Nina was adamant about throwing me a “divorce party,” which is apparently how celebs celebrate the end of their fourth marriages.
“But I’m not getting divorced,” I said.
“Breakup party, divorce party, it’s the same,” she insisted.
“How do you even know this is a thing?” I asked.
“Us Weekly.” She was digging through her suitcase on my floor. “A-ha!” She said, and held out a backless top triumphantly. “You are wearing this tonight.”
“My boobs will be in my lap.”
“Oh I have tape for that.”
Nina had found an apartment, but her lease didn’t start for another three weeks. I invited her to stay with me in the meantime. It really couldn't have worked out better—I needed someone to force me to put down the peanut butter, turn off the Say Yes to the Dress marathon, and wash my hair.
I stuck my chest out. “Is it like industrial-strength or something?”
“I’ll double-bag you,” she promised.
An hour later, we were actually inside one of those velvet-rope clubs in that I usually avoid like leggings. Nina, naturally, knew everyone, and waltzed us right past the snotty doorman. We were at least eight girls deep—a mash up of friends from college, work, plus me, Ashley, and Nina—and two of them volunteered to take drink orders while the rest of us waited.
“Want to go to the bathroom?” Ashley asked me.
I wanted to make sure my boob wasn’t hanging out, so I nodded.
We snaked our way through the crowd and into the back of the room. The bathroom was a single stall and was occupied (of course), so we leaned up against the wall and waited. And waited. And waited.
“What the hell is that person doing in there?” Ashley groaned, crossing her legs and doing the little kid pee dance.
I jiggled the handle to make sure it was actually occupied and we weren’t just standing there for nothing.
“One second!” A voice called from inside.
Another five minutes passed. The big vein in my forehead threatened to pop.
“I am going to pee on the floor,” Ashley moaned.
“Should I just pound?”
“Yes!” Ashley pleaded.
I pushed myself off the wall and rapped on the door…loudly. Giggling, shuffling, and finally the door swung open.
“Josie!” Two woman stood on the other side. One of them was Elizabeth. E-freaking-lizabeth.
“Oh, hi,” I said. “Sorry, it’s just that you were…”
“I know, I’m sorry!” She swiped her hand across her nose. “Bad sushi.”
Bad sushi my ass. The woman’s eyes were bugging out of her head. She was more tweaked out than Charlie Sheen.
“I really need to use the bathroom,” Ashley said.
“Of course!” Elizabeth and her friend moved out of the way. I started to follow Ashley, but Elizabeth touched my arm.
“I just want to say I’m sorry about you and Peter,” she said.
“That’s really not”—
“You are obviously a great girl, but Peter and I are just in a more compatible place in life right now.”
I was too shocked to say anything.
“You are so young. God, when I was your age I was fucking bartenders, bankers, actors, married guys. Live it up!” With that, she leaned in, gave me a peck on the cheek, and then skipped off.
I turned to Ashley in what felt like slow motion. “What the…”
Ashley grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She dropped trough and squatted over the toilet.
“Did she say what I thought she said?” Ashley asked over the sound of the waterfall that was trickling out of her.
“That her and Peter are in a more compatible place in life right now? Yes!”
“Bitch.”
“What does that mean? Are they together?” I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was flushed.
“She’s crazy. She could just be saying that to piss you off.”
“But we broke up three days ago! She’s obviously in close contact with him if she knows that.” My mind was spinning. “Do you think he was seeing her while he was seeing me?”
“It kind of sounds like it.” Ashley straightened and walked over to the sink.
“Asshole.” I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Ashley asked.
“I need to know!”
Ashley swiped the phone out of my hand. “Don’t. You’re drunk, it’s late. Let’s figure it out tomorrow.”
I was simmering, but I knew Ashley was right. “Fine,” I held out my hand for my phone.
“Na-uh.” Ashley shook her head. “I’m holding onto this just in case.”
Do you think Elizabeth is just messing with me because she’s certifiable? Or do you think Peter and her are back together and have been since before we broke up?
From Cosmopolitan.com. Visit Amazon Beauty Ceneter here
