Page 19 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“Somebody thought it was pretty and stylish at some point,” Lizzie says.

“Did they, though?” I ask.

“The Amish, maybe,” Tabitha says.

“Eye on the prize!” Noelle says, coming out with my red print wraparound. “This is what you wear. This is your prettiest and most stylish dress. It looks gorgeous with your hair.”

“Why should I look good for him?” I take the hanger with the red dress.

Mia grins from the couch. “You shouldn’t.”

“Right? He’s decided to push me around just because he can? And now I have to wear a nice dress for him? Screw that!”

“I get it. He’s a jerk and it’s not fair, but you need to focus on your goal,” Noelle reminds me, playing the voice of reason. “You need to do what it takes to make this tour happen.”

I sigh. “I know, I know…”

“But what fun is that?” Mia taunts from the couch, ever the devil’s advocate.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise for your knee,” Kelsey says. “Tell him to buzz off and divorce him on your own terms. I mean, a ten-city overseas tour with that knee…”

“Pullllease!” I point the finger of hypocrisy at Kelsey. “You’d go on the tour of your dreams with this knee in a minute.”

“Doesn’t make it a good idea,” Kelsey says.

I sniff, though in truth, I’m sometimes terrified that I’ll be busted for hiding this injury and get kicked off the tour, and everything I’ve worked for and dreamed about goes up in smoke. Other times I’m terrified that I’m too good at fooling them, and I don’t get kicked off the tour, and my knee will blow out in Croatia or something and I’ll be alone in a medical center where I don’t speak the language, alone with my crumbled career.

“Does he think you’re going to fall into his bed again with this whole wife pretense?” Lizzie asks. “Do you think that’s his secret hope?”

“No way. Sleeping with me is the absolute furthest thing from his mind.”

“Disagree,” Kelsey says, tossing M&M’s into her own mouth now. “Sleeping with you is on the mind of nearly every hetero man who meets you, Francine.”

“And you did get married,” Noelle says. “You’re sure there’s nothing there?”

There was something on my side, but that’s not what she’s asking. “He was drunk. I’ve seen drunk people eat fish eyes and dive into empty pools, you know? Anyway, the man I saw today is only interested in pushing me around. He was like, ‘power trip? Yes, please! A chance to make Francine sing for her supper? Yes, please!’”

Lizzie folds her arms. “He wants to toy with the pretty dancer.”

“Something like that,” I say.

“Wife locked away in a gloomy chalet in the Swiss Alps,” Mia says. “What does that say about you that people would think, yes, a mentally enfeebled wife locked away in a Swiss chalet, yeah, that seems like a thing Benjamin Stearnes would do.”

“It’s a step up from the attic,” Noelle says hopefully.

“Hold up,” Lizzie says. “Do you know Janice Schembechler? Isn’t she on the first floor?”

“I think she’s in 106,” Kelsey says.

“Isn’t she in the ‘Sound of Music’ weekend sing-a-long thing in the arts theater thingy by the river?” Lizzie asks.

“Are you proposing I deprogram him with mid-century musicals?” I ask as Lizzie heads out the front door without explanation.

“Noelle deprogrammed Malcolm with videos of our apartment building,” Mia says.

“I think Noelle deprogrammed Malcolm with her magical pussy,” I say, and Noelle promptly hits me over the head with an India print throw pillow.

I drape the prairie dress over the couch and examine the pretty red dress. “And who are these legions of gold diggers going after him? What’s up with that?” I ask.

---