“Much better,” I said. She went over to the mirror. “That does look better! Thank you!” She gave me a giant hug, and I tamped down any residual jealousy and reminded myself that we were friends.
And that I needed to keep a closer eye on Back-Stabigail so that I could make sure Genesis was safe. She was like a newborn fawn being released into a lion’s den. I had thought that once I’d told Dante the truth about each girl I could leave. But now I’d have to stay as long as Genesis did so that I could protect her.
Darn my overdeveloped protective instincts.
We went downstairs together, and I looked for Abigail. I wanted to keep her far away from Genesis. I didn’t see her. I stepped outside to check the pool area, but she wasn’t there. I did find a dark-haired woman staring up at the full moon.
I should get started. “Hi, I’m Lemon.”
“I’m Tiffany.”
“Funny how something made out of a bunch of dusty rocks can be so pretty, don’t you think?”
She turned to look at me. “Are you talking about the moon?”
“Yes?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question. But what else would I be talking about?
“I’m pretty sure that’s made out of cheese. Like in those cartoons.”
She had to be kidding. “I’m pretty sure it’s made out of rocks.”
“I don’t think that’s right.” No one could be that stupid, could they?
“Seriously?”
“Is what serious?”
“What you just said about the moon being made out of cheese.”
She looked at me like I was stupid. “Yes.”
The beautiful babies that Dante was sure to produce could not be infected by this gene pool. I refused to allow him to have idiot children.
Things didn’t get much better from there. There was bubbly Michelle, who thought everything in life was So Awesome. And Ashley S., who said meanly, “You’re talking to me why, exactly?” I wanted to retort that it was my job to figure out what kind of person she really was. She had spent all day smiling and being sickly sweet to Dante, and that one sentence told me everything I needed to know about her.
Then there was Ashley M., who giggled at everything everyone said. And Lisa, who spent two hours complaining about her ex-boyfriend and how their relationship had gone so wrong and she didn’t know why. She never even took a breath so that I could excuse myself and leave. I started imagining forms of suicide that would be less painful than this conversation, and decided all of them would be, including dropping myself into the tiger enclosure in the zoo and being slowly eaten alive.
Jessica R. wasn’t drinking. I thought I had found a kindred spirit, but then I saw that she wasn’t getting drunker than a peach orchard boar only because “all the empty calories in alcohol.” She told me that she wanted to start a modeling career and hoped the show would launch it. When she asked, I told her that I wanted to get into PR, and she said the show could help me, as well. “You’re not the first person to say that to me,” I told her.
Abigail had already found herself two acolytes, women named Cece and Heather. They followed her everywhere, brought her drinks, and made sure not to “stand in her light.”
Genesis came up and stood next to me. “Abigail tried to sabotage me, didn’t she?”
“She did. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I can’t believe she already has minions.”
“I wonder if they get dental.”
“Only henchmen get dental. Minions are out of luck.”
“Yeah, they’re basically glorified interns.”
I so liked her. We were on the same wavelength. Dante would like her too, much as that thought made my stomach twist itself into knots.
She was tapping her fingers against her leg. “Nervous tic?” I asked.
“What?” She followed my gaze and looked down at her hand. “Oh, no. I think I’m going through withdrawal.”
Maybe I had to reevaluate her as the front-runner. “Withdrawal?”
She must have heard the alarm in my voice. “Not that kind of withdrawal. I don’t drink or do drugs or smoke or anything. That strict upbringing of mine has sort of stuck with me. I’m missing WoW.”