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“Yeah, it could be so much worse.”
“So where does the divorce stand now?”
“I have a severance package from the agency. We have a dispute over what constitutes my half. So I get a check, like a salary, as if I were an employee, until that part is decided. I could either be a millionaire or have nothing. My lawyer says he thinks we will get all the money I’m asking for—”
“They have to say that though, right?”
I nodded. “You’d think in a perfect world the adulterer would lose, but the world is pretty imperfect.”
“So you’re still married to Darren.” She scowled.
“Yep, while we hammer out this split.”
“At least you get to live in the house.”
I frowned comically, and pretended to cry. “Yes, I do, but waah! Now the asswipe is buying a new house! God he makes me furious.” I leaned forward because I had been needing to rant about this since I heard the news. “Like I didn’t even think about it at the time, because it was all so freaking complicated, but I fought to remain at the house because I thought moving would be a pain in the ass, and I wanted one thing to be uncomplicated and I thought I LOVED that house, you know — it’s grand, right?”
“It’s epic, yes.”
“So I demanded that I get to live there and kicked him out, as you know, and now, ugh, now...”
I scowled and leaned back in my chair. “At first he pretended like he wanted the house, but now I see.” I tapped my temple. “He only wanted to pretend, he relented. Helet me live there and now he’s buying a bigger, a goddamned giant, house, in the neighborhood I used to want! But when we were in the market there wasn’t one in that neighborhood for sale. So now he is moving there.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “And he doesn’t want any of our furniture, guess why?”
“The asshole is going to buy all new, but how though? He has no style!”
“He’s hiring AJ’s firm.”
“Darren is the worst. AJ shouldn’t take it, that’s so unfair.”
“It’s business. And I have to give AJ credit, he called to let me know so I wouldn’t hear it from someone else. He said, ‘I’ve been hired to decorate Darren’s new house.’ It was fair warning, that’s all I can ask for.” I took a sip of wine. “So Darren’s new house is bigger, better, and I’m stuck living in our old house, and I might not even get to keep it, if the divorce doesn’t go my way, he could have two houses!”
“That would never happen, this is all just horrible and you are going to win.”
“I think so... Probably, I think the fight is the punishment, you know? And the worst part? Over the last couple of months I’ve grown to hate our house because it was ‘our house’. It’s not mine at all. Everything in it was a fucking consolation negotiation. I wanted more color, softer chairs, those cool pillows — remember the ones AJ found for me? But Darren said no, he said no to everything I liked and now it’s just a fucking museum to how shitty he was. Do you think he fucked any of his mistresses in our house, ever?”
“God I hope not.”
“Or do you think he might have been coming home from screwing his mistresses in a hotel and then arguing with me over the throw pillows? I hate him so much and now the house fills me with rage. I shouldn’t have fought to live in it. Lesson for all the girls.”
“It’s in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in LA. There are probably two hundred and seventy-nine real estate agents who would meet us here right now if you decided to sell it. You could announce it by text and ‘the first one here gets the job’ and there’d be a stampede.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But think about that for a second — If I win the house I won’t have won a home in the divorce, I will be burdened with a project. I will have to sell it. I should have told him to live in it. I should be getting the new house, something cool and hip... somewhere else...”
“Well, think of it like this: you’re right it’s not a home, it’s real estate, and when it’s yours you’ll just have to hire an agent. Simple. And better in the long run... the market is on fire, I’m sure the value is rising, right now, tonight, you probably made another thousand bucks on that house. You could live in a motel, like they do in the movies, and just let it make you money. You could AirBnB it, call it a crime scene house, they make tons of money. Or!” Her eyes went wide. “You could rent it to the porn industry...”
“So I live in a hotel while a porn film crew uses my house? Gross...” I shook my head. “I’m just going to cope until I can sell.”
The waitress appeared and asked us if we needed anything else. We asked for more wine and a chocolate cake with two forks.
After she delivered our wine and cake, Jess said, “So this brings me to my next question...” She took a bite of cake and moaned happily. “Why did you order this? This is too much chocolate.” She took another bite.
“You look like you’re enjoying it.”
“Only because it’s in front of me. We should have Uber-ed by the store and picked up a cheese danish and taken it back to my place and eaten it with spoons on the couch. You know I hate pretentious restaurant cakes.”
My eyes went wide. “Can’t we do both? No, never mind, don’t answer, I can’t do both, not at all. I have to fit into a dress in less than forty-eight hours, and look good enough that Darren wants to die at the thought that he’s lost me and I’m going to take everything.”
“And that’s my next question: He’s still going to the opening?”
