“Tasha is very invested in my decluttering.” Tracey paused. “Maybe a little too much.”
“I’m excited! It’s like an organizing party!” Lindsey gushed.
Eating with clients; it meant you had to be “on,” but Jane was determined to show she was all in. “Tasha’s great! The more the merrier.”
Jane had nibbled just enough salad and sipped just enough Cristal to be polite. It took only half of a flute of the champagne to make her head feel slightly muddled.
They got back to work, and Tracey held up a shimmering red Versace dress. “I had to wear this to the most boring players dinner ever. Awful! And I mean, I’m really not into being treated like an accessory.”
Tasha turned to Jane. “I love Tracey, but you know how a littlepart of you hates a friend who looks amazing no matter what? She can wear anything; it’s infuriating!”
Tasha kept the champagne flowing, and Lindsey continued happily quaffing. They were now facing an avalanche of designer bags and accessories.
“These are the spoils of war,” Tasha declared, prompting Tracey to shoot an admonishing look.
“What does that mean?” Lindsey asked.
“Nothing,” Tracey shrugged dismissively.
Tasha jumped in. “Trace, if you want to get real with this, you got to get real with this, you feel me?” She turned to Jane and Lindsey. “It’s all revenge shopping. Her husband is a player, and when my girl gets pissed, she grabs that Amex Black card and goes to town.”
Tracey protested. “Tash, that’s not really true.”
Before Tasha could respond, Jane jumped in. “Well, hey, it’s important to assess any emotional attachments you might have to these things and if there’s anything negative, let’s get rid of it. Keep only the ones that really bring you joy.”
Tracey, looking a little melancholy, shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know if any of it brings me joy.”
Tasha turned to her. “That’s because what you really need to get rid of is your husband! You got to declutter that SOB out of your life! Get rid of him and then you can keep all this stuff.”
Jane flushed. “Would you two like a minute?”
Tracey shook her head. “Tasha has her opinions which sometimes I really do wish she would keep to herself.”
Tasha was not chastened. “I see clearly what you can’t because you are stuck in the middle of it all, trapped in this big-ass gilded cage!” She flapped her arms. “Fly away! You are a smart, sweet, beautiful woman—you don’t need him!” She turned toJane and Lindsey. “Girls, how long would it take to pack all his shit up? He’s got a whole lot of crap; the closet up here is just for his fancy clothes. There’s one for workout clothes and a room just for shoes! Then there’s all the mess in his man cave; all his trophies on display to remind him what a hotshot he is. He’s even got a stripper pole in there!”
“Tasha, that is not a stripper pole! It’s a firehouse pole.”
Tasha shot Tracey a dubious look. “Is this a firehouse?”
“No. It’s just for fun.”
“Yeah, I bet it is.” Tasha turned to Jane and Lindsey. “Am I right or am I right?”
Jane was too mortified to respond, while Lindsey was thrilled to be invited into this conversation.
“I support sex workers; most of them have all kinds of trauma, but I also do have to agree with you, Tasha.”
“Honestly, I don’t care if he goes to strip clubs. It’s... recreation.” Tracey seemed to be trying to convince herself of it even as she spoke the words.
“Baby, if you don’t care, how come last time he pulled an all-nighter you went and dropped 50K at Gucci?”
Tracey was silent.
“You have to put your foot down. You deserve better.”
“We have three kids, this house...”
Tasha gave Tracey a penetrating look.
