“Ugh, the doctor has me on anti-nausea meds now, I hope I can keep it together tonight. I just got so sick of not seeing people, I had to have some girl time, ya know?” She’s signaling for me to follow her to the couch. I’m thankful she likes to talk about herself so much; it takes all of the spotlight off me.
It hurts. Seeing his stuff mingled with hers feels like little daggers to my heart. I underestimated how shitty being in their space would make me feel, but I’m here now, and I have to make the best of it.
First, I’m relieved to find that Jesika is a messy roommate. There’s shit thrown on every available space, boxes stacked in every corner and dirty dishes piled high in the sink.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to clean. I’ve been trying to find a housekeeper to come every week, but it’s so hard to find dependable help. One company already flaked on us, and another hasn’t called back. Dean won’t let me lift a finger to clean anything, but he’s not so great at cleaning himself, so it’s been a rough few weeks for all of us.” She’s giggling over the mess, and it annoys me because it’s just the sort of mess that would have put Dean in a bad mood before. He’s different with her, he must be, and that fact makes me angry. The narcissistic asshole has the ability to change his personality based on the company he keeps. It’s his gift in business and a curse in his personal life.
A buzzer echoes through the apartment then, and it causes me to nearly jump out of my shoes. All I can think is that it might be Dean returning because he forgot something. Maybe now is the time I bow out and hide in the bathroom until he’s gone for good.
“Oh, I bet that’s the pizza. I ordered my favorite vegan sausage and cheese pizza from Randazzo’s. I ordered a plain cheese on gluten-free crust and a pepperoni flatbread too. Is thatokay?”
“That sounds perfect.” I set my overnight bag on the floor nearest the couch and sit, relief loosening my tense muscles as I realize Dean is gone. I can’t keep thinking he’s going to pop up like a ghost over my shoulder. “Lots of options to choose from.”
“I thought so. I’ve been starved for pizza all week. These cravings are no joke.”
“I bet.” I smile, thinking how I could use a shot of tequila or two to take the edge off.
“Can you be a dear and run down and get it? The code to get back in is 5-5-5-1, like the garage keypad. I just feel so weak. This morning sickness has taken a lot out of me.”
“Sure.” I pop up from the couch, excitement buzzing through me as I realize she’s just given me the key codes to get into her apartment. Suddenly, my options have blossomed.
It only takes me a moment to collect the pizza boxes and tip the delivery guy and buzz myself back into the building. I’m obsessed with the posh, prewar details of the building, and I can’t help but wonder how Dean managed to afford this place. If he’s so broke, why is he living in one of the hippest neighborhoods in the city? Does Jesika’s modeling business really pay off this big? I think of all the nooks and crannies so perfect for hiding, and besides, if I’m ever caught, I can always say I’m dropping by to see Jesika unexpectedly.
By the time I return to the apartment, Jesika is laid out on the sectional sofa, feet crossed, a glass of faux rosé in one hand and a bag of Funyuns in the other. I resent the sense of style and luxury she exudes so effortlessly, and even with a bag of chips in hand, she looks fashionable—like she’s in a commercial. I imagine her life has always been easy because of the way she looks. When you’re born blessed with the correct assortment of facial features that people deem attractive, doors open where there weren’t doors before.
“So what movie do you want to watch?”
I slide the pizza box onto the kitchen counter. “Do you like psychological thrillers?”
Jesika’s face scrunches with distaste. “You wanna watch a thriller?”
“I saw a movie trailer with Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively—it looked really good.”
“Okay…” She points the remote at the TV screen. “I like both of them.” Moments later, she’s landed on the movie I was talking about. Jesika grabs paper plates, and I settle the pizza box between us on the glass coffee table.
By the time we’ve finished off half the pizza, it’s obvious this movie is exactly what I thought it was—a story of friendship, love, and betrayal among two best friends and one of their husbands. At one point, Blake Lively as the antihero declares that everyone has a dark side and even gives a warning to sweet, sincere Anna Kendrick, “You don’t want to be friends with me. Trust me.”
That line sends shudders of anticipation through me. Every scene of this movie is the story of a disintegrating friendship between two women. A tale of greed and pride and passion in the suburbs that keeps me riveted and breathless until the very last deadly scene. By the time the credits roll, I can tell Jesika, however, isn’t as thrilled with my choice.
“Well, glad that’s over. You’re such a little weirdo—I guess I knowyourdark side now,” she giggles, referring back to the line in the movie. “What to watch next… Hmm, what aboutThe Holiday, it’s my favorite!”
“Yeah, sure. Love it,” are my final words before the credits begin to play. For the next ninety minutes, I manage to laugh at all the right parts, tear up a few times, and sing along to the music when Cameron Diaz’s character dances around her cottage. I’ve seen this movie enough times to know why every basic bitch on earth loves it. It’s heartfelt, hopeful, unexpected,forlorn, and still festive. It’s the perfect romantic comedy, and it’s always made me want to puke.
Until now.
Now, it’s my favorite too.
Just as Cameron is about to leave England and Jude Law for good at the end, I shoot off the couch and stretch my arms. I’m tired…of this movie anyway. And I swear Jesika has dozed off at least a few times. She doesn’t seem to register that I’m growing antsy, and since she never managed to take me on a tour of the place, I’m left to my own devices to find the bathroom. I wander down a long hallway, opening every door cautiously as I search. I’ve found a guest bedroom stacked with boxes, a half bathroom for guests, and then the holy grail—the walk-in closet and primary suite with attached bath. The space is beautiful, luxurious floor-to-ceiling windows dominating an entire wall. The very same wall of windows that I watched them make love against last week.
The king bed is piled with a cotton duvet and winter-white pillows that make me want to flop onto it and roll around. I step deeper into their private space, admiring the extra-high ceilings and flecks of gold leaf in the vintage teal wallpaper. It’s probably the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever been in. This entire apartment rivals any space Dean and I have ever lived in. I choke down the envy as I enter the en suite bathroom; the modern tub looks like something out ofArchitectural Digest, and the his-and-hers sinks are luxe copper bowl shapes that look like they would be a pleasure to wash my hands in. Everything here is so elevated and would fit perfectly into Mia Starr’s life. I have half a mind to start snapping photos, but then I think it would look weird if I were caught. So instead, I beeline for the medicine cabinet.
I laugh out loud when I realize what’s been keeping old Dean alive these days. He has the medicine cabinet of an oldman. A bottle of little blue pills sits front and center on the shelf, followed by high cholesterol medicine, testosterone replacement, and his usual SSRI’s. Dean has changed 180 degrees, and now I have the answer why. How easy it would be to switch out one of these little pills for something far worse. The control I suddenly have over his life is intoxicating. Revenge is closer than ever, and I have multiple avenues to achieve my goals. And I still have Bishop sitting in my hotel room, ready and willing to do whatever I say. I have everyone eating out of my palm, just like I’ve always wanted—and soon, I’ll have Dean too.
Soon, Dean will be wishing he’d never said goodbye.
Chapter Twenty
“Dean’s been acting weird lately.” Jesika is twirling a piece of gum around her finger later that night.
