Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 (7 page)

She was as beautiful as the last
time I’d seen her months ago, when she threw a glass of champagne in my face at
one of Henri
Dufort’s
parties.
 
I’d slapped her twice for that.
 
The press captured all of it and it made
Page Six
by morning.
 
Not
that I minded much.
 
In front of me,
she’d called Alex’s deceased wife a cunt.
 
She’d had it coming to her.
 

I watched as she looked at me,
absorbed me, dispensed with me, and then turned to Blackwell.
 
“Last minute shopping?” she asked.

“I don’t do last minute anything,”
Blackwell said.
 
“But I have to say,
Immaculata—I am surprised to see
you
here.”

“Why is that?”

“Perception.
 
I’ve always sensed that you were more of
a Macy’s kind of girl.”

“A what?”

“A girl who gravitates toward the
sort of bargains that particular shopping hellhole tosses like flies at their
customers’ feet.
 
I could close my
eyes right now and easily imagine you looking delighted while sifting through a
pauper’s bin of polyester separates.”

“I doubt that, darling.
 
Right now, I’m wearing Dior.”

“Wearing isn’t buying.”

“Oh, I’ll be buying.”

“You should rethink that, because
the French obviously hate you.
 
At
the very least, that dress should be concealing the extra ten pounds you’re
carrying.
 
But then, I guess that’s
what
Spanx
is for, isn’t it, darling?”

Immaculata swallowed that poison
pill like a glass of purified water, and I had to give it to her—she was
nothing if not cool.
 
Then she
looked at me.
 
“Oh,” she said.
 
“Jennifer Kent—and here at Barneys
before it opens.
 
Who would have
thought?”

“That would be Jennifer Wenn,
Immaculata.”

“
Ahh
,
right—who could forget your clever, covert wedding to Alex?”

“There was nothing clever or covert
about it.”

“From what I heard, it took place
in Alex’s office behind closed doors.”
 
She motioned toward Blackwell.
 
“And that this one married you.
 
All of it certainly sounds covert to me, Jennifer.
 
And the fact that you won him is nothing
if not clever given your basic roots.
 
But congratulations.
 
You
must be thrilled to have landed yourself Alexander Wenn.
 
It really is staggering, isn’t it?”

“What’s staggering?”

“How much you’ve come up in the
world in such a short period of time.
 
Think about it—from the pig farms of Maine to the penthouses of
Manhattan.”
 
She laughed.
 
“Ironically, that also could be the
title of your memoir.”

“At least I’ve lived a life that
could fill the pages of one, Immaculata.
 
Do you remember the first night we met—or were you too drunk to
remember it?”

“I never get drunk.”

“Then dementia obviously has
settled in, because otherwise you would have remembered it—and also
remembered what you said to me when I asked you what you did for a living.
 
All you had to offer was that you went
to parties, attended events, and sat on boards, and that you didn’t work
because you considered work a different sort of four-letter word.
 
What a life of riches you’ve led,
Immaculata.
 
What a bounty of embarrassments.”

“I’ll agree with the former, but
not with the latter, because I haven’t peaked yet.
 
That said, please give Alex my
best.
 
You know how close we were.
 
A kiss on the cheek would be lovely of
you.
 
Just whisper my name in his
ear when you do it.”

“And make him sick?”

“If he got sick, it would only be
because Wenn is about to go into the toilet.”

“Don’t place any bets on that
happening, darling.
 
Wenn will be
just fine.”

“Your optimism knows no
bounds.
 
Perhaps that’s why Alex
married you.”

“He married me because he fell in
love with me, something you’ve yet to come to terms with.”
 
I shrugged at her, and then glanced at
Blackwell.
 
“And when you think about
that, it really is kind of sad, isn’t it Barbara?”

“Tears are threatening to sting my eyes.”

“Talk to me about love in five
years,” Immaculata said.

“I could talk to you about love
right now, and but you’d only look as if I’d just struck you dumb with a brick.
 
So why bother?”

“Always so sharp.”

“Always so transparent.”

“So, let’s just get down to it,”
she said.
 
“I’m assuming you’re
going to
Dufort’s
party tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?
 
He’s a dear friend.
 
His father was Alex’s mentor.”

“You mean, after Alex’s father
killed his wife, and then himself?”

“That’s right.”

“And here I thought that you and
Alex would back out at the last minute, and stick your necks in the sand
because of the shame he’s brought upon Wenn.
 
So, lucky me—I get to see you
twice in one day.”

“And at the very place where I
first slapped you across the face—not that I’m above doing that
again.
 
How about if you and I make
some more memories tonight, Immaculata?
 
Why don’t you and I really have at it, and try for
Page Six
again?”

Before Immaculata could respond to
that,
Epifania
came around the corner in a white
dress that fit her so tightly, she looked like a stack of toilet paper that had
been plunged into a tub of water.
 
“
Epifania
go to party, too,” she said.
 
“And you know how
Epifania
get at the parties, everyone.
 
Epifania
bring the vroom, vroom, vroom!”

“Is this really happening?”
Blackwell said.
 
“Or have I somehow
died, and this is what a Mexican hell looks like?”

I looked at
Epifania
,
and I felt sorry for her.
 
She’d
always been kind to me, and she was a nice girl.
 
She was just in over her head in this
world, and people like Immaculata, who likely befriended her because of her
money, were determined to keep her clueless about how to behave in it.

“Barbara!”
Epifania
said as she walked toward us.
 
“How
you always look so pretty?”

Blackwell patted her bob.
 
“Wheatgrass,” she said.

“Wee-
Wha
?”

“Health foods,
Epifania
.
 
Ice.
 
Roughage.
 
Look into it.”

“How about the
Cheeken
Nugget?
 
Epifania
love the nugget—pink slime and all.
 
She no care.
 
Where
Epifania
come from, you eat every part of the animal, so
why not the beak, the eyeball, and the asshole, too?”

“
Epifania
!”
Immaculata scolded.

“Well, it true.
 
I haven’t gone belly up yet.”

“You should consider a more healthy
lifestyle,” Immaculata said.

“This from the woman whose head I
pulled out of a toilet last week.
 
Too
much of the Goose.
 
She got drunk,
but
Epifania
and Mama Guadalupe help her out, so it
all good—even when it was really bad.”

I watched the horrified expression
that overcame
Immaculata’s
face as
Epifania
extended her arms to Blackwell, apparently oblivious
to the tension thrumming between us.
 
“I didn’ know you come this morning,” she said to Barbara.
 
“What surprise.
 
It been too long.
 
Give
Epifania
a hug and a kiss.”

“I don’t hug.
 
I don’t kiss.
 
Ever.”

“Oh, come on.
 
That right.
 
Each cheek.
 
We all better, no?”

“We’re fine,
Epifania
.”

“Good, because I can tell you
this.
 
You never know which way fart
gonna blow when
Epifania
in the room.”
 

Blackwell blinked.
 
“What does that even mean?”

“You don’
wanna
find out.
 
Mama Guadalupe make the
beans for dinner last night.
 
I
still not past the rumbling.”

“Where is your mother now?”
Blackwell asked.

“She peeking up one of my messes.”

“You don’t say?”

“That what Mama Guadalupe paid to
do.
 
Good work if you can get it.”

“Can I ask you a question,
Epifania
?” said Blackwell.

“Sure.”

“Who picked that dress out for
you?”

“Immaculata.
 
She always have my back.”

“Or she’s stabbing it.”
 
Blackwell turned to Immaculata, who
suddenly looked on edge.
 
“You chose
this for her?”

“It’s one of many dresses I’ve
chosen for her.
 
This just happens
to be the one she’s trying on now.”

“I can only imagine what the others
look like.
 
So, why this one?”

“I actually think it flatters her.”

“You and I both know better, girl.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“When it comes to fashion, my opinion
rules in this city.”

“No ego there.”

“Oh, but it is there.
 
And it’s been well earned.
 
We’re about to see how powerful my
opinion is.”

“What going on between you two?”
Epifania
asked.
 
“You look like you going to get into a cock fight.
 
Epifania
see a
few of those.
 
They horrible.
 
The blood and the heads being hacked
off.
 
They suck the big time.”

“We’re just talking about deceit,
Epifania
,” Blackwell said.
 
“It’s nothing to worry about—and
certainly nothing I can’t handle.”

“OK.
 
Whatever.”
 
She turned to me, and when she did, it
was as if her face filled with light.
 
“And look who else is here, Immaculata.
 
Yennifer
Wenn!
 
She so pretty.
 
Always so pretty.
 
You know,
Yennifer
,
I see you on the TV last night.
 
You
going through the hell right now, and
Epifania
feel
bad about all of it.
 
Sorry,
cookie—but it sometime happen.
 
But, hey, you look more pretty now than you did on the TV, so, you know,
there’s that.
 
What you here for?”

“Things,” Blackwell said, obviously
wanting to put an end to this.
 
“It was
nice to see you,
Epifania
.
 
But, please, allow me to do you the
favor Immaculata is denying you.”

“What favor?”

“Give some thought to that
dress.
 
The white doesn’t suit
you.
 
Dior is good for you because
Dior understands your curves, but my suggestion is that you go for black for a sleeker
look.
 
Straighten your hair.
 
Have your makeup done
professionally.
 
And don’t listen to
a word Immaculata says about any of it, because she’s not your friend.
 
You may think that she is, but she
isn’t.
 
She’s probably only using
you for your money.”

“Excuse me?” Immaculate said.

Blackwell ignored her.
 
“That’s all for now,” she said to
Epifania
.
 
“But
heed my advice.
 
When Chloe is
finished with us, seek her out to help you find the right dress.”
 
Blackwell looked at Chloe, who had
remained silent on the sidelines throughout all of this.
 
“You
will
help her, won’t you,
Chloe?”