Page 12 of Mean Moms
Behind her, Sofia could hear Gabby softly humming “My Heart Will Go On” and Ava silently convulsing, trying to hold it together.
Art went on in this way, and Sofia tuned out, spiraling down a dark path in her mind that she lately couldn’t stop herself from: the idea that JP would take her children from her. Was he setting the stage for a full-custody play? He wouldn’t do it until he was remarried; JP paid about as little attention to Carlos and Lucia as he had to Sofia. But hewouldget remarried, and then he might try to take her children back to Miami, saying that their lying, cheating mother didn’t have the resources to give them the life they deserved. Sofia flicked the thought away.
“Let’s raise our glasses to Morgan, and to Thyme & Time, and to getting the word out about this wonderful place!” They all clinked their drinks and cheered. Art then handed the mic to Morgan, who was looking paler and tenser by the second.
“Friends, thank you so much for supporting our dream of creating a sound bath spa in the heart of Tribeca! It’s an amazing honor to have you all here.” Morgan’s voice was strained.
“We wanted to give you all a little preview of our offerings, so I’d love to introduce one of our expert practitioners, who’ll give a quick demonstration.”
A pretty, light-skinned Black woman in beige yoga pants and a matching top stepped to the front of the room. She was followed by three young women, each hauling a crystal bowl, one small, one medium, and one large. They set the bowls in front of the practitioner, who kneeled behind them. She was holding smooth ceramic sticks in each hand, the length and thickness of a tennis racket handle.
“I’m Tilly,” she said, her voice like smooth cream. “Today I will be using crystal singing bowls to help you experience relaxation. Now close your eyes and enjoy the sound bath.”
“What the fuck is a singing bowl?” Gabby cough-laughed into Sofia’s neck. No one closed their eyes. Tilly hit the middle bowl lightly with her stick, creating an echoey church-bell tone, then proceeded to swirl the stick along the bowl’s perimeter, making a sound like blowing air into a beer bottle. She did this to each bowl, producing different notes, swaying as she went. Gabby was creating trouble by singing along—“laaaaa, laaaa, laaa”—and Ava was shaking with swallowed laughter.
In the middle of it all, Frost leaned into Sofia. “I wonder where Belle is,” she whispered into her ear. “Something must be wrong for her to miss it. Though she has been kind of bitchy about this whole thing—” Frost gestured around the spa. “So maybe she was just too jealous to make it.” For a bunch of women who were supposedly best friends, Sofia was struck by how easily they all fell into shit-talking one another.
Sofia’s last real friends were from childhood, her trueamigas, girls she’d grown up with in Miami whose parents hung with hers. She’d lost touch with them when she’d married JP, falling instead into a circle of fake acquaintances, their relationships based on money and looks and the fact that all their children had gone to the same private school, Gulliver. No one had even said goodbye to her when she’d moved, when she’d sent out a cryptic group text explaining that the kids wouldn’t be back in the fall (true), and that she’d loved getting to know them all (lie). Andrea had been the only one to reply, with a crying emoji plus a heart emoji. Then a follow-up: “Michael?” Sofia had never responded.
Tilly finally wrapped. “You may now take a deep breath beforeopening your eyes.” She said. They all shut their eyes, pretending they’d been obeying her directive the whole time.
“Everyone, arms out!” Sofia heard someone shout. She opened her eyes to see a large man in a black ski mask standing before the group. He had a silver gun, which he was pointing at the horrified crowd. Frost grabbed Sofia’s hand and squeezed it, making frightened eye contact with her.
“Put your arms out, I said!” demanded the man, demonstrating clumsily, the gun briefly hanging upside down as he did. Art and Morgan were standing in front of Gertrude protectively, and the Thyme & Time employees were unsuccessfully trying to hide behind their crystal bowls. Tilly was closest to the man, still holding her ceramic sticks, silent tears rolling down her lovely cheeks.
Sofia lifted her arms away from her body, all the guests doing the same, no one saying a word. Frost lifted her one arm up, her other trapped still in its sling. Sofia had read about this happening before—there had been a series of downtown robberies targeting wealthy people in restaurants and stores; it had been all over theNew York Post. And so Sofia was nervous, but not majorly. She felt a thrill being part of such a dramatic scene. She’d lived in rough-enough neighborhoods to know that it wouldn’t end in violence unless someone totally fucked up. The man had just playacted a zombie, for crying out loud.
“I’m going to take your watches and bracelets. Don’t move,” he said, somewhat shakily. He put the gun in his pocket and, one by one, stopped in front of each of guest, removing her jewelry and putting it into a black sack. It reminded Sofia of trick-or-treating with the kids, only instead of Skittles and Kit Kats the man was collecting Rolexes, Tiffany, and Van Cleef & Arpels.
“It’s, uh, you have to snap the safety latch first,” said Gabby,haltingly, when it was her turn. He slipped off her tennis bracelet, a strand of stunning diamonds that Sofia was sure was worth upward of $100,000. Sofia had a thought—shouldshebe getting into this game? It seemed easy and lucrative, and she always knew where the Atherton crowd would be.
“You. Now,” the man said. He was right in front of Sofia, and she looked into his eyes, the only part of him exposed, as he unhooked her gold Cartier tank watch, a gift from JP for their fifth wedding anniversary, and slipped it into his bag. He glanced down to avoid her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” said Sofia softly. “But do I know you?” Something about his voice sounded so familiar. Was Sofia going crazy?
At that, the criminal froze. Then he quickly sprinted out the door, leaving it ajar. Sofia saw him zooming off on a moped down Reade Street, the black sack of jewelry sitting on the pavement, left behind. The room erupted into pandemonium, people pulling out their phones and excitedly calling friends and family to recount the story.
“There was a guy with a gun! No, I don’t know what his race was; he had a ski mask on. No, I didn’t look at his hands! I was trying to stay alive!”
“I’m fine, but he stole my Rolex, that asshole.”
“We all almost died. We havechildren. No, they wouldn’t be better off living with the nanny. Fuck you, Jason, that’s not funny. I’m freaking out here.”
Sofia had a better idea. She navigated the mayhem and walked outside, picking up the abandoned bag from the sidewalk, clutching it to her chest, feeling the comforting weight of all that money. She was probably holding more than a million dollars’ worth of jewelry. She fished her Cartier out of the sack before returning to her friends, standing in a semicircle near the reception desk.
“The robber’s loot!” said Gabby happily. “It’s like out of a cartoon or something. Can I get my tennis bracelet back, por favor?” Sofia handed her the bag, glad to be rid of it. It was too tempting given her current situation.
Gabby plucked out her strand of diamonds, and then passed the sack along like a hot potato, each person retrieving her own piece.
“Well, at least it all ended okay,” said Ava. “Should I delete my Instagram story? Is it in poor taste now?”
“Absolutely don’t delete it,” said Frost firmly. “Morgan won’t want this to detract from the party. If anything, post more happy pictures, make the space look great.”
“I think Morgan left,” said Ava. “She must have taken Gertrude home.” The door of the spa opened, and the women saw Art reenter, sent to do damage control, chatting and assuring, until he landed next to them. Sofia was now certain she’d seen him before the day of Frost’s accident—but where? He smelled like a mix of stress sweat and Tom Ford cologne.
“Morgan took an Uber home with Gertrude. They’re pretty shaken up but will be fine,” said Art. “Since all the jewelry has been recovered, I’m not even sure if it’s worth us filing a police report.”
“He had a gun!” said Gabby.
