We’re back at the rental house, getting ready for the bar crawl tonight. Zoey is wearing all white, and I imagine she’ll add in a sash that says ‘bride to be’ along with a tiara or something. The rest of us are under strict orders to wear pink. I fucking hate pink. Almost as much as I hate red lipstick.
I’m pulling on a pink tank top when a knock on my door grabs my attention.
“Yea?” I ask as I struggle to get the fabric over my shoulders.
“Hey, Margeaux. Oh. Cute top,” Haley says, letting herself in my room, and closing the door behind her. “I actually brought you this, too. I picked it up at one of the boutiques on the way back,” she says, handing me a small shopping bag.
I look inside and see bright, pink fabric. It’s a long-sleeve, pink top. I look at her with a puzzled expression.
“Do you like it? I think it would go great with a pair oflongjeans, right?” she asks, tilting her head in a way that her blonde ponytail flops to the side.
“Uh. I already have an outfit for tonight.” I hold my arms out, showing my tank top and cut-off, black denim shorts. “Plus, it’s hotter than a ball sack in a steam room. I’m not wearing long pants tonight, let alone jeans.”
She cringes at my language, which I feel was quite poetic. She squares her shoulders and stiffens her face, dropping her polite demeanor. “Margeaux, listen. When we were at the beach, you got a lot of attention.” She motions to my tattoos. “You were totally stealing thespotlight from Zoey. That’s not cool. It’sherweekend. I get it, you’re a pseudo-celebrity, or whatever. But yourbodyis distracting.”
“Mybody?” I grit out, feeling all my muscles tense.
“Look, I think you look badass. But you’re tall, Margeaux. Like, super tall. And super muscular to the point where you’re kinda…masculine. And you’re covered in all these tattoos and piercings. It’s like you’re screaming for attention. And it’s just really selfish of you to not think about how you being here is taking away from Zoey’s weekend.”
I’ll give this girl credit for being ballsy enough to be honest with me. Doesn’t mean I’m not ten seconds away from erupting with pure rage. Who the fuck does this girl think she is?
“Well, if Zoey has such a problem with me, and how I look, she can tell me herself. She’s the one who invited me here this weekend, anyway,” I scoff, trying to act like this conversation isn’t one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. It’s taking every ounce of energy to keep my temper in check.
Haley cocks her hip and flips her ponytail to the opposite side. “Margeaux, come on. Seriously? You’re her fiancé’s sister. Shehadto invite you. Plus, some of the girls were thinking you’d introduce us to some of those hot wrestlers,” she says, waving her hands in front of her. “Huge bust,” she mumbles under her breath.
I feel my jaw drop. I want to grab Haley by the root of her hair and smash her into the dresser. Then watch her body flop onto the ground, giving me a chance to body slam her. I can hear the crowd screaming for me to pin her- Haley the Hater. I can picture her crying, her perfect blonde hair a mess and all her make-up running down her face.
The tapping of her wedge shoe breaks me out of my reverie. I stare at her blemish-free face, adorned with one set of simple earrings. I can feel her eyes counting all the extra holes in my ears. I’m sure our trip to the beach revealed the additional piercings in my nipples and belly button.
“So, let me get this straight,” I begin. “I’m only here as a pity invite. None of you want me here,especially Zoey. So why the fuck should it matter what I do? Or what I fucking wear?” I snap.
“Oh, Geeze. Don’t be so dramatic, Margeaux,” she huffs, chucklingat me condescendingly. “You’re not going to be locked in here like the hunchback of Notre Dame,” she continues laughing.I’m not laughing. “You can still come out. Just maybe don’t hang out so close with our party,” she suggests, shrugging her shoulders.
This is seriously high school shit. I should just leave. I don’t have to put up with this petty, mean girl bullshit. It wouldn’t be my style to back down from a fight, though.
“I have an idea, Haley.” Haley crosses her arms, jutting her boobs out, as if that’s supposed to intimidate me. “Why don’t you, and Zoey, and all the other pink-clad bitches in this house, go fuck yourselves!”
I storm into my adjoined bathroom. Before slamming the door behind me, I catch a reflection of Haley’s jaw dropping. And in the back of my mind I hear the crowd shouting my name as the ref calls the match in my favor.
I fire off a string of texts to Jazz letting her know what just went down with Haley. Being the great friend she is, Jazz reassures me that I’m a badass bitch and that I should still go out and enjoy myself.
Her final text is what gives me the inspiration to make this evening one for the memory books.
Jazz: Don’t get mad. Get even.
5
JON
“Bro,do we need to go ring shopping soon?” Lance, one of the other pediatric medicine residents, says to me as we walk over to Pitcher and Rye, a popular, upscale bar in Paramount.
My chest constricts hearing the topic of getting engaged to Nicolette. “Why would you think that?” I ask nervously, my mouth dry and in desperate need of a drink.
He barks a deep laugh, adjusting his tortoise shell glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, dude? She’s practically singing across the maternity ward that you two are moving in together. That girl was ready to pick out a wedding dress, like yesterday,” he says, clapping me on the back. “She’s a decent option for a wife. I mean, she’s hot, smart, and she’s nice to everyone,” Lance adds.
“Yea. She’s a good person. It’s just…” I hesitate, looking over my shoulder like Nicolette will jump out from behind one of the apple trees and hear me.
“Just what?”
