it.
I roll my eyes at my best friend, Vanessa. She rolls back and takes a handful of popcorn. We both rushed home from work tonight to watch Ava’s appearance together. We’re at Vanessa’s apartment in comfy sweatpants, with a huge bowl of popcorn between us and a pitcher of margaritas to help wash it down. The pain, that is. Not the popcorn. (But it works on the popcorn, too.)
“Obviously they’re not talking about you,” Vanessa says. “They probably just want Ava to look more like a real woman. Not the stick figure that she is.”
Since Vanessa is a bit of a stick figure herself, this is not exactly a compelling argument from her.
But Vanessa’s right. It’s not actually all about me, since Trip doesn’t know the whole story involved with my coming to his wedding. He thinks it’s just your normal girl-goes-to-her-ex-boyfriend’s-wedding kind of situation. Thankfully, he doesn’t know about the part where Douglas broke up with me mere minutes before the wedding, forcing me to drag my friend Jack-complete with the kilt and faux accent-in his place. I even wore a fake engagement ring to really sell it.
“Thanks,” I say to Vanessa and we both look at the television. I take a big swig of my margarita. Maybe we should have cut to the chase and just had shots of tequila before watching this?
“So,” Rachel says, putting on a serious expression, “tell us more about the film.”
“Well,” Ava says. “It’s the story of a woman who goes to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding.”
“Wow,” Rachel says, “that sure sounds like quite a story!”
“It is, Rachel,” Ava says, leaning in to Rachel as if they’re sorority sisters or something. “It is. And lots of single women everywhere can relate to it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rachel says with a laugh. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go to an ex’s wedding.”
“It’s going to be a funny movie,” Ava says. “I can personally guarantee lots of laughs. And maybe even a tear or two.”
“They’re going to be lining up in droves to see this movie!” Rachel says.
And she’s probably right. Why couldn’t they be making a small art house film about my life that no one would ever see? Why must it be the movie that’s slated to be the biggest blockbuster of the summer? Why, oh why, must my life be so darned interesting that a major motion picture studio has green lighted a production about it?
“Is it a concern,” Rachel says, putting a grave expression onto her face, “that people won’t think that the story is believable? I mean, what woman in her right mind would actually go to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding?”
“That’s the great thing, Rachel,” Ava says, eyes sparkling, clearly ready for this question to have been asked. “It really
“You mean to tell me that your husband’s ex-girlfriend actually came to your wedding?” Rachel says and gives the camera a look of shock. Oh, please. As if this whole interview wasn’t pre-rehearsed. Who does she think she’s kidding?
“Yes!” Ava says. “She’s actually an attorney right here in Manhattan. And she’s very nice.”
“Nice or not, I can’t believe you let one of your husband’s exes come to your wedding!” Rachel says, still doing the shocked expression thing. I mean, doesn’t Rachel have any other expressions in her arsenal? What does she do when she interviews someone who actually reveals shocking things? I guess this is why they pre-record all of their shows.
Ava nods in response.
“They’re making me sound like a stalker,” I say to Vanessa and she shhhes me. I finish my margarita and lean over to the pitcher to re-fill my glass.
“But,” Rachel quickly says, “it’s not as if a woman like you has to worry about any sort of competition. What man would ever choose another woman over you?”
“Oh, God,” I say, “is that what everyone’s going to be saying at the premiere? Why would he want to be with
“Oh, don’t be silly, sweetie,” Vanessa says, looking at me. “We’re not going to be invited to the premiere.”
On the TV, Ava continues. “My husband, Trip, was so inspired by the story of his ex coming to the wedding that he decided that it would make a great movie.” That Ava doesn’t answer Rachel’s question and begins posturing makes me think that maybe Trip gave her a script for this interview. “She came with her gorgeous Scottish fiancé, so everything worked out in the end. It’s a story about love and friendship. And life’s special moments.”
“This is beginning to sound like a tampon commercial,” Vanessa says, taking a ladylike sip of her margarita. She’s still on her first of the night. I’m already pouring number three.
“This is so humiliating,” I say, “I can never leave my apartment again.”
“No one’s even going to see the stupid movie,” Vanessa says, “don’t be ridiculous. This whole thing will blow over in minutes.”
“Maybe the movie will be bad,” I say. “Maybe no one will see it!”
“I’m sure no one will,” she says, and clicks the television off. “And it will be forgotten before you can even say ‘straight to DVD.’”
“Really?” I ask. “You really think that?”
“Sure,” Vanessa says, filling up my margarita glass, “of course I do.”
“I guess I should be looking on the bright side,” I say, taking a handful of popcorn. “My one saving grace is that Douglas hasn’t found out. It’s bad enough that I’ve been humiliated in front of Jack. In fact, this whole thing has actually been a test of how much he truly loves me.”
“And he still wants to marry you after all this. He passed,” Vanessa says. “With flying colors.”
“True,” I say. “But if Douglas found out about this whole mess… Well, let’s just say that Douglas doesn’t have as good of a sense of humor about things. He would really torture me about this.”
“You don’t have to remind me about how awful Douglas was,” Vanessa says. “I remember.”
“Well, then, can I remind you about how wonderful Jack is?”
“Let’s just make a toast,” Vanessa says, and raises her margarita glass. “To Douglas never finding out about all of this.
“Here, here,” I say.
So, now all I need is for Douglas to never watch
Chapter Six
“Excuse me, miss, but I think I have something for you,” a handsome man says to me just as I’m about to enter my office building.
“No, I don’t think so,” I say with a smile. Normally, New Yorkers don’t talk to each other on the street, but I wouldn’t want to be rude. And it’s not just because he’s good looking-I’m not superficial like that. You see, I would speak to a stranger even if he
Well, okay, I wouldn’t speak to a stranger if he looked like he was deranged or something. I mean, that could be dangerous. But a stranger who was average looking? Yes, I would definitely talk to that stranger. If he was handsome and wearing a great suit and had a really really, really nice smile, well, that would just be a bonus. A big, gorgeous, well-dressed bonus. But I digress.
“I’m sure it’s for you,” he insists and I can’t help but laugh, as I continue walking into the building.
“Sorry,” I say, pushing through the big double doors of my law firm’s building, “but I’m engaged.”
How much do I love saying that?! But how typical is this? The second you’re attached, you’ve got random hotties approaching you in the street. And since you’re already involved, you can’t do a thing about it. When I was single, this sort of thing never happened to me. Life can be so unfair sometimes.
