The Bachelorette Party (23 page)
Grey’s office was on the twelfth floor of a high-rise. From the window in the lobby, you could see the Hollywood sign against the hill in the distance. On smogfree days, you could see snowcapped mountains to the east. There were perhaps three or four of these days each year.
The model-wannabe receptionist asked her to wait on the brown leather couch while she called Mr. Dillon to see if he was available. After a few seconds, she hung up the phone and told Zadie, “I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting right now.”
“Can you call him back and tell him that I have a witness who will testify that the room key was stolen from the party in question?”
The receptionist picked up the phone and called Grey again, relaying the message. She hung up and looked up at Zadie. “Mr. Dillon will be with you in a moment.”
Grey walked into the lobby a minute later. “Why are you here?”
Zadie gestured to the receptionist. “She just told you.”
“Come into my office so no one can see when I throw my coffee at you.”
Zadie stood up to follow, betting that he wouldn’t
actually
hurl any hot beverages at her once he heard the whole story.
actually
hurl any hot beverages at her once he heard the whole story.
He shut the door behind him once they were inside his cherry wood and brass filled office. “Now, what the hell are you talking about?”
“First of all, where the hell have you been? I called you like a hundred times. I even drove down to Bolsa.”
“I’ve been a little upset, Zadie. That happens when your wedding doesn’t. Remember?”
Yes, she remembered. But she spent the days after her wedding didn’t happen crying and vomiting at Grey’s house. She felt bad that she wasn’t providing him with the same service. Of course, he was furious with her, so that changed things somewhat.
“And you’re not exactly the person I want to see the most right now,” he added. “When I told you to make sure Helen had a good time, I didn’t mean get her shit-faced and let her come on to other guys.”
“She didn’t give him the key. He stole it out of her purse. I have a witness.”
“Who? Betsy? I’m not buying it. She tried to tell me she gave the key to that asshole herself so that I’d take Helen back.” Wow, Zadie thought. Betsy was a good friend.
“It’s not Betsy, it’s Trevor.”
“Who the hell is Trevor?”
“My student.”
Grey frowned, confused. “The one you want to screw?”
Clearly, Zadie didn’t have time to go into that story now, so she skipped over the details. “He was there. He saw Jimbo go into her purse and take the key.”
“He told you this?”
“Yes, he just told me, just now, after school.”
“So, this guy is hitting on her all night, then he goes into her purse and takes her room key?”
“Yes.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
“I’ll help you.”
“What about his hands all over her ass and the whole feeling-her-up thing?”
“That happened, too. But let me remind you that you got five lap dances. At least she wasn’t paying him to feel her up.”
Grey thought about this. “You’ve got a point.” He sat down on the edge of his desk. “I just can’t believe any of this happened. It’s not the Helen I know. I have no idea who that version of Helen is.”
“Well, guess what, your girlfriend isn’t perfect after all. But she’s still in love with you even though you dumped her the day before your wedding.”
“I thought she gave that guy her key! Christ, you thought she’d fucked him! Don’t even get me started on that. We spent the whole day together and it never occurred to you to bring that up?”
“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t since it wasn’t true.”
“You didn’t know that at the time.”
Zadie sighed. “All I could think about that entire day was telling you. But you were so excited and so in love, I didn’t want to take that away from you.”
“So if I’d thought that Jack screwed some stripper the night before your wedding, you wouldn’t have wanted me to tell you?”
“Well, given how everything turned out, it really wouldn’t have mattered, would it?”
“Answer the question.”
Zadie picked up a paperweight off Grey’s desk. It was shaped like a reel of film. “Maybe an anonymous note would’ve been good.”
“So, you would’ve wanted to know.” He said it as if she were on trial and he was gloating to the jury.
“No, I wouldn’t have
wanted
to know that. Who would want to know that?”
wanted
to know that. Who would want to know that?”
“You would’ve let me marry a girl—a girl you don’t even like—thinking that she’d slept with another guy the night before?”
“I think we’ve pretty much established that. Until I saw her lying to your face—or so I thought—I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t want to be the one to break your heart. Maybe that makes me selfish, maybe that makes me a complete shit, maybe that makes you hate me, but that was a risk I was willing to take to not have to see you go through the pain I knew it would cause you.”
Grey stared at the floor. Zadie couldn’t tell if he was agreeing that she was a complete shit, or if he was appreciating the sentiment behind her complete shitness. He looked up at her. “What else happened that night?”
“You heard the worst of it. We saw some strippers, but they were gay. According to your sister, that doesn’t count.”
“Great, so Helen saw a bunch of naked men?”
Zadie sighed and gave him a look. “If you’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re jealous of some guy named Mr. Lovepants, then you’ve got bigger problems than I thought.”
Grey didn’t answer. He slumped down on the couch. “It all happened so fast—our whole relationship—when I found out that she wasn’t who I thought she was, it just seemed like the whole thing was a lie.”
“I can understand that,” Zadie said. She’d known he would feel this way. Anyone would feel that way. When she’d found out that Jack was a thoughtless prick instead of an adoring fiance, it negated every good moment they’d ever had together. “Why don’t you just talk to her and see if there’s any version of the Helen you know now that you can still live with? I know you’re still in love with her. C’mon, you thought it was cute that she got drunk before you found out about the dildos and the redneck.”
“The dildos?!” Grey looked stricken.
Zadie frowned, forgetting that he hadn’t heard about that part of the evening. “It was an inflatable dildo. It went with the blow-up doll. They were party favors. We bought them at the Hustler store when she was buying lingerie for you.”
Grey calmed down a bit. “Have you talked to her?”
“I talked to her before I came over here. She’s been in bed crying for two days.”
“Really?”
Zadie looked at him, incredulous. “Where did you think she would be?”
“I don’t know—out with Mr. We Had a Moment.”
Jesus, men were stupid. “Yes, Grey, as soon as you stomped out of the hotel, Helen fell into his arms and they’ve been partying it up in the bridal suite ever since. And they charged it all to you.”
He gave her a “very funny” look, then started hooking together his paper clips. “I should probably call her.”
“Yes, you should probably call her.”
He looked up from his paper-clip chain. “Why are you doing this? Trying to get us back together? You never wanted us to get married to begin with.”
“I never said that.”
“Maybe not out loud …”
This was true. She’d been pissed off during their entire engagement, and here she was fighting to get them to reunite. “Because I want you to be happy, Grey. And you were happy when you were with Helen.” See? Maybe she wasn’t such a selfish shit after all. In fact, helping to ensure the happiness of others was far more satisfying than dwelling on her own lack of it. Being a saint was a much better gig than being a martyr. “And for your information there were some moments on Saturday night, when Helen was drunk, where I genuinely liked her.” She stood up to go. “I’m leaving now, so you can call her.”
“I was in San Diego, by the way. At Mike’s. He liked you. He wants to see you again.”
Zadie took her hand off the doorknob and turned, intrigued by this bit of news. “Really … ?”
“I told him you were a complete bitch and that he shouldn’t bother.”
“Well, all right then.” She opened the door to head out. Grey called after her.
“I’m kidding. I told him I was too mad to talk about you and that he should ask me again when I didn’t want to kill you.”
“Well, you let me know when that day comes.”
When Zadie pulled out of the parking garage, she immediately dialed Helen. “Has he called you yet?”
“He’s on the other line.”
“You have to promise me one thing. Tell him about Cancún. Not today, but eventually.”
Helen sounded stricken. “Why?”
“Helen …”
“Okay I’ll tell him.”
She clicked back over and Zadie hung up. If they were starting over, Grey needed to have all the facts. Clearly, the Cancún wasn’t out of Helen’s system.
When Zadie walked into her apartment, she felt like celebrating. Love was being restored. Always an excuse for a glass of wine. She opened a bottle of pinot noir and dialed Dorian’s phone number.
Dorian answered after three rings. “You’re calling during dinner. I’m burning the Spaghetti-O’s.”
“I had sex and I met a guy that I can date.”
“Are these mutually exclusive items?” Dorian asked.
“Yes.”
“Hold on, I’m opening some wine. We need to toast this momentous occasion.”
“I’ve already got mine poured,” Zadie said.
“Which guy do I want to hear about first?”
“The date potential. His name is Mike and he’s a lawyer.”
“I like him. Who was the lucky roll in the hay?”
“Trevor.”
“And do I get to hear any details about Trevor?”
“He’s a model.”
“Keep going …”
“That’s pretty much it. It was just a one-time thing.” Zadie sat down on her couch, which was luckily devoid of cat prints now that she’d put up a CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR sign on her sliding glass door to remind herself.
“How do you know it’s just a one-time thing?” Dorian asked.
“Because I’m not sleeping with him again.”
“Is this your choice or his?”
“Mine.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
“No.”
“Tiny penis?”
Ha. Hardly “He’s nineteen,” Zadie said, figuring that she might as well tell her best friend, since she’d already spilled the beans to Gilda and Jane.
“Oh, my God. Please tell me he was one of your students so I can call Lifetime and tell them they have a new movie.”
“You were the one who told me Dan had sex with his teacher!”
“Holy shit, he is your student. I love it!”
Zadie was amazed that her moral turpitude was so widely embraced by all of her friends. What did this say about them? Of course, she’d chosen her audience wisely. She was sure her shrink, her mother, and the school board would have quite a different reaction.
“You are sworn to secrecy. If I hear this back from anyone else, you’re never getting any gossip ever again.”
“Oh, come on. You have to at least let me tell Dan.”
“Why would Dan need to know such a thing?”
“Because the most exciting thing he hears from me is what Josh had up his nose this morning. C’mon … let me tell him. It’ll give us a week’s worth of conversation at least,” Dorian said.
“You’re going to exploit my sex life to make your marriage more interesting?”
“Why do you think I still hang out with you?”
“Fine,” Zadie said. “Tell him. God forbid I keep you from an intimate moment of marital bliss where you laugh at what a degenerate I am.”
“Was it good?”
“How come you’re not asking me anything about Mike?”
There was a knock on Zadie’s door. She frowned. Who would knock on her door on a Tuesday night? Could Trevor have found
out where she lived? Or was it Grey coming over to report his conversation with Helen?
out where she lived? Or was it Grey coming over to report his conversation with Helen?
“Hold on, there’s someone at my door.” She got up and walked over to look through her peephole. What would she do if it was Trevor? It was just like karma to smack her in the ass for talking about him.
She put her face up to the door and looked out. Every bit of blood in her upper extremities drained out into her feet. “Dorian? I have to call you back.” She hung up as autopilot took over her body and she opened the door.
Jack was standing there.
With a rose in his hand.
Smiling at her.
“Hi,” he said. Ever the wordsmith.
“Jack.” That was all she could muster. What more was she supposed to say? She tried to remember all the scathing things she’d practiced, but none of them came to mind.
“I know this is a little awkward, but I’m hoping we can talk. Can I come in?”
She stared at him for a moment, then stepped back and swung the door open so he could enter. Even though she knew she shouldn’t give a crap about anything he had to tell her, she was dying to hear it.
He handed her the rose as he walked in and she set it on the kitchen counter. Deliberately not putting it in water. Fuck his rose.
“New couch. Nice,” he said, before he sat down on it and put his feet up on the coffee table. He wasn’t wearing leather pants, but he had on a tight Gucci-boy shirt and jeans that cost at least a hundred dollars. He’d been working out too. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. And his teeth were whiter.
Zadie smacked his feet off her table and sat down on the chair across from him. “Let me guess. You’re in a twelve-step program and you’ve come over to make amends.”
Jack frowned. “No … what the hell would I be in a twelve-step program for?”
“What the hell would you come over here for?”
“Because I think we have some things to talk about.”
“It’s taken you seven months to figure that out?” Zadie couldn’t believe she was indulging him, but the sad, pathetic part of her was hoping he’d apologize. Not that she’d ever let him see that.
“I admit I did not behave in the best way,” Jack said.
“Did your publicist tell you that?”
“Why are you being so sarcastic?”
Jesus. For the second time today, she wondered how men could be so freaking retarded. Maybe she
should
go out with Trevor. He was young. She could mold him. Prevent him from turning out like this. “You’re right, Jack. I have no reason at all to be hostile toward you.” How’s that for sarcasm?
should
go out with Trevor. He was young. She could mold him. Prevent him from turning out like this. “You’re right, Jack. I have no reason at all to be hostile toward you.” How’s that for sarcasm?
“I’ve been seeing a therapist, and he’s helping me work through some things.”
Zadie took a sip of her wine, fortifying herself. “Things like how you didn’t bother to show up for our wedding? And things like how I haven’t seen you since? Because those are some pretty big things, Jack. I hope you’re paying this guy well.”
Jack flipped and unflipped the clasp on his watch, trying to avoid eye contact. “I didn’t have to come over here tonight, Zadie.”
“And I didn’t have to let your lame ass in.”
Why
was this dickweed sitting on her couch? The couch she bought with her pawned engagement ring.
Why
was this dickweed sitting on her couch? The couch she bought with her pawned engagement ring.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. Does that make you happy?”
“When you phrase it like that, it makes me ecstatic. What a sincere apology. Did they teach you that in acting class?”
Jack sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch. “I understand that you’re angry.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t blame you. If I were in your position, I’d be angry, too.”
He was actually smug enough to validate her anger? Zadie poured herself another glass of wine to keep from hitting him. Her hands were shaking and she spilled a couple drops.
“I should’ve come over to talk to you after I got back from Vegas,” he said.
“You should’ve shown up at our wedding.”
He looked at the floor. “I wasn’t ready to get married.”
“You picked a great way to tell me.”
“I realize that now. But at the time, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Maybe a phone call? Before I got to the church and put on the dress? You could’ve given me a little less distance to fall from.”
He started crying. Zadie wasn’t sure how to react. She’d never seen him cry in person, but she’d seen him cry on TV Was he acting now to try and diminish her anger?
“I can’t believe I let myself hurt you that way. I loved you.”
Zadie sighed and looked out the window. There was cat shit in her cactus pot. “You didn’t love me, Jack. If you loved me, you’d never have let me go through the pain of what you did. That’s what hurt the most. When I realized that.”
She immediately regretted sharing any real feelings with him. He didn’t deserve it.
“I did. God, I swear to you, I did. I just couldn’t handle it. Everything in my life was changing and I wasn’t sure what was real.” He stopped crying and wiped his tears away. “But, like I said, I’ve been to therapy and figured some things out.”
Zadie was confused. “Exactly
what
have you figured out?”
what
have you figured out?”
“I was genuinely in love with you. I was just scared.”
Zadie looked at him. “What am I supposed to do with that, Jack? Applaud your brilliant revelation? Because that really doesn’t make me feel any better. I still got left at the altar. You’re still the shithead who broke my heart.” She was not going to cry, goddammit. She was
not
going to cry.
not
going to cry.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. I just want you to consider it.”
Zadie’s head was ready to explode. “Consider what?”
Jack leaned over and took her hand. “My therapist thinks we should give it another shot.”
Zadie stared at him.
Maybe a weaker version of her would have wanted to hear this. Maybe even a version of her as late as last week would have killed to hear these words. Not to act upon them, but simply to relish the irony, the beauty of his retraction in the face of her indifference. But today’s version of Zadie had no need for this. Today’s version was simply annoyed. She yanked her hand away from him. “I take it back. I hope you’re not paying this guy well, because clearly he’s an idiot.”
Her head hurt. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to leave
now.
now.
Jack acted confused, as if he couldn’t imagine how she wasn’t beside herself with happiness at this invitation to renew their brilliant relationship. “Are you seeing someone else?”
It just kept getting more ridiculous.
“Yes, Jack. I’m seeing a shrink who tells me you’re the Antichrist. I’m seeing friends who tell me that I should’ve had you maimed. I’m seeing men on the street that are better than you in every way. I’m seeing plenty of people, and they all make me realize what an ass you are, so get off my couch, get back in your Porsche, and drive over to your therapist and tell him he’s wrong. You don’t deserve another shot. Unless it’s to the head.”
“Jesus. You are
really
angry.”
really
angry.”
“Get off my couch, Jack.”
He stood up and walked toward the door. “So, this is it? This is the way we’re gonna leave it?”
“This is the way you left it seven months ago. At least I have the decency to say it to your face.” She opened the door, gesturing for him to leave. He walked out, turning to look at her once he was outside.
“I really did love you.”
“Fuck you.”
She shut the door and walked back over to the couch, picking up her glass of wine and dialing Dorian.
“So, where were we?”
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