“You’re welcome,” I mutter as I push my stupid long sleeves up for the millioneth time and shove my over-heated face in front of the air-conditioning for a minute, in hopes of bringing my tomato-red cheeks down to a nice neutral shade of tan. Or at the very most, a becoming blush.
I glance down at the clock as I turn up the radio. It’s only 1:30. We still have time for lunch before we need to be home for Rick to pick Sophie up.
I click the car into Reverse and am backing out just as a voice registers in my head.
“Yoo-hoo! Allison! Is that you?”
And then there’s a sickening thud.
Hand to God- I didn’t have time to react between hearing the voice and the sickening thud.
Sophie’s eyes fly to meet mine and I slam on the brakes, throw the car into park and we jump out of the car to find a nauseatingly thin crumpled heap directly behind my left back tire.
And I say nauseatingly thin because I know exactly who it is. I can tell from her cheap sense of style and the giant rock on her left spidery ring finger.
It’s Rick’s new fiancée, Vanessa.
And she’s nauseatingly thin.
Except for her fake boobs, which Rick bought and paid for and can be used as flotation devices in the unlikely event of a plane crash. Apparently though, they don’t work very well in the more likely event of an automobile vs. pedestrian crash.
I gasp as I drop to my knees beside her.
“Vanessa! Oh my god! Are you alright! Can you hear me?!”
She moans and turns to look at me, whimpering pitifully.
“Do you hate me this much, Allison? Really?”
I stare at her, at her perfect baby blue eyes, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, her Barbie-like twenty-three year old perfect body and her full, pouty candy-apple-pink lips. Yes, yes, I hate her. But she’s not worth going to jail for. Even though I might have fantasized about it a few times. I’m not gonna lie.
“I didn’t see you, Vanessa,” I sigh. “Why were you behind my car?”
“Why didn’t you watch where you were going?” she snaps as she studies a candy-apple-pink fingernail. Her polish perfectly matches her lips. “I just had my nails done and this one is broken. Thanks a lot.”
I sigh again, offering her my hand.
“Are you hurt?” I ask. Sophie is hovering over my shoulder. She has yanked her ear-buds out for this bit of excitement. Vanessa shakes her head.
“I don’t think so. Except for my nail. You’re paying to get it fixed, Allison!” she snaps again. “I was only coming over to say hello and you ran me down like a lunatic.”
“I didn’t run you down,” I say tiredly as I haul her to her feet. “I just didn’t see—“
I am interrupted by Miss Perfect’s cry of pain. And then distracted by her rabid hopping on one thin leg. I briefly wonder if the spindly little thing has just collapsed under her weight, before I realize that is ridiculous. Her body weight couldn’t collapse a piece of wet toilet paper.
“Ow, ow, ow!!! I think my foot is broken. You broke my foot, you vicious bitch!” Vanessa has abandoned her pretense of being the coy wounded child.
I am startled and look down at her stiletto clad foot. Who wears stilettos to the mall on a Saturday morning, anyway?
Her ankle is turning purple- I can see it from here.
“I bet you twisted it when you fell,” I tell her, putting my arm under her shoulder to help support her. “Why are you wearing heels?”
Vanessa glares at me. “This has nothing to do with my shoes, so don’t even try to blame me. You ran me down.”
I sigh again. If there was something sharp near me, I would grab it and poke my eyes out.
“I didn’t run you down,” I tell her again. “I merely backed into you. But we should probably get you to the doctor to look at your foot. Are you with anyone?”
I glance behind her but don’t see anyone. And she shakes her head.
“No. You’re going to have to take me. It’s the least you can do, anyway.”
“Yes, it’s the least I can do.” I level a gaze at her as I practically shove her into my backseat. “Watch your head.”
I look at Sophie. “Soph, call your father and tell him to meet us at the Desert Springs Medical Center. They have an urgent care center.”
She nods and pulls her phone out and I concentrate on tuning out Vanessa’s whining, moaning and outright bitchy accusations.
“You’re not taking me there. It’s a deathtrap for bums and people on welfare.”
“You just wanted to disfigure me so that Rick won’t want me anymore.”
“You’re just jealous because I’m younger and hotter than you.”
I don’t bother to reply to any of it and it’s a very long twenty minute drive, but luckily Sophie has turned her music back on and doesn’t hear anything.
When we finally reach the medical center, I have Sophie run up and get a wheelchair and then I wheel Vanessa in myself. I am feeling rather cocky that I am able to resist the urge to steer her directly into the path of a utility van that careens through the parking lot.
Must not kill Vanessa.
Must not kill Vanessa.
Must not kill Vanessa.
I chant this silently in my head as we enter the sliding doors and get her checked in. I am just trying to decide whether to leave her alone or not when Rick struts through the waiting room doors.
Rick struts everywhere because he feels that nothing starts until he arrives.
My ex-husband is not bad looking. As far as thirty-nine year old men go, he’s pretty hot. He’s around six feet tall and has dark hair with just the beginning of silver at his temples. He’s clean shaven and he works out. He owns his own ad company, which is where he met Vanessa. She was his administrative assistant. Apparently she was very good at ‘assisting’ him.
But I digress.
On the surface, Rick’s a catch. He’s good-looking and successful. But what you can’t tell from looking at him is that he is a cheating, lying worm. And I instantly remember that I should feel sorry for Vanessa rather than hate her. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into. Although the gold-digging whore probably deserves it.