Girls in White Dresses - JENNIFER CLOSE [99]
“Look what I won!” she yelled and jumped up and down on the bed until Isabella threw up. Lauren apologized and gave her the tequila to make up for it.
“I can’t believe you entered a bikini contest,” Mary said from her spot on the bed. Her face was covered with a wet washcloth and her skin was tinted green from the aloe.
Lauren stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’m an adult,” she said. “I can do whatever I want. I’m a grown woman.”
Slowly, Mary removed the washcloth from her face and whipped it at Lauren. “You are the drunkest grown woman I’ve ever seen,” she said.
For years, whenever one of them went on a rant about anything, one of the others would say, “You tell them. You are a grown woman!”
Isabella poured three more shots. “To grown women,” she said, holding up her glass. She realized that it wasn’t as funny anymore. Maybe it didn’t always seem true, but they were no longer sunburned in Mexico. Somehow, in the past ten years they’d gotten from there to here.
They all took the shot. Mary stretched out her legs in front of her, and Lauren leaned back on her palms. “I think that Mark and I might get married,” Lauren said. “We were talking about it the other day. We might go down to city hall and just do it.”
“Are you pregnant?” Isabella asked her.
“Yes, Isabella. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and so I decided to come drink a bottle of poisoned tequila with you and announce it.”
“What?” Mary asked.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Lauren said. “I’m not pregnant, you morons.”
“Oh,” Isabella said. She shook the bottle and watched the worm swirl around. “That’s good news for baby.”
“So you really think you’ll get married?” Mary asked. “Are you going to have a wedding or what?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. No wedding. We were just talking about how we like living together and he suggested getting married, and I thought it sounded like a good idea.”
“What the hell?” Mary said. She looked at Lauren and then she looked at the bottle. Her eyes were pointing in different directions. “I think the worm just moved.” Mary hiccupped and laughed, then gagged.
“Sweet Jesus,” Isabella said, looking at the bottle. “You’re right. The worm turned.”
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to my parents, Pat and Jack Close, who deserve a million thanks for their support and encouragement over the last few decades. M&D, you are the best.
I am also forever thankful to:
Kevin Close, for always wanting to read what I wrote and for thinking I’m funny.
Chris and Susan Close, for so many things but especially for giving me Ava Jane Close, the most adorable niece and goddaughter ever.
Carol and Scott Hartz for opening their home to me, offering me legal advice, and most important, for welcoming me into their family.
Sam Hiyate, a wonderful agent and friend, for taking a chance on me and my writing.
Moriah Cleveland, for answering late-night e-mails about story ideas, editing at a moment’s notice, and just generally keeping me sane.
Lee Goldberg, one of the first people to see this, who helped shape it early on and gave me reassurance that it was, indeed, a book.
Steve Almond, a teacher that every writer should be lucky enough to have.
Helen Schulman, who always told me to take a deep breath and start over.
Margaret Kearney Hoerster, for eighteen years of best friendship.
Mairead McGurrin Garry, Erin Murphy Claydon, and Erin Foley Bradley, for making me laugh all through college, and ever since.
Wrigley, the Yorkie, who sat on my lap as I wrote most of this book. A more loyal writing partner will never be found.
Megan Angelo and Jessica Liebman, who offered early insights and edits for this book and were just as excited as I was every step of the way.
Jon Claydon, for helping me to understand the life of a first-year lawyer.
Jacob Lewis, the best boss ever and a good friend.
Joanne Lipman, for hiring me at Portfolio, even though I said I wanted to be a fiction writer.
My friends at Politics and Prose, who taught me more about bookselling than I ever knew