The Bachelorette Party (14 page)
Back in the limo, the whine-fest began.
Betsy, of course, was first. “I don’t
want
to go see a band. We were supposed to have dinner and now it’s ten-thirty! We never even played the ‘Fun Facts About Grey and Helen’ game. I called their moms and found out all their favorite toys when they were kids and everything!”
want
to go see a band. We were supposed to have dinner and now it’s ten-thirty! We never even played the ‘Fun Facts About Grey and Helen’ game. I called their moms and found out all their favorite toys when they were kids and everything!”
“Barbie’s Dream House,” Helen said.
“And Grey’s was his G.I. Joe,” Eloise said.
Denise patted Betsy on the arm. “See? We just played it.”
Betsy was not appeased. She crossed her arms and put on her “in a huff” face. “Isn’t anyone else here worried about the fact that Helen is drunk and acting obscene?”
“There are many different levels of obscene,” Jane said. “I think we’re still in virgin territory.”
“I’m not drunk,” Helen said, as she held the now empty bottle of champagne upside down over her mouth.
“It’s about time Helen loosened up and had fun,” Zadie said. “Besides, it’s what Grey wanted.” Well, maybe not the grinding-with-college-boys part, but as long as everyone’s clothes stayed on, she could condone it.
Helen looked at her. “What does that mean?”
Oh, Christ. Not again. “Exactly what I said. Grey wants you to have fun.”
“So he doesn’t think I’m fun normally?”
“He thinks you’re perfect, Helen. He’s madly in love with you. That’s why he’s marrying you in two days.”
“But he told you he wanted me to ‘loosen up’?”
Zadie looked from Helen to Eloise, who was now looking at her accusingly “No. He just said that he wanted me to make sure you had fun.”
“Because I’m not capable of that on my own? Because I need
help
having fun?”
help
having fun?”
“Helen, you’re being ridiculous. That’s not what he said at all.”
“Liar. He thinks I’m uptight.” Helen was right. Grey
had
told her to try and get Helen to loosen up. But she certainly couldn’t admit that now.
had
told her to try and get Helen to loosen up. But she certainly couldn’t admit that now.
Eloise threw her two cents in. “I think Grey likes Helen just fine the way she is. He
did
propose to her, if you recall.”
did
propose to her, if you recall.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Zadie said. “He loves her and he wants her to have fun.” Enough already. Every time she opened her mouth and said anything about Grey she got grilled and skewered. From now on, she was only opening her mouth to drink.
“Well, if Grey wants me to loosen up, then loose I will be. Thank you, Zadie.”
Oh, shit.
The limo driver pulled to a stop and turned around. “This is the Roxy.” They looked out at a three-story black building with a neon sign and a marquee. Hordes of music fans were lining up on the sidewalk. Some of them were a little skanky looking. Whether it was faux poser skank or actual skank was yet to be determined.
Skinny made a face. “Why are we going
here
?”
here
?”
Snotty agreed. “I don’t care about some lame band.”
Marci beamed. “Kim and I went to see Rick Springfield in concert last summer in Anaheim. It was
amazing.
He still looks exactly the same as he did when he was on
General Hospital.
”
amazing.
He still looks exactly the same as he did when he was on
General Hospital.
”
“When he sang ‘Jessie’s Girl’? I almost cried, I was so happy,” Kim said.
“We were so close to the stage, I got to touch his ankle,” Marci gushed. Clearly, Kim and Marci needed to leave the house more often, but Zadie was at least happy to know that she had some common ground with them. She had every Rick Springfield album ever recorded.
Eloise looked up at the marquee. “There’re six bands here and none of them are Rick Springfield.”
“We’re only here to see one,” Gilda told her.
“Surf Monkeys,” Zadie said.
“And why am I supposed to care about Surf Monkeys?” Eloise snipped.
“Trevor Larkin is in it,” Zadie answered.
Eloise and Snotty almost hurt themselves, they got out of the limo so fast. The other women followed them out, confused.
“Who’s Trevor Larkin?” Kim asked.
“The guy in the Gap ad!” Eloise informed her. “The one with the big—”
“Oh, my,” Marci said. “I’ve noticed that, too. I felt bad for looking, but it’s hard not to see it.”
Skinny was still unclear. “You’re telling me Trevor Larkin is in this band?”
Gilda glared at her. “Hands off. You are not blowing him.”
“Can I?” Jane asked.
“He’s Zadie’s,” Gilda answered.
“He’s one of my students. That’s what she means.” Zadie wished she’d kept her big tequila hole shut. She did
not
want these women to know she lusted after Trevor.
not
want these women to know she lusted after Trevor.
“Of course that’s what she means.” Jane smiled at her and winked.
Helen led the way through the door. “Do you think they’ll let me sing?”
Once they were inside, it was impossible to talk, the music was so loud. The room was black and cavernous and the sound of screeching
guitars filled the entire space. Zadie checked with the bouncer and found out that Trevor’s band hadn’t gone on yet. He thought they might be next, but he had a giant tattoo on the top of his shaved skull that said BRAIN LEAK, so his reliability could hardly be counted on.
guitars filled the entire space. Zadie checked with the bouncer and found out that Trevor’s band hadn’t gone on yet. He thought they might be next, but he had a giant tattoo on the top of his shaved skull that said BRAIN LEAK, so his reliability could hardly be counted on.
Jane gave a group of young guys fifty bucks to leave their table so they could all sit down. Flight attendants must make more than Zadie thought. The band onstage finished, leaving the women a window of conversation time.
“It smells like old beer and armpits in here,” Betsy said, wrinkling her nose.
Helen held up her newly procured martini. “To loosening up.” She took a big swig, then looked at Zadie. “Do you think Grey would like seeing me this way?”
Zadie looked at her. She was still wearing her bridal veil with devil horns and carrying Hans’s blow-up penis. She had the strap-on on backward, so that the blue dildo was poking out of the back of her chair.
“I think Grey would love seeing you this way. I think he’d love seeing you
any
way.” Humor the drunk girl. Always the best policy.
any
way.” Humor the drunk girl. Always the best policy.
“He’ll never see me puke, like he saw you do that time.”
Why would Grey tell Helen that she’d puked? That was hardly information that she needed to know. Not that Zadie was ashamed. Most women left at the altar probably vomit on someone shortly thereafter. But she was pissed that he’d told Helen about it. Was nothing sacred? Were all of her secrets fodder for Grey and Helen’s pillow talk?
“Well, that’s probably a good thing. It wouldn’t be very romantic,” Zadie said, still humoring her, even though she felt betrayed.
“You know what’s romantic?” Eloise said. As if she had the remotest idea. “Sitting in complete and total darkness and touching each other.”
Zadie tried to tune her out. Any sex tip that Eloise gave was immediately nauseating by virtue of the fact that it was she who had given it. Zadie was worried that by the end of the night, Eloise might ruin all possible sex acts for her.
Betsy looked at the stage, still in a snit. “Is that the big-penis model?”
Zadie followed her gaze to see several young guys, not as young as Trevor, but young, tuning up their equipment and plugging things in. Just as she was about to answer no, Trevor walked out onstage. His green Abercrombie T-shirt was skintight, and his Gap cargo pants were just tight enough to cup his butt, but loose enough to camouflage his package. His blond surfer hair was fetchingly tucked behind his ears and freshly washed. Clean hair was so important in a man. The men who loaded their heads with greasy gel were doing themselves and all those who had to look at them a great disservice, Zadie thought. Someone should really write an article about it.
“Oh, my God, he’s so hot.” Snotty groaned as if she were being tortured.
Eloise looked at Zadie. “You’re positive he’s eighteen? He looks at least twenty-three.”
“Not unless he was left back five times.” She was pretty sure he wasn’t, judging by his essays. She was delighted to discover that he was actually quite bright when he turned in his first paper. Which, of course, was just sad. Not that he was bright, but that she was delighted to discover it. She wouldn’t have had the same reaction had he been ugly.
As she watched him tune up, she told herself she was just here to support Trevor’s musical endeavors. Teachers were
supposed
to be supportive of their students’ creativity. She was merely doing her job. There was nothing at all unseemly about the fact that she was here. Nothing at all.
supposed
to be supportive of their students’ creativity. She was merely doing her job. There was nothing at all unseemly about the fact that she was here. Nothing at all.
Gilda leaned in and whispered to Zadie, “We’re not leaving here until you kiss him.”
Zadie rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll be here for several years.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Gilda calculated the difference. Not an easy feat after several tequila shots. “That’s only thirteen years! Demi and Ashton are sixteen years apart!”
Emulating the behavior of people on the cover of
US Weekly
was not something Zadie aspired to.
US Weekly
was not something Zadie aspired to.
Gilda wouldn’t give up. “He invited you here, right? He probably didn’t invite any of the other teachers. So that has to mean something.”
Zadie did a quick scan of the dark room, making sure that Nancy and Dolores weren’t in attendance. No sign of them. Phew. She didn’t see the math teacher or the foreign language slut, either. She turned back to Gilda. “I’m helping him get into Stanford. He was just sucking up.”
Betsy leaned forward, superiority bursting out of her. “Do you realize we haven’t even given Helen her shower presents yet? They’re still in the trunk of the limo. We were supposed to do it at dinner.”
“We can do it later. Let’s just watch the band,” Denise said, throwing Zadie an “I know you need this” look.
Did
she need this? Did she really need to watch Trevor onstage and feel guilty for enjoying it? He was adjusting the microphone stand. Oh, Lord. Did that mean he was going to sing? Now that she thought about it, he looked like a younger, more wholesome, blonder version of Jim Morrison. Did Jim Morrison surf? Was Trevor the new Lizard King? Fuck. She was drunk.
she need this? Did she really need to watch Trevor onstage and feel guilty for enjoying it? He was adjusting the microphone stand. Oh, Lord. Did that mean he was going to sing? Now that she thought about it, he looked like a younger, more wholesome, blonder version of Jim Morrison. Did Jim Morrison surf? Was Trevor the new Lizard King? Fuck. She was drunk.
When the Surf Monkeys kicked into their first song, Zadie was transfixed. As was every other woman in the room. There was no denying that he was sex on a stick. He had the perfect blend of cocky playfulness and that soulful sad boy wailing that always made Zadie’s heart quicken when she listened to the radio. He was a god. The rest of the band was crap, but it didn’t matter. Trevor was singing. He was playing guitar. Zadie wouldn’t be able to repeat a single lyric or hum any of their tunes if asked later, but that wasn’t the point.
She leaned over to yell in Gilda’s ear, “Is he surrounded by an angelic haze or am I just really drunk?”
Gilda grabbed her arm. “Listen to me. You are going to have sex with him and give me every single detail afterward. Vicarious fucking is all I’m allowed.”
They continued to watch as Trevor got close to the first row of the mosh pit and bent down to sing to various girl groupies.
“Let’s go up front!” Snotty said. She grabbed Helen and they raced down there, Skinny close on their heels. Zadie felt the warm glow in her belly turn cold. Why had she shared Trevor with them? Now he was going to fall in love with Helen. Or have sex with Snotty and Skinny in his dressing room. Goddammit!
When they got up close to the stage, they had to fight through a group of teenage girls who had “Under 21” wristbands on. The girls were not at all pleased to have a drunken bride-to-be carrying a blow-up dildo and wearing a backward strap-on in their midst. Not to mention two slutty bitches in designer whore-wear and four-inch stilettos. Helen was forced to start beating some of the girls with her blow-up penis just to retain her personal space. Zadie noticed that a couple of them were in her third-period class and ducked down in her seat.
Trevor looked down from the stage as Helen got particularly nasty with two teenagers in belly tees and bell-bottom cords. Her veil was crooked and her eye makeup was smeared as she bashed the girls over the head with Hans’s genitals. Trevor made a face and then gestured to his bass player, who started laughing. As they finished the song, Trevor looked down at Helen and leaned toward the microphone, mocking her. “
Someone
’s hammered.”
Someone
’s hammered.”
Zadie’s glow returned. Trevor was not blinded by Helen’s beauty. He was now even more of a god than he was before. This was tragic. She didn’t need excuses to like Trevor more. She needed reasons to flee. Dignity. Propriety. These were reasons. Maybe she should move over next to Betsy and Marci and Kim. They would talk her out of her lust. They would set her straight.
The band lit into another song and Helen made her way back to the table. “This band sucks. Let’s go.”
Betsy stared at the stage with glassy eyes. “One more song.”
Marci and Kim were equally entranced. “We can’t go until he’s done,” Marci said.
“Fuck Rick Springfield,” Kim agreed.
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