Halfway into the rebuke, Jinx began to shake her head. “Men do it for sex. Not because they were dumped or feelingless desirable or anything else. It's just for the sex, sex, and more sex.”
“So you're saying a woman can't be motivated by the same physical need,” Sutton challenged.
“I didn't say that explicitly,” Jinx argued. “I believe a woman can be motivated by sex. No doubt. But the predicating factoris almost always something else. We're complicated creaturesthat way.”
Finn threw himself into the middle of the melee. “You've positioned yourself as the Jedi Master of thriving after a breakup.What kind of training do you have?”
Jinx gave him a shrewd smile. “I've been through my fair share of breakups, if that's what you're asking.”
“That's precisely what I'm asking,” Finn said.
“It took many breakups to develop the insight to write this book,” Jinx admitted. “Many
bad
breakups.”
“Anyone we might know?” Finn inquired.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Jinx said silkily. “But I'll never say who.” She zeroed in on Emma. “Ms. Ronson, you're uncharacteristically quiet. Has this subject touched a nerve?”
Like a cat sensing danger, Emma lengthened her spine. “I'm just curious. And I'm sure our viewers are as well. What would you say are the telltale signs of being over an ex?”
Jinx appeared to savor the question. “The surest sign is to see him with someone else and not feel ...
tortured
. That must be particularly difficult in your case. I imagine the intensemedia coverage of Dean Paul Lockharts's romance with Tilly Winston came at a time when you were still reeling.”
Finn saw Emma's face turn ashen. In a pathetic way, he could relate. Hearing Benji speak of Dean Paul's dalliance with the rock chick blonde had done quite a number on him. And seeing it happen with his very own eyes had done yet another.
Don't be jealous. Who knows? Next time I cheat, maybe it'll be with you
.
The words were typical Dean Paul. He often talked smack without consideration for the potential impact. It had been a stupid joke, unintentionally cruel teasing, a flirtatious way to acknowledge that he knew about Finn's secret desires. And until last night, Finn had not realized how much he was truly longing for the fantasy to come true.
“That explains your career change,” Jinx was saying to Emma. “Women in the throes of a painful break will often do something drasticâchange jobs, change their lookâin the false hope that the external shake-up will somehow calm the internal feelings. But it rarely does. There's always the relief that distraction brings, but when the lights go down at night, there's no escaping the yearning for an ex.”
“Okay,” Emma snapped. “I get it.We're all hopelessly hung up on our exes and living in a constant state of delusion to think otherwise. Now that we've established that, tell me why anyone should go out and spend twenty-five dollars on your book.”
“There
are
some painful chapters to get through,” Jinx admitted.“But that's important self-assessment work that has to be done. It's the only way to grow.” She smiled a condescendingsmile. “There's also a complete guide to becoming your own girlfriend. If every woman would do that for herself, then the world would be a much happier place.”
“
Finding the Girlfriend Within
?” Finn asked in a mocking tone.
“Exactly,” Jinx said, giving him an upbeat nod.
Suddenly, Finn was filled with a glorious sense of comeuppance,not only for himself, but for Sutton, Emma, and Simone, too. “Aren't you treading on old Brad Good territory?”
Jinx gave him a blank look.
“Years ago he gave that same spiel to gay men with a sappy little tome called
Finding the Boyfriend Within
.”
Jinx shifted in her seat. “I've never heard of it,” she said tightly. “Or this Brad Good person for that matter.”
Finn shot back a devilish smirk. “How ...
convenient
.”
“In this case, yes,” Jinx countered. “And as you well know, the truth can also be
inconvenient
.”
Sutton recognized her opportunity and pounced. “So is this an original work, or did you lift an idea from a gay writer and package it for a straight audience?”
Jinx was visibly offended. “I did not
lift
any idea from anyone.Like I said, I've never even heard of this gay book. And by the way, Avril Lavigne called. She wants her jewelry back.”
The studio audience rumbled with boos, hisses, and a smattering of laughs.
Emma seized control.“The author is Jinx Wiatt.The book is
Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You're Really Over Him
. The baggage is something we all carry. Please stay with us. We'll be back after a short break with more from
The Beehive
.”
Jinx waited for the on-camera light to change, then stormed off the set without a word.
“I think she likes Regis and Kelly better,” Finn remarked.
Nervously, Simone bit down on her lower lip. “It was bad enough before. What's she going to write about us now?”
“Who gives a shit?” Sutton spat. “The bitch deserved it. And we're still the walking wounded. I'd hardly call what happened unfair.”
Finn slipped out of his chair and started toward the backstagearea that led to his dressing room. He rarely needed a drink in the middle of a show. But he needed one now.
Emma followed in hot pursuit. “Finn, waitâ”
He stopped and spun around.
Emma looked stricken with regret. “About Saturday night ... I owe you an apology. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was saying.”
“How very Mel Gibson of you.”
Emma's smile was pleading. “You have to forgive me. I can't take you being mad at me.”
He shrugged off the notion. “Bygones. I've said worse things to people when I was sober.”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief and leaned in to embrace him.
“We've got maybe two minutes, and I need a shot of somethingbefore we go back on air,” Finn whispered into her ear. “Are you game?”
Emma drew back and clutched her stomach. “Oh, God, no. I'm on the second day of a murderous hangover. If you
ever
see me with another Horny Goat in my hand, I hereby grant you permission to shoot me on sight.”
Finn laughed a little.
Emma regarded him seriously for a moment. “I might be over-assuming something here when I say this, but ... it's going to be hard ... to stay friends with him and not end up getting hurt.”
“I know that,” Finn admitted quietly. “But I think protectingmyself by walking away from the friendship might hurt more.”
Emma put a comforting hand on Finn's forearm. “You know, that son of a bitch doesn't deserve half the love that's thrown his way.”
Finn managed a half smile. “And yet here we stand pining away for him.”
Emma sighed deeply. “How can two smart people be so fucking stupid?”
THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
Â
Fill in the Blanks
Â
You never really know whether you are over the old ex until you start dating the future ex. That's when the comparisons start. Who's the better kisser? Who's the better lover? Who's funnier? Who actually listens to what you say? That gorgeousBlack American Princess may be dodging creditors like sniper fire, but she's also giving the ex rules from my new book a serious workout.Smart girl. If I were a betting woman, I'd put money on the fact that the baseball hunk is no home-runin the sack against hip-hop's hottest mogul.
16
Simone
Simone glared at the vibrating mobile phone. She knew that the incoming number was a creditor. They had become relentless.Reluctantly, she took the call. “Hello?”
“Simone Williams, please.”The voice was female and bitchy as hell on the first syllable drop.
“Speaking.”
“This is Jean Kent from American Express. I'm calling in reference to your outstanding balance of eleven thousand two hundred thirty-eight dollars and eighteen cents.”
Simone's stomach dropped.
Eleven thousand dollars?
“Excuse me, there must be some kind of mistake. My bill couldn't possibly be that high.”
“I see no record of any disputed charges.”
“But I just paidâ”
“Your account is past due by more than sixty days,” the woman cut in. “I can take a payment over the phone.”
A sick feeling spread across Simone's abdomen as she recalledthe creditor paying frenzy that had commenced with her first salaried check from
The Beehive
. Money had gone out to American Express Blue, American Express One, American Express Optima, and American Express Platinum. “Which card is this?”
“American Express Gold Rewards.”
“Oh,” Simone said flatly. No money had gone out to that account.
Oops
. Well, who could really blame her? She had so many different cards. As busy as she was, Simone really needed a bookkeeper to sort out everything.
“I can take a payment over the phone right now,” the woman pressed.
“Yes, you've made that quite clear,” Simone snapped. “But at the moment, I'm not prepared to do that.”
“How much can you pay? We're willing to work with you on a scheduled payment plan. Of course, your card privilegeswill remain suspended until the balance is paid in full.”
Nervously, Simone began digging into her leggings.Within seconds, her nails had made a vicious run going from calf to ankle. “I need some time to ... study my cash flow situation. I'll have to call you back.”
“When can we expect to hear from you?”
“Very soon. By the end of the day at the latest.”
“I'll note that on the account.”
Simone hung up. She took in a deep breath, trying not to panic.
Eleven thousand dollars
. It seemed impossible. Well, not really. She had charged the limited edition super large bottle (twenty heavenly ounces) of Juicy Couture perfume. That alone had been three grand. Now she only had eight thousandto account for.
Part of her problem was her inability to sleep through the night. Sometimes she could just lay there for what seemed like hours, worrying herself sick about Tommy Robb or the state of her personal finances. And then, to soothe her nerves and boost her mood, Simone would find herself shopping online in the wee hours.
Neiman Marcus provided the best therapy. She always paid extra for express shipping and the deluxe gift wrap, even includingencouraging notes to herself. Two days later, she was opening a lavish box with a card that read,
SIMONE, YOU DESERVETHIS
! The only sense of remorse came when the Jean Kents of the world started calling. Sixty days should
not
be considered past due. They should give her a month or so to get around to opening the bill, and after that, at least another two months to arrange proper payment. Under that civilized arrangement, her account would still be in good standing.
Simone gazed at her reflection in the dressing room mirror.She tried to engage herself in deep thought on the perils of reckless spending. But she became preoccupied by the fact that she really needed a Resculpting Facial at Tracy Martyn. There went three hundred dollars. So much for soul-searching.
On a sudden impulse, Simone called her longtime agent, Sue Hotchner.With all the attention surrounding
The Beehive
, there had to be a way to make a fast paycheck.
Sue answered her line with the muffled sound of food in her mouth. “Sue Hotchner.”
“Hi, Sue, it's Simone Williams.”
“Hold on a sec.” There was the sound of more eating, rustling wrappers, and then a hacking smoker's cough. “Sorry about that. How are you, sweetheart? The show is doing great. I'm proud of you.”
Simone managed a faint smile.“According to the critics, I'm just along for the ride.”
“Fuck 'em,” Sue barked. “Your show's a hit. That's all that matters.”
“It doesn't pay enough,” Simone said matter-of-factly.
Sue fell silent for a moment. “It's too soon to renegotiate, doll. Wait until the show gets picked up for a second season. I'll go to bat for you then.”
“I understand that,” Simone said. “But I need money now. As fast as possible.”
“Are you on drugs?” Sue asked sharply.
“No!” Simone protested fiercely. “I have a sky high American Express bill.”
“Oh, well, that's respectable. I can get behind that.”
“I need something on the weekends,” Simone said. “Or at night. The show has me tied up in the morning and most of the afternoon, so the little acting gigs don't work anymore.”
“It just so happens that one of my soap stars fell through on a Target store opening in New Jersey this Saturday. Pays five grand for just a few hours' work.”
“I'll take it,” Simone blurted without so much as a micro-momentof consideration. After all, five thousand dollars was five thousand dollars.
“They want a hunk, but I think I can sell them on you.”
“What do I have to do exactly?” Simone asked.
“Cut the ribbon at the official opening ceremony, pose for pictures, that sort of thing. Let me get it set up. I'll call you back.”
Simone nodded proudly, impressed with her industrious, proactive approach to the American Express problem. And then a ripple of awareness flowed through her ... that the cheese factor for this gig was high.Very high.
A department store opening.
In New Jersey
. Just when she thought true success was within reach, it had come to this. The handlers of Miss Hawaiian Tropic had probably turned it down.
But what else could Simone expect? Lower tier opportunitieswere the ruleânot the exceptionâat the Sue Hotchner Agency. The best opportunity to come Simone's way in years had been
The Beehive
.And she had stumbled across that on her own during a long wait to audition for Sassy Black Hooker Number Two on one of the
Law & Order
franchise shows. Sue had worked the phones and somehow wrangled an interview for Simone. But a real agent would have known about the show from the jump.
Sutton and Emma were polished television pros with top-flight agents behind them. Even Finn had managed to score a serious representative at the William Morris Agency. And here was Simone, stuck with a second-stringer like Sue Hotchner, a fat, chain-smoking hustler who worked out of her apartment on the Lower East Side.
Simone's mobile vibrated.
It was Sue. “Hi, doll. It's done. Ribbon cutting is set for ten o'clock. They're thrilled to have you. I'll e-mail the rest of the details.”
“Great,” Simone murmured, her enthusiasm already down for the count. She knew that by Saturday she would probably prefer waterboarding torture to following through on the appearance.
She began gathering her things to leave and noticed Jinx Wiatt's book on the edge of the end table.
I find that many self-proclaimed stalker victims are simply not ready to let go of the relationship, either. They're holding on just as hard
.
As the horrible woman's words ricocheted in her mind, Simone felt a renewed sense of outrage as she stomped over to the sofa and began to flip though the bitch's self-help tripe. She stopped on a section entitled
THE RULE OF
EX
TREMITIES
: SHOCK YOUR EX RIGHT OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM.
ONE SUREFIRE METHOD FOR GETTING OVER AN EXâAND GETTING OVER HIM FASTâIS TO SHOCK YOUR SYSTEM WITH SOME OPPOSITES-ATTRACT EXCITEMENT. GO TO THE EXTREME, GIRLS. IF YOU BROKE UP WITH A BANKER, THEN START DATING A BANK ROBBERâOR AT LEAST A GUY WHO'S BEEN ARRESTED ONCE. TAKE INVENTORY OF YOUR BEDROOM HABITS, TOO. WHATEVER YOU DIDN'T DO WITH YOUR EX, DEFINITELY DO WITH YOUR NEW MAN. LIGHT BONDAGE, ROLE PLAY, ANALâUNLESS YOU'VE BEEN A COMPLETE SLUT, THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING LEFT TO ADD TO YOUR SEXUAL RÃSUMÃ.
Simone tossed the book aside. It was garbage. And the woman who wrote it was toxic waste. The nerve of her to suggest that she was somehow participating in Tommy Robb's madness as a way to stay connected to him. The suggestion was completely ridiculous. She glanced at the book again.
Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You're Really Over Him
. What rubbish.
Unable to resist and hating herself for it, Simone began to read more from a section called DON'T FOOL YOURSELF INTO THINKING THAT YOU'RE JUST WAITING FOR SOMEONE
EX
TRAORDINARYTO COME ALONG.
THE ONLY WAY TO GET OVER AN EX IS TO SADDLE UP AND RIDE AGAIN, EVEN IF THE NEXT GUY TURNS OUT TO BE A TOTAL JERK, TOO. ONE PITFALL OF A NASTY BREAKUP IS TO SIMPLY GIVE UP ON DATING UNTIL YOU MEET MR. FANTASTIC. AND CHANCES ARE YOU'RE WAITING ON A BETTER VERSION OF YOUR EX. IF YOUR GUY WAS A TELEVISION ACTOR, THEN YOU PROBABLY WANT A MOVIE STAR. IF HE WAS A CORPORATE EXECUTIVE, THEN YOU PROBABLY WANT A CEO. AND SO ON. THE KEY IS DATING, DARLINGS ... NOT WAITING. SO IF A CUTE DELIVERY DRIVER ASKS YOU OUT FOR PIZZA, TELL HIM THAT YOU'LL BE READY AT SEVEN.
Once again, Simone tossed aside the book in a visible show of disgust. The trouble was, Jinx Wiatt's chatty prose seemed to be speaking directly to her situation. A secret part of Simone was holding out for Derek Jeter, a bigger name in baseball than Tommy Robb would ever be. And since the breakup with him, Simone had stopped dating altogether. Hmm. Maybe she should stop skimming the goddamn book and just read the stupid thing from cover to cover.
Half-ashamed, she snatched Jinx's ex manifesto and shoved it inside her Louis Vuitton shopping tote on her way out the door, realizing with great frustration that she had serious trouble with men, money, and career. Oh, God! Was
anything
in Simone's life working?
She waved good-bye to the remaining crew members that lingered and moved quickly toward the studio exit, anxious to get back to her apartment to cuddle with Chanel and find out what financial crimes were waiting in the mailbox.
“Okay, it's on now, bitch!”
Simone glanced up to see an obscenely dressed black woman rushing toward her on the sidewalk. She froze.
“That's right, high yellow ho! It's on!”
Simone just stood there, observing the scene as if she were outside her own body. “Excuse me, do I know you?”
“Don't act like you don't know who I am, bitch!”
“This isn't an act,” Simone insisted, her fear rising. “I've never seen you before in my life.”
“Do you see me now, ho? Do you see me now?”
Simone glanced nervously at passersby, deeply ashamed that even a stranger might assume that she would have any reason to engage in conversation with such a dreadful woman. “You must have me confused with someone else.” She started to walk away.
But the woman moved fast to block her. “There's only one high yellow bitch trying to talk to my man.” She punctuatedher accusation by jabbing her index finger into the centerof Simone's chest. “And that's you, ho.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. And please keep your hands off me. God knows where they've been!”
The woman splayed out her hands. “I'll tell you where these hands have been, bitch. I had them wrapped around Kevon's big black dick this morning while I sucked him all the way to heaven and back.
That's
where they've been.”
Reeling from shock, Simone gasped. This had to be the most vile woman she had ever encountered.
“And that's where these hands will stay. Believe that, bitch. No high yellow designer-wearing uppity-acting ho is going to move in on my man. Hell to the no. Luscious Brown don't play that shit.”