THE BLOCK ESTATE
GUESTHOUSE
Tuesday, October 13th
5:37 P.M.
An hour later, Claire waddled awkwardly into her bedroom in the spongy flip-flops provided by the spa, her ballet flats dangling from her fingertips. She stepped over the pile of Keds next to her door and tossed her shoes into her open walk-in closet. A tiny yelp escaped from inside, and Bean trotted out, chewing a green Kate Spade sandal that had been a Massie hand-me-down.
“Bean! No!” Claire knelt down and wrestled the soggy shoe away from the puppy, careful not to smudge her nails.
“She has ah-mazing taste.” Massie’s voice leaked from inside the closet.
“Hey!” Claire inhaled sharply, her heart thumping in her chest. “I didn’t know you were here.” She yanked the closet door open wide. Massie was standing inside, Claire’s favorite jeans and a yellow silk top Claire still hadn’t worn draped over her arm.
“I needed more clothes for the homeless.” Massie shrugged, scooping Bean from the floor. “Your mom let me in.” She glare-nodded at Claire’s flip-flops. “How were your plans?”
“They were”—Claire started carefully—“okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly removed her foam shoes. Her feet were still slick with sweet almond massage oil. She wiped her smooth soles on the floor, as if trying to destroy the evidence of her fun afternoon.
Claire studied Massie for a second. Her lips were practically reflective, like they had a protective shell.
“I missed you. We all did.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly true. But Claire had to believe that deep, deep, deeeeeeeep down, the other girls missed Massie too.
Massie’s face seemed to soften slightly.
“You know, it’s not too late to—”
“I already told you.” Massie’s features hardened faster than quick-drying nail polish. “Elastic is for Lululemon.” She reglossed. Claire could almost see her reflection in Massie’s lips. “It’s time to choose.”
“Choose?” Claire squawked.
Massie nodded slowly. “PC or MAC?”
Bean barked once.
“Um, what’s MAC again?” Claire stalled.
“Massie and Claire,” she said flatly.
“What about Kristen? And, you know, the crew?”
“What’s it gonna be?” Massie hissed at Claire’s pearly toes, ignoring the question.
“Neither!” Claire collapsed back onto her duvet and stared up at the glow-in-the dark stars plastered to her ceiling. “I mean, I’m not choosing. I can be friends with you both.”
“Won’t work,” Massie retorted. “Do you think Courtney Cox Arquette is friends with Brad and Angie?” She dropped Bean to the floor.
Alicia’s voice echoed in Claire’s head. She bolted upright.
“I’ll pull a Tim Gunn,” Claire insisted. “I’ll make it work.”
“Trust me. You can’t.” Without even looking in Claire’s direction, she headed for the door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And don’t come crying to me when your PC crashes.” She stormed out.
Bean lifted her tiny nose in the air and followed.
Claire tasted pennies. She couldn’t let Massie walk out on her twice in one day. “Wait!” she said desperately, rushing toward the door. She tripped over her Keds, jamming her big toe into the doorframe.
“Owwww!” she yelped, hopping up and down on one foot. Downstairs, the slam of the front door told her Massie was gone. Pain shot through Claire’s toe, all the way to her heart.
Collapsing in defeat on the floor, she examined the wound. Her toe was red and throbbing, and her pedicure was ruined. Just like her afternoon.