California Girls

“I’m not ready for a revenge date.”

“Are you waiting for Nigel to come back?”

“Of course not. I was at first. I had no clue anything was going on. I was devastated.” She still was, she admitted to herself. “I wanted things to go back to the way they were.” She clutched her coffee, recognizing a truth she hadn’t articulated before. “I just don’t think they can.”

Her voice was so small, she thought. So powerless. Nigel hadn’t just cheated on her, he’d stolen the very essence of her. He’d ripped her bare and left her with nothing but wounds. She knew, excluding the public nature of what had happened, her situation wasn’t unique. She wasn’t the first woman to be cheated on and she wouldn’t be the last. But that knowledge didn’t take away the pain or sense of loss. She was truly broken and she didn’t think she would ever feel whole again.

“They can’t be the same,” Rochelle told her. “But maybe they could be better.”

Finola looked at her assistant. “Do you really believe that?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter. This is about you.”

“What is the purpose of a revenge date?”

“I think the name kind of says it all.”

“Yes, but that presumes Nigel would care. He wouldn’t. So where’s the revenge?”

“It’s not about him. It’s about you remembering who you are. It’s about realizing there are men out there who think you are beautiful and smart and Nigel is simply a stupid man who’s going to regret what he’s done.”

Regret would be nice, she thought wistfully. Regret, remorse and maybe a painful, oozing rash.

“I have a list of guys I think you’d like.”

Finola stared at her. “You have a list?” She couldn’t help laughing. “Of course you do. Let me guess—it’s in a spreadsheet and you’ve sorted them by age, appearance, appropriateness and what else?”

Rochelle grinned. “Income, and how good I think they’d be in bed. The latter is subjective, but I felt it was important.” Her smile faded. “Finola, you’ve got the gala coming up. Wouldn’t you like to go with a date?”

“I couldn’t. There would be too much speculation.” She hadn’t decided what she was going to do. “I’ll be fine if I go alone.”

“You won’t be fine. I’d offer to go, but everyone knows I’m your assistant and that would just be weird.”

Finola knew that was true.

Rochelle’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and then at Finola. “I have to take this.”

Rochelle walked out of the dressing room. Finola thought about the gala and who would be safe. For some reason, she zeroed in on Zennie, who would look gorgeous in an evening gown. Everyone would wonder who she was.

A sister was safe, Finola thought. A sister made for good press.

She picked up her phone only to realize the last time she’d talked to Zennie, she’d totally freaked out about the surrogacy. Not exactly her best example of being supportive. She hesitated for a second, then started to type on her phone.

Sorry I was such a bitch the other day. Your news caught me off guard and in my current mental state, I seem to be defaulting to the dark side of things. What you’re doing really is amazing. I know Bernie and her husband are going to be really happy.

She pushed Send and knew she would hear from Zennie later. No doubt her sister was in surgery this morning. Because that was what Zennie did—she saved lives, and was pregnant with a baby for her best friend, while Finola hosted some ridiculous TV show and worried about being photographed by the press and gossiped about.

“I’m a completely shallow person,” Finola whispered aloud. She didn’t want it to be true, but the truth was kind of hard to avoid. She was shallow and self-absorbed and both her sisters were nicer people than she ever was. She’d apologized to her sister for the sole reason of getting her to come to the gala—not because she thought she was wrong.

The realization was uncomfortable. She felt slightly sick to her stomach and her skin felt weird—as if it were suddenly too small. Her cheeks were hot and the sense of being less than everyone else returned. Not sure where to put all the unwelcome emotions, she quickly turned on the TV.

The Today Show came on with a well-dressed woman talking to one of the hosts. “Yes, I do think that there is always blame on both sides.”

“Even when one partner cheats?”

Finola froze. This was not happening, she thought, reaching for the remote control. But before she could silence the words, she heard, “Yes, even then. While there is the occasional partner who is compelled to be unfaithful, in most relationships, there’s an underlying reason that needs to be addressed.”

Finola pushed the off button and the screen went dark, but it was too late. If the universe was trying to get her attention, it had succeeded, and she didn’t like it one bit.

*

Ali spent two days surreptitiously observing the men she worked with. They were good-natured and funny, always insulting each other. Everything was a competition, with the winner crowing about his victory. Their style of communication was completely different from hers.

She remembered when she’d first started at the company—how she’d been the only female, and she’d known nothing about cars. She’d been overlooked, dismissed and bypassed. It had taken a lot of hard work to learn the inventory, then prove herself to the team, but she had. Now the new guys always came to her with their questions and when something went wrong, she was put in charge of fixing it. She was respected and appreciated, but she wasn’t sure she was ever seen as ambitious.