Gorilla Beach Read Free Page A

other’s hair out next.
    Donna pounded on the table and screamed, “More champagne!” like the Italian-American princess version of Henry VIII. Bella glanced around, looking for a cocktail waitress or a bartender. None in sight.
    Donna’s attention swiveled to Maria. “So tell us about the wedding. Did you arrange the tables like I told you to? I hope youdidn’t seat me with Annette Camponati, because I freakin’ hate that backstabbing bitch.”
    Maria said, “You and Annette are on opposite sides of the room. I did everything like you said.”
    Bella and Gia made eye contact. Maria seemed afraid of this Donna person. Bella felt intimidated by her, too, and she was no quivering violet. Bella could make brown-belted juiceheads quake at her karate-sparring gym. But Donna had a fearsome presence. Bella shuddered, imaging what it’d be like to get on her bad side.
    Had Donna pressured Maria to make the physical changes to fit into their crew? Bella would never change herself for anyone. Sure, she’d had her boobies done, but she did that for herself. The Girls had been her twenty-first-birthday present to herself. If anyone had told her to do it, she’d’ve been dead set against it.
    Gia, apparently, didn’t feel intimidated by Donna. “Where’re the male strippers? This is a bachelorette party. Don’t tell me the closest thing we have to a hot gorilla is that tin-plated kiddie ride over there.”
    â€œAre you saying I don’t know how to make a party for my friend?” Donna’s blue eyes flared.
    â€œNo offense to you. But this club sucks. You can’t dance to this country crap. The bottles are kicked. No hot boys. Let’s go to Karma to dance. We’ll torpedo the place.”
    â€œWe can dance to this!” Donna said. “Come on. I’ll show you.” She gestured for all the women to follow her to the dance floor. “Get in lines,” she demanded.
    â€œStand in a line—on purpose? Is this the DMV?” asked Gia.
    â€œDo it!”
    The cousins got on line with the others. Donna stood in front and tried to teach the ladies some country shitkicker moves.
    Gia and Bella could not follow. Bella’s body simply would not do-si-do. The entire experiment was a do-see-don’t. Bella zoned out, barely paying attention, while the other women mimickedDonna’s steps. Bella’s mind drifted back home, to her mom’s face when she practically pushed Bella out the door. She hadn’t wanted to leave her mom. There was too much to do, and Bella had been the coper in the house all year. Along with powering through her classes at NYU, Bella cared for her mom after the uterine-cancer diagnosis. Bella filled out the health insurance forms and made the chemo appointments. She held her mom’s hand, cleaned up after her, kept the house in order, cooked their meals. Her dad? Where the hell was he during all this? He bailed. He let them all down. A bitterness rose in Bella’s throat at the memory of her father, slumped in the living room armchair at home, refusing to help Mom climb the stairs after a chemo treatment.
    No, thought Bella. Do not go there. You’re supposed to be having fun.
    Bella grabbed Gia’s wrist and pulled her out of the line, saying, “We have to use the bathroom.”
    They ran toward the restroom sign, and down a short hallway farther back into the club. Bella said, “Holy shit! Maria drank Donna’s Kool-Aid.”
    â€œIt’s like she’s a completely different person,” agreed Gia.
    â€œWe have to do something.” Bella punched open the door marked with a cowgirl silhouette.
    The room was dark. Bella groped for the light switch, turned it on, and saw a man sitting in one of the stalls, the door wide-open, his eyes wild as if he’d been caught stealing.
    Or whatever else he might be doing in the ladies’ restroom. By himself. Alone. In the