we are about to consume.”
Amanda and Candace drank their margaritas down and slammed the empty glasses onto the table. Candace poured a second round.
“I can’t go into the details right now,” Amanda said licking the froth from the corner of her mouth, “but the bottom line is Rob doesn’t have a bottom line.”
“Has he managed to hide it all?” Candace asked, her eyes narrowing. “One of my husbands tried to take two of his companies offshore, but Anne Justiss headed him off.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call the money…hidden,” Amanda said, sipping on her margarita. “But I’m going to be lucky to get the house. And even if I get the house, I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to afford to hold on to it.”
Amanda turned her glass up and emptied the rest of it in one long gulp. Candace followed suit.
That was, Brooke noticed, two down in about as many minutes.
“Well that sucks.” Candace picked up the pitcher and held it out toward Brooke. “Are you sure you don’t want a taste? I really don’t think half a glass is going to impair your driving.”
“No thanks. I don’t drink,” Brooke said.
“At all?” Candace’s surprise was evident. Amanda’s attention was pretty much fixed on her empty glass.
“No,” Brooke repeated. And if their mothers had climbed into a bottle each night after getting home from cleaning houses, they wouldn’t either.
The waiter came back to suggest chips and salsa. “Food might be a good idea,” Brooke pointed out. “It can’t hurt to soak up a little of that alcohol.” Neither Candace or Amanda were interested, but Brooke ordered for them anyway.
While they waited, Amanda finished her third margarita. Her eyes were starting to look glassy and her words came out more slowly than usual. “Candace is right. Everything sucks big time.”
The near profanity sounded strange coming from Amanda’s lips. She took another drink and once again, tipped her glass up and drained it.
At this rate, Brooke thought, the two of them were going to be under the table before the chips even arrived. She wondered how she’d get them back into her car.
“I feel so helpless. All these horrible things keep happening and I never get to strike back.” Amanda hiccupped then giggled in surprise. “Rob just keeps dishing it out and I just keep taking it.” She shot a look of longing at the now empty pitcher. “That doesn’t seem at all equitable.” She turned to Brooke, her gaze unfocused. “Do you think it’s equita…babble? Equita…bubble?” She shook her head as if trying to figure out what was wrong with her lips. “Fair?”
“No, it’s not,” Brooke conceded. “And if you’re not safe from this kind of thing, I don’t know who is. I mean you must be pretty close to forty and all, but it’s not like you’ve totally let yourself go or anything.”
“Gee, thanks.” Amanda tried to roll her unfocused eyes.
“What I mean is,” Brooke amended, “at what point is a woman safe? Now that I’m a wife, how do I keep someone like me from coming along?”
“If you can figure that one out, I’ll bankroll your run for president.” Candace ran a finger over the remaining salt on the rim of her glass and licked it off. She sounded just as forceful as she had earlier but her words seemed to be coming out more slowly too. “I personally think that striking back is very important,” she said. “It cleanses the soul and helps you blow off some of the anger. It can help you move forward.” Candace took another sip of her drink. “In fact, now that I think of it, I’m a big proponent of revenge as a self-help tool.” She sat up and set down her glass. “I’ve always been attracted to monetary punishment, but I think any form of revenge would probably help.”
Brooke thought food would help even more. Lots of food to soak up the alcohol they’d consumed.
“Well, I’d like some revenge right now,” Amanda said. “And I don’t even care in what
Amanda and Candace drank their margaritas down and slammed the empty glasses onto the table. Candace poured a second round.
“I can’t go into the details right now,” Amanda said licking the froth from the corner of her mouth, “but the bottom line is Rob doesn’t have a bottom line.”
“Has he managed to hide it all?” Candace asked, her eyes narrowing. “One of my husbands tried to take two of his companies offshore, but Anne Justiss headed him off.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call the money…hidden,” Amanda said, sipping on her margarita. “But I’m going to be lucky to get the house. And even if I get the house, I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to afford to hold on to it.”
Amanda turned her glass up and emptied the rest of it in one long gulp. Candace followed suit.
That was, Brooke noticed, two down in about as many minutes.
“Well that sucks.” Candace picked up the pitcher and held it out toward Brooke. “Are you sure you don’t want a taste? I really don’t think half a glass is going to impair your driving.”
“No thanks. I don’t drink,” Brooke said.
“At all?” Candace’s surprise was evident. Amanda’s attention was pretty much fixed on her empty glass.
“No,” Brooke repeated. And if their mothers had climbed into a bottle each night after getting home from cleaning houses, they wouldn’t either.
The waiter came back to suggest chips and salsa. “Food might be a good idea,” Brooke pointed out. “It can’t hurt to soak up a little of that alcohol.” Neither Candace or Amanda were interested, but Brooke ordered for them anyway.
While they waited, Amanda finished her third margarita. Her eyes were starting to look glassy and her words came out more slowly than usual. “Candace is right. Everything sucks big time.”
The near profanity sounded strange coming from Amanda’s lips. She took another drink and once again, tipped her glass up and drained it.
At this rate, Brooke thought, the two of them were going to be under the table before the chips even arrived. She wondered how she’d get them back into her car.
“I feel so helpless. All these horrible things keep happening and I never get to strike back.” Amanda hiccupped then giggled in surprise. “Rob just keeps dishing it out and I just keep taking it.” She shot a look of longing at the now empty pitcher. “That doesn’t seem at all equitable.” She turned to Brooke, her gaze unfocused. “Do you think it’s equita…babble? Equita…bubble?” She shook her head as if trying to figure out what was wrong with her lips. “Fair?”
“No, it’s not,” Brooke conceded. “And if you’re not safe from this kind of thing, I don’t know who is. I mean you must be pretty close to forty and all, but it’s not like you’ve totally let yourself go or anything.”
“Gee, thanks.” Amanda tried to roll her unfocused eyes.
“What I mean is,” Brooke amended, “at what point is a woman safe? Now that I’m a wife, how do I keep someone like me from coming along?”
“If you can figure that one out, I’ll bankroll your run for president.” Candace ran a finger over the remaining salt on the rim of her glass and licked it off. She sounded just as forceful as she had earlier but her words seemed to be coming out more slowly too. “I personally think that striking back is very important,” she said. “It cleanses the soul and helps you blow off some of the anger. It can help you move forward.” Candace took another sip of her drink. “In fact, now that I think of it, I’m a big proponent of revenge as a self-help tool.” She sat up and set down her glass. “I’ve always been attracted to monetary punishment, but I think any form of revenge would probably help.”
Brooke thought food would help even more. Lots of food to soak up the alcohol they’d consumed.
“Well, I’d like some revenge right now,” Amanda said. “And I don’t even care in what
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