floor next to the couch.
Also crumpled on the floor was the gorgeous Monique Lhuillier wedding gown she’d scored
for a mere seventy-five bucks at a resale shop. I’d dragged her to the thrift store
when I needed some cheap undercover outfits. At first, Alicia had been appalled by
the idea of secondhand clothing. But when she realized what amazing deals she could
get on barely worn designer items she’d gone nuts, filling her entire trunk with bags
of bargains.
Alicia’s eyes were closed. She didn’t bother to open them when she heard me come in.
She simply sighed loudly to acknowledge my presence and to alert me to her mood, which
apparently hadn’t changed since she’d moved in with me the night before.
The pitcher of sangria sat on the coffee table, mostly empty, only a few orange and
peach slices left in the bottom. Next to the pitcher was a glass with a half inch
of reddish liquid in the bottom. Alicia hadn’t wasted any time getting wasted.
“Alcohol isn’t the answer,” I told her.
She opened one bloodshot eye. “It is if the question is ‘how can I get shit faced
and forget about my dumb-ass boyfriend?’”
“Ah,” I said. “You’re right.” She’d always been smarter than me.
I picked up the rumpled wedding gown, held it by the shoulders, and gave it a good
shake to fluff it out. Once the dress had settled back into shape, I slid it onto
the hanger and hung it in my coat closet.
“You might as well throw that dress in the trash,” she said. “I’m never going to wear
it. I’m going to die an old maid and it’s all Daniel’s fault. He stole the best years
of my life.”
He didn’t so much steal them as take what she had willingly offered. Still, no need
to point that out, right? She felt bad enough already.
“As long as you’re in a man-hating mood, wanna do me a favor?”
“Sure.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to derail Nick’s date tonight. Make sure things go bad.”
She nodded. “I’d be happy to help. Nobody should fall in love. It’s too painful. Love
is just an illusion, anyway. It’s like a rainbow. There for a moment, then suddenly—”
She splayed her fingers in the air. “Poof! It’s gone.”
Apparently the sangria had made her philosophical as well as shit faced.
I called Christina. I was in luck. She was available, too.
I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and led Alicia out to my BMW, depositing her
in the backseat, where she promptly lay down again. I drove to Christina’s apartment,
texting her from the lot when I arrived. She’d thrown on a lightweight shapeless sweater
that somehow still managed to show off her perfect body. If she wasn’t such a great
person I’d really love to hate her.
We decided to take Christina’s car, since Nick would be more likely to recognize my
BMW than her Volvo. We transferred the drunken blob that was Alicia to the backseat
of the Volvo and took our seats up front.
I held out my phone and showed Christina the GPS app.
“That’s handy,” she said. “But I’m glad they didn’t have those things back when I
was in high school. My father would have tracked my every move.”
The red dot on the map was in motion, indicating that Nick’s truck had left his mother’s
house and was heading north. We hopped onto the freeway and headed after him.
I looked over at Christina, eyeing her left hand on the steering wheel. “You’re not
wearing the ring today.”
She glanced back at Alicia, who was sound asleep, her face smushed against the leather
seat. No need to worry about upsetting our friend at the moment. “The ring felt, I
don’t know,” Christina said, “like a lot of pressure?”
I nodded. At the moment, none of us seemed to be in synch with the men in our lives.
But if my mom and dad had managed to bounce back from the Candy Cummings/Randall the
chess master incident, there
Also crumpled on the floor was the gorgeous Monique Lhuillier wedding gown she’d scored
for a mere seventy-five bucks at a resale shop. I’d dragged her to the thrift store
when I needed some cheap undercover outfits. At first, Alicia had been appalled by
the idea of secondhand clothing. But when she realized what amazing deals she could
get on barely worn designer items she’d gone nuts, filling her entire trunk with bags
of bargains.
Alicia’s eyes were closed. She didn’t bother to open them when she heard me come in.
She simply sighed loudly to acknowledge my presence and to alert me to her mood, which
apparently hadn’t changed since she’d moved in with me the night before.
The pitcher of sangria sat on the coffee table, mostly empty, only a few orange and
peach slices left in the bottom. Next to the pitcher was a glass with a half inch
of reddish liquid in the bottom. Alicia hadn’t wasted any time getting wasted.
“Alcohol isn’t the answer,” I told her.
She opened one bloodshot eye. “It is if the question is ‘how can I get shit faced
and forget about my dumb-ass boyfriend?’”
“Ah,” I said. “You’re right.” She’d always been smarter than me.
I picked up the rumpled wedding gown, held it by the shoulders, and gave it a good
shake to fluff it out. Once the dress had settled back into shape, I slid it onto
the hanger and hung it in my coat closet.
“You might as well throw that dress in the trash,” she said. “I’m never going to wear
it. I’m going to die an old maid and it’s all Daniel’s fault. He stole the best years
of my life.”
He didn’t so much steal them as take what she had willingly offered. Still, no need
to point that out, right? She felt bad enough already.
“As long as you’re in a man-hating mood, wanna do me a favor?”
“Sure.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to derail Nick’s date tonight. Make sure things go bad.”
She nodded. “I’d be happy to help. Nobody should fall in love. It’s too painful. Love
is just an illusion, anyway. It’s like a rainbow. There for a moment, then suddenly—”
She splayed her fingers in the air. “Poof! It’s gone.”
Apparently the sangria had made her philosophical as well as shit faced.
I called Christina. I was in luck. She was available, too.
I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and led Alicia out to my BMW, depositing her
in the backseat, where she promptly lay down again. I drove to Christina’s apartment,
texting her from the lot when I arrived. She’d thrown on a lightweight shapeless sweater
that somehow still managed to show off her perfect body. If she wasn’t such a great
person I’d really love to hate her.
We decided to take Christina’s car, since Nick would be more likely to recognize my
BMW than her Volvo. We transferred the drunken blob that was Alicia to the backseat
of the Volvo and took our seats up front.
I held out my phone and showed Christina the GPS app.
“That’s handy,” she said. “But I’m glad they didn’t have those things back when I
was in high school. My father would have tracked my every move.”
The red dot on the map was in motion, indicating that Nick’s truck had left his mother’s
house and was heading north. We hopped onto the freeway and headed after him.
I looked over at Christina, eyeing her left hand on the steering wheel. “You’re not
wearing the ring today.”
She glanced back at Alicia, who was sound asleep, her face smushed against the leather
seat. No need to worry about upsetting our friend at the moment. “The ring felt, I
don’t know,” Christina said, “like a lot of pressure?”
I nodded. At the moment, none of us seemed to be in synch with the men in our lives.
But if my mom and dad had managed to bounce back from the Candy Cummings/Randall the
chess master incident, there
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