Holiday for HIre(5)
Blake Stupid Donovan’s wedding. Wedding? Yes. Wedding. To— goddamnit !
The matchmaker?! And it was scheduled for Christmas Eve ?
The day was clearly ruined. The entire season would be ruined .
Jane stomped back upstairs, disregarding any neighbor’s feelings in favor of the distinct joy of feeling the creak of wood beneath her angry size sevens .
The matchmaker! She should have guessed. Andy. This was extremely upsetting. Not just because of the situation in general—it felt a bit like the kind of rom-com she’d avoid on dates. No, it was the 20/20 hindsight that said things like, “hey, Jane, betcha those bad dates she arranged weren’t accidental after all!” and “hey, Jane, were you actually on some sort of reality show you didn’t know about?” and “hey, Jane, were you an idiot for not working this out earlier ?”
And how dare he co-opt her holiday for his nuptials? The nerve of him !
She knew, knew , that Blake wasn’t one for social niceties, but this was beyond the pale. To invite the girl you unceremoniously rejected over boxes of crème br?lée to your wedding ?
Oh, ho, ho. She was going to go to the wedding all right, she thought darkly, crumpling that clearly expensive envelope in her small-but-mighty hand. And she was going with a date. It was the only acceptable way to appear before an ex .
Just one little problem …
Where exactly was she going to find a date ?
2
J ane sat in her apartment staring at the crushed invitation, not exactly brooding per se, but certainly displeased. So displeased that she was forced to skip Ladies Lunch. Yes, forced, because the witty anecdote she had prepared about Blake had become a Sad Girl Story .
Jane Osborne was not a Sad Girl .
However, sitting alone in her home, having cancelled a coffee meeting, aforementioned lunch, and tomorrow’s fundraising breakfast, it was difficult not to feel as though Blake had screwed up her life. Or at least her holiday season .
It was truly only her pride that kept her from tossing the offending piece of mail into the trash. As much as she’d like to do that, she just couldn’t. There was simply no possible way to turn down Blake’s invitation without admitting defeat in the Cold War that is waged between all former paramours without being acknowledged by either. To ignore it would be tantamount to announcing that she’d been hurt by his dismissal .
Furthermore, she couldn’t show up to the wedding solo. That sent precisely the wrong kind of message, as though she were twenty-nine and desperate, which though true, was not advertisable .
Nearly as important as having a plus one was the plus one himself. The man that accompanied her had to be someone that would make Blake Stupid Donovan pale in comparison. This was not the sort of situation where one could show up with one’s cousin. Although as the only child of only children, she’d have to hire a fake cousin for that too .
S he needed to find a date.
But how did a woman find dates these days, anyway? Real dates, not the hook-up and grind variety. Jane had only connected with Traitorous Andy through a friend of a friend, and she certainly couldn’t ask the matchmaker for advice .
So who else could she turn to ?
As though a bolt of lightning had struck, an idea exploded into Jane’s mind, and she nearly dropped her teacup. Nothing was more suited to a girl in need than the moral support of other girls in need. And what other girls were as suited to this particular problem as Blake’s other dropped dates ?
All of whom, Jane assumed at this point, likely had expensive linen envelopes of their own .
Another thought occurred. Andy the Ass (trademark pending) had friended Jane on Facebook the second their interview was over. “Interview.” It was more like a survey of her looks and a few questions about how cool she was about staying home with any future children. Could she have friended any of the others ?
A mere ten minutes gleaned Jane the information she desired. Andy only had twenty-six friends before five months ago or so, when she suddenly went on a spree. Turned out that Andy had friended each and every one of Blake’s potential brides .
Another sign—evidently Blake had a type, at least before Andy. The rest of his girls had all looked similar to Jane—petite, dark-haired—and ethnically diverse. (And peculiarly, a ginger Scot named Fiona .)
Soon, Jane had everything she needed to create a new secret group on Facebook. It was titled, cleverly, “Bitches Blake Bumped .”
Once the group was open for business, it became clear that looks weren’t the only thing they had in common. Within seconds of being added to the group, at least eight girls had angrily posted about getting their own linen envelopes. It appeared that Blake and Andy had forgotten how friends worked, assuming that either of them had known in the first place. Everyone knew that exes weren’t your friends, right? Well, apparently not Blake and Andy .
Of the fifteen women Jane had added, only one removed herself. That left fourteen BBB’s all up in arms to rally together. That was not a good track record for a prominent man like Blake. Jane comforted herself with thoughts of the tell-all they could write .
Of the speeches they could make at the wedding .
Glorious.
However, she did consider herself too classy to directly involve herself in such shenanigans, so unless someone else came up with the idea, she’d deny herself that particular satisfaction. And no one else suggested those things .