“Between our mom passing,” Camila sends Rory a watery smile, “work, and life in general, I’ve always struggled to find a tight-knit friend group.”
She gestures to Maya, Denise, and Tiffany with her glass, spilling her margarita onto the already damp VIP couch and Maya’s shoes.
“I mean, seriously!”Splash.“You are goals!”Splash.
Maya smiles while discreetly dabbing the sticky liquid off her feet. Rory mouths “sorry” with a pained expression.
“But you all seem so amazing. Successful, smart, and hella hot!” Denise and I both giggle. Camila raises her glass even higher. “To girlfriends!”
“To girlfriends!” the group echoes.
I started tonight a little anxious. Next week is my first Thanksgiving with Dad, Debbie, and Debbie’s kids since they got married three years ago. Between my crazy work schedule, obligations with Andre’s family, and holidays with Uncle Cordell and Jeremiah, there was never any time left to see my dad’s new place and his replacement wife.
I shake my head at myself. That was mean. I may have also been avoiding getting to know my new stepmom, but Dad put his foot down this year. His text about Thanksgiving included the wordmandatory.
Dinner with my family meant turning down Damon’s invitation to eat withhisfamily, something I was already stewing about.AndI have an important gig in Bali that I leave for the following day!
But somehow, with these relative strangers, I’m laughing, drinking jello shots, and having the time of my life in Atlantic City of all places. Through a series of seemingly unrelatedevents, I found an incredible group of women that just might be my tribe.To girlfriendsindeed!
Chapter twenty-eight
Damon
If the pictures are anything to go by, Kendra and the girls gotturntin AC!
I chuckle to myself on the way down the subway stairs.Turntprobably isn’t the cool word anymore, but fuck if I’m going to waste any time trying to stay up to date on teenage lingo. As far as those kids are concerned, I’m a fossil.
After a week of lust-filled bliss, it was hard to let Kendra out of my sight for Camila’s bachelorette party. It was even harder to hear she can’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. Yes, she was there for the July 4th party, but not as my girlfriend. Not as someone whose place I stay at more than my own.
I pop in my AirPods, doing my best to tune out the commute.
The boys won their game tonight, a grueling battle against their fiercest rival, Ridgefield High. Kendra’s cousin, Jeremiah, was there; he’s an absolute beast! He racked up twenty pointsand ten rebounds while making Carter’s life miserable. It was one of his lowest-scoring games of the season, a fact that had him kicking a chair during halftime until I reminded him that shit wouldn’t fly out on the court.
Robbie stepped up, sinking buckets from the perimeter when Ridgefield made it impossible to get to the net, and the team as a whole ran plays with the ease and confidence of people who truly trust in each other’s abilities.
I thought for sure the game would go into overtime, but Bryce, the sophomore we just moved up from JV, came through with a clutch three-pointer right before the buzzer. The response was a wall of sound from the stands that almost knocked me on my ass. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and stomping and making me worry slightly about the integrity of the bleachers.
Jeremiah and the rest of the Ridgefield team were understandably gutted, but they held their heads high during the post-game handshake. They played incredibly, and if they’d sunk one more ball, blocked just one more shot, they would’ve been the ones celebrating tonight.
I exit at the 1st Avenue stop and turn left on East 9th instead of my usual right on East 12th. Kendra’s packing for a weeklong shoot in Bali, and all that’s waiting for me at home is an empty apartment, so I washed up in the world’s shortest shower stall, shaved at the world’s tiniest vanity in the boys’ locker room, and headed to Kendra’s place for a surprise visit.
I have to see her. I’ll even help her pack if she wants. Maybe not clothes, but I havesomethingthat’ll be a tight fit. Tonight’s game warrants more than a beer and a TV dinner alone.
There’s an extra spring in my step when I arrive at Kendra’s building, mostly from my eagerness to see her, but partly from the climax of Coldplay’s “Paradise” in my headphones. That excitement falls flat the moment I see who else is waiting in the lobby.
Fuckin’ Andre.
Ever since the paparazzi started taking our pictures, he’s been sniffing around. Texting her late at night for a trip down memory lane, not realizing I’m lying right next to her. Trying to get our date itinerary from her agent so he can ambush us. Inviting her dad out for drinks “for old times’ sake”. Apparently, he doesn’t believe I’ll really kick his ass, but I’m happy to enlighten him.
He stands in the cavernous lobby, holding a bouquet that’s easily two hundred dollars, and my hands clench into fists automatically.
“Hey, Andre!” I greet him with a wave. Sarcasm drips from every word, and there’s no way he doesn’t miss the menace in my eyes. “Long time no see.”
The douchebag straightens like he’s just been called to attention. I’m pretty sure I heard his asshole pucker.
“Uh, hi man,” he answers, looking nervously around for…what? Backup? From whom? “What are you doing here?”
“The real question,” I tsk, swaggering within choking distance, “is what areyoudoing here? Aren’t you and Kendra divorced?”
