Page 11 of Broken Lines

“How nice for you.”

She sighs again.

“So, did you see my interview?”

I lean against the doorframe, forcing my gaze lower to her instead of up at the gynecological display on the wall above her.

“I did. I thought you were done giving those.”

She snorts. “Yeah, well…”

She raises her hands, dusting one with the other as if she’s “making it rain” dollar bills.

“Right.”

“Also, you do not say no to Rolling Stone, Mel.”

“I wasn’t aware you said no toanyone, actually.”

Her lips purse tightly.

Am I being a bitch? Definitely. Does she deserve every damn drop of it?

Fuck yes.

“How’d my tits look?”

I frown. “What?”

“The interview. How’d the girls look?”

“I…have no idea, and don’t even remotely care.”

She lifts a shoulder absently, taking a sip of her champagne.

“I had them lifted a few months back.”

“Congrats on the boob job?”

She sighs with exasperation. “I didn’t have aboob job, Melody.” Her brow furrows. “I mean, not since 2005. I had themlifted. What do you think?”

She cups her tits, jiggling them at me through her lacy top that looks like something someone even younger than me would wear to a club. Or a porn shoot.

“I think I’ve probably seen my fill of your boobs before.”

“Christ, the morality police are here. Everyone cover up!” She snickers at no one before taking a long drag off the spliff.

I chew on my lip, trying to decide if I’m really going to even ask what I came here to ask. If it’s worth wading into Judy’s bullshit and getting sucked into her narcissistic tar pit.

“Oh, listen, honey, while you’re here, I wanted to ask you something.”

“You can’t borrow any more money. I don’t have any anyway.”

Her “shocked and offended” look is so practiced I almost want to give her an Academy Award.

“Wow,” she chokes. “Just…wow.”

“Oh,please. What else could you possibly be dying to ask me about, Judy?”

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