Not the Marrying Kind(8)
“Got it. Big party. I’ll tell her.”
“I’ll come meet her—”
“No.”
Lou finally picked up on the Don’t jerk me around intonation, and nodded. “Okay. But this party has to be mega.” He threw his arms wide. “I want the whole goddamn town to know nobody gets to stick it to Lou Robinson.”
“Leave it to me—”
“I need closure.” Lou gripped Beck’s arm in a surprisingly strong grasp for a near-teetotaler who’d downed three quarters of a bottle of whiskey. “You’ll take care of this, right?”
Casting a dubious glance at the website, Beck nodded.
“You know what you need?” Lou jabbed a finger at the website. “The opposite of this.”
Beck had to drag Lou to the elevator. Fast.
“You need a wife.” Lou grinned like he’d single-handedly solved the world’s El Niño crisis. “Those investors think Blackwood Enterprises is trash? Show them you’re not.”
The fact his inebriated friend had inadvertently echoed his irrational thoughts from earlier didn’t help Beck’s mood.
“Yeah, maybe I should ask this divorce party chick for marital advice or a fixup.”
“Can’t be any worse than this morning.” Lou winced. “Smug bastards. Hate uptight pricks like that.”
Beck couldn’t agree more.
“Maybe the divorce diva runs a dating site, too?” Lou snapped his fingers. “Instant wifey.”
“You’re insane.”
Besides, Beck had already thoroughly researched the diva and she didn’t moonlight as a matchmaker. Her terse reply to his email summons had made him laugh. What did she think, that he’d go into a face-to-face consult unprepared? Would be interesting what she came up with when he confronted her. Would she scuttle him with BS or tell the truth?
“Drunk and insane,” Beck amended.
“You have to admit, the chick has style.” Lou chuckled as he scanned the diva’s website and Beck couldn’t help but take a look. The fact that she’d made him laugh with her first blog entry? A one-off.
BURN BABY BURN
The physical fallout from a marriage break-up can be the pits. Reminders of your ex everywhere you turn, from old razors lurking in bathroom cabinets to slash unsuspecting fingers, to ratty T-shirts with obnoxious slogans you once tolerated all in the name of love (barf!).
He snickered.
Divorce Diva Daily’s advice today is “Burn, baby, burn.”
A burning ceremony can be cathartic. You may like to burn:
Your marriage certificate
A list of things you won’t miss (e.g., remote control hogging, snoring, neuroses á la “Do I look fat in this?”, make-up remnants from the sixties, etc.)
Photos
A replica of the ex’s privates
All of the above
A burning ritual signifies letting go, a proactive way to move on. And if you can’t burn, flushing or shredding works just as effectively.
Beck found himself grinning inanely and Lou sniggered.
She’d done it again. Made him laugh. Something he didn’t do much of these days.
It made him all the more curious about the woman who’d answered his email. He had no idea if Poppy Collins was the divorce diva or an underling, but considering she’d be in his office in an hour, he’d soon find out. Everyone had a weak spot.
He’d learned that the hard way. It was why he abhorred weakness of any kind, why he’d developed a hard outer shell by the time he hit preschool. Being raised by Pa had toughened him, but he had his absentee parents to thank for teaching him the art of indifference from an early age.
Before they shot up and killed themselves, that is.
“If she’s this cool in real life, my party’s going to rock.” Lou swiped his finger across the smartphone, squinting his eyes to read the fine print. “Did you see the links to high-profile business mags and journals? Even CBS Los Angeles reported divorce parties are the latest, greatest thing.”
“Saw that. Also saw the part where it said divorce party planners are doing brisk business and raking in healthy profits.”
“You’re a cynic.” Lou glanced up, the hint of vulnerability in his blurry eyes making Beck feel like a bastard.
Lou was going through a rough time. The least he could do was be supportive.
Who knew misery paid? These parties may be about consoling and support and celebrating a new life phase, but to Beck, they reeked of sadness and bitterness and anger. Then again, Lou had been moping around, his mind not one hundred percent focused on work, so if this dumb divorce party purged his blues, Beck was all for it.
“Pays to be cautious, my friend.”
“Bet you researched this diva.” Lou snorted. “You vet everybody.”