Holiday: Annihilate Them, #2

by Christina Ross

  “I think it sounds like a fantastic idea,” Lisa said. “It would be unconventional!”

  “You’re unconventional.”

  “What I am is her best friend!”

  I held up a hand to stop them. “Can somebody please tell me when this shower is supposed to take place.”

  “In two weeks,” Lisa said. “On a Friday.”

  “Well, that’s perfect,” I said. “And look—we’re already in agreement on the date. That’s a good thing. It’s a good sign. And listen to me—I’m actually saying all of this while hormones pulse through my body and my baby is kicking the shit out of me. So trust me. It’s all good.”

  “How do you propose this will work out?” Blackwell said as she narrowed her eyes at me and then at Lisa. “This—how shall I put it? This uneasy collaboration you’re suggesting.”

  “Simple,” I said. “If you two can’t come to terms and be adults, then I guess I’ll have to play the judge—and get the baby shower that I want. Because what I can tell each of you right now is this—I deserve the kind of shower that makes me forget, even for just a few hours, that for months I’ve never felt less attractive in my life than I do right now. My fingers have become sausages, for God’s sake—look at them! I can’t get any of my rings off. And then there are my ankles, which are so fat with fluid I had to buy new shoes just to get to work. Oh, and while we’re at it? Have a good look at me, because I’ve officially become unfuckable. And here’s what’s even worse—I’ve never been so horny in my entire life. So yes! If I have to, I plan to get involved. And if I do, I’ll make this shower golden.”

  “How perfectly rude of you,” Blackwell said. “I mean, really? Talking about ‘golden showers’ when Bernie isn’t even here to discuss the gory details with us?”

  When she said that, the three of us paused for a moment and then we burst into such fits of laughter that my body naturally betrayed me with a fart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “JESUS,” BLACKWELL SAID as she wrinkled her nose and looked at me in horror. “What’s wrong with you? That fart was potent enough to punch new holes into the ozone.”

  “I can’t help it,” I said.

  “Well, I can.” She reached behind her and removed a bottle of Chanel No. 5 from her purse and started to spritz the air around us. “Not bad,” she said as she held her head high and sniffed the air around us. “And not exactly great, either. I might as well be spritzing the air at a pig farm.”

  “Are you suggesting that I’ve become a pig?”

  “Not in the least! I’m just saying that whatever is coming out of your ass reminds me of one.”

  “Anyway,” I said. “Before we leave, I came here today not to argue about a baby shower, but to talk with Barbara about the holidays, and how we’re going to spend them together this year. But since you’re here, Lisa, I can save myself a phone call, because I planned on calling you later this morning about the same thing. Alex and I would love it if everyone would get together again this year, only not in Maine since I need to be near my doctor.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” Blackwell said. “I, for one, have had more than my share of Maine for the holidays. It’s time for the city! You know, where one can leave their apartment and see the storefronts on Fifth Avenue festooned with an abundance of creativity!”

  “Really?” I said. “No Maine? Just so we’re clear on this, allow me to remind you that you met Marcus in Maine last Christmas. And I also believe that’s going fairly well for you. After all, it’s been nearly a year since you two have been seeing each other. You know—when you met in Maine.”

  Blackwell grimaced when I said that, and then she glanced away. “We’ll discuss Marcus later,” she said.

  And what in the hell did that mean? Were they in a state of flux as Daniella and Cutter were? Was I about to board a holiday train that was going to go off the tracks? Who knew when it came to Blackwell and her family?

  “Alright,” I said tentatively. “We’ll talk about him later. Is everything OK between you two?”

  “To be discussed when I feel like discussing it,” Blackwell said.

  “That’s fine. Anyway, here’s the deal, you two. Alex and I would like to host Christmas eve and Christmas day at our apartment. Before the baby arrives—and before we are overwhelmed with that strange, distant planet known as ‘parenthood’—we’d like to have our closest friends around us for one last dance.”

  “And exactly who are your closest friends?” Blackwell said.

  “Is that a serious question, or are you just being difficult?”

  She dipped into her coffee cup, popped another ice cube into her mouth, and crunched down on it. “It’s a very serious question,” she said. “Things change over the course of a year. Who even knows who your friends are now?”

  “We’d like to have you and Marcus there. I also plan on asking Kate and Ben to come. And we’d love to have Lisa and Tank there, especially since they couldn’t be with us last year.”

  “Tell me about it,” Lisa said as she leaned against Blackwell’s desk. “I was fighting for my life in the hell that will forever be known as Prairie Home, NObraska. I’m pining for something new.”

  “And you’ll get just that with us. Obviously, Alexa and Daniella are invited, and so is Cutter, if he even wants to come. I guess we’ll see when it comes to that, but I’ll still extend the invitation. Also, if they’re available, I think I’ll invite Epifania and Rudman, who are still going strong.”

  “So,” Blackwell said. “The inner circle expands...”

  “As it does in life,” I said to her. “You know, if one is even lucky enough for that to happen. I count myself among the lucky that it has happened for me and Alex.”

  “How absolutely sentimental of you.”

  “OK, Jennifer, while Bertha here is being a bitch, I can already tell you that Tank and I are in,” Lisa said.

  “Of course, you are,” Blackwell said. “I mean, anything for free drinks and a free meal, right?” But before Lisa could lash out at Blackwell, she leveled a glance at Lisa. “Watch your words, girl, or I’ll put a pox on you.”

  “Too late, lady, because after hashing out this shower over the past week? I’ve beaten you to the punch.” She arched her eyebrows at Blackwell and then looked down at her crotch. “Those gray hairs you noticed this morning? They’re because of me.”

  Blackwell laughed. “Nice try, darling, but I’m like a newborn baby down there—and have been for years.”

  “And I’d like to personally thank you for that image,” I said.

  “Well, it’s true,” Blackwell said. “Wi Sim Lu is the city’s best when it comes to a waxing. She can be an absolute monster when it comes to ripping out the girls, but in the end? She’s fantastic! One doesn’t even need lotion when she’s done. She’s that good—you should try her.”

  “You want me to get a Brazilian when I have a baby on the way?”

  “If you don’t—and with the bush I have a feeling you’re growing down there—you might give the poor child PTSD when he or she passes by it. I know for a fact that you haven’t had a wax in months. Think of the child, for God’s sake. And hear me out on this—it’s not fair to the baby to have to shoot into the world through a forest of unruly hair.”

  Lisa glanced at Blackwell and just shook her head before she looked at me. “Tank and I would love to spend the holidays with you, especially since only a week or so later, we’ll be celebrating the birth of your first child—who will be loved and who will not have PTSD because of Jennifer’s overgrown bush.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Who even said that my bush is overgrown?”

  Instead of answering me, they just looked at me with accusing eyes.

  “OK, fine—so what if it is? With my belly in the way, there’s little I can do about it. Kind of like the farting. I’m a mess.”

  “What you are is pregnant,” Lisa said. “And you’re glowing because of it.”

  “If I’m glowing
, it’s only because parts of me have become a nuclear reactor. Go ahead—sniff the air again. Even the perfume can’t cut through that smell.”

  I watched each of them actually lift their noses in the air and sniff with a sense of curiosity before I decided that I needed to end this. I looked at Blackwell. “Are you in?”

  “You know I’ll have to speak with the girls first.”

  “I know how they can be. How about if you talk with them and get back to me later today?”

  “Alexa won’t be an issue,” she said. “She’s thriving at Wenn Environmental and is in good spirits because of it. But Daniella is in another place.”

  “I understand that, so let me know when you know.”

  “What place?” Lisa asked. “You mentioned something going on between Daniella and Cutter earlier, but I’m out of the loop. What’s happened?”

  “If you must know, she and Cutter have separated,” Blackwell said.

  “They’ve what?”

  “Separated.”

  “But they seemed like they were getting along so well!”

  “Apparently, Cutter decided otherwise.”

  “But why?”

  “I’d really rather not discuss this with you in the room. Especially since you and I have entered into a Cold War.”

  “Oh, give me a break.”

  “Fine. Both of you know that Daniella is mad for Cutter—more so than ever since they started seeing each other last Christmas. But since Daniella is Daniella, she can’t leave well enough alone, even when things are going well.”

  “What happened?” Lisa asked.

  Blackwell told her.

  “Well, that’s terrible,” Lisa said. “Poor Daniella. Cutter will never find someone as loyal to him as she is. And he chose to do this over the holidays?”

  “Don’t blame Cutter—that man is a gentleman. As for Daniella, I kept telling her to stop pressuring him to find an apartment so they could move in together. But as usual, she wouldn’t listen to me. And look where they are now—potentially alone over the holidays. And because she’s going through yet another personal crisis, I think we all know how she can be when it comes to that. She loves Cutter. She’s devastated that he needed to take a break from her ‘to think things through.’ I love my daughter more than I love Chanel, but there isn’t one of us in this room who doesn’t know how she can be when she becomes as unhinged as she is now. And trust me on this. Right now? Daniella is beyond unhinged. She’s cranky, impossible, and difficult. If she’s not back with Cutter by Christmas eve, she very well might ruin that evening. And that’s something I don’t wish upon anyone.” She looked at Lisa. “Not even you.”

  “We could support her,” I said. “Talk to her. Get her to laugh. We’ve made that happen before.”

  “We’re talking about Daniella here, Jennifer—and this time, it’s different. In fact, this time it’s worse. We are now dealing with Daniella with a broken heart, for God’s sake.”

  “I hear you,” I said. “She loves him, and she must be going through hell right now. I’m sorry this happened because I do think that they’re right for each other. What she should have known is that you don’t press men like Cutter or Tank. If you do, you just drive them away.”

  “Far away,” Blackwell said. “They haven’t spoken in a week.”

  “A week? Why a week? Presumably, this was just about moving in together. How does that take a week to speak to one another again?”

  “You tell me. He won’t answer her calls, her texts, or her emails.”

  “Is there something more to this?”

  “Knowing my daughter? I have no idea.”

  “Whatever the case, if Cutter hasn’t come to his senses by the holidays, we’re going to have to be there to support Daniella.”

  “I agree,” Lisa said. “All of us love Daniella. And this can’t be easy for her.”

  “Well,” Blackwell said as she faced Lisa. “Thank you for recognizing that.”

  “We might have our spats, Chanel No. 5, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you and the girls.”

  “You’re a horrible person.”

  “And you secretly love me.”

  “Why do I feel the need for another cube of ice right now? Why do I want to crunch it into tiny bits?”

  “Because you’re a drama queen?” Lisa said. “Look, with this shower coming up, you and I are going to have to join forces and get it together before it’s too late. We’ll only go to Jennifer if it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “And by the way, I must say that if we do involve the pregnant one—otherwise known as the ‘hormonal one’—she’ll literally become the third wheel...”

  “I am sitting here,” I said.

  Blackwell eyeballed me. “Yes, you are—and with an exclamation point, I might add. So, here,” she said, reaching behind her for a box of tissues and then tossing them to me. “Please wipe down the seat when you stand up. Because after that mother of a fart you laid down ten minutes ago, God only knows what you’ve left behind.”

  “Hilarious,” I said. “Now, listen to me. Do either of you have time now to sit down and hammer out the details of how this shower should go?”

  “I’m free,” Lisa said.

  “I suppose I have a moment or two,” Blackwell said. “Though I loath that you want to be involved.”

  I straightened up in my chair. “After the argument I heard earlier, consider me involved. As in now,” I said. “The three of us. And in the conference room Blackwell suggested to Lisa so we can get a feel for the space. Now, come on ladies. Let’s go! Chins up! And move it!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN I SAID GOODBYE to Blackwell and Lisa in the conference room, it was noon, my unborn baby was kicking the hell out of me, I felt nauseous in ways that I hadn’t since early in my pregnancy, and I was beyond exhausted after dealing with the lowest thing on my priority list—a baby shower.

  Why is this so important to them when it’s not important to me? I thought as I allowed my belly to lead the way to the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway. In a matter of weeks, I’ll be giving birth, which is freaking me out. Who gives a damn about a shower when this kid is about to rip me to shreds?

  And then I got a grip and just paused for a moment.

  They’re doing this because they love you...

  I knew that was the case, which made me feel guilty for even having such thoughts. Lisa and Blackwell did love me—I knew that they only wanted the best for me—so regardless of how I felt about the shower, I had to go through with it for them because I loved them.

  As I stepped into an elevator already packed with people and pressed the button for the forty-seventh floor, where Alex and I had our offices, I stood at the back of the car wondering if I even had what it took to raise a child—a question that had plagued me for months. After all, I’d been brought up by abusive, alcoholic parents who had been nothing short of monsters to me.

  Can I do this? I wondered as the elevator started to rise. Will I be a good mother or will I be a disappointment? I’ve read all the baby books, I’ve listened to how Blackwell raised Daniella and Alexa, but what am I going to do when the baby’s actually here? How can I be expected to remember everything that I’ve read, every piece of advice that I’d been given, and how it applies to each unique situation I’m about to face? I can’t. I know nothing when it comes to raising a child. Obviously, I can count on Alex, Blackwell, and Lisa for help, but there are going to be times when it’s just going to be me and the baby—and what am I going to do then when things don’t go so smoothly? What if I’m not good enough?

  The elevator’s doors slid open, people left, people entered, and I wondered if I was going insane as the doors closed again.

  You’re letting your hormones get the best of you, I thought. You’re better than this—come on, Jennifer!

  I closed my eyes, took a breath, and then let it out slowly and discreetly in an effort to calm my nerves.

  I allowe
d my mind to turn to what had occurred over the past three hours. Blackwell, Lisa, and I had gone over everything from guest lists to whether I wanted a cake that was so extravagant, it would make Page Six (Blackwell), or sweet little cupcakes with pacifiers on them (Lisa). We even went down the rocky road of what we should have for lunch—an elegant feast (Blackwell), or something that would be a nod to what I really was craving of late—like pizzas, burgers, fried chicken, and, yes, fried pickles (Lisa).

  In the end, the only thing we came to terms with was the guest list. Naturally, my closest friends would be invited. And by tomorrow afternoon, I’d agreed to supply Blackwell and Lisa with the names of those women from Wenn whom I absolutely wanted to be there—from executives to secretaries and everyone in between.

  When the elevator dinged and I saw that it was my floor, everyone in the car stepped aside to let me pass.

  In the awkward silence, I looked at them for a moment and realized by the looks on their faces that I was so huge, every one of them thought I needed this much room just to get through the door. But when I saw that there also was kindness in their eyes, it made me smile a little as I placed my hand on my belly. Before the doors closed, I apologized for inconveniencing them, and then I went straight to Alex’s office, hoping beyond hope that he would be there rather than in a meeting.

  At that moment, I needed to unload upon someone who was sane—and that person was my husband.

  “SIT RIGHT THERE,” ALEX said after I’d finished spilling the past several hours on him. “On the sofa—come on. Take my hand. You have every right to be overwhelmed, Jennifer.”

  “I think I’m becoming a burden to myself...”

  We looked at each other for a moment, and then he instinctively leaned in to kiss me. And when he did, it was no mere chaste kiss. My man went in for the full throw down. He kissed me so passionately, I had to pull away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  I drew my lips into a thin line and held up a finger. “After that kiss? Nothing. In fact, that was amazing. But there’s something you should know about me at this point in our pregnancy, Alex.”