Page 20 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“Hello. My grandmother tells me your name is Cass, and I thought she said ass, but then she corrected me, but I guess that would be your name without the C at the front,” he says, and Jackie spits out her drink, laughing.

“Have you met Mary’s guest yet, Ass?” Jackie asks, smirking.

“Uh, kinda.”

“I’m Frank,” he says. “Like Old Blue Eyes. I was named after him and his old-world charm.”

“Sinatra, huh?” I say. “That’s cool.”

“Well, I’m glad you caught the reference, most people around here don’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Crystal snaps.

“He’s ten,” Jackie says. “Take a pill.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Sinatra.”

“Likewise,” he says, holding out a hand for me to shake, and I do. “I was just wondering if you were going to be fixing anything else today. Like if you needed any help?” he says.

“You like fixing things?”

“Yes, I like to know how things work. It’s my hobby. Well, sort of. I don’t have tools, but I could help you. Hand you stuff or something.”

Rosa, Crystal, and Jackie watch our conversation, back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match. They look to me for my response.

“I’d love that,” I say. “I don’t have anything else today, but I have to turn over 105 in the morning if you wanna help.”

“What does turn over mean?”

“When someone moves out, I clean it, paint. In 105, I gotta get the built-in microwave working again ’cause someone...someone who won’t be getting their security deposit back—exploded a tuna casserole in it...so there’s a smell. Sound fun?”

“Yeah!” He beams from ear to ear.

“I start bright and early. You have to bring the coffee.” I smile, knowing that Mary makes great coffee and will be thrilled to have someone to make it for.

He gives me a salute and says he’ll be there. Then he goes back to his book. Before the girls have a chance to giggle at me about it, my phone pings, and I assume it’s a service call because those are the only sort of pings I get these days.

When I look at it, I freeze a moment. I cannot believe it. It’s an invitation to the Summer Blitz—a charity ball that I helped organize every year for the last six years, but since the scene I caused when I discovered Reid and Kimmy together, I’ve been ostracized from everything. The Sunday brunches with the girls especially—there have been twenty-nine of them since I moved to The Sycamores and not one invite. Not that I’m counting. Camille Garcia called once to see how I was, but I could hear in her voice she was uncomfortable. Reid filed for a restraining order he didn’t get after I punched him in the back of the head, and all the husbands rallied around him—all my “friends” were their wives. But Reid has known the guys since college and was in a couple of their weddings, and I was just an extension of him. So when I was replaced, their loyalties shifted to Kimmy.

All of the weekend trips to Cabo, shopping and prosecco afternoons, game nights, dinner parties, barbecues, all of it was just robbed from me in one horrific moment. I didn’t even suspect he was cheating. I just happened to be on my way out to pick up ribs to-go when Jenny Winters stopped by unexpectedly, and we decided to make it a rosé-on-the-back-deck sort of evening. Barney’s doesn’t deliver, so I told her to catch up on the episode of 90 Day Fiancé I’d already seen, and I’d run out, and we’d watch the next together.

Reid had said he was gonna stay late at the office and do a late showing that came up. Shocked isn’t a strong enough word to describe what I felt when I saw them in a corner booth with a couple dry martinis and his hands up her skirt. The white-hot white rage just overcame me. I’m not proud to admit I hit him, but it felt like a reflex. I had never struck anyone before in my life. I walked up behind him and stood there a moment, my mouth agape, and he didn’t even notice me—didn’t feel my presence—just so absorbed in Kimmy’s vagina that I didn’t even exist. I’d even ordered him his favorite baby backs and mashed potatoes for later, that son of a bitch. And somehow, after all that betrayal, he’s the good guy. He kept the friends and Cabo and game night, and fine, yes, the house, because I was just a guest there, as it turns out.

This invite must be a mistake; the party is tomorrow, after all. Someone must have forgotten to take me off a list, but I got it anyway. A happy accident...and I know they don’t want me there, and if I showed up, it would cause a huge scene. The most pathetic part of it all—I know, I am fully aware of how truly disgusting I sound—but I want to see him. I want my life back. I want him to change his mind and come to his senses and realize he made a huge mistake. I want to go.

I’m jolted back into reality by the thwack of a curly fry to the head. I pull it out of my hair and look to see Crystal, ready to toss another one.

“What’s the matter with you? You gonna throw up, chica? You look green.”

And then, for some reason, I decide it’s a good idea to tell the girls about how my ex and how his new trophy girlfriend will be at this party, and I was invited and deciding if I should go. It just spills out for some reason before I can think.

“Oh, shit,” Jackie says. “You gotta go, dude.”

“Yeah,” Crystal says. “You can’t let that bitch win.”

“Well,” I say, “I mean, it’s not exactly a competition, but if it were, I’m gonna say she won.”

“I don’t know,” Rosa pipes in, to my surprise. “How old is the guy—your ex?” She’s clipping the top of a Go-Gurt tube and handing it to her kid, George, who runs off across the pool deck in Crocs that are too big for him.

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