“Please excuse her,” I say to Ashleigh, who’s staring at the phone with wide-eyed horror. “She’s a monster to all of her assistants.”
“I’m not a monster.” Ruby rejoins our conversation and I assume she’s sent Luke off to cry in a corner somewhere. “Expecting my assistant to deliver the messages he takes is literally the bare minimum for his position, and thanks to him, I have to go. Apparently my client has been trying to get in touch with me for the last four days because her jackass husband has decided he doesn’t have to abide by the parenting schedule.”
“Oh no!” sweet, innocent, angelic Ashleigh gasps. “That’s horrible!”
“It’s typical,” Ruby says. “And I know I shouldn’t generalize, but men are trash.”
“Exactly!” I pipe up, needing everyone to remember why we’re on this phone call in the first place. “Which is why we need to figure out how to strike back at Nate. Men can’t win again!”
I’m not quite sure how I’ve turned my petty neighborhood rivalry into a case of misogyny, but now that I have, it feels right. I’m not backing down and I know Ruby won’t either.
“You and Ashleigh think of some plans and we’ll reconvene later tonight,” Ruby says. “And if worse comes to worst, I can draft a cease and desist that’ll make him shit his pants.”
Reason 2,000,001 why Ruby will always and forever be my best fucking friend.
“You’re the best.” I tell her something she’s already acutely aware of. “Talk later.”
“Bye, Ruby!” Ashleigh shouts at the phone, but there’s a little tremor of fear in her voice. “Nice chatting with you.”
Ruby doesn’t respond before hanging up. She’s probably in a rush to yell at Luke one more time before she has to be professional and levelheaded while she talks to her client.
“Wow.” Ashleigh stares at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Ruby is . . . she’s intense.”
That’s maybe the understatement of the century. Ruby is fully fucking unhinged, but, if she’s on your side, she will go to the ends of the earth for you. It’s why she stays booked and busy. Her clients know she’s willing to do whatever she can for them, even if it means sinking into the mud.
“She is,” I agree. “But her bark is worse than her bite.”
That might be a lie, but I say it anyway because Ashleigh looks like she could use a little reassurance.
“Oh good.” She releases a heavy exhale and laughs quietly. “I was nervous for her assistant for a second there.”
Worried my expression will give away the fact that Luke will be unemployed in the very near future, I attempt to change the subject. “What are those?”
I point to the amber roller tubes she brought over earlier and feel immediate regret. I already had an idea of what they are, but the way her blue eyes gloss over and her perfect smile turns slightly deranged, I know exactly what’s inside.
“Oh my goodness!” She claps her manicured hands together before snatching the tubes off the table and handing one to me. “I made you an essential oil blend. I know you’re feeling a little stressed, so I combined my favorite calming oils to make the perfect blend for you.”
I fight back my groan, watching as she ticks off her fingers, naming all the oils she used.
“There’s lavender, vetiver, frankincense, and just a touch of jasmine. I mixed them with coconut oil, so all you have to do is roll that on the insides of your wrists, down the back of your neck, and behind your ears whenever you’re feeling stressed, and it will calm you right down.”
It takes every single ounce of self-control I have not to pick up the glass roller and hurtle it across the room. Not only was I raised by a pharmacist who always praised and valued the importance science has in our society, but before I quit all social media, I watched as many of the girls I went to high school with fell into the cult that is essential oils. One day they were posting funny memes and cute videos of their kids, the next day they were ranting about conspiracy theories, homeschooling, and breeding chickens.
It was entertaining at first, but as they fell deeper into the cult or came out of the other side sad, disillusioned, and not to mention broke, it was just depressing. And I know that Ashleigh, as a young, beautiful white woman preparing to start a family, is the prime target for any and all MLM schemes.
“This is really sweet of you.” I take the roller and have to admit that while I do doubt its magical healing power, it does smell amazing. “But I have a therapist and a Xanax prescription at home for when my anxiety gets totally out of control. I’m okay.”
I can see how my ranting and raving today could make it seem like I’m already out of control, but my therapist has been encouraging me to voice my feelings instead of pushing them away. I want to feel my anger today. It’s the only thing fueling my determination to get back at Nate rather than folding to his demands.
“If you’re sure, then that’s all I need to hear.” She sounds doubtful but doesn’t push it. One more reason for me to like this woman.
Plus, now I feel content knowing that even if she does join MLMs, she’s much too gentle and kind to get totally invested. I’ll just have to distract her with my endless drama and keep her too busy to fall prey to the boss babes and hustle-harder girlies who would, no doubt, eat her alive. It’s my duty as a dedicated friend and civil servant to be as petty as humanly possible.
“So, about Nate . . .” I bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. “You know him better than I do. How do we get him to back down?”
I’ll save my revenge fantasies for Ruby. I don’t want to pervert Ashleigh’s pure mind with the many ways I want to make Nate cry.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m still surprised he’s doing this to you. He was so nice when we worked with him to find this house. I didn’t think he had something like this in him.”
I contemplate filling her in on my serial killer theory, but Ruby warned me against it. Something about libel and defamation if I warned the neighborhood to stay alert.
Blah blah blah.
Whatever.
“Oh, he definitely has it in him.”
I’ve known it since I was sixteen. Nate’s always had this facade of being some laid-back guy who doesn’t care what people think of him, when in reality, he’s consumed by it. And he’s willing to do anything, to use anyone, to get where he wants to go. I just don’t understand how that place is living alone in the suburbs and on the homeowners’ association board.
“Ruby said what he’s doing is illegal. Are you considering taking it to the authorities?” She bites her lip as if even thinking about the ramifications is making her nervous. I almost hand her my miracle roller to help her relax.
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “Nate might be a giant asshole, but not even I’m willing to escalate our feud to that level. I want to embarrass him, not ruin his life.”