Page 10 of Love Starves

"And we were just meeting Maisie when you came in," Jolene says toward the redhead.

At her name, the girl looks up to lock gazes with me and it takes all I have to keep from flinching away from her. Almost the entire left side of her face is so badly burned that it looks almost like it's melting off her face. Dipping my chin in her direction, I have to fight the urge to ask what happened. While I'm not the squeamish type, her face looks so painful that it'd caused my mind to instantly rebel. It sucks, too, because around the scarring she's actually really fucking pretty. Like in an old-school Robin Lively kind of way. Deep down, I find myself admiring her just a bit. Without a doubt, were that me, I'd have probably just ended my life to put myself out of misery.

That morbid thought pushes against a barrier I've buried underneath a mountain, and it lights a small fire beneath my skin to have it challenged. Teeth clenching tight, I try to focus on what Jolene is saying about waiting for a few more people and something about her sister, but I'm currently fighting the urge to walk the hell out of here. If it wasn't for having to tell Geoff that I'd shown up and failed as a repercussion, I'd leave right now.

Mercifully, a good distraction walks in. As the café silences, my gaze snaps over to the door. And of all the distractions it could've been, this one is a doozy. Who would've thought a famous actress would be caught dead in a tiny no name place like this? She's two steps inside before the whispering starts. It's to be expected, yet I know I'm not the only one who doesn't miss the way her eyes drop to the floor as though that'll hide who she is. Not even the pregnant woman in front of her can hide Abilene Banks.

Then Jolene is waving them over like they were exactly who she's been waiting for this whole time. Claiming the two open seats in the corner of our little group puts Abilene sharing the sofa with me. Jolene and the pregnant girl trade pleasantries as the latter asks about someone named Jade who was supposed to be here and won't be until later.

Imma, the pregnant girl, introduces herself and Abilene to the group. A small part of me feels like she did it purposefully trying to take some of the heat the actress must be feeling. It's quite endearing actually. However, she seems to have started a trend where we all go around introducing ourselves, which drifts into ‘group therapy’ territory and flares up my anger without reason other than the fact that I despise it. By the time I listen to Luci and Penelope introduce themselves and it comes down to me, I'm irritated as fuck.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “My name is Blythe, and I’m going to be honest. I don’t want to be here. My therapist thinks it’s a good idea to have some kind of social life. This seems like the group less likely to make me want to go home and hang myself, so here I am. And I’m pretty sure I know you.” Waiting a pause so that she's aware that I'm speaking to her, I add, "Besides the obvious, of course. I think you sponsored one of my parents’ fundraiser things last year.”

Shock flicks across her expression as her eyes find mine, "You're the Clemontes' daughter?"

Clumping me in the same category as my parents is inevitable, but it still grates on my nerves considering the public sees way more of them than I do. Where my legs are crossed, the foot on top kicks out a pace involuntarily, showcasing my inner turmoil. "The one and only," I answer her.

"Small world, eh?" she asks, clearly done with the conversation and likely my attitude, too.

As the last to go, Maisie finally lifts her chin to glare as though daring us to comment. "I'm Maisie. I know Jade through group therapy. She said I should come by today.”

Jolene speaks out to coddle her, and there's something in Maisie's pain that speaks to my own. At the risk of being a callous bitch, I give her the opportunity to get the hard shit out of the way. “Okay, dude, what the hell happened to your face?”

A soft gasp or two goes around the circle, but I know I've said the right thing no matter how anyone else takes it when her expression hardens and she replies, “I got trapped in my apartment about eighteen months ago when it was on fire,” she admits. “It stripped me of half the skin on the left side of my body and my dignity, so you’re more than welcome to look at it. Or not, if it grosses you out. But we don’t have to ignore it like an elephant in the room.”

Definitely kindred pain spirits, she and I. It's broadcasting so loud that I'm surprised the others can't feel it, too. Knowing she's waiting for acceptance or rejection in this moment makes a small part of me soften and not out of pity. The shit this girl must've been through and survived says something about the kind of person she is. Which is why I choose the former and say nothing other than, "Done."

An unreadable emotion burns in her gaze before I turn my attention to the waitress who's stopped to take our orders. When she leaves, they all start talking baby shit and I zone out. That's a road I don't plan on going down for a very long time. I wish I could say never, but unfortunately, that won't be an option for the only Clemonte heir.

Then Penelope starts in on us about reusable cups if we're going to keep coming here, and I can't help but to give her shit to see how she'll react. Call it a sick fascination. “What are you, some kind of tree-hugging hipster or something?”

If I could snap a picture of the other's faces in this moment to save for later, I would. Their expressions range from shock to fury and everywhere in between. But not Penelope. A genuine smile takes over her face like she was in on the secret joke of me testing her, and it's in her reply, “Less trash is better for the environment and the animals. And let me tell you, the bark feels like the soft caress of thanks when you’re doing your part to save the tree.”

Instead of saying anything, I simply roll my eyes again. With the persona I'm giving them on the outside I'm sure they're all assuming I'm the biggest cunt snob they've ever had the displeasure to cross paths with. On the inside, I'm finding that I like this group already more than I thought I would.

Once our drinks get brought out to us, Jolene jumps right into business about how many times we should meet. It sounds like she puts once a month versus twice to a vote, so I raise my hand, thinking once would be more than enough. Apparently not because I'm the only one who does so. Huffing out a breath, I let my hand drop back to my lap.

Jolene ignores it and jumps straight into the fact that we'll be picking on our first official meeting next week since this one was just a preliminary trial of sorts.

“Why don’t we just pick one now and then meet in two weeks?” I ask, surprised that it's not what we're planning to do already because it makes the most sense.

She thinks on it for a second before saying, “Well, I had originally planned to wait until we were all together to pick the first book, but I'm sure Jade won't mind."

"Great," I reply. Then remember to ask one of the most important questions. "Can we make requests for what we'd like tonotread? Genres and whatever, because I will truly just go ahead with the plan of offing myself if I have to read about some teenage werewolf and his weird hoebag of a girlfriend."

Maisie's face flushes bright-red obviously catching on to what book I'm referring to and must have a different opinion on it. Everyone else lets out short bouts of laughter. Abilene is the one who jumps to her rescue like I was physically assaulting the chick. "I happen to love the book you're referring to, even if the first movie sucked harder than a Hoover. I'm down to give it a reread if anyone wants to choose that."

My lips part for a reply, but nothing comes out. I can't choose the words good enough for a retort when she was defending Maisie like a champ. Luckily, Jolene goes to speak over me, not knowing I wasn't going to say anything anyway. "Look, there are going to be eight of us in the group. We're bound to bump into each other's preferences and dislikes. My vote is that we have the choice to read or not to. Everyone is still more than welcome to come to the meetings, of course. That doesn't mean you're going to be required to do something you don't want to do."

Little ole Luci then pipes up with, "On that note, though, if we don't read the book, I don't think we should get conversational privileges at the meeting."

Which is totally fair, but I can feel the spice in her words even though she's not directing them towards me.

Mirroring my thoughts exactly, Jolene says, "Sounds fair." Then adds, "I was thinking we could write our picks down on little slips of paper and draw from them. That way no one can complain about their book not being first."

Imma agrees, and I'm on their side. They say it's so that no one complains about their book not being picked, but I'd bet my left Prada that it's so we don't know whose book it is unless they want us to, making it easier to hide embarrassment if the book totally blows. Jolene rips some paper strips before handing us all a piece, keeping an extra one for her sister so she can vote for her. After they get folded and put on the table, she jumbles them around a bit to mix them up before claiming one and opening it to read the title, "Howling with Wolves."

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to burst out laughing. This smartass, little group of women. Someone did that shit on purpose after my comment. At this point, I wouldn't even be surprised if they all put something with wolves in there. Pulling out my phone for a distraction, I touch my reading app and go off in search of the ridiculously named novel. Once I find it and tap the buy button, I turn it around so they can see, saying, "Just bought it on iBooks." More than one of them stares incredulously at me like I got a bittootrigger happy, but I ignore it, flipping the screen back around so I can read the description. I knew it was going to be bad, but it's worse than that.

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