Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me - Chelsea's Family, Friends [44]
Phew! Now it won’t be Zoughi getting the brunt of all the Persian jokes, I thought. And there would be someone in our party with a hairier back then Zoughi. I gave Chelsea a lot of credit. Two Persians on one vacation, in one pool. She must have been feeling charitable. I do find it funny, though, that Chelsea would make such fun of Persians when she dated one for quite a while.
The day I got to the Bahamas.
“Jesus, Amber, put some fucking lotion on your feet,” Chelsea said.
“Take it easy. I just got here.”
Before I knew it, she was out of the pool, grabbing her Bath and Body Works lotion, and attacking my feet, rubbing lotion all over my toes, in my nail bed, up my leg. Lots of it. Two coats. I’m not going to lie: it felt good. Would you come all lubed up if you knew you were going to get a rubdown every time Chelsea saw you? I’m no dummy.
“It’s just dry skin,” I said. “I’ve been traveling for hours.”
“It’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Then she grabbed my hands and lathered them up as well.
My dry skin is the one thing about me that drives Chelsea crazy. Well, that and the fact that I’m always late to everything and she’s always early and waiting on me.
Our first night in the Bahamas we had sushi for dinner, because why should we do anything different from what we do every night in Los Angeles? Everyone was pretty tired from traveling. Everyone but Chelsea, who tried to keep the party going. Zoughi and I wanted to go to bed. We hadn’t unpacked, which is what I like to do first when I arrive someplace new, and we had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Knowing Chelsea wouldn’t take well to the “I’m tired” excuse, I decided to try her tactic: the Irish good-bye. I would feign interest just until I had enough, then I would abruptly leave without telling anyone and without explaining myself to anyone. Seemed simple enough. It worked like a charm for Chelsea.
Once we finished dinner, we walked out to the casino, where Chelsea and the gang wanted to play blackjack. Zoughi and I proceeded to the tables with everyone, and when we realized there was no room to sit at the blackjack table that Chelsea had chosen, we headed straight for the elevators. No one saw us. No one cared. It was a perfectly executed plan.
Chelsea and me at Nobu that night.
Right when I put that keycard in the door to our room, however, I got a text from Chelsea.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In my room.” I decided to try the honest approach first.
“Why?”
“My feet hurt. Changing shoes.” And that’s where my lie started.
“Hurry back down,” she replied. “A seat opened up next to me.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t make a move. Then, twenty minutes later, I got another text.
“Are you down here?” Chelsea asked.
I’m not sure what possessed me to pull a Chelsea, but my lie continued to escalate. “Yeah, I’m playing blackjack.”
“Where?”
“On the other side of the casino.”
“Come to us.”
“I couldn’t find you. And I found a lucky table.”
“Okay. We’ll come to you.”
Shit, now what? “Can’t text. Pit boss just yelled at me.”
No response.
I’m sure she knew I was full of shit when I decided to make the pit boss a part of my lie. What was I thinking? I don’t pay attention if a flight attendant, a cop, or Oprah says, “No cell phones,” so I would never listen to a pit boss in the Bahamas. Chelsea knew this. Her silent treatment meant she knew I was still up in my room.
“Crap. Chelsea knows I’m lying,” I said to Zoughi.
“She doesn’t care,” Zoughi assured me. “Everyone else is there with her.”
So, instead of going out, I did the one thing I’d wanted to do since I got to the Bahamas: unpack. Once my OCD was satiated and everything was neatly folded in drawers, I crawled under the fluffy comforter to go to bed. This was probably the only night I was going to go to bed sober, so I planned to take full advantage.
The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. I figured Chelsea was calling to give me shit for ducking out early last night. Or she wanted to work out. Neither sounded appealing.
“What are you doing?” she asked.