Bad Things(30)

“Fuck anonymous!” I said, raising my glass.

“Fuck anonymous!” Lucy called, smiling.

I took a long drink, then went back to stocking the buffet.

The doorbell rang. Bev answered it with another green martini in hand.

It was the neighbor, Sarah. She was a short, plump, white-haired woman in her sixties. She had a plate of her famous peanut butter cookies, as always.

Bev handed her the cocktail, and took the cookies.

They embraced, and Sarah took her usual spot on the sofa in the living room.

“Fuck anonymous,” she called out sweetly, before taking a big drink.

Jen, another neighbor, arrived next. Jen was a blonde, Barbie doll housewife with a great personality and a beauty pageant smile. She was the only one of us that never resorted to wearing sweats, even for girls’ night. She wore an emerald green sheath with mint green stilettos.

“I matched the drink of the week. What are the odds?” We all laughed.

She’d brought a huge box of chocolates, and we added it to the paper plate buffet.

“Fuck anonymous,” Sarah said quietly, taking a drink.

Harriet and Sandra arrived together.

Harriet was an attorney, like Bev, though her firm was smaller. She was thirty-nine, and she had dark hair and nondescript features. No one would know at first glance that she was a closet sexpot.

Sandra was Harriet’s neighbor. She was a small brown-haired, brown-eyed woman with a somewhat austere demeanor. She was an assistant at the art gallery at the Cavendish resort. It went without saying that after two drinks she’d start going on about how hot her boss, the hotel’s owner, was. I’d seen pictures of the twenty something billionaire playboy, and I couldn’t really blame her.

Olga showed next. She was a retired gymnast/acrobat with a heavy German accent. She was older, with a bit of overdone plastic surgery that made it hard to tell her age. She could drink the lot of us under the table.

Candy was the last to make an appearance. At thirty-four, she was the closest of the group to my own age, though there was still a thirteen-year gap between us. She worked in a burlesque show on the strip, and was a dead ringer for Betty Page, hairstyle and all.

“Hello Hookers,” she called loudly as she took her martini glass from Bev, giving her an air kiss. Her hair and makeup were fully done, but she was wearing Betty Boop PJ’s, and kitty slippers. “I’d like to start tonight, if no one objects. I need to vent.”

“No objections here,” Lucy said, looking around.

I moved into the living room, Dot and Pupcake following me again. They always followed Bev around for a while right when she first got home from work, but some or all of them eventually made their way back to me.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. I sat down on the loveseat with Bev and took a big drink of my martini.

Everyone sat. There were plenty of seats, with spots for six on the sectional, the loveseat, and two extra recliners. The living room wasn’t pretty, but it was comfortable. The dogs lounged around the room, as though they were in on the discussion.

Candy was the only one who didn’t sit, tapping a kitty slipper, her hand on her hip.

“Okay, here goes,” she began. “I’m frustrated—no, you know what, I’m pissed, at George! I just don’t think that he even attempts to understand me, and sometimes, a lot of times, I feel like he just tries to be contrary, like he’s just looking for reasons to shut me down.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she studied the other woman. “Okay, you’re frustrated that your partner doesn’t understand where you’re coming from—“

“I don’t think he even tries to understand,” Candy burst out.

Lucy nodded calmly. “I can see how that would be frustrating. I think we can all relate to that, on some level, but can you give us some specific examples of why you’re feeling this way?”

Candy downed her martini, and Bev was up to take her glass for a refill before she continued. “Well…you all know I’m bisexual. George knows it. He’s known it from the start, but he won’t let me be with other women. He actually had the nerve to say that he would leave me if I hooked up with someone else, even if it was a woman!”

“Are you still monogamous?” Lucy asked, her tone very neutral.

Candy blew out a frustrated breath. “Yes. We’re living together now, but I like to be with men and women. George is talking marriage, and part of me is thrilled by that, but another part of me can’t imagine not having sex with a woman for the rest of my life. It’s not fair of him to ask that of me.”