Poor Little Bitch Girl Read Free

friends for long. I was never cool enough for her – too work-oriented and different for her tastes. Her deal was trolling up and down Melrose Avenue and Robertson Boulevard searching for the new hot bag or the latest cool jeans, and that was hardly my scene. Even if I’d wanted to, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to afford the Maestro Princess lifestyle. In fact, it was a relief when Annabelle had started ignoring me and hanging out with a group of similarly rich girls with equally famous parents.
    Losing Annabelle’s friendship was no big deal. My mom was relieved; she’d never much liked Annabelle or all the things her family represented. Fame. Vast wealth. The full Beverly Hills scene. Mom was happier when I teamed up with Carolyn Henderson – a brainy kid whose father was a plastic surgeon, and whose mother worked in real estate. As soon as Carolyn graduated college she scored a job as an intern in Washington. She is currently personal assistant to Senator Gregory Stoneman. We are still close friends, even though we live in different cities. We keep in touch on a regular basis, although it isn’t always easy as we’re both major busy. Thank God for e-mailing and texting.
    This year, Carolyn has promised to make it out to L.A. for Christmas, in spite of a workload that makes me look like a slacker, and believe me, I am no slouch.
    I can’t wait to spend time with her, especially as we both recently broke up with our significant others, which means we’ll have plenty to talk about. Carolyn dumped her boyfriend, Matt, because she caught him cheating – which came as no surprise to anyone. Matt was an up-and-coming political journalist who everyone (except apparently Carolyn) knew had a major zipper problem.
    My break-up was a different story. Josh – a successful sports doctor – left me . He complained that I put work first and that he’d had it with always coming second.
    On reflection I have to admit that he was right, or maybe I simply didn’t love him enough.
    Josh and I were together three years, so the break-up came as kind of a jolt, but I’m not heartbroken. I have to admit that I do miss our Sundays devouring the newspapers in our sweats, taking long vigorous hikes up Malibu Canyon, watching Entourage and Dexter on TV, and gorging on my favorite Chinese food straight from the cartons.
    I do not miss the sex. Like most relationships it started off incredibly raunchy and hot, but after six months it had turned into kind of boring comfortable sex.
    Where did all the passion go? Hey, I’m no expert, but I did experience a couple of sizzling affairs in college – one with a married professor, and one with a major jock. Both times the sex was mind-blowing, so I certainly know the difference. Although sleeping with a married man on the side is not for me. Too many lies and complications.
    Sometimes I think our dog, Amy Winehouse, misses Josh more than I do. We came across Amy – a mixed breed – wandering on Venice Beach, lost and filthy, so we took her home and named her after my favorite singer because of her throaty growl that emulated Amy’s lowdown, sexy voice.
    When Josh left, I inherited Amy. “No visitation rights,” I informed him coldly, although what I really wanted to say was, “Piss off, asshole, you’re dumping me .”
    Josh gave me attitude about the dog – but hey, if he wanted out that’s exactly what he’d get. Out. Gone. History. I don’t believe in dragging things along; when something’s over, it’s best to make a clean break.
    This time, my mom was not happy. She was fond of Josh, as were the rest of my family, especially my three older brothers.
    Too bad. Josh was likeable as a friend, but he certainly wasn’t the man with whom I planned on spending the rest of my life.
    And who might that man be? Truth is, I haven’t found him yet, and the prospects in L.A. are hardly promising. The only men I meet are clients, and they’re usually married or gay. Then