“I’m easing my way into it,” Chantel teases. “This month’s topic is the art of communicating your desires.”
“Okay.” Valentina sighs. “But next month, how aboutEye Candy: Black Sweatpants Edition?”
“God, you little pervert.” Lucia flashes Val a devilish grin. “You can’t stop talking about those sweatpants. Or more accurately, what was in them.”
“Wait, who was in sweatpants?” I ask, being nosy.
“Nobody,” Val groans. “My god, it was just a suggestion.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Gabi says. “You know we’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Eh, doesn’t matter.” Val shrugs. “It’s never gonna happen anyway.”
“Wait.” A slow smile spreads across Mariella’s face. “Is it?—”
“Zip it!” Val shoots her a look.
“Oh my god, him?” Mariella scoffs. “Seriously?”
“You take this to your grave,” Valentina demands. “Swear it.”
“Bible.” Mariella raises her right hand. “I would never betray the sisterhood.”
“Doesn’t that mean we should all know?” Gabi muses.
Valentina’s cheeks flush as she regrets her decision to open her mouth in the first place. “Can we please just move along?”
“Fine by me,” Mariella says. “Abella, what’s your piece about?”
“Timeless looks for a capsule wardrobe.” I glance at the next item on my list. “Now, what are we feeling for cocktail of the month?”
“I might be a little biased, but I like this one.” Gabi takes a sip of her chocolate martini.
“That works for me,” Lucia says. “Everyone else good with that?”
After a chorus of agreement, I tap the final item on our agenda. “Okay, and charity of the month?”
A few resounding groans echo around the room. It’s no secret that every month, no matter who we choose, we’re flooded withcomplaints from other Society women about why they should have been picked instead. While there are benevolent charitable groups within the organization, it’s also become a competitive sport among the most elite wives.
“There’s always the Cultured Children’s Association,” Chantel suggests dryly.
“Aren’t they the ones who used the money to travel to Europe while they left their children at home with the nannies?” Lucia asks.
“One and the same.” Val nods.
“I think we should nominate Dr. Mariella,” Gabi suggests, her voice choked with emotion and too much alcohol. “She doesn’t even get credit for all the people she helps.”
“I love philosophical Gabi.” Lucia toasts her empty glass in her direction.
“I know, I’m a lightweight.” Gabi sighs. “But it’s true. She’s like a dark avenging angel. There wasn’t a single redeeming quality in Grant Ellison, and?—”
“Gabs.” Val steals a glance at the door to the hallway, where all our guards are waiting.
“Sorry.” Gabi blows out a breath. “I guess I should have eaten something before I started drinking.”
“I think that’s our cue to call it a night,” I say gently.
She nods, and everyone gathers up their things.
