“What am I going to wear?”
“—relation… ship… wait. What?”
“I’ve never been to a country club,” I said, jumping up from the couch and heading toward the spare room that housed Helena’s walk-in closet. “That sounds so fancy. Like, you walk in and the first thing they do is hand you a hot towel for your face and champagne. Ooh, I bet they have good champagne. Like, not the kind that you get in a plastic cup, but in a crystal flute that just bubbles in your throat and they’ll say, ‘Welcome, Ms. Handbasket. You look lovely today. Would you like a complimentary Lexus Hybrid SUV?’ Of course, I’ll have to accept because otherwise, it would just be rude. So what on earth could I wear to say that yes, I am a fierce and classy woman who takes no fucking shit from anyone, but that I am still a sexual creature who moves with a fluidity not seen since Marilyn Monroe?”
“I don’t… know what to say to any of that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I said, throwing open the closet door. “You usually dress like you’re on your way to your next kegger, bro. With your frat bros. Who you have bromances with. You sit around and drink broskis.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Where is it?” I demanded as I flipped through the hangers. “Which country club is it at? It better not be one of the shitty ones, I swear to god, Darren. I will not go to some crapshack that pretends it’s something it’s not. I am a beautiful and fragile creature. I expect to be treated as such.”
He sighed as if he couldn’t believe this was his life. “Ventana Canyon.”
I gasped into the phone. “That’s where all the celebrities go!”
“I know.”
“You know? And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. What do you think the point of this entire conversation has been about? It’s like you’re not even listening—”
“Really? Because I seem to remember you trying to tell me secrets about yourself while you were sitting on this like it meant nothing.”
“You asked me to tell you a secret about myself!”
“You told the wrong one!” I shouted into the phone. “I don’t care about your pedophile teacher that you wanted to have sex with!”
“Could you really not say it like that?” He sounded grumpy. “That makes it sound so… illegal.”
“It would have been illegal!”
“I didn’t fuck my teacher!”
“You thought about it.”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “I did.”
“I can’t believe I’m fake dating you.”
“Trust me, the feeling is completely mutual.”
“You can’t do that,” I snapped at him. “You’re not allowed to be funny right now. Or ever. There’s only so much my heart can take.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tim Curry goes to Ventana Canyon,” I said, tossing all the trashy fucking clothes over my shoulder. “Darren, let me repeat that. Tim Curry goes to Ventana Canyon.”
“I don’t know who that is,” he said.
I shrieked into the phone.
“Ow,” he said. “Why do you have to be so—”
“Dr. Frank-N-Furter! Rocky Horror Picture Show!”
“Never saw it.”