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I didn't have the emotional strength to deal with the bad news inside the envelope right now. So I slid it into my purse for later, preferably when there was nothing breakable within reach.
* * *
Being Tuesday,the bar Vivienne had chosen wasn’t crowded when I arrived. She had gotten us a table with a good view of the place, as was her specialty. Deer hunters had blinds for hunting their prey. Vivienne selected tables similarly; she wanted a clear view of the field.
Yellow mush in a glass sat in front of my seat. “I got you a margarita to start.” She was trying to break me of my habit of always ordering an appletini.
I pasted on a smile and took the seat across from her. “Thanks.” I sipped the concoction slowly. These tended to give me a brain freeze if I wasn’t careful.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked. “You’ve got that look again.”
No matter how cheery I tried to be, Vivienne could always tell when I was hiding bad news. I pulled the letter out and placed it on the table. I’d opened it before coming over and confirmed the bad news.
Her face dropped, and she huffed. “What does the fucker want this time?”
I slumped in my seat. “Another hundred a month. This never ends. It’s just not fair. And he’s…”
Vivienne cocked an eyebrow. “He’s what? Are you still trolling his Facebook?”
I stared down at my drink and took a long sip to avoid answering the question.
“Who is it now?” she asked.
I sipped more of my yellow mush.
“Never mind.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll check myself.” She fiddled with her phone for a few seconds. “Not MaryJo Mulvaney?”
I nodded. I had been checking Matt’s Facebook using Samantha’s phone. I’d uninstalled it on mine.
“This is great,” Vivienne said with a laugh. “That slut’s got, like, every STD known to man, and probably a few they haven’t named yet.”
I laughed. MaryJo never had been very picky. “You think?”
Vivienne leaned forward. “Serves him right. He’ll be on antibiotics for a year trying to get rid of the warts on his dick.”
I laughed. Vivienne could always cheer me up.
She pointed her finger at me. “You really need to get over this loser.”
She was right, but it was difficult after devoting years of my life to trying to make it work.
Vivienne lifted her drink. “Like Oprah says, don’t get mad, get even.”
“She didn’t say that.”
“Who cares? It’s still a good rule. You need to get yourself laid tonight and put him behind you.”
“Shh, not so loud.” Luckily the bar was noisy enough nobody seemed to have heard my crazy sister.
“How did the date with Jester go? Is he worth banging?”
She always harangued me about my dating——or often lack of dating——since my divorce from Matt.
I shook my head. “It’s Jasper, and no, he was a waste of a dinner.”
“Not that I’m counting or anything, but you’re now oh for fourteen. You seriously need to up your game.”
Of course she was counting, and if I had told her about Todd or Jerry last month, she would’ve known I was officially zero forsixteensince trying to dip my toe back in the dating pond.
