The Barbie Sextet was coming toward Mom, clopping precariously along in their heels and putting holes in the lawn. They surrounded her, the expressions on their faces eager and sympathetic. At least they weren’t filming this particular spectacle for likes.
“Did you slap his face? That is what he deserves!” Brown said.
“No, no. Punch.” Pink made a fist. “You punch a man who screws his assistant.”
“Kicking hurts more, yeah?” Purple said.
“But you have to put on boots for that. Otherwise, your pedicure!” Blondie said.
Purple looked at her feet. “Too much work, then. Just punching’s good.”
Mom stared at them, mouth parted and tears no longer flowing. She was probably too bewildered by their presence and the words coming out of their perfectly lipsticked mouths. She also had no idea who they were. They looked nothing like the writers I’d been hanging out with over the last few years.
“Run him over with your Mercedes,” Pink said. “Insurance can fix it.”
“No, no.” Brown waved her hand. “Insurance doesn’t fix broken penises. She needs to get a new husband.”
I put a hand over my mouth at the absurdity of it all as hysterical laughter started to bubble up. Maybe the Barbies weren’t so bad after all. I wanted to punch my dad and run him over every now and then. And if it made him impotent, so much the better. At least that’d force him to be faithful.
Mom let out a small, shaky chuckle. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Don’t let a cheating man make you feel bad,” Red said.
“Look at your eyes. So swollen.” Blondie peered into my mom’s eyes. “No false lashes until you get the swelling down. They’re going to look fake.”
“False lashes are fake,” Mom said with a sniff.
“Yeah, but not too fake. It’s not good. You want them to look only a little bit fake,” Blondie said with a practiced head toss that made her look like she was starring in a shampoo commercial. The breeze caught her hair and moved it sinuously.
Mom nodded, then dried her cheeks. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
I squinted, scrutinizing my mother. No more tears. No more wailing over what Dad had done…and how he’d betrayed her. She was never mollified this fast. It usually took me at least a day to get her to stop crying.
Relief started to ripple through me, and along with it came a reluctant gratitude to the girls. They didn’t have to rush to console a stranger like that. Maybe I’d been too harsh and quick in deciding to dislike them.
“Hey, are you…” Killian stopped, running a hand through his hair. He looked lost and unsure. “Never mind. I’ll just take the girls and let you talk with your mom.”
There’s no way I’m letting you take the girls away from Mom. She’d never looked this soothed before. But then, I didn’t coo or fawn. I didn’t want to take Mom’s pacifiers and handle infidelity crisis number ten billion on my own.
“Um, no need. I think they’re very good at dealing with her.” I didn’t add that there was no point in talking with her privately because this wasn’t the first time Mom had come to me to complain about Dad’s infidelity. I’d already known this would happen at some point. Dad had been “working late” when I called to confront him about the One-Star Hit Squad. Mom complained she’d smelled unfamiliar perfume on his clothes. The next step was him saying he was screwing another woman and Mom reacting dramatically to that and coming straight to me to unload the same ol’, same ol’. It was practically preordained.
And I was terrible at consoling her. Mainly because I kept telling her to leave him. But she always refused, and my resentment bubbled the entire time until my chest felt like it was rotting from the inside out.
I’d never said it out loud because it would be too hurtful for Mom to hear, but I suspected Dad kept on cheating just to see how far he could push her and still get away with it. He seemed proud of the fact that he could do whatever he wanted and still keep his wife.
Dickhead.
“Honey,” Mom said. “I’m hungry.”
Holy crap. That was a signal that she was feeling a lot better. I looked at the Barbies in amazement. In less than ten minutes, they’d accomplished what would have taken me a full day and copious amounts of alcohol.
“I have some cereal, but no milk,” I said. “But it’d probably be okay with some rosé.” Mom deserved a drink or two.
She made a face. “That sounds disgusting.”
“Plus too much carbs,” Brown said with a sneer.
“I like carbs,” I said. Carbs were so misunderstood and unloved, but without them the world would be a sad place. No crackers, bread, pasta or cookies? Just kill me now.
“They make you fat,” Blondie said, glancing at my belly.
Bitch. I looked down. I wasn’t skinny like her, but it wasn’t like I had a huge potbelly, either. Besides, women were supposed to be rounded! Otherwise, God wouldn’t have given us breasts!
“And old.” Red shuddered like that was the worst thing in the world.
I was retracting the good opinion I’d formed just seconds ago. “Carbs are life.”
Killian stepped forward. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to treat you to breakfast,” he said.
Mom finally looked at him, then her eyes went completely round in shock. Not surprising, since she’d been surrounded by the Barbie Sextet. She probably hadn’t really noticed him until he spoke.
“Oh my God! You’re Killian Axelrod!” she squealed in an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice. Her face turned red, and for once, it had nothing to do with Dad.
I cringed inwardly, but I should’ve expected this. She loved music, and she was never shy about hiding how she felt about her favorite celebrities. And I was certain her adoration wasn’t all that over-the-top compared to teenage fans Killian had dealt with. I’d heard complaints from Skye, who told me her teenaged daughter considered fangirling a matter of life or death.
“I’m your biggest fan,” Mom gushed. She lunged forward, grabbed his hand in both of hers and stared up at him like he was a rain cloud she’d found after days of wandering in the desert.
Killian smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Breckenridge.”
“Oh, no! Call me Abby.” She laughed and looped an arm through his. “I had no idea you lived in Kingstree.”
“Just visiting,” he said. “And…could this be our little secret? I don’t want any reporters or paparazzi showing up.”
“Of course. Like I said, I’m your biggest fan. I only want what’s best for you,” she said breathlessly.
It was awkward to watch my mom cling to a man I’d clung to just hours ago…even if the context was totally different. But at least she wasn’t so desolate over Dad anymore. That was a good thing, even if her fawning over Killian gave me an uncomfortable urge to look away.
“Are we going to have something other than carbs?” one of the Barbie Sextet said.
“He always has a lot of food options,” Devlin said, finally walking up to the rest of us. “Let’s go, babes.”
Chapter Thirty-Four