Page 38 of Mean Moms
“We’re all together!” said Belle. The sound system was blasting “I’ll Be There for You” on repeat, and it was getting difficult to hear, between that and the ambient chatter.
“We’ve been looking for you, but we got detained by Clara,” said Frost.
“Oh God,” said Belle, subtly pointing at the otherSex and the Citypod. “They stole our idea!” Dre Finlay saw them staring and did a passive-aggressive bow in her tutu.
“Belle, I haven’t seen your Mr. Big,” said Frost, looking around for Jeff.
“He’s probably hanging with Trey and Steve.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Sofia, you look hot,” Belle continued. Frost was proud of Belle for making it out to the party—the moms were still whispering about what had happened with Pippins Cottage Home, everyone expressing sympathy to Belle’s face while snickering behind her back and calling it karma for being a bitch. Belle and Jeff had hired the private investigator Greg Summerly to look into the lanternflies incident, but he hadn’t gotten anywhere yet. It was all pretty much a disaster.
“I’m so happy we have a Samantha in our group. Finally!” said Belle. “I love being in a foursome. I’m glad you joined our little pod.”
Clara then sauntered up to the group, accompanied by Ava and Gabby, looking like hooked fish.
“We were just, uh, chatting with Clara here, and wanted everyone to join in,” said Gabby, winking at them when Clara wasn’t looking. Ava, her hair springing in every direction, gave “help us” eyes.
Clara was sloshing her espresso martini, sending it raining over the edges of her glass.
“I love you all, did you know that?” Clara said. Frost, wanting to run interference for fear of what Clara might say, jumped in.
“I think we should check out upstairs,” said Frost. The other women nodded, happy to be saved.
“I know you all don’t like me as much as I like you,” said Clara,mournfully, trapping them there. “It’s so nice you have each other. I feel like I’m always working, and never get to do any of the fun mom stuff, the pickups, the class picnics, the PA meetings.” Out of nowhere, Clara started to cry. No one knew what to do. Morgan eventually went over to Clara and patted her back stiffly.
“And to think,” said Clara in between sniffles, “Frost and Belle can still be best friends, even though Frost’s sons were sending around naked pictures of Belle’s daughter!” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Frost peeked at Belle to see if she’d heard what Clara had said. Oh, she’d heard. Her cheek color mirrored the pink of her leotard.
“Whatdid you say, Clara? Frost’s boys had pictures ofHildy?” Belle’s voice was high, too high, that girly lilt in overdrive.
“I thought you knew?” said Clara, realizing what she’d done. Or maybe it had been on purpose. “The pictures were fake, so at least there’s that. Ozzie told me the whole story.”
Belle turned to Frost, her nostrils flaring with anger. Carrie Bradshaw on fire.
“FROST!” Belle was nearly screaming over the music at this point. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Frost looked down at the ground. She didn’t have a great defense and didn’t want to get into it here. She and Belle could have coffee tomorrow to discuss. It was all a misunderstanding. But Belle didn’t relent.
“Listen, you… you… you,” Belle said loudly. People in their immediate vicinity started to look over, keenly aware that something washappening. Belle Redness was having a tantrum. How juicy was that?
“Belle, please, let’s talk about this later,” said Frost quietly. In the eight years she’d known her, Frost had never seen Belle lose her temper in public. A few feet away, Frost saw a group of women dressed as the Spice Girls pointing at them and guffawing.
“I’m sure we can figure out what happened, like grown-ups and friends,” said Sofia, trying to make peace.
Belle then did something that Frost would never have expected her to do, not in a million years. She lunged at Frost as if they were playground enemies, the jerky movement causing Belle to dribble some of her espresso martini down the front of her tank top. Belle then registered, with horror, what she’d done. “Tell your First Dibs friend I just cost him two hundred fifty thousand dollars!” she shouted. In a rage, Belle flung the rest of the martini directly at Frost’s face, a complete liquid shock, the alcohol dripping down Frost’s cheeks into the neck of her gray suit.
“Dios mio,” said Sofia with a start. Frost tried to wipe the drink off with her hands. Her eyes, watering with tears, felt like they were burning.
Frost heard someone say loudly, “Holy shit, Belle Redness just threw a drink at Frost Trevor.” And then the scuffling of high heels and loafers toward their area, everyone trying to get a good look at her, wanting to be the one who could retell the story with accuracy and fun details. (“Frost’s suit was soaked!” “I thought Belle was going to murder her!” “Aren’t those women best friends? I guess not…” “Belle Redness, lice queen, ruining another Atherton party!”)
Belle, who had the look of someone who’d shocked herself, stomped away, running up the stairs alone. Clara, that troublemaker, took off for the front of the apartment. Gabby and Ava scurried to the bar.
“Listen, we all make mistakes. I’m sure you two will be great in no time. You’re amazing friends!” said Morgan limply. “Belle has just been having a rough time of it lately.” Frost knew that was true, but she also knew she’d messed up. She’d been messing up so muchlately. “Maybe because that son of hers is such a little beast,” said Morgan under her breath, almost to herself. Belle’s son? A beast? Miles Redness was a sweetheart. Frost caught Sofia’s eye; she must have heard her, too.
Then came a loud banging sound, which turned out to be Clara, hitting her espresso glass with a spoon on the other side of the room. The music finally, mercifully, turned off. With difficulty, Clara stepped up on a milk crate, which had been set down next to the bar. The lights dimmed and a small spotlight was pointed toward Clara. In the glare, it turned out the Kate Winslet dress was nearly see-through, giving her guests a clear view of Clara’s high-waisted Spanx.
“Everyone please quiet down!” Clara ordered. No one did. “Everyone! Please!” A waiter handed her a microphone.
“A toast,” she screeched into the mic, causing the entire party to cover their ears in pain.
“Atherton parents, welcome to Friendsgiving,” said Clara proudly. Occasionally, Frost regretted inventing this bloody theme party tradition. It hadn’t been her aim when she’d hosted that Valentine’s Day party those years ago; she’d just been bored and thought it’d be fun. Fun used to be Frost’s thing, though perhaps not so much anymore, she thought ruefully, the espresso martini still wet on her collar.
“I love that you all took the theme so seriously and came dressed to the nines for the occasion. I see the cast ofSeinfeldover there, and I know there are a few Taylor Swift squads floating around. And I love theSex and the Citycrews, plus I saw a Magic Johnson and a Larry Bird, and also the Spice Girls!” A few lone “yeahs!” emerged from the crowd as their costumes were mentioned.
