“Well, I thought about what you said last night, and you were right. I am spoiled. I don’t do anything for myself, and I have to be the one to change that.”
“Listen, I didn’t mean it like there’s something wrong with you. I was just pointing out-”
“The obvious,” I finished for him. “I don’t want to be like that. Like them. So I’m making a conscious effort to do something about it.”
“Cool,” he said. His left eyebrow was still sky high. “Where you headed?”
“The Country Club with Ale and Gianna,” I said.
“Baby steps,” he told me.
I pulled my sunnies down and nearly skipped to my car.
…
We’d snagged three reclining chairs front row by the pool. Ale hadn’t taken off her wrap and was well into her third cocktail. Gianna was in a bright red G-string and you could see all of East Point society ladies buzzing with judgment, but when they passed by, it was nothing but wide smiles and encouragement.
“Gianna, such a stunner, just like your mother and your aunt. Flaunt it while you got it! How’s Adam?”
“Thanks, Ms. Huchins. Thanks, Ms. Wiley,” Gianna smiled demurely. “Adam is golfing,” she said…as if I fucking care or know, she murmured to us under her breath.
She’d probably done those women’s sons and nephews, and maybe even their husbands.
“What happened with the pool guys yesterday,” I asked her. I was munching on Bruschetta while staring at what looked like a hickey on Gianna’s thigh.
“Never mind about those inbreds, tell us about the mechanic!” she said. Gianna’s eyes only lit up like that when she was talking about conquests or sniffing coke.
“We made out, had sex, got pregnant, he proposed, we eloped to Vegas, I gave him the keys to the house, and he’s painting it orange,” I told her. Olive oil dripped down the back of my hand and I quickly licked it off.
“You had my hopes up with “made out.” You’re such a bore, Harley, I swear. If I had a man like that at my disposal, I’d be wearing a permanent smile.” She put her huge sunglasses back on and laid down again.
“He’s not at my disposal.” I rolled my eyes at Gianna. “Speaking of the Dunnes, do either of you really know what happened to Kat Dunne? Like the motive behind her suicide or did she just suffer from depression?” I tried to casually ask, picking imaginary lint pills off of my country club issued towel.
Gianna sat right back up again.
“Dude. That was the scandal of the century in Wexler, you don’t remember, Harley?”
“It was right when my mom was dying so I was staying in the city so I could be with her in the hospital. I was only here on weekends. All I remember is that she was really pretty, super shy, and from what I could tell, nice.”
“I believe her. I believe victims, period, end of story,” Ale said.
Giana was taking a selfie with her lips puckered into a kiss. When she finished, she took her shades off and looked at me squarely.
“Kat Dunne got pregnant with Brandon Kresley, or so she claimed. He denied it and she filed a suit against him demanding he submit paternity. Well, he did and it turned out he wasn’t the father. For like a few weeks, it looked like the Kresley’s had cleared their precious name and reputation, until Kat came forward with a suit against not only Kresley, but Jacob Anders and Ben Bradhurst as well, claiming that the three of them assaulted and gang raped her one night at Miller’s Creek.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Ale said. “All three of those guys are shady and act like sun shines out of their assholes. But it’s all an act. Donna DiMancio told me that when she dated Jacob in high school, he always got rough with her. And when she finally gave into him, it was only because she was afraid he’d hit her.”
“I hate all three of those guys,” I said, and I meant it.
“So rape is what Kat Dunne claimed, but then the boys families had this defense that their sons could get anyone they want and so why would they go digging in a trailer park in South Banks?” Gianna told the story salaciously like she was delivering breaking news for a tabloid.
“And you can imagine what happened next since Kresley and Bradhurst is the biggest law firm in Wexler,” Ale added.
“Fucking Ander’s is the police chief and pretty much controls what happens to evidence and records. Kat didn’t have a rape kit done the night it happened, but she did go to the hospital for scrapes and bruises she said she got working in the garage with her dad,” Gianna said. She took a sip of her gin and then reapplied her lip gloss.