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“He’s just some asshole that tried to get frisky too many times in the VIP rooms,” I lie again. “Really. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Amanda nods slowly, but shrugs it off. “Well, in that case. I’m glad I gave him a hard time about the blue plates.”
“Yeah,” Leeah says. “We didn’t need the blue ones. We actually wanted black since it’s Batman. Everyone knows that Batman is black and yellow.”
“But that guy was such an asshole,” Amanda cuts in. “So once he left the aisle, we grabbed the black plates and threw them on top of the blue ones we don’t need.”
“Now I don’t feel so bad,” Leeah says, shrugging her shoulders and heading toward the checkout.
Amanda laughs. “I didn’t feel bad in the slightest.”
I smirk at them and follow them as they push the cart toward the front of the store.
I guess I shouldn’t feel bad either. He really is an asshole sometimes.
A few hours later, we’re all dressed with the party decorations tucked safely in the trunk of Megan’s car. I’m sliding into the passenger seat while Leeah and Amanda buckle themselves into the back seat and I’m in awe of the view.
Amanda’s dark eye makeup is replaced with a subtle tan shadow over a eyeliner-less lid. Her bright pink blush is faded into a light pink highlight, and her bright red lips are a simple transparent lipgloss. Her gray scarf is resting atop of a loose-fitting, white, three-quarter sleeve shirt. And her light blue jeans are tucked nicely inside a pair of dark brown boots.
She looks like a soccer mom.
Sitting next to her, Leeah is dressed in a cute, gray maxi dress with gold sandals, and a flowing white cardigan that hangs down to her butt. Her long, dark hair is in the most perfect messy bun I’ve ever seen, and her makeup is so subtle that you can barely tell it’s there.
I smile at them. We look like we’re a group of moms heading to our weekly book club.
Megan, on the other hand, is her natural self. Tight fake leather pants with a bright red halter top. Her hair is curled and clipped in the right places to frame her face, but keep it out of the way at the same time. Her giant hoops dangle next to her face while her wrists are decorated in shiny silver bracelets. And her makeup is only a notch under her club makeup.
That’s my girl.
I, however, look similar to Amanda with a flowing black top that hangs down over my butt. My tight white jeans are also tucked into a pair of boots. And my makeup is just as subtle as hers, but I have a bit more blush and glitter dabbed onto my cheeks.
“Are we ready?” Megan asks as she slides into the driver’s seat and adjusts her rearview mirror. I’ve noticed she always adjusts the mirror, even if she adjusts it right back to where it was when she first touched it.
“You betcha,” Leeah says, tapping the top of the gift bags at her feet.
I smile at her. It feels odd being here with these girls. We all look put together. In outfits that won’t get us gawked at by men and women everywhere. We just look like those women who live in a nice housing development where our grass can only be two inches tall.
Like our lives are put together and we don’t go ape shit over getting a dishwasher for the first time.
I’m still happy about that.
We drive past the club and I feel a hitch in my gut as I’m reminded of the event we have tomorrow night. And according to Tommy, I have to be on myverybest behavior.
Ugh.
Megan turns down the street and I zone out as she takes us the rest of the way to our destination. My mind racing with thoughts of everything imaginable. My last fight with Nick, my kids, my stripper job, the birthday party.
Even the time I gave myself up to two complete strangers for a line of cocaine.
I don’t even know myself anymore.
Megan cuts the engine and I hear the back doors open as Leeah and Amanda get out of the car. I look up and realize we’re not at Megan’s baby daddy’s house.
We’re at some sort of medical institution.
What the hell?
“You got the cake?” Megan asks me.
