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My mother snorted. "If I had a dime for every time that ungrateful gold digger threatened to leave you…that'd be a lot of dimes, dear."
I grimaced. "She's packing, Ma. Feel free to say 'I told you so'."
"I did tell you so—and that's because I'm always right. But I'm still sorry." Martha seemed to consider the news for a moment. "So, who is it?"
"Huh?"
"The guy she's leaving you for?" She sounded as though she were being patient with me.
"What?" I asked, feeling dazed. "I don't think that's what's going on—"
"Jessica's not leaving you and your piles of money and your mansion in Wellesley because she
needs personal space," she said, interrupting me. "Of course there's someone else."
I squeezed the bottle of Advil. I would appreciate it if my mother was wrong, for once.
"Don't you worry," Martha clucked. "No matter who it is, nobody's better than you. Anyways, good riddance to bad rubbish. I always thought that Jessica was like that Ursula from The Little Mermaid—she could make herself appear beautiful, but underneath it she was ugly. Real ugly. Like, run away screaming ugly. You remember Ursula, don't you, honey? The bad witch who was an octopus?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I groaned. "I never saw The Little Mermaid—"
"Oh, of course you did," she said, sounding exasperated. "And Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty…you watched all the princess movies with me and your sister. Remember?"
"I gotta go, Ma," I said, holding onto the ibuprofen for dear life.
* * *
AVERY
I called in to AccommoDating while I was on break at the Sizzling Ranch. "Hey. It's Avery Banks."
"Nice to hear from you again, Avery," Elena, the madam, said politely. "What can I do for you?"
"I need an assignment." I bit my lip.
"When are you available?"
"As soon as I'm done with my waitressing shift. I'm free tonight," I said. My stomach roiled with nerves.
"I'll see what I have coming in," Elena said smoothly. "I'd love to get you working some more. The other clients were very pleased with you."
"Thank you," I mumbled. I shoved the images of the other clients forcefully from my mind. Then I went back to work, my hands shaking.
A girl I waitressed with had told me about AccommoDating.
"My sister went to a wedding this weekend," Kylie had said, while we were cleaning the chain restaurant's equipment and readying for the day.
I'd smiled at her, trying to be friendly. "Oh yeah?"
"Uh-huh. She said it was high-class, all the way. She got flown to an island. In the Caribbean. All expenses paid. It was a bunch of billionaires or something." Kylie wiped down the soda machine and simultaneously tossed her thick, curly ponytail over her shoulder. "'Wouldn't I like to meet a billionaire', I told my sister. You know what she said?"
"No," I answered. I didn't know Kylie that well, but I liked her. She was always talking, always had a story to tell. I appreciated that. Her friendly chatter helped pass the long shifts at the restaurant.
Kylie moved on to the coffeemaker and wiped it almost violently. "She told me it'd never happen—that I'd never get a billionaire because I'm not pretty enough. And 'cause I talk too much."
I gave her a consoling look. "I'm sorry. It's not true—you're very pretty. It's just sister shit. I have one. She can be mean, too."
Kylie gave me a conspiratorial look. "Mine's a hooker," she said in a low voice. "So you'd think she wouldn't be such an uppity you-know-what, but she still is."
