The Club Read Free

seconds before being attacked by the rabid hounds. I can see that tonight
that is me. I have to assume the bags under my eyes and blank stare on my face
is what is keeping them from coming over tonight.
    Tapping my
finger against the table, munching on the nachos we always order, my brain is
wracked wondering where the heck Bec is.
    Just as I think
it, she finally strolls in, throwing her briefcase down. As always, she looks
like a scattered hot mess. The sweat on her brow suggests she might have
actually run here. Her clothes are disheveled and she is panting. “Sorry I’m
late! There was no parking so I ran two blocks. I need to start working out.”
She holds her chest as she downs the martini I ordered for her.
    “You need to
stop driving so much. Your parking bills are a family’s grocery bill, be
honest. Who in New York drives?”
    She flips her
dark shiny hair. “I’m from Brooklyn, we drive. How was the rest of your day?”
she asks through her drink glass as she tips it back, finishing it, and holding
her hand in the air for another.
    “Evan and
Daisy are having a baby.” I blurt out, looking down.
    “Holy crap!
Seriously?” She grips my arm, clenching her jaw tight and looking at me wide
eyed.
    “Yes.” I
whimper, guzzling my drink back and pointing at her. “I don’t want to talk
about it anymore—I signed the papers today. I just wanted to say it out
loud once, just to hear how it sounded.”
    “You need to
get laid.”
    The comment
makes me laugh. “Yeah, and then maybe I can tell them my sob story.” I glance
around the bar. “I think I'd be in good company in here, maybe we can swap sad
stories.”
    “No, you need
to get nasty fucked, like really dirty sex with a complete stranger. None of
the suits in here.”
    I almost reach
for her face to shut her up before the skeezy singles hear her comment. “No!”
    She cocks a
perfect eyebrow at me. “You are only thirty-five and your tits look twenty. You
do yoga and run every friggin’ day like a psycho. You are way hotter than
dipshit Daisy. You have the softest, silky blond hair and those natural curls
are like winning the hair lottery. You have green eyes—who even has those
for real? Honestly. You are a total package. You can’t let that go to waste.
You’re beautiful and successful and funny and you deserve to moan and groan a
little.”
    I roll my
eyes. “Oh my God, what does that even have to do with them being pregnant?”
    “You need to
get back out there while you’re still sexy and young.”
    Her comment is
similar to Lance’s. “Thirty-five isn’t ancient.”
    “How long has
it been, Han?” She tilts her head, ready for a horrid answer.
    There is a
small moment I contemplate lying—it’s fleeting and instantly shot down by
the fact she will know I’m lying, which has the potential to look more pathetic
than just telling the truth. “A year and a half.” I cover my face and wait for
her to freak out at me.
    “What? A year
and half, Hannah?” she shouts, looking flabbergasted and somehow making me feel
even worse. It’s as if her shouting it out makes the time somehow longer. Like
she shouted decades and my vagina has become a dusty old cave.
    I am about to
freak out as she fails to recover from the shock. I grab her arm, gritting my
teeth together. “Keep your voice down.”
    “Girl, a year
and half!” She attempts to lower her voice, scanning the area to see if anyone
heard her. Thankfully, it’s too noisy in here. “You gotta fix that. Just pick
the cutest guy in here and go home with him. Let him fuck your brains out and
then move on. You might be a virgin again for all you know.”
    I sigh. “Stop.
I’m not doing that. I was serious about sex when I said I do to Evan. I never
took it lightly before I got married and I wont now.”
    “Hannah, you
can’t let this go. You’ll forget how to do it. This isn’t the fucking nineties
anymore. Bitches are doing some real circus shit out there trying to get a