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“I don’t know about you,” Amanda added, “but now that I’m dating younger guys, I personally can’t stand men my age anymore. It’s fine if you’re already with one, but otherwise—”
“I agree. If I want to look at an old guy, I can look at my husband!”
“I suppose you could, if you ever saw him!”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Texting? Divorce? A matchmaker? No. That isn’t Monica, Pandy thought.
She had to stop this.
“Hold on!” she shouted. “Monica isn’t getting divorced.”
“But everything that happens to you happens to M
onica, right?” Brittney squawked.
“Not anymore,” Pandy declared, suddenly remembering her new, very un-Monica book and how it would force the critics to finally take her seriously. This was something that would never happen to Monica. No one took Monica seriously at all.
And could you blame them? Look at her right now. Look at her friends: Portia was sitting on the kitchen counter, her too-short dress riding up her thighs, while Nancy was inadvertently sloshing champagne on the front of Angie’s shirt and extolling the virtues of vaginal steaming.
Pandy held up her hand for order. “As a matter of fact, I do have a new book coming out.”
“When?”
“I don’t really know. I just finished it. Last week, as a matter of fact.”
“Pandemonia James Wallis,” Suzette crowed. “You naughty girl. Why didn’t you tell us before? Now we can stop celebrating your divorce, and start celebrating your new book.” She held up a bottle of champagne. “To PJ!”
“To Monica!”
“To PJ and Monica!”
Pandy groaned. She pushed through the crowd to the couch. “I have an announcement—”
“You have a new boyfriend!” Amanda gasped.
For a moment, Pandy put her face in her hands. Then she climbed onto the couch, standing precariously with one foot on the cushion and one foot on the arm for balance. As she was climbing, she noticed that the sun was about to set.
“Hello! Over here!” she said, waving her arms. Most of the women were no longer paying attention.
“Hello! Me here. Wanting to say something!”
Suzette heard her voice, turned around, and shushed the crowd. “Our hostess wants to say something.”
“Hey, Pandy’s talking.”
“Be polite.”
As the noise level dropped, Pandy was quite sure she heard the words “needs Botox” and “still totally naïve about Jonny,” although not necessarily in that order. Then Angie handed her an open bottle of champagne, and Pandy took a swig and gave it back. She touched her mouth with her fingertips.
“I have an announcement,” she repeated, scanning the room. Everyone was listening now. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re all here. You all know how much I love you!”
“Awww.”
“We love you, too, Goobers.”
Pandy bowed her head in thanks, waiting for them to settle down.
