who said so, and I promised not to tell,
and I don’t believe it for a minute. I know you’d never...you wouldn’t, would
you? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t.”
Nancy wanted to hurl the phone against the
wall and scream.
But the more you reacted to a rumor, the
more people believed it. She hadn’t endured Todd’s blathering on about The Art
of War for nothing: all warfare is based on deception.
“That’s so funny!” Nancy said. “Because I had dinner with my
friend Milagro tonight and she told me that she heard that I left Todd to be
with you! She congratulated us on being so lesbilicious, and I didn’t have the
heart to disillusion her. I hope you don’t mind that I said I was the girl and
you wore the, uhm, lederhosen.”
“ Nancy ,
you can’t let her tell people that!”
“Oh, Milagro doesn’t know anyone. She is
friends with Gigi Barton, but Gigi only gossips to her inner circle, or
whomever she’s partying with.”
“But it’s completely untrue.”
“Technically, but rumors are so much
more fun than my dreary business strategy.”
“Sometimes
the truth is better than a rumor, Nancy, even a fun one,” Lizette said uneasily.
“If anyone asks me, I’ll tell them you’re focusing on Froth.”
“Oh, Lizzie, how un-fun you’ll make me
seem. Have a wonderful party and I’m sure no one will remember last year’s incident
with Bill. Bye!” Nancy hung up before Lizette could ask about the supposed incident.
Nancy couldn’t believe her so-called friends
were dragging her good names in the mud this way. Protesting gossip was the
surest way to convince people it was true, but diverting gossip couldn’t hurt
so she left a message for Milagro saying, “Milicious, be a sweetie and tell a
few friends that Lizette and I are having a lesbionic liaison. Embellish as you
will.”
Feeling better, Nancy went to the bedroom, which was painted
ivory with blue-gray trim. All of the bed linens were white. Even though she’d
changed her froofy pink décor, the color kept sneaking in. Now it appeared in a
vase of peonies and throw pillows.
She opened the doors to the walk-in
closet and pulled the chain for the old-fashioned hanging bulb. She spritzed Jo
Malone lime, basil and mandarin room spray and then breathed slowly and deeply,
admiring the rows of accessories, organized from small to large. Immaculate
clothes hung on slim, black velvet, no-slip hangers.
She rearranged her shoes, placing the lively
spring collection at eye level. She moved her winter shoes from the main
shelves and stored them in boxes, each with an identifying photo on the front.
Then Nancy selected her clothes for the next day. She
was feeling efficient and Coco Chanelish, so she chose charcoal men’s cut slacks,
a white poplin shirt, a narrow black belted jacket, and spectator pumps.
Once in bed, Nancy realized that she was lying on “her
side.” She wiggled to the middle of the mattress. Then her head was stuck
between the pillows, so she wiggled back to one side.
She thought about Todd’s nighttime
routine. He used to kick his clothes off wherever he felt like it, roaming
around the house in boxers with cartoon characters or sports team logos. She’d despised
the baggy boxers, but a few months ago he’d bought form-fitting stretch briefs
that disturbed Nancy even more. They were just too European.
If a girl truly loved a man, wouldn’t
she automatically be enchanted by that garment which caressed his most intimate
parts? She remembered fantasizing about Todd when she was in college. Nancy ’s recollection of
her teenage fantasies of Todd were as indistinct as the fog that shifted by her
windows.
Nancy tried to enjoy the thought of Bailey in
his undies. She hoped they weren’t tightey whities or banana hammocks since he might
have been led astray by a tasteless girlfriend.
Then her thoughts turned to Derek. She
wondered what kind of underwear he wore. She was sure they were heavenly.
The next morning,
and I don’t believe it for a minute. I know you’d never...you wouldn’t, would
you? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t.”
Nancy wanted to hurl the phone against the
wall and scream.
But the more you reacted to a rumor, the
more people believed it. She hadn’t endured Todd’s blathering on about The Art
of War for nothing: all warfare is based on deception.
“That’s so funny!” Nancy said. “Because I had dinner with my
friend Milagro tonight and she told me that she heard that I left Todd to be
with you! She congratulated us on being so lesbilicious, and I didn’t have the
heart to disillusion her. I hope you don’t mind that I said I was the girl and
you wore the, uhm, lederhosen.”
“ Nancy ,
you can’t let her tell people that!”
“Oh, Milagro doesn’t know anyone. She is
friends with Gigi Barton, but Gigi only gossips to her inner circle, or
whomever she’s partying with.”
“But it’s completely untrue.”
“Technically, but rumors are so much
more fun than my dreary business strategy.”
“Sometimes
the truth is better than a rumor, Nancy, even a fun one,” Lizette said uneasily.
“If anyone asks me, I’ll tell them you’re focusing on Froth.”
“Oh, Lizzie, how un-fun you’ll make me
seem. Have a wonderful party and I’m sure no one will remember last year’s incident
with Bill. Bye!” Nancy hung up before Lizette could ask about the supposed incident.
Nancy couldn’t believe her so-called friends
were dragging her good names in the mud this way. Protesting gossip was the
surest way to convince people it was true, but diverting gossip couldn’t hurt
so she left a message for Milagro saying, “Milicious, be a sweetie and tell a
few friends that Lizette and I are having a lesbionic liaison. Embellish as you
will.”
Feeling better, Nancy went to the bedroom, which was painted
ivory with blue-gray trim. All of the bed linens were white. Even though she’d
changed her froofy pink décor, the color kept sneaking in. Now it appeared in a
vase of peonies and throw pillows.
She opened the doors to the walk-in
closet and pulled the chain for the old-fashioned hanging bulb. She spritzed Jo
Malone lime, basil and mandarin room spray and then breathed slowly and deeply,
admiring the rows of accessories, organized from small to large. Immaculate
clothes hung on slim, black velvet, no-slip hangers.
She rearranged her shoes, placing the lively
spring collection at eye level. She moved her winter shoes from the main
shelves and stored them in boxes, each with an identifying photo on the front.
Then Nancy selected her clothes for the next day. She
was feeling efficient and Coco Chanelish, so she chose charcoal men’s cut slacks,
a white poplin shirt, a narrow black belted jacket, and spectator pumps.
Once in bed, Nancy realized that she was lying on “her
side.” She wiggled to the middle of the mattress. Then her head was stuck
between the pillows, so she wiggled back to one side.
She thought about Todd’s nighttime
routine. He used to kick his clothes off wherever he felt like it, roaming
around the house in boxers with cartoon characters or sports team logos. She’d despised
the baggy boxers, but a few months ago he’d bought form-fitting stretch briefs
that disturbed Nancy even more. They were just too European.
If a girl truly loved a man, wouldn’t
she automatically be enchanted by that garment which caressed his most intimate
parts? She remembered fantasizing about Todd when she was in college. Nancy ’s recollection of
her teenage fantasies of Todd were as indistinct as the fog that shifted by her
windows.
Nancy tried to enjoy the thought of Bailey in
his undies. She hoped they weren’t tightey whities or banana hammocks since he might
have been led astray by a tasteless girlfriend.
Then her thoughts turned to Derek. She
wondered what kind of underwear he wore. She was sure they were heavenly.
The next morning,
Similar Books
