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“That motherfucker is staying at the Hilton? Those rooms are like, over two hundred dollars a night, and he’s been here for weeks. That asshole is using my goddamn alimony to stay at a five-star hotel!” I shout, pushing myself up from the couch. “Alimony he didn’t even deserve since he never filed the fucking paperwork! That shit stick, tiny penis, mother of fucks!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Anastasia holding up her phone right at me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting this on Snapchat. My followers like it when you’re feisty. They are shook right now. You are goals, dude,” she replies, typing furiously on her phone.
“Are you on drugs? Does shook stand for marijuana?” Belle asks her seriously.
“Do I look like I’m joyous enough to be on drugs right now?” Anastasia deadpans.
“People, focus!” Cindy orders, tapping her pen against the notepad. “Okay, here’s what I have. Number one—kick Sebastian’s ass. Number two—get immediate divorce from Sebastian and threaten to cut off his balls if he doesn’t pay you back every penny you sent him the last two years. Number three—figure out a game plan for the board meeting where we can get that denial reversed while also exposing Ursula for being the queen of all assholes while also trying not to ruin her relationship with Eric, even though I think it should be ruined because she doesn’t deserve him. Number four—make up with Eric so you can live happily ever after with him, get off my couch, and stop giving my daughter more material for Snapchat.”
I paced back and forth in front of the couch while she read from her notepad; now I stop moving to look at her.
“You forgot number five: Drink as much alcohol as possible and get white-girl wasted so that all of this doesn’t seem completely impossible,” I tell her.
“Oh, that was implied. I didn’t feel like it needed its own number,” Cindy shrugs. “What also didn’t need its own number was you getting in the shower so you stop smelling like regret and desperation.”
“And make it snappy,” Belle orders. “We’ve got a Hilton to visit and some ass kicking to do. That will perk you right up!”
“SHOTGUN!” Anastasia announces as I rush out of the living room and down the hall.
Chapter 27: I Just Want Him to Piddle His Pants
“Be firm, look him in the eye, and don’t back down,” Cindy coaches me as we get out of her car in front of the Hilton. She hands her keys to the valet and then turns to her daughter, who’s at the back of the vehicle. “Anastasia, put the tire iron back in the trunk right now.”
Anastasia rolls her eyes and tosses the tool back into the trunk, where it lands with a loud thunk, then slams the lid closed and walks over to us.
“Why did you even let me come if I wasn’t going to see any bloodshed?” Anastasia complains.
“Because, this is a good lesson for you to witness. Ariel is standing up to a bully, and she’s going to do it in a calm, concise manner, using her words and not her fists,” Cindy informs her.
“According to Forbes, people in abusive relationships tolerate being treated in ways that leave them hurt, frustrated, resentful, or undervalued. It may not seem like a big deal, but over time, we teach people how to treat us. It’s why bullies prey on those they can get away with bullying. In the end, we get what we tolerate. Don’t tolerate his bullshit, Ariel,” Belle tells me as the four of us enter the revolving door.
They’ve been giving me pep talks the entire drive here, and while I appreciate what they’re doing, I don’t need any more advice. I’ve got advice coming out of my ass at this point. I’m not going to wuss out like I did the last time I saw this asshole. He caught me off guard that day, and I was still trying to find my self-confidence. I’ve found it in spades at this point, and right now, I’m so pissed at what he did to me, there isn’t a chance in hell that Wussy Ariel will be making an appearance today.
Plus, I look damn fine, if I do say so myself. After I finally showered and washed the regret and desperation off of myself, as well as the ice cream, chips, and cream cheese, I grabbed the tightest dress I owned out of my boxes, which were piled in Cindy’s living room. A purple spandex number that is off the shoulder, long sleeved, clings to every curve, and ends right above the knee. I paired it with the sparkly purple stilettos I danced in at Charming’s. Sebastian never liked my curves. Well, he’s going to get an eyeful of these things today, and he’s going to wish he would have paid more attention to them. I put big curls in my hair and then pulled it up into a high ponytail to leave my shoulders bare, another thing Sebastian didn’t like. I was too thick for him everywhere else, and yet he thought my shoulders were too bony.
