by Alexa Martin
Or five.
* * *
• • •
All of the martinis started to blend together about an hour ago.
I’m sure for most people, that would be concerning, but for me, it means I’ve really hit my stride. Not being able to taste the difference means I can ditch the sugary juices and go straight to shots. And since I organized the event, the bartenders have no problem pouring me a vodka shot every time I slide past them.
Not all superheroes wear capes, folks.
“Jude, right?” Someone calls my name just after I toss back another shot.
The heat is still settling in my chest as I turn and come face-to-face with Matchy McMatcherson mom from the park.
“That’s me! Jennifer, right?” I don’t know if I would’ve remembered her face, but she’s in another hot-pink-and-green-floral collared shirtdress, and it jogs my mind instantly. I forgot Lauren invited the Shady Moms Club.
“Yeah.” She smiles. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
“I could never forget those dresses.” Oops. Sometimes vodka fucks with my filter. Thankfully, Jennifer’s face lights up and I can tell she took my comment the wrong way.
Lucky for me. Lauren would murder me.
“Thanks!” She smiles freakishly big. Like, I can see her molars. “It’s Lilly Pulitzer. I actually got one just like this for Lake.”
Of course she did.
“How fascinating.” I decide to switch topics before I say something I can’t get myself out of. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Safe, easy small talk that centers around the guest’s feelings. Miss Liddell, my etiquette teacher back when I was in elementary school, would be so proud.
Well, minus the drunk thing.
“I didn’t know what to expect when Lauren invited us, but it’s wonderful.” She holds up her purple martini. “It’s like the perfect moms’ night out. I’m honestly surprised Lauren did it.”
Normally, this is the moment I would stake the claim to the glory of creating this party, but that sounded like she was trying to fucking throw shade at my girl. And that’s not happening on my watch. Not ever.
“Why would you be surprised? Lauren is the most capable human being I’ve ever met.”
“Well, you know. I know you have this wonderful following and your mom is so fabulous.” She leans in closer, overestimating her safety, like I won’t hesitate to slap a bitch. “Don’t get me wrong, Adelaide is so sweet and Lauren seems like she’s doing the most with what she has. But she’s just a little . . . I don’t know. Uptight? I don’t know what her upbringing was like, but I’m sure being such a young, single mother has taken a toll on top of everything else she’s been through.”
Sober me wouldn’t have handled this situation well. But drunk? Ha!
“I’m sorry”—not fucking sorry—“but aren’t you the same woman who wouldn’t let your daughter play in the dirt at a freaking playdate? And you’re calling Lauren uptight?”
I see the exact moment she realizes she’s made a huge mistake by talking to me, but it’s too late for her.
“And I know people like you live in their own worlds, but you were there when we told you that we met in third grade, right? We both went to Ivymore Academy, and because I can tell you’re a little racist, Lauren wasn’t on scholarship. Her mom is Gloria Turner of Turner and Smith, and her dad is a newly retired neurosurgeon. So I’m not sure what upbringing you’re thinking she had if it’s not a wonderful one with brilliant parents, great schooling, and better friends—me, clearly.”
“I’m not racist.” Of course she only took that away.
“Yeah, you kind of are.” She opens her mouth to defend her nonexistent honor, but I already know where this is going and beat her to it. “If you’re about to tell me you have a Black friend, you can just turn your tight ass around, walk out the door, and go back home to what I’m assuming is a miserable life considering you decided to try to talk shit to me about my best fucking friend!”
I don’t mean to raise my voice, but vodka filter. I can’t help it.
And also? Fuck this bitch.
Too bad that’s also the moment Lauren happens to walk closer to us.
She looks at me, her eyebrows furrowed together. “Um, hi, you two. Everything okay here?”
Before I can answer, Karen, president and CEO of the Karens, beats me to it. “Actually no, everything is not okay here.” She glares at me, defying the laws of Botox. “When you invited me, I didn’t think I was taking time away from my family to come and be insulted.”
I roll my eyes so hard that I can hear my dad’s old warning of “they’re going to get stuck like that” floating through my mind.
“Insulted? What?” Lauren asks, and I don’t even have to look at her, I can feel the heat of her anger radiating off her. “I’m sure there was a misunderstanding. We’re both so grateful you came.”
“I don’t think her calling my life miserable could be interpreted in any other way.” Jennifer aims her stupid, smug smile my way like she bested me.
“Don’t forget racist,” I say. “I also called you racist.”
“Do you see?” Her face turns so red that I think she might actually explode. “I’m sorry, Lauren. This is unacceptable and I hope you decide to do something about this. She’s clearly unhinged and she will not be welcomed at playdates until something is done.”
“Oh god. No playdate! What will I ever do with my free time if I can’t go to playdates?” I mock, rolling my eyes again, even knowing that Lauren is likely plotting where to bury my body.
“I’m so sorry, Jennifer. This isn’t how she normally behaves.” Lauren growls out the end of the sentence and I know I’m in such deep shit.
But even knowing that, I still can’t keep my mouth shut. “She’s right. I don’t. I only act like this when someone deserves it, and you deserved it. Don’t come for my fucking girl and there won’t be any problems.”
In the infamous words of Jamie Foxx: “Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.”
Jennifer doesn’t say anything to that. Instead she just stomps off, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she goes.
“What a bitch,” I say to her retreating form. I don’t know why Lauren invited her in the first place. Sure, Addy has to invite all the kids in the class to her party, but we’re grown as fuck. We can be selective!
Lauren’s long fingers grip my wrist and she starts to drag me through the thinning crowd. Because of the slightly more-than-is-advised amount of booze I’ve consumed, staying on my feet as she pulls me along is a challenge. When we reach the dressing rooms, she shoves me inside before jerking the velvet curtain closed.
“What the actual fuck were you thinking, Jude?” She hisses the words out, but this time it’s not the tone or the glare that makes me worried. Lauren cussed. Lauren never cusses. It’s like her mouth is physically incapable of forming the words. Especially an f-bomb.
And it sobers me up almost instantly.
“I’m sorry, but you should’ve heard the—”
“No!” She cuts me off, also very un-Lauren-like. “I don’t care what she said. You ignore it and bitch about it later. You don’t call her miserable and a racist!”
“But she was being racist. If you would’ve just heard her—”
She cuts me off again. “I know she’s racist, Jude. I’m a Black woman in America. Do you think I don’t deal with racist shit every single day of my life? Because I do. But I have to interact with this woman for the next six years, so I ignore her and I play nice while taking her number, remembering what she said, and keeping her an arm’s length away.” The rigidness to her shoulders starts to melt away, and she slides onto the little bench at the back of the dressing room. “Adelaide loves Lake. And unless Jennifer said something that directly affected Adelaide, I was going to ignore it. But now, thanks
to you, I’m going to have to placate her feelings and listen to how she voted for Hillary or donated to the NAACP once upon a time when I should be focusing on my daughter during her first week of school.”
I hate how stressed and upset she is, but I can’t pretend like I regret the things I said to that woman. Maybe next time she’ll think before running her stupid mouth. But I do have enough sense to read the (dressing) room and not say that to Lauren.
“I’m sorry that I made things awkward, but you know me. There’s no way I’m just going to let someone come and talk shit about you to me. You protect Addy. I protect you. That’s how things work in this sister wives circle of life.”
“I do appreciate you always having my back, just next time, please take it down a notch.” She stands up and hugs me, which I take as a good sign that she’s not planning on breaking the lease. “Especially when it comes to the moms in Adelaide’s class. I warned you mom groups were vicious. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”
This is why I love Lauren. I’m not perfect. Not at all. And even though she doesn’t hesitate to call me on my shit, she also forgives really fast. I never feel like I need to grovel with her or earn her love. We both know that even if we’re mad at each other, we’ll always have each other’s backs. Always.
We pull apart and open the curtain.
Besides the little tiff with Jennifer and my mom—unsurprisingly—not showing, the party was amazing. And now that people are beginning to leave, the aftermath to Olivia’s cute boutique is obvious.
The other obvious thing? The way Hudson is still lingering around and not so subtly checking out my friend. I might have blown it with the mom from hell, but I think I can help out here.
“I’m going to stick around and help Olivia clean up.” I hook my arm through Lauren’s and start to slowly guide us toward where Hudson is tinkering with his phone in the corner. “I know we were planning on catching a ride home together, but since I know you need to get some sleep before Addy comes home tomorrow, why don’t you go without me?”
“You set up, I can help clean.” She says what I already knew she would. She’s too nice. Why she chooses to be my friend is a mystery. “I’m used to not having much sleep.”
“No, seriously, you should go,” I tell her, and when we get close to Hudson, I drop all pretense of trying to be discreet in my motives. “Oh my god! Hudson? I didn’t even see you standing over here! But how lucky that you’re still here!”
I feel Lauren trying to pry her arm away from me, but thanks to my killer Pilates routine, she doesn’t even gain an inch.
“Um, yeah, still here.” Poor, earth-loving Hudson looks so confused. One day he’ll become immune to my antics, they all do. “I just wanted to say bye to La . . . to both of you.” He corrects himself and not smoothly at all.
“Well, why don’t you say goodbye to me and take my Lauren here home? She needs to get back, and who knows how long I’ll be here. It could be hours, really.” It won’t be hours. I give it thirty minutes tops. I hired a cleaning crew to come in before opening tomorrow. We just have to clear the big things so they can clean. But Lauren and Hudson don’t need to know that. “You’d really be doing us both a huge favor.”
“I mean, if you’re good with that?” He looks at Lauren and his eyes do this weird/cute thing they weren’t doing when he was looking at me seconds ago.
“If it’s not too big of a hassle, I’d really appreciate it,” Lauren says.
I don’t care how many times she tells me she’s not into him, her voice, expression, and body language all say something different.
“Not a hassle at all. You’re on my way home.” A huge grin pulls at Hudson’s lips and he looks like Addy when I sneak her candy when Lauren’s not looking.
He’s so into her. Plus, I’ve been to Hudson’s place before. We are not even close to being on his way.
I finally release Lauren’s arm and give her one more quick hug before she walks over to Hudson.
“Now, you crazy kids, don’t get too wild!” I yell after them, ignoring the not-so-nice finger Lauren holds up as she walks away.
When they’re gone, I head over to my favorite bartender of the night.
He has a shot waiting for me.
I wonder if my mom saw pictures from tonight or if she wished she’d come here instead of the Hills.
I throw that shit back, not even flinching as the burn hits the back of my throat. Then I go to find Olivia. Time to clean up my mess.
Well, at least one of them.
SEVENTEEN
• • •
Lauren
“I don’t get it.” Jude shoves a bite of scrambled eggs in her mouth. “Is it her first day of kindergarten or is she starting her work as a congresswoman?”
Okay. To be fair, one could say that I’ve gone a little overboard for Adelaide’s first day of school. But one could also say that she’s my freaking baby, she’s growing up, and “overboard” is actually just the right amount of excitement and fanfare.
They could also say that I’m in the middle of a custody battle and everything I do for her feels like it could be the last and I’m an emotional wreck just trying to freaking survive. So yeah . . .
Overboard is just going to be the norm until this mess is over.
Adelaide giggles as I adjust the bow on her head while she finishes her breakfast. “You’re so silly, Auntie Jude.”
“Kindergarten is a big deal, right, Adelaide? You’re going to learn so much and make so many friends. Remember all the special art projects you’ll be able to do this year?” Adelaide is a social butterfly who has never had a hard time adjusting, but I’ve still been working overtime trying to make kindergarten sound like the best thing that’s ever existed.
I also realize that I’m doing this more to convince me than her.
It’s just such a big change.
When she was in preschool, it was half days and I would pick her up during my lunch hour and take her to my parents’ until I got off work. This is a whole new world. She’ll be in after-school care because Remington Academy is too far from my parents. It’s full days, a new school, a new teacher, and, even though we’ve gone on the playdates, new friends.
Also Lake and her mother . . . which is something I’ve been working very hard not to think about.
Safe to say, I’m freaking the freak out.
“I guess.” Jude stands up and takes her plate to the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure when I went to kindergarten my mom maybe snapped a picture and pushed me onto the bus.”
“A bus?” Adelaide turns to me, toast crumbs stuck all over her little lips. “Can I take a bus?”
“Remington doesn’t have buses, so you get to ride with me.” I grab the napkin and wipe her face through her trying to jerk her head away. “Plus, buses smell weird.”
She seems satisfied with the answer. She shrugs and hops out of her seat. “I’m going to get my new shoes! Then you can take pictures of me with my special sign. Okay?”
Clearly this is Adelaide’s world and I’m just living in it.
“Sounds like a plan.” I tap the screen of my phone to check the time. “But hustle, we need to leave in ten minutes.”
We really have twenty minutes, but I’ve learned that it’s better to give her and Jude a shorter time frame. Otherwise we’d never be on time for anything.
Adelaide runs up the stairs in her adorable plaid jumper, her curls bouncing with each step. As soon as she’s out of sight, Jude breaks up the silence.
“Lauren, what in the fresh hell is this?” she asks, holding up Adelaide’s opened personalized lunch box that matches her personalized backpack, courtesy of my parents. No way was I shelling out that kind of money.
“Uh . . . Adelaide’s lunch box . . .” My eyebrows furrow together. I know Jude bought lunch most of the time, but even she knows what a lunch b
ox is.
“Well, duh, I’m not a total idiot.” She rolls her eyes and unzips it. “I mean, what even is this lunch?”
“What do you mean? It’s just a sandwich, fruit, and cheese puffs.” I feign ignorance. I know exactly what she means.
“Yeah, but the sandwich is cut like a flower, the fruit is arranged according to color so it looks like a rainbow. The organic cheese puffs are in a . . . what is this?” She pulls the cheese puffs out of the unicorn bento box I put inside her lunch box. “A cupcake wrapper? And she has a thermos with her name on it. What happened to Lunchables?”
All right.
So here’s the thing. It’s a struggle being a mom in the age of Pinterest. It makes you feel like unless you are going above and beyond, you’re failing. So I might have gone above in making her lunch. But it’s the first time she’ll be eating at school and I wanted it to be special for her.
Again, am I overcompensating because of fear?
Possibly.
I know a judge isn’t going to look at pictures of school lunches, but if they do, I’ll for sure win.
“That’s a very well-rounded, visually pleasing meal that Adelaide will love, thank you very much.” I ignore the way she rolls her eyes at me—because she’s totally right, it’s nuts—and grab my phone and the huge Canon camera Ben bought for me for Mother’s Day one year, and throw the strap over my head. It dangles around my neck like the suburban mom equivalent of Flavor Flav’s clock. “Grab her sign, please?”
I ordered one of those personalized “First Day of School” chalkboards from Etsy. It has her name on it and then places you can fill out what grade she’s going into, her age, the date, her teacher’s name, what she wants to be when she grows up, and things she loves. And, because I’m me, I didn’t just scribble everything down, I bought a hand-lettering book and made sure it looked beautiful. I mean sure, I could’ve just typed it up and printed it out for her to hold. But again, this is special! She only starts kindergarten once.