One of the catering staff comes around with a tray full of champagne flutes, which I take despite the time of day. I take a calming swig from the glass, eyeing the other wives, clustered together like a high school clique simultaneously smiling and shooting daggers at each other.
They all look vaguely plastic. It’s really the only word I can think of, looking at the lot of them. Hell, they’re all dressed the same, in exactly the same yoga pants, stiletto heels, and Balmain jacket combo like it’s some sort of uniform I didn’t get the memo about. I’m almost suddenly self conscious about the far more formal outfit I’m wearing until I take another large swallow of champagne and decide I don’t care.
These women are all the same sort of girl as the lovely Tina - vapid, social climbers and party girls all looking for the next big fish to land.
I grimace as I realize that for all intents and purposes, I am that girl now.
Gross.
I quickly knock back the rest of the bubbly in my hands, smiling at the waiter who comes by with a tray as I replace it with a full one.
“So, Nat is it?”
I turn to see the flock of plastic-looking wives approaching me as a group, a woman with pink highlights, dagger-red nails, and a diamond nose stud at their helm as they collectively size me up with little sneers on their faces.
Except, same as with Tina, I’ve played this game before. I’ve had years of practice tactfully dealing with catty girls and cliquey bullshit like this. And besides, I’ve got a secret weapon here.
I don’t give a shit about any of this.
Judge away, you crows.
I smile plastically right back at pink highlights girl and her gaggle of gold-digger shrews. They can honestly make whatever judgments they want about who I am, what I’m wearing - any of it. Because in six months, I walk away from all this, and they’ll still be here harping on each other on the sidelines.
“Natalie, or Nat,” I say evenly, smiling thinly at the front girl.
“Virginity, hi.”
I almost choke on my champagne.
“Uh, hi.”
She taps the side of her glass with a long, sharp red nail as she raises a brow at me. “Wow, so, Austin Taylor huh?”
The plastic crew behind her all follow her lead, raising eyebrows and looking at me with a sort of appreciation.
What, are they impressed?
The answer is of course yes, with the whole group of them eyeing me with what now looks like envy and reverence, all because of the “big star” I’ve “managed to land.”
“How’d you manage that, sweetie?” Virginity lets her gaze drop to my apparently non-union Chanel skirt, her manicured brow arching dramatically.
I want to roll my eyes. Or puke. Or tell them to spend one night in that man’s house and realize what a ridiculous man-child he is. I want to tell them I don’t care about any of this and that I’m just here for the money, before I almost laugh, realizing that probably is exactly the situation of every other woman here.
And of course, I’m here to play the role I’m supposed to play, as much as I want to do all of the above.
I push all of it to the side as I calmly smile at them, batting my eyes and playing the part. “Oh, well, you know,” I brush a stray lock of hair behind my hair with a nail, “he’s a great guy, and I just fell in love with-”
Virginity starts to giggle, followed quickly by her whole crew, and I frown.
She quickly puts a hand on my arm, shaking her head. “Oh, honey, no offense meant.” She shakes her head sympathetically as the rest of the wives laugh behind her.
“You can drop the act though, the cameras are on the boys now, not us.”
I furrow my brow, quickly taking a sip of champagne. “Oh, I’m not-”
“Right, true love?” Virginity rolls her eyes as she grins at me. “You found true love with a man-child who hits other guys for a living and spends his nights banging as many skanks as possible, right? Just like every little girl’s dream?”
My jaw drops a little as her whole demeanor changes from frosty-cold alpha-chick to smiling and putting an arm around my shoulders.
“Welcome to the jaded wives club, sweetie,” she says with a laugh, nodding at the other women in our little cluster. “Population, us.”
She shrugs. “We all knew what we were getting into, it just goes with the territory.” She nods at a woman with perfect braids and long dark lashes. “Lana here is on her fourth.”
Lana shrugs. “I’ve only had to fuck Josh three times, and we’ve been married six months now.”
She says it like a brag, nodding to whoever Josh is out there on the field amongst the grunting, tackling men.
“Honey, it’s the life.” Virginity shrugs. “Get paid, girl. Work what you got, right?”