tour. ”
Picturing Candace on the beach during Spring break blows my mind. I can’t even picture her taking shots, let alone sneaking out to go clubbing. There’s more she needs to learn about me, but I never imagined there'd be this much to unpack about her.
“Once she slipped that diamond ring on her finger, she did a complete personality switch. There was so much pressure from her douchebag husband and my parents that I think it overwhelmed her, and she turned her brain off. I know Candace is still in there, so I try to steal her away for nights like this to remind her.” She gives me a once-over and smiles.
“I think you’ll definitely bring out that side of her, if you haven’t already. ”
Before I can rebuttal, a familiar song starts, and my headache from earlier is back.
“She’s a closet Britney fan, even though this is the only one she knows by heart.” She laughs and whistles, cheering on Candace.
Candace starts out choppy but quickly finds her groove. She slides her fingers down the sides of her hips while her other hand keeps a firm grip on the microphone.
“So, what's the deal? Are you about to wreck my sister’s life, or should I take a chill pill and quit worrying?” Court hands me a shot before throwing one back.
“Whoa, Mom. Getting a little overprotective, are we?” I snap, taking a shot for some courage.
“Don’t be a smartass. Is this a game, or are you really serious about her? She’s an all-in kind of girl, and she’s only ever been with one person, and although he was a giant pussy, he didn’t have one,” she says fiercely, sounding more like an older sister than the baby of the family.
My eyes squint and lips purse, trying to understand her motive. “Is it the vagina that’s the problem? Or just me?”
“Definitely you.” She takes a sip of her martini and smiles at Candace. “Although the vagina is gonna be a hot topic of conversation once everyone finds out.” Court turns, locking eyes with me.
“I don’t have to defend myself to you. I don’t even know you.
” I take a shot, and it burns worse than the first one.
“Clearly, this is new, and there’s a lot left for us to discover, but I can’t ignore the magnetic force pulling us together, and there’s no way in hell I’m breaking it.
I want her, and I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. ”
“Hey, easy tiger.” Court holds up her hands in surrender.
“I’m on team Candace all the way, but as her sister, I’m entitled to voice my concerns.
She’s behaving a little recklessly, and although I think it’s time she cut this Stepford act, I wanna make sure she’s doing it for her, and not to please you. ”
“So I take it she broke down and talked to you about me?”
“She did.” Nodding slowly, she takes another bite of her artichoke dip. “Candace needs a confidant. There’s nobody else for her to turn to.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. I’m not backing down. The PTA doesn’t scare me, and neither do you, nor your senile parents. Her kids are cool as shit, and I know they're a package deal. I’m all in, even if she’s not. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
“You’re ready for kids at, what are you, like twenty and fresh out of college? The prospect of strep throat and driver's training sounds appealing?” she laughs, seemingly not believing a word I’m saying.
“What’s your biggest concern then, oh confidant?” I ask smugly, wanting nothing more to do with this god-awful conversation.
“That you're not concerned. My sister up there thinks she’s the worst mom to walk this planet. On a daily basis, she beats herself up a minimum of twelve times. Not a second goes by that she doesn’t feel guilty about something.
It took hours to convince her to come out here tonight.
But here you sit, confident as ever, ready to take on one of the hardest jobs in the world with no experience. ” She says earnestly.
“Fucking sisters, man.” I push the table away from me, needing air, and a sandal so I can chuck it at my future girlfriend’s overbearing sister.
The bathroom I find is grungy as hell, the walls are covered with band posters and messy signatures of guests.
Red and black tiles line the floor, and a flickering light hangs above the gold circular mirror.
Honestly, I can't think of a better place to lick my wounds while my Britney impersonator finishes her set.