by Amanda Adair
With all the evidence Joe will then realize you’re a hoe. He’ll know you’re sleeping with more than one man. He should’ve known before, but you have a preference for stupid men who don’t realize shit. Joe will know it’s a bad idea to leave Vera. I am actually helping Joe. He shouldn’t be with you. And Vera shouldn’t be with him, but she’s not my problem.
So, this is how I’ll end your reactivated relationship with Joe, the father of Dana. You also won’t make it to your date with attorney Steve Bricks, because later at night you’ll have stomach ache and gastrointestinal complaints. Poor Steve who will have to screw another bitch tomorrow. I found him on LinkedIn. He’s married, and they have two kids. His wife doesn’t know. Isn’t it funny how you encounter many more evil and cheating assholes once you encounter one? Now that I spend so much time with you I get to know lots of other evil people. Evil people who play with others, like Vera or Mrs. Bricks. Joe Jensen is the type of guy who proposes to his girlfriend after cheating on her with his ex. That’s a typical asshole move. With stupid people like you or Joe it is easy to predict their next step.
I can’t wait to see your face when your allergy breaks free. I’ll follow your date on my laptop. I rarely access your phone these days but today is a special day. I want to see the results. But right now, I listen to your stories from your teenage years. I wonder why you haven’t found any new friends. You tell me about the friends you had when you were sixteen, and they still are your friends, but don’t you have other people to hang out with? I got to know two of your fellow students when I met you at a café, so we could go shopping. You insisted in meeting me outside, but I pretended I haven’t read your message. When I entered the café I first thought you were sitting there accidentally. Next to you there were three girls. One of them weighed about two hundred pounds but tried decorating her face with pink rouge, pink lipstick and platinum blonde strands. Another one of those girls was skinny and tall. She already had a cigarette in her hand, which she lit as soon as she walked outside the building. The third fellow student of yours looked like you. She had a C cup and long brunette hair. She had acne on her cheeks though. I expected you to have friends like Bruna, but as soon as I heard them talking I understood why you come along well. Ms. Two-hundred-pounds spit out comments as mean as the ones you always utter. The other two were typical followers. They were nodding through everything you say and praising you for everything you are and do. You always need one friend who’s as mean as you, and some more who want to be your friends so badly that they accept everything you do or say.
“That evening was legendary,” you end your story. “We did some crazy shit back then.”
You lean back and scratch your cheek. Does it already start? It is too early for your allergy to reveal itself. Maybe it is time for me to go, but I can’t I still need to prepare some last details in the bathroom.
“Hey,” you say. “Don’t you want your latte?”
I look at my cup. It’s half empty. “Sure,” I say.
At the same time as I answer you grab the cup. You really like my soy latte. I don’t care how much you drink. You can have some more, but let’s not start the skin rashes and stomach aches too early. Ten minutes before Joe is supposed to arrive at your apartment I leave with Dana, go home and let her play with Kye while I stare at my laptop. It all happens exactly as I predicted it. I can’t see much because your phone mostly lies on the sofa, but I’ve seen how your rash started. I’ve heard you tell Joe to look for your skin cream and something to cool your skin. I’m wearing earphones, so the kids won’t hear anything.
I almost thought he didn’t find any of the hints but according to your sobbing at the office the next day he did.
“I don’t know how the note from Chad got there,” you say.
“What’s going on?,” Amber asks.
“Nothing,” we both say aggressively, then you turn towards me.
“Maybe it fell out of my purse,” you say and look to the ground.
“What note? Who is Chad?,” I ask.
I love my acting. I sound like I definitely don’t know anything about Chad.
Now you start whispering. “I might have had other dates.”
“No, Piper,” I say reproachfully. “Why?”
“It’s not like I’m exclusively dating Joe,” you say. “But he started screaming at me. Like, hello, he’s the one cheating. He has no right to be rude.”
I’m so sick of your bullshit. You’re always blaming other people for your mistakes. It’s never your fault. “So, it’s over?”
“He’ll calm down eventually,” you say. “He’ll forgive me.”
He won’t. Because as soon as he starts to I’ll be there to change his mind. I can’t let him interfere with my plans.
16
Shortly before lunch break Paola appears in our office. I see her walking towards my glass palace. Normally, people at lalamilan send emails instead of personally showing up at your desk. Even though I can literally see Amber’s nose hair from my desk she constantly sends me emails or messages. On the one hand, I don’t get it. They pretend to be hip and outgoing but then they send you an email even though you’re three steps away. On the other hand, it’s practical. I don’t have to close any browser tab or hide my phone whenever they enter my miniature office. I don’t have to talk to them. I don’t have to hear their voices. I don’t have to breathe their breath. I don’t have to smell their perfume or worse, their sweat. Actually, I’m good with receiving emails.
“Blair,” Paola says when entering my office. She closes the glass door.
I don’t know why but as soon as I see her I realize that Paola knows me as Blair. When I change my identity again I’ll have to take care of that. Either I make up a whole new job to fill the gap in my CV or I try to include this job in my CV as it is. Either way I’ll have to fake references. It’s irrelevant at the moment, but I need to make sure that I’m prepared for everything, even after I’m done with you. Everything I’ve planned all those years was related to you and only you. I knew I wouldn’t be Blair Morgan forever, but I didn’t clarify the details. I should think about it after lunch break.
“Paola, hey,” I reply.
“Next week we’re going on a business trip,” she says with a serious and professional tone. She never sounds or appears serious and professional. She tries hard but she either seems aggressive and patronizing or laid-back and unprofessional.
“Okay,” I say and try to read her posture and expression. Who does she mean? My team? Me and her? Maybe I’ve overlooked an email with the invite and exact date.
“We’re leaving on Monday,” she says.
Leaving? As in leaving the city? “Whereto?”
“Boston,” she says and leans on my desk. She’s wearing a tight skirt, way too short for any average office job. She’s lucky that she is the CEO of a lifestyle blog. Elsewhere she would be fired due to her interesting choice of clothes.
“For a day?,” I ask and open my calendar to add an event.
“It’s a bigger deal than all the things we’re currently involved in,” she explains, “so we’re staying until Thursday. We need time. We have lots of conferences throughout the week.” Now she looks at me like she has something to confess. “Jane has already booked a hotel for us. Sorry for telling you now. I’ve just asked Piper if she could take care of your son for a few days. I know your kids go to the same school and know each other already.”
I look past Paola and stare at you.
“That’s nice of her,” I say and smile. My answers are too short lately, especially when I talk to my colleagues. I’ve noticed that a few days ago. It’s because I don’t care about them, but I should care about Blair’s authenticity and popularity. “Kye and Dana are friends. He’ll be so happy to play with her for a few days. Thanks for taking care of that.”
Thanks for dragging me to Boston when I want to stay here. Piper won’t join us. Apparently the trip is only for team leads.
Pao
la is about to go but before she closes the door she says, “by the way, today we have our catering day. We do that a few times a year. See you in the kitchen.”
Before I go to the kitchen there is something I have to take care of. I look up and see that Amber walks outside. When my eyes meet yours my laptop beeps and a message from you pops up.
PIPER LUCREZIA FLORES, PROJECT ASSISTANT @LALAMILAN
Let’s go? <3
BLAIR MORGAN, PROJECT MANAGER @LALAMILAN
Give me a minute xx
You smile at me and look at your phone. I found Chad on Tinder, so I matched with him. Apparently he likes blondes as much as brunettes. He pretends to be a successful business owner. His profile makes it obvious that he’s looking for something casual and offers money in return. He doesn’t say he’ll pay for sex, but that he likes to shower women with presents. I’m not sure yet what to do with him. We’re texting a little and he’s interested. The thing is I don’t want him. I don’t need his presents. I just want him to ditch you.
With your ex it was much easier. He’s done with your shit, so you two fought without me doing much. I just showed him you’re interested in many guys, their income and sperm. Joe may be cheating on his girlfriend right now, but he’s naïve. He thought there’s a chance you two could have a comeback. He thought he’s the only one you’re dating, that you’re coming back to him. He’s the type of guy who spits out all his dirty and mean thoughts about someone when fighting with them. He told you you’re selfish and a cheating whore and that you don’t appreciate what he’s done for you. Then you told him he’s the one cheating and that he’s too lazy to ever be able to give you and Dana Isabella the love you deserve. Love doesn’t mean actual love. What you mean is wealth. He then started accusing you of spoiling your daughter and spending all his money for your clothes and alcohol. One rule when fighting is to focus one problem at a time. Joe just randomly talks about how you force him to put down the toilet lid and that you never allow him to eat the food he likes.
A knock on the glass door wakes me up from my thoughts.
“We’re gonna miss out on the snacks,” you say.
What we find in the kitchen aren’t just snacks. There are brown and yellow cupcakes with either chocolate or cheese, there are spinach cream cheese croissants, salad on sticks, smoked salmon bites, mini waffles and mini cheeseburgers. It’s a more expensive, prettier, healthier and extravagant version of a regular snacks buffet.
“Paola,” I say and put my arm around her, “this is amazing. Thank you.”
“Have some champagne,” she says. Behind her and Jane there are lots of glasses, lined up as a triangle, and three bottles of champagne.
With a glass in my hand I turn around and almost run into you. Sometimes I forget that you’re always by my side.
“Thanks for watching Kye next week,” I say.
“Sure,” you say, grab my glass and take a sip. “Where are you going?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Maybe it’s top secret and she doesn’t want others to know until we seal the deal. “We’re going on a business trip to Boston.”
“Boston,” you say jealously and open your eyes widely. “You’re going to Boston with Paola?”
“I think it’s Paola, Jane, Mallorie and someone from the office in Milan.”
You are jealous. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You want to go to Boston. You want to be the one Paola asks to go on a business trip with her. Your jealousy is something that makes it hard to be friends with you. I know that you would do anything to get what you want. You either seduce someone, blackmail or betray them. Whatever you and your friends did, as soon as you were caught you managed to blame them. You didn’t say anything, you just made it look like you were innocent. You may be dumb, but you know how to get rid of people who stand in your way.
“Do you know who you’re meeting with?,” you ask curiously.
“I think it’s some company Paola wants to do a bigger project with,” I say. “There’s a meeting on
“Okay,” you say, but what you think is, why was that brat chosen to go, I should go.
It’s not like I’m deluded. You talk shit about your closest friends, not just your enemies. You say your friends are stupid, hoes, fat or clumsy. You want to be more successful, prettier, richer and smarter than them. Still, you think you and your friends are better than everybody else. I can’t make sense of your intentions. Also, you don’t really know what you want. You’re impulsive and you don’t think. Otherwise you wouldn’t try to date ten different guys, try to get pregnant from the richest of them and be a housewife and want to pursue a career. It’s never about your progress, is it? It’s about being better than your friends. You don’t really want to go to Boston, you just don’t want others to go to Boston.
“It’s just Boston,” I say. “It’s not like we’re traveling to Italy.”
17
“We’re going to Italy afterwards,” Mallorie tells us. “Paola and me.”
“Really?,” you ask and grab a cupcake. Now it’s her you are jealous of. She’s going to see Italy. Something you think you deserve more than her. “To Milan? For what?”
“Mallorie,” Jenny says. She stands at the door, waiting for her fellow editor. “We have a team meeting in five minutes.”
That afternoon I’m bored. I don’t know what you and Amber do all day long. Are you watching videos on YouTube? Is Amber listening to a podcast? She’s wearing earphones. I’m glad when I turn off my computer, grab my purse and follow you outside. I’ve stared at the watch for thirty minutes, waiting for it to give me permission to leave. What a shitty day. I don’t want to go to Boston, but what choice do I have?
“I’ve eaten a lot today,” you say and look down at your stomach. “We should go to the gym. I don’t wanna gain weight from all those carbs and fat.”
I text Nanny, and we spend the afternoon at the gym. After half an hour on the treadmill I start sweating. I turn around to see what you’re up to. A minute ago, you right behind me on a bike, which is now occupied by an old skinny woman with short grey hair. I spot you next to the vending machine. You bought a bottle of Evian. I almost thought you were flirting again. I get off the treadmill and grab my phone.
“I think that’s enough for today,” I say.
At first you don’t notice me. You stare at somebody. I look to the right and see a man talking to a young blonde woman. The man looks like Chad.
“Who is that?,” I ask because I want you to tell me.
You turn around and give me a surprised look. “Who?”
“You’re looking at those two,” I say and point at them.
You push down my arm. “Don’t point at them. That’s a girl from NYU.”
She for sure isn’t a girl from NYU. She could be a fitness blogger or a commercial model. You don’t want to tell your best friend about your affairs. You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you admit that you’re seeing many guys? I don’t blame you. I’m not being honest myself.
“Why don’t you say hi?”
You take a few seconds to think about your answer. “I can’t stand her,” you say. “Because she stole my laptop.”
You’re either a good storyteller or you happen to know both of them. Whatever, she doesn’t look like someone who steals laptops.
“Wow,” I say and look at the girl. “I can’t stand people who steal.”
I can’t help but think of all the things you stole from me. All the things I’ll never get back. I hate being reminded of what I lost. Every day, every minute and second, I just want it back. I want my life back. Since I can’t turn back time I want revenge.
Back home Nanny tells me that she can’t work next week, which is fine because you’re going to watch Kye. It’s the first time that she doesn’t seem so happy.
“I can’t work full-time,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I say before she leaves. I let her babysit two kids, and with all those night shifts she really
does work too much.
“What’s her problem?,” you ask when I enter the living room. You gave Kye and Dana Isabella ice cream, which you probably found in my freezer.
I sit down next to you. “She’s almost working full-time at the moment.”