Leslie’s smile cracks for a second, and I worry that herfeelings have been hurt. She quickly blinks away any shame by batting her falseeyelashes at us.
I get the sense that Leslie dressed this way in order toboss everyone around mercilessly and get away with it. It’s like wishfulfillment, the way teenage girls dress like little Playboy Bunnies and actslutty for a night on Halloween without sustaining much damage to their real,pure reputations the next day in school.
I also get the sense that she has double-dosed on thedrugs that control her manic-depression. She sometimes likes to do this whenfeeling festive, usually to negative effect.
Producing a wooden paddle from behind the bushes, Leslieleans in toward Kat. Her long, fake ponytail sways menacingly. “Bitch!”
“Yikes.” Kat takes a step away from Leslie and leans intome. “Why are we friends with her again?”
“Bend over and let me paddle you, Katrina O’Connell. Youmust not speak negatively about Lady Hoochie. I rule. My word is law tonight!”
“Oh, no, it isn’t!” Kat says, swerving out of the way inthe nick of time and grabbing me as she heads through the front door.
She steals a cocktail from a passing waiter wearing atight black T-shirt that says Tasty, and tries to regain her composure.“Leslie’s a goddamned dominatrix!”
“Well, it is her fortieth,” I smirk. My eyes focus on thelarge brass pole lit up in the center of the room, and I reach for a cocktail,too. “In a contest for crazy, between the three of us, I think she might win.”
“Cheers to that,” Kat says, swallowing the pink concoctionin one gulp. “I’m cool taking silver or bronze.”
We see some people we know and make our way over to them.Like us, they are dressed nicely and are not decked out in any sort of costume.I am about to touch my forehead self-consciously, but stop myself just in time.
“I’m going to pretend this event isn’t weird,” a womannamed Jen says, picking up a tube of K-Y jelly off the buffet.
“Good luck with that,” Kat says.
“Is the K-Y for dipping the sushi into, or for use as asalad dressing?” I wonder aloud to no one.
“Maybe it’s a condiment,” Kristen says. She has a daughterin Becca’s kindergarten class. “Like ketchup.” She winks and pretends to use iton her mini-cheeseburger. She’s kind of funny, actually.
I watch Kat as she drops some condoms into her clutchpurse. She shrugs. “Nothing wrong with taking some party favors.”
I manage to enjoy a few teriyaki salmon skewers andanother drink or two while Kat and I mill around the living and dining rooms,chatting with people we know.
I feel my phone vibrate and check to see if the message isfrom Laney. Instead, it’s Doug. I motion to Kat and dismiss myself from thegroup, trying to find a quiet spot in Leslie’s office.
Not that she works. But still, it’s nice to have anoffice, isn’t it? For all that scrapbooking she does?
“Hey, Lauren, it’s me,” Doug’s message begins. I haven’theard his voice all day, and the sound of it warms me a bit. He sounds tired.He must have had a long day. “Listen. I’ve had a really long day.” See how wellI know my husband? “There’s a couple of really important issues that I didn’tget to complete. I had to push a meeting back, with this guy who is only intown until Friday morning… So…I’m going to have to cancel our date nighttomorrow night. I’m sorry. Just thought I’d give you the heads-up now, in caseyou want to make other plans. Maybe go out with some friends. Or spend sometime with Ben and Bec.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a cough.“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
And then he’s gone.
“Those waiters are gorgeous,” Kat mentions as I rejointhe group. “Did you notice?”
“Mmm. They must be models or actors for hire orsomething,” Kristen adds. “Not that I noticed that one over there with thesmoldering good looks or anything.” He turns our way with an hors d’oeuvrestray and we all smile. His tight black T-shirt reads Try Me.
“I didn’t notice him from the neck up. Too much to look atbelow.”
I want to get back into the spirit of mockery, but afterDoug’s call, the party just doesn’t feel the same. Disappointment clouds myvision. Instead of seeing a group of people to either make fun of or have funwith, I just feel tired of all this playacting that has become my life. I wantto tell someone the truth: I haven’t had sex with Doug in a long, long time.
“Damn, Kat! You need to get laid,” Kristen challenges.
“Et tu, Brute. Et tu.” Then Kat turns to me, looking for areaction. “Why didn’t you laugh at that? It was witty banter.”
“Because.” I explain the phone call, then pause and try toform a truth that won’t reveal too much. “Doug and I never do anything togetheranymore. He doesn’t see me. I’m like the secretary in the waiting room of hislife. Purely administrative.” I am thinking about crying some tears of theangry variety. But I try to will myself to keep it together.
“You should paddle him when you get home. Then he’llnotice you.”
I cock my head to the side and consider this. “Seems towork for Leslie.”
“Although, as you may notice, her husband’s gone a lot ofthe time.”
“Wouldn’t you travel for business any chance you could getif Leslie was your wife?”
And with that, we decide to down a few mudslide shootersand check out the rest of the eats.
“Bitchaaaas!” Lady Hoochie calls, signaling everyone tothe living room.
“Never gets old,” Kat says sarcastically. I roll my eyesas we reluctantly make our way toward chairs in the back row of the room, asfar away from the dreaded pole as is humanly possible.
“Bitches and Hot Mamas!” Leslie begins again, now that thecrowd around her has thickened like her waistline. “I am delighted to have youhere with me this evening to help usher in my next decade of fabulousness!” Shetosses her hair and jiggles her thighs.
There is a beat of awkward, embarrassed silence. Suddenly,people make up their minds to
