bed, giant-screen TV, French doors leading out to her own private balcony. It was glorious.
SondraBeth hovered while Pandy unpacked, talking a mile a minute about how she’d gone to a spa in Switzerland and how Pandy should go, too. Pandy went into the bathroom to change into her bathing suit; when she came out, she found SondraBeth lounging by a small pool that was set into an incongruous patch of hardy green grass. SondraBeth had removed her blousy cover-up to reveal a string bikini. As Pandy went to lie down in the chaise next to her, she took a good look at SondraBeth and gasped.
“You’ve lost weight!” Pandy exclaimed.
“Can you tell?” SondraBeth asked proudly.
“You’re so…skinny,” Pandy said cautiously. She snuck another look at SondraBeth’s slim physique and wondered if she’d had something done to her thighs and stomach; liposuction perhaps.
“Come on, Peege,” SondraBeth said lightly. “You’d weigh exactly the same if you were a couple of inches taller.”
“You know that’s not true—”
SondraBeth shot Pandy a warning look. “I have to be thin. To play Monica. It’s part of the job. If I gain two pounds, the wardrobe people are all over me. They get really pissed off if they have to keep altering the clothes. They said I have to weigh myself every morning. If I gain a pound, it means I’m supposed to skip dinner.”
“What?” Pandy screamed. “That’s outrageous. This is Monica, not Dickens. Maybe I can call someone.”
“Who?” SondraBeth grinned playfully. “PP? He’s a man. All he cares about are the numbers. He’s probably the one who came up with the idea.”
“That’s terrible, Squeege.”
“That’s the business.” SondraBeth rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. She turned her head and looked over at Pandy, her eyes a startling green. “Besides, it’s not that bad. Not for me, anyhow. I’m like a racehorse; I like being in shape, and I like winning.”
“Ha!” Pandy said.
“In any case, I’m not going to apologize for having a good body,” SondraBeth continued, pulling herself forward and leaning over the edge of the chaise. She stared down into the turf. “People are always telling women to lose weight, and then when they do, other women attack them for it. It isn’t fair.”
SondraBeth picked at a short blade of grass. “This whole weight thing is like a conspiracy against women.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Pandy made her fingers into a talking puppet shape, then made the puppet try to bite SondraBeth’s nose.
SondraBeth swept this aside like an annoying fly. She rolled onto her back and gazed at a cloud. “Seriously, Peege. If every woman exercised, just a little, and ate healthy, there would be no need for diet products. And who do you think is getting rich from those diet products? Men.”
SondraBeth suddenly sat up. “Ohmigod. Did I tell you about Doug Stone?”
“What?” Pandy squeezed a tube of sunscreen too hard, causing a glob of lotion to shoot out and land on her thigh. “Did you see him? In Europe?”
“No. But somebody else did.” SondraBeth’s eyes narrowed. “You remember that girl? That other girl.”
Pandy shook her head.
“You know, the actress? The one who wanted to play me? I mean, Monica. And then I got the part?”
“Lala Grinada?” Pandy gasped.
“That’s the bitch. Well, she must really hate you, because guess who’s been seen all over Paris with Drug Stoner?”
“Lala Grinada?”
“You got it, sista.”
“Oh.” Pandy listlessly rubbed the sun cream into her skin, trying to digest this information. She lay back and sighed. Doug had been too good to be true after all. “I guess that explains it, then. He’s with Lala Grinada.” She sighed dramatically and got up to pour herself another glass of rum punch from the pitcher in the refrigerator. “Meanwhile, I am once again alone. And fat. Because I was so upset when Drug Stoner dumped me, I ate ice cream with whipped cream five nights in a row. And that was after the pepperoni pizza!” she shouted through the kitchen island to SondraBeth.
“I hate her!” SondraBeth shouted back. “I hate her for what she’s done to you.”
“Her?” Pandy asked, strolling back outside. “What about him? He’s the one who swore he’d never be with another actress again.”
SondraBeth raised one eyebrow. “Obviously, he lied. Fucker.” She held up her empty cup for a refill.
“Dickwad,” Pandy seconded, taking the cup and returning to the kitchen for the pitcher. It felt good to swear; to be juvenile in the face of rejection. Indeed, it felt so good that she had to do it again. “Rotten