“Exactly. But I’m actually wondering if she’s realized by now that her sugar daddy doesn’t have as much cash as she thought,” Rachael said.
Ted was a dentist, which Rachael said only sounded good in theory. Once you paid your staff, the lease on your office, and the bazillion dollars for all the equipment, there wasn’t a hell of a lot left over. Jess had always found that hard to believe, especially since, from the outside, it seemed as though they were wealthy. Rachael had been an HR director at Microsoft, then started her own business as a career consultant. Her clients were all big wigs—powerful professionals who wanted to change careers. She was in high-demand and did well, but it wasn’t ‘dentist money,’ according to Ted, who told Mike the one time they’d gotten together with their spouses. They’d paid off their sprawling lakefront house after only three years (Jess knew because Ted and Rach had gone to Leavenworth to celebrate), then proceeded to gut and renovate the entire thing. They also swapped out their luxury vehicles every year for something better. But as Mike had said, the bank will give a dentist a lot of money to play with. It doesn’t mean they actually have money. Jess had agreed with him, but secretly wondered if maybe he was just saying that to make himself feel better.
“When you factor in the child support payments and the fact that his mortgage on that gawdy house must be a whopper, there can’t be a lot of sugar left over,” Rachael added.
“He’s more like a sucralose daddy,” Jess said, drawing a laugh from her friends. She smiled, satisfied at having come up with what would likely be a new nickname for Ted, then added, “Sweet at first, but then you get the aftertaste.”
Rachael wrinkled up her nose. “And what an aftertaste.”
Destiny returned with Jessica’s bellini, which, after thanking her, she immediately examined for signs of spittle. With her tablet poised, Destiny asked them what they’d like to order—notifthey were ready to order,whatthey’d like to order. This caused them all to wince, and Diana admitted they still hadn’t looked at the menu.
“Let’s just order now,” Jess said. “We’ll all wind up getting the same things we usually do.” She offered Destiny a smile that said, ‘See? I’m the reasonable one.’
Diana agreed, but Rachael flipped her menu open anyway. “You two go first. I’ll be ready.”
And by the time Jess had ordered eggs Benedict with a side of pan-fried potatoes, and Diana chose waffles with strawberry compote, Rachael was indeed ready. And it was the same thing she always chose—brioche French toast with whipped mascarpone and candied pecans.
Diana and Rach each ordered their second drinks with strict instructions to cut them off at that, or they’d wind up taking a cab home. That had happened once about twelve years ago, and they still brought it up every time they met for brunch. At the time, Mike thought it was hilarious, cute even, but Ted had been thoroughly annoyed at having to leave for work forty-five minutes early the next day to drive Rachael to pick up her car. Jessica supposed the signs of their marriage being terminal had always been there. They just hadn’t noticed them.
They spent another twenty minutes theorizing about Yoga Pants’ reasoning behind saying no and guessing at what the future for the not-so-happy couple would bring, then, when the topic had been beaten to death, Rachael said, “Okay, enough about my life. What’s happening with you two?”
“Same old stuff,” Diana said. “Just momming until I drop into bed around nine every night.”
Jess felt a sense of exhaustion come over her. “Doesn’t it feel like you’re on a thankless hamster wheel, and you will literally never get off until one day you drop dead, having never done anything wonderful?”
“Wow, that was dark, even for you,” Diana answered.
“I take it Kira Popowich’s best life hasn’t rubbed off on you yet?” Rachael asked, keeping her tone just slightly below a sneer.
Jess frowned at her. “Hey, let’s not get down on Kira. She’s a really impressive person. She’s a self-made multimillionaire, and she’s devoted her life to helping people.”
“She’s devoted her life to getting rich by selling people a fantasy,” Rachael said. “I’m not knocking the woman. She’s brilliant, really. She figured out how to combine wish fulfillment with zeroing in on the average woman’s insecurities to bring in the huge dollars. Honestly, I wish I had thought of it first. She’s an evil genius.”
“Oh, come on, Rach,” Diana said. “You’re so skeptical. Kira does a lot of good in the world. She’s got that scholarship fund for underprivileged girls. She’s sent two thousand young women to college on a full ride already.”
“That’s because it looks good for her brand. She has to sell women on the idea that all she’s doing is helping women because if they figure out she’s selling products, they won’t watch. And they won’t buy the crap she’s pushing.”
Jess stiffened, and she knew that she and Di were both thinking about the vagina steam bath. For a brief second, she was scared Diana might laugh, and if she did that, Rachael would know one of them had bought something ridiculous from Kira, and she’d stop at nothing to find out what it was. Instead of letting that happen, Jess said, “I know you’re not a fan, but Kira has really helped me a lot.”
Raising one eyebrow, Rachael said, “How?”
Harrumph. She didn’t have a ready answer for that one. “Well, I’ve been watching her videos on setting boundaries, and I’m getting some really good ideas.”
“Have you set any yet?”
“Not yet, I’m only on step one,” Jess replied somewhat sheepishly.
“Step one? How many steps are there?”
“Three,” Diana said.
“Oh please, setting boundaries is literally one step. Say no. Done.”
“I disagree,” Diana said. “Step one is knowing what you want out of life, which is really important. A lot of women don’t think about that kind of thing.”
Jess nodded. “Exactly. And if you don’t know what you want, how can you create healthy boundaries to get it?”
“Oh my God, this is so much simpler than you guys are making it,” Rachael said. “You listen to your gut. If your gut says no, it’s no. Period. End of story. Stop worrying about hurting other people’s feelings or pleasing everybody else on the planet. Just ask yourself, do I want to do this? No? Then don’t.”
