Killing Monica Read Free

the couch. “I have an announcement—”
    “You have a new boyfriend!” Amanda gasped.
    For a moment, Pandy put her face in her hands. Then she climbed onto the couch, standing precariously with one foot on the cushion and one foot on the arm for balance. As she was climbing, she noticed that the sun was about to set.
    “Hello! Over here!” she said, waving her arms. Most of the women were no longer paying attention.
    “Hello! Me here. Wanting to say something!”
    Suzette heard her voice, turned around, and shushed the crowd. “Our hostess wants to say something.”
    “Hey, Pandy’s talking.”
    “Be po lite .”
    As the noise level dropped, Pandy was quite sure she heard the words “needs Botox” and “still totally naïve about Jonny,” although not necessarily in that order. Then Angie handed her an open bottle of champagne, and Pandy took a swig and gave it back. She touched her mouth with her fingertips.
    “I have an announcement,” she repeated, scanning the room. Everyone was listening now. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re all here. You all know how much I love you!”
    “Awww.”
    “We love you, too, Goobers.”
    Pandy bowed her head in thanks, waiting for them to settle down.
    “I want to thank all of you for coming. Because this is a celebration. A celebration of not only moving forward, but also of letting go of the past.” Pandy glanced back at the billboard. The sun had set, and for the moment, Monica had disappeared.
    “One of the things I learned during this divorce,” Pandy continued, “is that I probably never should have gotten married in the first place. But then my insecurities got the better of me. No matter how stupid it is, if you’ve never been married, it’s all you can think about. It’s always there, in the back of your mind: ‘What’s wrong with me? How come no one’s ever wanted me ?’ And it’s important not to get caught up in society’s expectations—”
    “Cock in the bedroom!” someone shouted.
    Pandy laughed. “In any case, what I’ve realized is that I have to grow up. Which means I can’t keep on being Monica.”
    “Oh, go on,” Nancy hooted. “You are Monica.”
    Pandy shook her head. “Not anymore. I don’t want to be. Partly because if I stay like Monica, I’m going to end up with another Jonny.”
    “Forget about Jonny. You were too good for him.”
    “Men will be lining up to meet you. You’ll see,” Suzette cackled.
    “No.” Pandy playfully pointed her finger at Suzette. “They line up to meet you . But that’s sort of the problem. If you have a man, great. But it shouldn’t have to be about men. And we already know this . But sometimes it takes getting divorced to learn that lesson all over again.”
    Pandy’s mouth was suddenly dry. She motioned to Angie for the bottle. While she drank, she heard Brittney ask, “Did Jonny really have fourteen suitcases full of knives?”
    “Shhhh,” Nancy said.
    “And so,” Pandy said quickly, “I will keep this short. I do have a new book coming out, and it is not about Monica. It’s what I’m calling a ‘me’ book. Meaning it’s the book I’ve always wanted to write, and I’ve finally taken the chance to write it. I hope you’re not disappointed. About Monica.” She paused. “And the fact that I definitely don’t have a new man—”
    “We’re almost out of champagne!” Portia screamed as if a nuclear bomb were about to go off.
    “Music!” Meghan shouted. “What happened to the music?”
    Pandy picked up her sequined top hat and placed it on her head. As she turned to step off the couch, the lights that bathed Monica’s image every evening at eight p.m. sharp suddenly flooded her face.
    Pandy took a step backward. The heel of her shoe caught in one of the tears in the cracked leather.
    She went down.

C HAPTER T WO
    E YES FIRMLY shut, Pandy rolled over, determined not to face what she knew was out there: the light.
    The morning . Why, oh why