Skinny Bitch in Love (16 page)

“Yes, actually,” Eva said, doing a pretty good job mincing the ginger. “Do what you have to do to keep the person.”

Sara made a face. “So he was supposed to wear leather pants or whatever and Dita sunglasses?”

Eva slid her ginger into a bowl. “If he wanted to keep her, yeah.”

“You changed your style for your husband?” Sara asked.

“Yeah, I did. Big whoop. He didn’t like me in T-shirts and jeans. So I amped it up.”

“Well, it didn’t—” Sara clamped her mouth shut. “We’re talking about Duncan anyway.”

“No, it didn’t
what
?” Eva asked, staring at Sara. “He cheated on me anyway and hooked up with some skank in his Pilates class, so it didn’t matter anyway?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Sara said.

Eva looked as though she was about to fling the bowl of ginger at Sara, so I stepped between them. “Okay, moving on, guys. We’re cooking here. Duncan, the tofu is mashed enough—good work,” I added, even though he’d been taking out his frustration on it. “Sara, the radishes need to be more finely chopped. More chopping, less chatting.”

“Yeah, mind your fucking business,” Eva said to Sara.

Sara rolled her eyes.

“I’m gonna mind mine,” Duncan said. “I’m giving up. Moving on and all that. She doesn’t love me, doesn’t want me. I’m sick of being pathetic about it.”

Eva put her knife down. “I’m not.” She looked like she was going to cry. “I miss my husband so much. Why did he have to cheat? I really thought we would grow old and gray together. Two of us, against the world.”

“How long were you married?” I asked. I turned to Duncan for a sec. “Let’s get the leeks and radishes sautéing.”

“Almost five years. You know how long it took me to get married? Forever. I finally find the guy, think he’s forever, think I’ve got everything that I always dreamed of when I was like seventeen and never had a boyfriend because I was chubby and had bad hair. And it felt great. Having a ring on my finger. The word fiancé. Someone chose me, you know? A wedding. A wedding ring. I loved everything about being married.”

“So what went wrong? He just suddenly started cheating?”

“Well, I admit I was like twenty-five pounds skinnier when we met. And I dressed how he liked. And pretended to be into the As and trips to Vegas. But then I relaxed a little bit. It was so exhausting pretending to be what he wanted.”

“So the real Eva came out and he started cheating?” I asked. That sucked.

Her eyes teared up—unless that was the ginger. “I have to change. I have to get skinny and dress cuter and be interested in buying investment businesses, which I could give two shits about.”

“Eva, you don’t have to be anyone but you,” Duncan said, giving the vegetables a stir. “You’re great the way you are.”

“Yeah, Eva,” Sara said. “Even I like you. And I’m not just saying that because you scare me.”

“Same here,” I said. “You’re great the way you are.” I glanced in the sauté pan, then told everyone to combine all the other ingredients in a separate bowl.

“Right, that’s why I have men beating down my door,” Eva said. “You know how many responses I got to my Match profile?
Four. Out of gazillions. And all four only wanted to know what position I like best.”

“Eva, they don’t represent all men,” Duncan said, mixing the sautéed leeks and radishes into the tofu mixture. “Some of us appreciate real women with curves and minds of their own.”

Sara shot Duncan a moony smile. “Yeah, Eva. You’ll find your guy. Maybe you just have to rethink what you’re looking for. Maybe you’re looking for guys who remind you of your husband.”

Eva brightened. “You might be right. Huh.”

It was time to fill the wonton wrappers, so everyone got busy on that. Eva seemed to feel better.

We were working on the sesame sauce for the broccoli when the intercom buzzer rang.

“Yeah?” That was my new way of saying the whole Skinny Bitch spiel.

“It’s Zach.”

I froze for a second. Zach. Was not expecting him to just show up, though he’d certainly done it before. I jabbed the UNLOCK button and opened the door.

He appeared on the steps. God, he was fucking gorgeous. “I knew I’d find you here for your class. You don’t return calls or texts.”

Sara, Duncan, and Eva had stopped their chopping and slicing and were staring at me to see what I’d say.

I stepped out into the hall and shut the door. The four-year-old kid from 2C was riding his tricycle up and down the hall. He got perilously close to my foot.

“I was out last Wednesday night on Ocean Avenue.” I watched his face for dawning awareness that I was onto him. Nothing. “I saw you with your arm around some chick. A redhead in a shiny weird dress, if you can’t remember which of your women I might be referring to. I’m not doing this, Zach. I appreciate that you drove me to the hospital. I appreciate that you paid for my family’s hotel rooms. I appreciate a few other things, too. But I’m not doing this.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not doing what exactly?”

“Not getting involved with you.”

“I see. So you’re not getting involved with me because you saw me out on Ocean Avenue Wednesday night with my arm around Avery, who by the way, is my fraternal twin sister.”

“Right. Your fraternal twin sister.”

He pulled out his iPhone and typed something, then held it out to me. An article in
L.A. Magazine
about Zach and his sister Avery Jeffries who raised a quarter of a million dollars for the renovation at Montague Park. There was a photo, too. Avery Jeffries looked amazingly like the redhead in the weird dress. Fuck.

In a good way, a weight lifted off me, even if I felt like an idiot.

“Oh, hell. Sorry. You guys don’t look alike at all. You must hear that a lot.”

“Actually, we look a lot alike, except for her red hair. And the weird dresses.” He stared at me for a second. “You know, Clementine, maybe I’m the one who’s not going to do this.
Get involved with someone who keeps jumping to all kinds of wild conclusions about me. And then doesn’t even give me a chance to explain.” The kid on the trike chose that moment to ride into Zach’s shin, but he shot the kid something of a half smile and then was gone.

Shit.

“Well, he could have mentioned he had a fraternal twin sister,” Sara said when I came back inside.

“Not that we were listening,” Duncan added.

“I say he’s full of shit,” Eva said, rinsing the broccoli. “Anyone can pull a fraternal twin sister out of their ass.”

I explained about the photographic proof. Sara went to my laptop on the coffee table in the living room, typed something, and read, “Zach Jeffries comes from a large northern California family, including his Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist brother, Gareth, and his fraternal twin sister, socialite philanthropist Avery.”

“Whatevs,” Eva said. “I still say he’s lying about something.”

Sara laughed. “He’s not evil just because he’s rich and hot.”

“So I suppose you have to make amends,” Duncan said, adding the sesame seeds to the pan of oil on the stove.

“If I’m going there,” I pointed out. “Am I going there?”

Sara nodded. “You’re already there.”

My text:
Sorry. I owe you an apology. Now it’s my turn to ask for a do-over
.

His text, which took a good hour:
Dinner at my place tomorrow night. See you at 7. P.S. Remind me to tell you I have news to share if I forget while you’re groveling
.

I woke up at 2 a.m. after having a dream that Zach and I were in bed when three women, all with the same face and long blond hair, barged in and stood there, arms over their chests.

“Who are they?” I dream asked.

“Who’s who?” he asked, running his hands up and down my naked body.

“Those women. Right there,” I said, pointing. The three of them were just standing there, as though they were waiting for him to be done with me.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said and then kissed me so hard that everything went black.

Which was when I woke up.

This had to be one of those classic anxiety dreams. He’s-cheating-on-you dreams. He’ll-never-really-be-yours dreams.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I kept staring at my alarm clock. 2:12. 2:13. 2:14. I finally got up at 2:15. I needed one of my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and a mug of strong black tea. Or maybe just a shot of Jack Daniel’s.

So as not to wake Sara, lightest sleeper on earth, I tiptoed around the partition into the living room and down the hall, but her bedroom door opened and unless Sara had grown six inches, a guy was coming out of her room.

“One more kiss before you go,” I heard Sara say in a sexy voice, and the guy was pulled back in.

Okay, who the hell was this?

I stepped back into the bathroom, hoping whoever it was didn’t need to pee or something.

A few seconds later, Duncan appeared in the hall, and I stepped farther back into the bathroom.

Duncan?
What?

Sara, in her silky kimono, flashing serious cleavage, walked him to the front door. They whispered something, then made out for an interminable minute. The second Sara locked the door behind him I blurted out, “Okay,
what?
”

She almost jumped. “Oh, hell. I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you.”

I leaned against the kitchen doorway. “Why not?”

“Because I know you’ll say he’s on the rebound and I should be careful. But I don’t want to be careful.”

I didn’t have Duncan all figured out or anything, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way—and more than that he
was
on the rebound. He was half snob, half jerk. I had a bad feeling about this.

“I get it, so just—”

“Clem, he’s over her. He said so in class tonight. And he told me that twice just now.”

“He spent the past two weeks moping and trying to get her back. I don’t think he’s anywhere close to being over her. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, I think he really likes me,” she said, and I could tell
by the goofy, I’m-in-love smile on her face that they’d definitely had sex.

“Just be careful, okay?”

“This is
exactly
why I didn’t tell you. He likes me, I like him. We’re both single. Lay off.” She stalked off into her bedroom and closed the door.

Shit. Who was I to give advice on relationships, anyway? I went back and forth about Alexander every other day. And Zach was going to kill me. I knew it.

I sat down at the kitchen table and ate my peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, then half a vanilla chai cupcake, and went for the shot of whiskey, after all.

Chapter 11

Because of the shitheads drilling at Zach’s restaurant at 7:30 the next morning, I was up early enough to find out that Sara had left way before she had to for work. Which meant she was still mad and sitting in Babe’s or Julia’s or Cali Bakes to avoid me. I’d knocked on her door last night, but she’d ignored me, and when I opened it anyway and poked my head in, she flew at me to shut it in my face and then locked it.

I honestly wasn’t sure if Duncan was a good guy or a total ass. But either way, he was still very obviously in love with the ex. Sara was comfort food right now. That worried me—that he was just rebounding.

I texted her, but she didn’t respond. I did forty-five minutes of hot yoga downstairs, came back and took a shower, then spent a half hour deciding on an outfit for the date with Zach.
Tiny dress and heels? New maxidress and flip-flops? Skinny jeans and over-the-knee boots? I couldn’t decide and hit the kitchen and baked two dozen scones, three dozen cupcakes, three dozen cookies, and one cherry pie for my clients for tomorrow morning. Still no text or call from Sara. She always texted all day to report on what her asshole boss said or something Dickhead Pete got humiliated in front of everyone for. And it was now almost one o’clock.

I hated when Sara and I were on the outs, which wasn’t often. We totally understood each other, trusted each other. If I got all honest with her about something, she usually knew it was because she needed to hear it. Just like I needed to listen when she pulled me back from making a total ass of myself with Zach the night I saw him with his . . . sister. If she was this pissed at me, she either really liked Duncan, which she probably did, or I struck a nerve because something else was bugging her.