Momzillas by Jill Kargman Read Free Book Online Page A

him last year he asked all about you. And now you’re both living in New York! You guys were, like, really tight.”
    â€œWe were close. But…obviously I was obsessed with him and it’s probably not a good idea. I mean, what would be the point, anyway?”
    â€œYou were inseparable back then,” Leigh whined, trying to entice me. “There’s good stuff there—a real friendship that excited you.”
    I took a deep breath and exhaled the thought, shaking my head. “I’m not seeking him out, it’s too nerve-racking. It’s so weird he’s at Columbia now. He’s the youngest tenured professor in the department…” I could hear my voice trail off as I caught Leigh staring at me with a mischievous face. She had heard me spill way too many guts out over him way back when. “He was like my idol for so long, I almost don’t want to see him.”
    â€œYou guys look like a couple of gossiping teens in the cafeteria,” Josh interrupted, as he put his briefcase down by the door and came toward our booth.
    â€œJosh!” Leigh ran to the door and hugged Joshie, who looked thoroughly wiped out but beyond adorable with his tie loosened and his suit slightly rumpled from a marathon workday. He came to kiss me. “Amber told me you two were here. Hi, love. You look hot. Is this a yummy mummy or what, LeighLeigh?”
    â€œDelish!” she said, smiling, putting her free arm around me, pressing us into a triumvirate hug.
    â€œPlease. You could fry an egg on my face I am so greasy right now,” I complained. “Want to order something? Ugh, sweets, I am the worst wife. I haven’t made one dinner for you since we got here.” Not that I’m any great shakes in the kitchen, though I do make a mean grilled cheese.
    â€œHey, we’re in New York,” he said, smiling, wrapping his arms around Leigh and me. “The only thing most wives have to make for dinner is reservations.”
    AND IN BEE-LAND…
    Instant Message from: BeeElliott

    BeeElliott: So you’re coming to the trunk show tom?
    Maggs10021: Totally! It’s my fave one, gonna do some SERIOUS damage w/ my AmEx.
    BeeElliott: Me too. Let’s go shopping after, I want to hit Christian Louboutin and Michael Kors for my outfit for the MoMA party.
    Maggs10021: I have pers trainer, can’t…What abt day after tom?
    BeeElliott: Can’t, have Pilates.
    Maggs10021: You’re doing so much Pilates these days. Addicted?
    BeeElliott: Gotta get down to 108 bef we start trying for baby #2. Park’s dyyyying to get me preg right now but must lose last 3 pounds.
    Maggs10021: You = stick, Bee! Crazy.
    BeeElliott: Anyway, must go; Giorgio is here to do my highlights—see u tom. Oh—and don’t forget, that Hannah Allen is coming too, but let’s ditch her bef we hit Madison.
    Maggs10021: Deal.

Seven
    The next morning, newly empowered from my evening with Leigh, I put Violet in the stroller and headed to the nearby Pierre Hotel to meet Bee and Maggie. I had unearthed a few cool outfits from my dusty U-Haul boxes and felt way more stylish than I had the day before, when I had looked like such a recent San Franciscan import—i.e., sans edge.
    I got to the grand hotel and walked in the gilded double doors. Maggie was inside fanning herself with her Fendi clutch.
    â€œUck, could it
be
any hotter out there?” she said with Chandler Bing sarcasm, delicately blotting her ever-so-slightly-misted brow. Her blond bob looked recently blown out and, like most moms I’d spied in the ’hood, she was using her huge Jackie O. sunglasses as a headband.
    â€œI know, I hate summer,” I said.
    â€œWhat?” said Bee, who walked in, snapping her cell phone shut. “Did you just say you
hate summer
?”
    I know it sounds so weird and almost call-the-cops criminal, but y
es
. I hate summer. I always feel slow and lethargic and dirty. Everyone