I DO

I knew it was her because my cell plays Heart’s “Barracuda” when she calls. I was so relaxed laying on the grass and watching Polly so I let it go to message twice. The third time I decided to answer and get it over with because I was starting to feel like I was at my high school prom.

“Fuck!”

“Sweet. Glad I answered.”

“IT”S ME YOU FUCKING QUEEN!”

I could tell she was in full Medea mode. This was the part of her Latin Heritage that led the Inquisition. Since the wedding plans were announced, every hitch had become an innocent Catholic waiting to be slaughtered. I watched Polly chase one of the other dogs then suddenly stop as if she couldn’t remember what she was doing.

“I need a fucking joint” I heard her hiss into the phone.

The last time she got stoned, she ended up pinning a curtain around her and calling it The Dress. Granted it got her noticed but it took alot of wrangling to get Donatella to change the Target label to Versace. No, getting stoned was not the answer. Indeed, it got her into this mess to begin with.

“Maybe you should go for a drive” I offered.

”Oh yeah, dodging photographers on the PCH makes for a real siesta. Are you on fucking drugs?”

Hmmm. Better slide past that one. “How was The Ivy last night?”

“The worst. My Caesar sucked and Ben was twitching like a Secret Service agent. Better than he ever did in a movie, you know.”

One of the greatest things about the Dog Park is when the sun is setting and lights the hills around you. Just like now and shade covers everything. I’m here reclining on the grass while I imagine her on the other end laying across her Pratessi sheets, minions peeking from around the edges of curtains while speaking in hushed tones. Anastasia would be waxing her eyebrows, Orbibe would be doing her hair. A bronzed muscled lackey would be taking a sharp knife and carefully cutting four small incisions in a green seedless grape before gently removing the skin.

“Well what am I going to do?” she moaned.

“Oh, here. Let me consult my portable Ouija board.”

“Hugh! Honey...” Now she was pulling out the Big Guns. “Honey” was the first step, especially when she’d dig up some “On The Block” accent. “Haw-ney, can’t we just have the whole thing there?”

“At my apartment?! Come on, I have to clean and I don’t have fresh flowers and Polly...”

“Well duh. We already have all these fucking flowers which are dying right now! It’ll be fast, I promise. I’ll have Tom Ford whip up a ring carrier for Polly. He’s here now. It’ll be sweet.”

Polly was ready to leave, sitting patiently by my side and watching me talk on the phone. I pictured her in some fab little Gucci halter. Black leather. No, too butch. Leather and rhinestones.

“Well... ok. But tell him leather and rhinestones. And this is the last time I’m doing this.”

“I know Haw-ney.”

Ugh. “Ok, I’m leaving the Dog Park now.”

“Ok baby. We’re here already. Hey, do you have any more Xanax?”

I closed the phone and looked to Polly. “C’mon, P-Lo. Let’s go make some headlines.”

12:28:15 PM    sro home /