Killing Monica - Candace Bushnell Page 0,35

silently and irrationally furious. SondraBeth, meanwhile, had recovered her equilibrium. She put on music, and she and Doug began to slow dance. Their focus on each other was so intense, it was like Pandy wasn’t even there.

Defeated, Pandy went into her room and slammed the door. She crawled into bed, bunching the pillow into her face to silence her fury. Once again, “Monica” had made her feel like she didn’t belong.

* * *

It seemed just moments later when she was awakened by a weight on her bed. She was too confused to scream, wondering if she’d dreamed it, and then she felt the tickle of Doug’s hair on her neck. “Pandy?” he whispered.

“Doug?”

He slipped under the covers next to her, holding a finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” he said. “Can I come in?”

She sat up, knocking her head against his. “Ow!”

“Sorry.” He giggled like they were two little kids under a tent.

“What happened to SondraBeth?” she hissed coldly.

“SondraBeth is sleeping.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just left her,” he chortled.

“What?”

“Passed out cold. She was snoring.”

“Did you just…” Pandy couldn’t say the words.

Doug began running his hands down her torso. “She never has to know,” he whispered. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

He slid down farther, pushing her legs apart. Pandy’s body betrayed her; she groaned in pleasure.

“Doug, please,” she moaned, tugging at his hair. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Why not?” he murmured.

The question caught her off guard. Why not indeed? she wondered, temporarily mesmerized by the reaction of her own body. So what if she gave in and had sex with Doug? Was that so very wrong?

“Forget about SondraBeth,” he murmured, crawling up her body to kiss her neck. “It was only a momentary thing. It lasted less than fifteen minutes.”

Pandy suddenly came to her senses. Doug was going to double-dip? He was going to have sex with both Monicas? In one night? And she was going to be second?

Never!

“Get off me!” she cried, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. He laughed and grabbed her leg, pulling her back.

“I mean it!” She slapped at him wildly.

“Come on, Pandy,” Doug crooned. “Don’t be so uptight. No one’s like that.”

Pandy kicked him away. “Well, I am.” She sat up and grabbed at the covers, clutching them to her chest.

Doug sat back on his heels. “You called me, remember? I thought this was what you wanted.”

Pandy could only stare at him in shock.

Doug reached for her again. “What’s the big deal? We’re only playing. You know, like in a scene.”

“A scene? You mean like acting?” Pandy gasped. “Is that all this is to you?”

“Of course,” he said, grinning cluelessly. “What did you think it was?”

Pandy reached back, grabbed a pillow, and flung it at his head.

The pillow landed at the edge of the bed. Pandy couldn’t take her eyes off it as it teetered for a moment, then slowly slid to the floor.

“Get out!” she hissed.

Doug put up his palms in surrender. “No problem. I get it. You’re crazy. All you women are fucking crazy.”

Pandy jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She sat on the toilet seat, pressing her face into her hands until she heard Doug’s footsteps cross the deck and go down the stairs. She went back to her bed and lay on her back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. What the hell? she thought. What the hell?

* * *

Pandy awoke at noon the next day. She felt ragged, torn, and feeble, like an old woman who was no longer in control of her world.

SondraBeth was on the deck, reading a script and nursing a Bloody Mary.

Pandy looked around. “Where’s Doug?”

“He went bonefishing.”

“Is that another one of your sick jokes?”

“My sick jokes?” SondraBeth asked, astounded.

“Doug came into my room last night.”

“So?” SondraBeth stared at her as if she didn’t understand. “You look like you need a Bloody Mary. Want me to make you one?”

“Doug came into my room last night,” Pandy repeated. “After he was with you.”

For a second, the aftermath of an emotion raced across SondraBeth’s face—anger, surprise, consternation?—before she opened her mouth. “Oh,” she said, and laughed.

“Oh?” Pandy demanded.

“Well.” She shrugged.

“How sick is that?”

“I don’t know.” SondraBeth smiled queasily.

“You don’t know?”

“Oh, Pandy.” She sighed. “I told him to.”

“You what?”

“I told him to,” she repeated. “I sent him to you. Like a present?”

“A present?”

“Why not? Share and share alike.” She went back to her screenplay. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” She glanced up at Pandy again. “How

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