Tex stared at me.

“Tex, it’s Girls Night Out. We talk about needing to lose weight while we drink and eat a lot. We talk about how all men are scum and lazy and useless, mostly Marianne’s ex-husband who is scum and lazy and useless and a rat bastard to boot. Last, we gossip about people pretending we’re trying to be thoughtful and caring as we rip their lives to shreds. Then we hug and go home. That’s it. Girl’s Night Out.”

Tex kept staring at me and my soup was put in front of me.

“Shit, if it isn’t Indy Savage.”

At the voice, the hairs went up on the backs of my arms and all the air was sucked out of the room by the gasps going around the table.

I turned, looked up and could not believe my eyes or my f**king, shitty, rotten luck.

Cherry Blackwell was standing behind me.

She was a tall, cool blonde. She had ice blue eyes, masses of white-blonde hair and the best body in Denver, all tits and ass. She was Barbie in human form.

She had been two years ahead of me at school and the most popular girl, bar none. Her Dad was rich, they went to Hawaii and the Caribbean on Spring Break and to exotic places like the south of France and villas in Italy during the summer.

She’d dated Lee for six months during his senior year and they were the most miserable six months of my life. He’d even taken her to prom. He’d broken up with her before graduation and I celebrated by drinking approximately half a keg at a party, passed out in the back of Lee’s Mustang and he carried me to bed (this last Ally told me, I’d been unconscious at the time, more’s the pity).

Cherry and Lee had hooked up again four years ago. They were together for three months, the last two days of their short relationship were marred by a pregnancy scare. Two more of the most miserable days of my life.

The pregnancy scare turned out to be an attempt at entrapment. During those two days, Lee was in such a foul mood, I wasn’t the only one avoiding him. After he found out she was lying, it was over and he never went back. That was the last we heard from her until a year ago.

Rumors flew that Cherry had a fling with Marianne’s husband. These rumors were spread by Cherry, which meant they were probably true. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back of Marianne’s marriage.

One more thing that was important to know about Cherry was that she was a first class, grade A prime, bitch.

“I heard you hooked up with Lee,” Cherry said to me.

“Yeah,” I told her, hoping this would be short and not too painful.

She didn’t work into the slam, she delivered it straight out.

“I’ll give it a week.”

I went stock-still. I could feel practically everyone at the table shifting into bitch smackdown mode.

“It’s already been a week,” Ally butted in.

Cherry looked at Ally, then at me and I noticed two of her Barbie-esque girlfriends behind her, Brunette Barbie and African-American Barbie.

“Wow. Congratulations.” This was said by Cherry with extreme, catty surprise.

“Cherry, we’re trying to have a nice dinner.” I was going for diplomatic. I really did not want to have an incident. I needed a good night with friends, to relax, get drunk, pass out and face tomorrow’s horrors hungover. I’d only had one rum and diet, I needed at least six to facedown Cherry.

Cherry scanned the table and locked on Marianne, whose face was bright red.

“Marianne, lookin’ good,” she said.

I couldn’t help it, I slid my chair back threateningly.

“Cherry…” I began.

Cherry’s attention returned to me and her eyes were glittering cold.

“Just a little pointer, Indy, girl to girl, if you want that week with Lee to last into two. He likes it when you go down on him in the morning. He’s a f**king animal in bed but give him a morning BJ, he’ll return the favor and rock your world.”

Every muscle in my body froze solid.

“What did she just say?” Stevie asked.

“She did not just say that in front of me,” Kitty Sue said.

“Holy crap,” Dolores said.

“Oh… my… gawd,” Tod said.

“You f**king bitch,” Ally said.

“This is more like it,” Tex said.

I started to come out of my chair, intent on ripping Cherry’s face off, when the lady at the table behind us spoke.

“Excuse me, we’re trying to eat,” she told Cherry.

I looked at the lady. She was Kitty Sue’s age, hair died a stern brunette, petite and soft in the middle.

“Pipe down, you old bag. I’m having a conversation,” Cherry said to her.

Like I said, first class bitch.

The woman looked to her husband who was sitting across the table from her. “Did she just call me an old bag?”

He looked scared, Menopausal Martha had obviously been unleashed.

She looked back to Cherry. “You can’t call me an old bag. I’m only fifty-two. Fifty is the new forty,” she told Cherry.

“Old’s old, and you’re old,” Cherry told her and then turned to me. She opened her mouth to speak again when a pea flew through the air and settled in Cherry’s Farrah Fawcett locks.

Uh-oh.

This was not good.

Cherry felt it and started batting at her hair like she was being swarmed by killer bees.

Once the pea flew out, she turned to the older woman. “Did you just throw a pea at me?”

In answer, the woman picked another pea out of her fried rice and threw it at Cherry. It bounced off Cherry’s chin and landed on the floor.

“Food fight!” Tex boomed and I turned and shushed him.

“What going on here?” We all looked at Dragon Lady who was front of the house at Twin Dragons. She was absolutely cool, cool, cool, gorgeous, slim, her black hair always pinned back in an elegant bun and she was a top notch artist with eyeliner.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to be peacemaker and salvage the night so I could have more drinks and get to my sesame chicken.

“She called me an old bag,” the other lady said, foiling my plan.

Dragon Lady turned to Cherry. “Did you call her old bag?”

“She is an old bag. Jeesh, what’s the big f**kin’ deal?”

“That not nice,” Dragon Lady said.

“And! This table was minding their own business and she just walked up and started talking about…” the lady’s voice dropped to a whisper, “blow jobs.”

Dragon Lady’s turned to Cherry and her eyes narrowed frighteningly.