Killing Monica

Right now, Jonny must be furious, Pandy thought gleefully. And for a second, she was happy. Then she looked back at the monitor. Three young women were jumping up and down and screaming, raising glasses of pink champagne to Monica.

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nbsp; “Hellenor?” Judy’s voice came over the intercom. “SondraBeth in one.”

“Thanks,” Pandy said. Remembering that Jonny’s fury over her supposed death would be short-lived, she went out into the living room. The suite had a damp smell, as if someone had just turned on the air-conditioning. It was still stuffy, so Pandy tugged open the window.

The view was of a small stairwell. Pandy heard voices and stuck her head out.

SondraBeth’s back was to her. She was having a heated discussion with a rubbery-faced man in a T-shirt. SondraBeth said something and the man laughed, his man-boobs jiggling under the fabric.

Pandy frowned, recognizing the man’s voice. He was Freddie the Rat, part of the old Joules crowd. Apparently SondraBeth had remained in touch with him.

Pandy withdrew her head. She heard a short knock and went to the door.

SondraBeth was standing on the threshold. She had changed her outfit, and was now wearing high-tech white workout gear with silver piping. In each hand was a shopping bag bearing the Monica logo.

“Hellenor,” she said, striding into the room.

Oh no. Pandy sighed. Not this again. She clomped to the door in Hellenor’s old construction boots and shut it firmly behind her. “Squeege,” she began.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” SondraBeth said warmly.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Pandy said as SondraBeth turned away to head into the bedroom. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Pandy said, annoyed. “We need to clear some things up. Like the fact that I’m—”

“I don’t have long.” SondraBeth dropped the shopping bags on the bed and gave Pandy her most brilliant Monica smile. “There’s been a change of plans. The Woman Warrior of the Year Awards are today, and thanks to your sister’s sudden death, they want me to present the award to you.”

“To me?” Pandy gasped. She looked at SondraBeth. Was it possible SondraBeth really didn’t know she was Pandy? “That is not going to happen.”

“Why not? It happens all the time,” SondraBeth said. She pawed through one of the shopping bags and held out a tissue-wrapped package to Pandy. “People die, and other people start giving them awards for having once been alive.”

“But that’s just the problem. I’m still alive.”

SondraBeth pushed the package toward her. “Of course you’re still alive, Hellenor. But it’s Pandy who’s getting the award. You’re accepting it on her behalf.”

Pandy groaned.

“First things first,” SondraBeth chirped, pushing the package into Pandy’s hands. In her friendliest Monica voice, she said, “In appreciation of how special you are, I’d like to gift you with a few of my favorite items from the Monica line.”

Pandy threw the package back onto the bed. “Now, listen—” she snapped, unable to contain her frustration.

“Here, let me help you.” SondraBeth picked up the package and inspected her incredibly sharp nails. Using her middle finger, she neatly sliced through the tissue paper and then, with a flourish, held up a garment.

It was a beautiful white hooded robe, made of the softest, lightest, coziest material Pandy had ever seen. She picked up the sleeve and felt the fabric. “It’s beautiful,” she said with a sigh.

“Isn’t it?” SondraBeth said mournfully, at last dropping the Monica routine. “It’s just the kind of thing your sister would have loved. I remember all those times when the two of us would be lounging around in our robes—”

“Still hung over,” Pandy added.

SondraBeth shot her a sharp glance. “Will you try it on? For me?” She smiled imploringly.

“Okay,” Pandy said. She wasn’t sure what SondraBeth was up to, but the robe was too tempting to resist.

She draped the hood over her head, went into the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror as SondraBeth came in behind her. The hood did not disguise the fact that she was bald, and now she looked like some kind of newt. Or rather like a spa refugee with huge, scared eyes.

And suddenly, she was sick to death of this farce.

“Now listen, Squeege,” she said, tearing off the robe and throwing it onto the floor. “If you have to tell me something about Jonny—”