When the limo pulled up at Elixir on Melrose, Zadie was the first one out. She’d just had to endure a running commentary on everyone’s reaction to the class, in addition to seeing these women naked in the locker room as they changed into their cute little skirts and sundresses for the remainder of the party. Zadie had brought a pair of jeans and a blue gauzy blouse.
“Did you all love it? Wasn’t it great?” Helen was gushing. Everyone agreed, oohing and ahhing about their various states of nirvana.
“For the first time, I honestly understood how the universe works,” Eloise said. Zadie looked at her like she was on glue. Eloise didn’t know how her ATM card worked, let alone the cosmos.
“Zadie, did you like it?” Helen looked at her expectantly.
“Yeah. It was different.” She’d never hallucinated during yoga before, so she wasn’t lying.
“Don’t you just feel like everything is right with the world now? I always leave kundalini class feeling so centered.”
Zadie wasn’t sure that she’d ever been centered. But that momentary “Maybe things will be okay” feeling she’d had was something she’d welcome back.
Elixir was an Asian-themed herbal tonic bar that sold shamanapproved beverages designed to soothe or stimulate the psyche.
Zadie opted for Virtual Buddha since it was supposed to produce a state of elation, something she hadn’t experienced in quite some time. Was this why Helen was so happy all the time? Was life really as simple as yoga and herbal potions?
Helen gave Zadie a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here.” And for a second, Zadie was too. If she came out of this day with a newfound peace, it would be a day well spent.
As they settled into wicker chairs on the wooden deck overlooking a gurgling fountain in the courtyard, Jane handed Helen the Chi Devil tonic which was supposed to make women horny. “We need to get you primed for the honeymoon.”
Why Helen would want to be horny while they spent the rest of the day shopping was a puzzle. As she drank it with a blush and a giggle, Big Ass Betsy came roaring up. So much for elation.
“Okay, who’s first?” She pulled out a horoscope book she’d bought down the street at the Bohdi Tree while the others were waiting in line at the “bar.”
“Me,” Eloise said. “I’m a Cancer.” Yes, she was, Zadie thought.
As Betsy ran down everyone’s horoscope, predicting fortune and travel and love and car trouble, Zadie took a moment to study Helen. Maybe she really was a kind, lovely person. And annoying as her perfection was, perhaps it was not done with evil intent. Her dislike of beanbag chairs wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. So she could be a tad judgmental. Who wasn’t? Zadie dismissed men on a regular basis simply because of their footwear. And Helen’s thoughtful gift-giving wasn’t the plague that Zadie had made it out to be. When she’d caught her reflection in the mirror framed with Italian tile before she left the apartment this morning she’d seen a large glob of eyeliner smeared on her left cheek. Much better to catch something like that on your own than to have the valet tell you as you get out of your car. Or not tell you. Helen had done her a favor by sending that mirror. Helen was a caring person.
Zadie looked down at her now empty tonic. What was in this shit? It was like happy juice.
“Zadie, here’s yours: ‘Don’t allow others to color your attitude. You know which way you want the wind to blow. Mercury in retrograde might not allow it, but keep your focus.’”Betsy scrunched her face up. “I hate it when Mercury’s in retrograde.”
Zadie kept quiet while the others murmured their agreement. She could care less where Mercury was. Her horoscope on her nonwedding day had said, “Joy is the theme today, and those around you will see it in your eyes.” It was safe to say she wasn’t a believer.
Big Ass Betsy pulled another book out of her bag. “I thought Helen might be able to use this one.” She held up
How to Seduce Any Man in the Zodiac
. The other ladies all snickered and mugged as if she’d pulled out a giant dildo. “What sign is Grey?”
“He’s a Scorpio,” Helen answered.
As Betsy flipped to the appropriate page, Zadie frowned. “I’m pretty sure he’s a Virgo.” She remembered Grey reading his horoscope aloud one day as they had breakfast at Hugo’s, complaining that Virgos never got to have any fun. Then he sent back his waffles because they weren’t crisp enough.
“No, he’s a Scorpio. I’m positive. That’s why he’s so mysterious.”
Mysterious? Grey? Were they talking about the same guy?
Eloise piped up to settle things. “Actually, Zadie’s right. He’s a Virgo. He was born in August.”
Helen looked stung. “How could I not know that? I could’ve sworn he told me he was a Scorpio.” The rest of the group got quiet, as if this were a bad omen of some sort. Snotty and Skinny shot Zadie a dirty look for bringing said omen to light.
“Does it matter? Are Virgos psychotic or something?” Zadie asked.
An icy pall came over Helen. “No, it doesn’t matter. I’m just upset that I didn’t know.”
Betsy read from the book. “It says Virgo men are into order and perfection.”
Zadie gestured to Helen. “See? He likes perfection. You’re perfect. It all works out.”
The waitress brought out a tray of finger sandwiches for them. Zadie watched as everyone peeled off the bread and ate only what was inside. Helen let hers sit, still miffed.
“I could’ve sworn we had an entire conversation about him being a Scorpio.” She looked at Eloise. “You’re positive about this?”
Eloise nodded. “I was there the day he was born.”
Helen looked down, avoiding Eloise’s gaze. “It’s just not like me to be so careless.” Oh, the shame of not knowing your fiancé’s sun sign. Zadie didn’t get it.
“You guys have only been dating for six months. It’s not like you can know
everything
about each other.” Zadie thought she was helping, but the searing glares from the others seemed to insinuate otherwise.
Helen looked to her posse for reassurance. “Do you think six months isn’t enough?”
“Six months is plenty,” Big Ass Betsy assured Helen.
“Six months is the difference between a pull-up and a potty seat,” Marci agreed.
“That’s
huge
,” Kim chimed in.
“Six months is longer than I’ve ever dated anyone,” Jane added, clearly not one for settling down.
“Ask any plastic surgeon. It’s enough time to completely transform your body. Six months is a
gigantic
amount of time,” Skinny said. Zadie took a closer look at her. Could it be possible that six months ago she was short and fat?
“Six months was how long I was pregnant before I had my first hemorrhoid.” No one was sure what that had to do with anything, but Denise was exempt from making sense since she’d thrown up three times and it was only one o’clock.
“You could walk across the entire country in six months,” Eloise said, always one to make proclamations about things she knew nothing about. Not that Zadie knew how long it would take to walk across the country, but she was pretty sure Eloise had never walked across so much as Burbank.
Gilda leaned over and peeled the bread off Helen’s sandwich
for her. “In school you had at least two relationships in a sixmonth period. What’s the big deal?”
Helen still wasn’t appeased. “I know. I know. I just can’t believe Zadie knows more about Grey than I do.”
The other women turned to look at Zadie as if she’d just been caught with Grey’s dick in her mouth.
“He’s my best friend. Sorry.” Zadie wasn’t quite sure why she was apologizing for this, but it seemed like the thing to do.
Helen patted her hand. “I know. And I’m lucky for that. How else would I find out all of his secrets?” Helen smiled at Zadie and the rest of the women breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis over. But somehow, Zadie knew better.
The day was just beginning.
Fred Segal on Melrose was one of those stores that Zadie usually avoided. Not that it wasn’t full of trendy items of all types—clothes, jewelry, candles, makeup. It was just that Zadie wasn’t willing to pay the ridiculously high prices that scads of other shoppers—lucky for Fred—were willing to pay. A seventy-five-dollar T-shirt? Does it perform cunnilingus? If not, what’s wrong with Target?
When the gals disembarked from their fifty-foot car, Snotty and Skinny bolted into the store as if it were giving away money. Eloise was close behind them. Another pair of cat-eye horn-rims surely on her shopping list. Marci and Kim made a beeline for the kids’ section, because God forbid their little ones were the only ones at day care not wearing Juicy Couture. Plane Jane hit the lingerie, Denise stopped at the café to replace the food she’d barfed up previously, and Gilda headed toward the apothecary. Leaving Zadie alone with Helen and Big Ass Betsy as they perused the blue jeans. Zadie held up a pair to inspect.
“I know it’s been fashionable for a few years now, but does the world really need to see my ass crack? I’m thinking no.”
“The lower cut is more flattering,” bespoke Helen, whose ass crack was probably lined with gold.
“So, Zadie. What are some more secrets that you know about
Grey that Helen doesn’t?” Betsy, cementing her Big Ass status, stood with her hand on her hip next to the Lucky shelf, waiting for Zadie to reveal that Grey had purple warts on his balls or some such thing.
“I’m pretty sure Helen knows all she needs to know.”
Helen stiffened. “What does
that
mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Zadie was confused. How could that comment have possibly provoked a reaction?
“So, there are other things that I
don’t
need to know?”
Zadie rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” She sighed, knowing more questions would follow, so she’d best elaborate. “Grey is an open book. Everything there is to know about him is right there. Trust me, he’s not hiding any deep dark secrets.”
“That you know of,” Betsy said. Helpful as always.
“Well, you know about the thing with the transvestite, right?”
Helen and Betsy both turned such a remarkable shade of white that Zadie had to put them at ease before she was blinded by the glare. “I’m kidding.” Once they resumed blood flow, Zadie continued. “She was a transsexual, so technically, that doesn’t make him gay.”
Helen threw a pair of jeans at her head and laughed, thankfully realizing that Zadie was taunting her. Big Ass Betsy eyed her as if she still weren’t sure.
Zadie followed them, for lack of anything better to do, as they wandered into the next mazelike room—note to Fred: knock down some walls—and watched Marci and Kim debate whether or not it was appropriate for a four-year-old to wear a belly tee.
“If it’s to the playground, yes. To Sunday school, no,” Marci posited.
“But what kind of message does a toddler’s belly send? I don’t want men looking at Britney Spears’s belly and then looking at Madison’s belly and thinking it’s the same thing and getting aroused,” Kim said.
They then questioned whether or not it was appropriate to let Duncan wear pink. Zadie wanted to tell them that it was severely
inappropriate to spend two hundred dollars on an outfit for a child who was young enough to crap himself, but she refrained in the spirit of Virtual Buddha.
When Eloise and Skinny came clunking down the stairs in their platform flip-flops and stilettos, all heads in the store turned, scandalized by their raised voices. Apparently, there was a Stella McCartney purse that had caught both their fancies and Eloise, being stronger, had wrenched it away from Skinny, who was now in quite a snit about it.
“Clearly, you know nothing about shopper’s etiquette.” Eloise, completely ungracious about her victory, snapped back, “I got my credit card out first, and that’s the only etiquette that counts.”
Helen, distressed at any agita within the corps, stepped in. “Girls, it’s just a purse. No need to get upset.”
Skinny didn’t agree. She stomped off into the apothecary section. Code word for overpriced beauty products. Zadie followed her, hoping to see her cry. Skinny found Snotty by the bath salts and said, “I don’t care if she’s the sister of the groom. She’s a bitch.” Snotty agreed with her, and they went off to lick their wounds by sniffing forty-dollar candles.
Gilda looked over at Zadie, holding up some honey-infused shampoo. “This is four dollars cheaper at the beauty supply store.”
“This is definitely not the place to come for a bargain.”
“Do people actually
wear
those clothes out there?”
“Present company excluded.”
“I went to Helen’s boutique yesterday and the clothes were just as bad.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. I watched
Sex in the City
the entire time it ran and still can’t figure out how Carrie was supposed to be a fashion icon. In nine out of ten episodes, she dressed like someone who rode the short bus.”
Gilda laughed. “Thank God. I thought it was just because I’m from Boulder.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been out to visit Helen?”
Gilda nodded. “I think she’s been trying to keep me away from
you all. Maybe she’s worried I know too much.” She winked like she was kidding, but Zadie was intrigued.
If Helen had a dark side, it would make Zadie’s entire fucking year.