Here I Go Again: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

plan ever.
    Nicole’s definitely getting lines on her forehead, and the parentheses on either side of her mouth are starting to deepen. I keep trying to drag her to my aesthetician, but she claims she wants to “age gracefully” and “set an example” for her children. But the only example she’s setting is what happens to a grape when you let it dry out in the sun. I mean, look at my mother! She’s pushing sixty, yet everyone routinely mistakes us for sisters. (I’m far less thrilled about this than she is, by the way.)
    Nicole tucks a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and glances over at me. “Bobby’s had a fishing trip with his brothers planned forever, so I didn’t want him to cancel once we set the reunion date. Besides, it’s not like he went to school with us or knows many of our people. I figured he’d be happier at the lake. He just called and he told me the walleye are practically jumping in the boat—”
    I begin to paw through Nicole’s bag. “Guest list in here?”
    Nicole cuts her eyes back to the road and, if I’m not mistaken, seems suddenly anxious. “Um, why don’t we just enjoy the scenery?”
    I’m supposed to enjoy . . . what? All the smokestacks and water towers? The stately Sanitary and Ship Canal, which is the preferred body dump for local mobsters and drug lords? Billboards advertising paternity tests and personal injury attorneys? To my left, there’s a crumbling hospital for poor people, and to the right, an abandoned warehouse.
    “I-55 is universally known as the armpit of Illinois. What aren’t you telling me, Nicole?” Not waiting for an answer, I dig around until I find the list and begin to scan as Nicole suddenly becomes very interested in the traffic.
    Who’s worth speaking to on here? Looks like NoCoup.com’s Brian Murphy’s most likely a no, which completely bites. Approaching him about business tonight would have been way less formal than going through his assistant. Not impossible, by any means, but definitely a wrench in the works. And what if we find we still like each other? A corporate boardroom’s decidedly less flirty than the flattering light of a ballroom and the lure of an open bar.
    None of the rest of the Belles is coming, either. No huge loss there. Kimmy kind of hasn’t been reasonable since I went to Puerto Rico with her boyfriend Chet back in the late nineties. I told her he was cheating on her. She didn’t believe me, so it was my job to prove it. Six times in one long weekend I proved it! (Would have been more if he hadn’t chugged all that watermelon sangria on our last night there.) Yet when I related this information she acted like I was the bad person in this scenario.
    God, some people can’t appreciate the lengths I go to in the name of friendship.
    April was unforgivably bitch-panicky after I kidnapped her and brought her to the Derek Lam sample sale. I mean, her Nana’s not that old. She’ll have plenty of other ninetieth birthday parties, and how often is there a sample sale of that magnitude in Chicago? (A lot less often, I’d imagine.)
    And Tammy? I did her a massive favor when I changed her dress order. She would not have looked back on those pumpkin-colored nightmares fondly, let me tell you. Plus, I suspect she was putting us in them on purpose so she’d look better next to us. That shade of orange is a blonde’s worst nightmare, so clearly I had no choice if I didn’t want to be forever pasty in her wedding photo album. Yet you fix someone’s bridesmaid dresses and they shit all over you.
    And please, like the bitch wouldn’t have done the same thing to me. She spent her whole high school career trying to oust me as leader; why would my wedding have been any different?
    Whatever. I’m glad they’re not coming. The Belles are supposed to be my ladies-in-waiting and not just a group of thirty-something women who tend to shout at me.
    Lots of people I Googlestalked have RSVP’d yes, though. I might not land them