Read Online Momzillas by Jill Kargman - Free Book Online Page B

let’s go up and get you settled,” she said, looking only at Josh, who looked at me and winked, knowing I wanted to clobber her bony bod.
    After unpacking, Lila asked if we wanted to accompany her to the “shopping center” to help with errands. Since I grew up in a city, I had this obsession with malls, which Mrs. Dillingham exclusively called “shopping centers.” I bet she’d spell it
centres
. God forbid she utter the lowly M-word. But I was thrilled to leave the grounds—even after only an hour that panic had set in like I was Diane Keaton trapped in the Corleone compound in
Godfather II
.
    When we got to the ma—sorry,
shopping center
—I trolled the stores, blissing out with all the fun people-watching and food court frenzy. Do I go for the gigantor cinnamon pretzel or the fries in a cone? I am also a fan of food on sticks, and there were many options. The whole cavernous space was a pulsing throng of tube socks and napkins and the kind of heavy grease that smells intoxicating when you’re starving and gag-o-rific when you’re full. You know when they distill vinegar to this really intense mega-potent paste? Well, malls are like a balsamic reduction of America itself, an encapsulated 3D slice of life, from old people who want to enjoy the air-conditioning, walking around in those swish-swish suits, to “rowdy yutes” making mischief and chasing skirts in their swish-swish suits. Violet was overjoyed when I gave her a piping-hot Mrs. Fields cookie, which she devoured in record pace, with evidence of said snack in the form of chocolate all over her face. I was just about to go get a napkin to wipe it off, when Lila turned the corner to behold the mess.
    â€œOh my, Hannah, really, must she feast on sweets at this hour?”
    â€œWell, she was hungry and there’s so much stuff here I didn’t want to deprive her,” I said in my defense.
    â€œEating between meals is a bad habit to start now—”
    â€œMom, chill out,” Josh said as he approached us toting his mom’s new hair dryer and pharmacy bags. “It’s fine!” He looked at me sympathetically with a smile. But his being on my side didn’t make her comments less aggravating.
    We piled back in the car since we had to shower and get dressed for Lila’s birthday dinner. And I was actually psyched because in my duffel I had the blowtorch that would melt her frozen chest cavity, my secret daughter-in-law trump card that she’d never expect, a shiny elegant Tiffany sterling silver frame, hand engraved with her initials. And in it was the cutest picture of Josh holding Violet. No Hannah, just like she’d want. And the cherry on top was that Violet was in a Ralph Lauren pin-tuck blouse Lila had given her. It was, I must say, the perfect present. It was insanely expensive but I thought this was kind of an investment in, you know, not being treated like crap. Well worth the splurge. She would have to soften a little now!
    I went into my room to get myself put together in pretty Greenwich mode, i.e., transform my being entirely. Full metamorphosis, bigger than Jeff Goldblum’s in
The Fly
. It was funny being in the same room as Josh now—when we initially visited we had separate bedrooms and I was so scared of his mom that I literally wouldn’t let him sneak over since I didn’t want her to have any Hannah’s-a-Whore ammo against me. I packed perfectly preppy clothes, and even chucked in a new (gasp) headband. I felt like a traitor. Since most of my stuff is black, charcoal gray, or chocolate brown, my mom says I dress like a Sicilian widow. She’s kinda right but because I have boobs and butt, darkness is slimming, and so me. I put on my new burgundy dress (steppin’ out with that color!).
    â€œYou look pweety, Mommy! I like your pawty dwess!” exclaimed Violet, who I’d preened to perfection. The poor thing was so used to