Chapter 69
This is fucked up, Tara thought. So fucked up.
“I don’t think we should have left her there,” she said.
Dee, smirking as she scrolled through the night’s photos on her phone, scoffed. “She’s fine.”
They were currently zipping across West 29th St. at 3:30 a.m. in an Uber Black SUV with Shelly and Ben and the studio manager named Axel, who was passed out in a ball on a backseat floormat.
Tara looked pleadingly at Ben, but he avoided her eyes, looking out the window as if captivated by the buildings smearing by.
“I don’t think she’s fine,” Tara said.
Dee, in the front seat, slapped her phone down on her leg and turned around to lock eyes with Tara in the back.
“What is your problem?”
“Hey, no, I don’t have a problem,” Tara said, apologetically, then regretted her tone. Why did she always feel like she had to apologize to Dee? “I’m just worried this is going to blow up in our faces.”
Dee seemed to relax at the thought that Tara was still on her side. “Nah, Willa is a big girl. She’ll find her way back to the hotel. And she won’t tell anyone what happened because she’ll be too embarrassed to mention it.”
Tara picked up her phone and texted Fiona.
“It got so out of hand,” Tara wrote.
Fiona texted back. “Sounds like it. You need to go help her.”
“Dee will lose her shit if she finds out I went behind her back.”
“You need to do what you think is right. You know what that is. You’ve known for a while.”
Damn that girl. More than a pretty face and a banging body, she was dominant and demanding but knew when to take it slow, like when they first tried a sizeable strap-on and when they first discussed the truth about FitFams.
Tired and sweaty from being on top, Fiona lay beside Tara and spoon-fed her small bites of the facts about FitFams like a mother giving first solids to a dumb baby. Fiona then asked gentle questions in a non-judgmental tone — why do you feel so connected to, or indebted to, Dee? What are you getting from this relationship and the company? — and said, genuinely, things like, “I’m glad it makes you feel happy and fulfilled.”
These positive statements — which Tara would later discover Fiona had learned from an online course about deprogramming cult members — got Tara thinking. Was it true? Did she really feel happy and fulfilled? Why was she still so dedicated to Dee?
What had drawn Tara to Dee in the first place was her all-or-nothing approach to their friendship. Tara had OCD, heavy on the O, frequently obsessed with people or, as was the case in grade school, obsessively plucking out her eyelashes during times of stress.
She came by her behaviors honestly, having watched her parents obsess over each other, frequently leaving for long weekends without informing their only child and not even noticing Tara stepping over them in the kitchen while they fed each other strawberries on the floor in their underwear. They didn’t come to her meets, didn’t seem to care as she moved up in the state and national ranks for the long-jump. She slipped in and out of the house like a shadow.
When Tara met Dee at the Model UN, the intensity of this person and her almost immediate and unflinching friendship and dedication — it was intoxicating. When people would say Dee was brusque or mean, Tara would brush it off and say, “you don’t know her.”
Later, when Dee brought Tara on as training lead at FitFams, Tara felt tall and strong and loved and important and defended her friend against all comers.
That feeling began to erode once Fiona entered the picture. Their love left room for no one else, yes, and Dee’s disapproval was hurtful. But what really caused Tara’s mind to shift were Fiona’s gentle questions, and how ridiculous Tara’s answers and arguments began to sound when confronted with the truth.
Now, in the backseat of this Uber Black, using Axel as a footrest, she replayed the night’s fucked-up events in her mind:
Willa and Axel — the latter there for entertainment’s sake — were flown in to the city and put up at the Standard High Line. It was a pretty expensive choice for a confront-and-shame scheme, but Dee was never one to scrimp, even when seeking revenge.
Dee, Tara, Shelly, and Ben met Willa and Axel at the Top of the Standard, ordering champagne while Willa and Axel gawked at the views of the city and the Hudson River. Dee made a toast:
“I just want to say thank you,” she said, her glass flute aloft, her sinewy arm muscles tensed. “Thank you for being part of the FitFams family and for giving your all to us. You’ve set an amazing example for other managers and their coaches. We appreciate your dedication and unfailing loyalty.”
Did Willa’s lip twitch?
“As you know, there are some people out there who have decided I am the Lululemon-wearing anti-Christ,” she said, eyes on Willa.
“Boo!” Axel yelled.
Ugh, shut up you dumb twat, Tara thought.
“They’re doing everything they can to break me and this company down,” Dee said, still staring at Willa, who was definitely shifting a little bit back and forth on her black wedge boots. “But they will fail. They will fail because we are helping people. We are empowering people. And you are sending that message every day. So again, thank you. And cheers!”
The group clinked their drinks and downed their champagne. From there on out, Willa’s glass — be it champagne, whiskey, shot, or beer — was always full. Even when Willa began to sway and slur under the disco balls at Le Bain, then stumbled and stepped one foot into the nightclub’s hot tub, soaking the leg of her skinny jeans, Dee made sure Willa kept drinking.
At about 2:30 a.m. the group took the elevator down from the 18th floor to the street, Tara holding Willa up as she attempted to navigate the cobblestones. The group piled into an SUV and took an eight-minute ride to Girl Pwr, a coked-out bar and club known for drawing bi-curious femmes and men who wanted to gawk at them.
Dee ordered more shots, tossing her own over her shoulder while forcing Willa to drink. Tara continued to hold her up.
Leaning in to Willa’s ear, Dee shouted over the music: “I know what you’re up to.”
Willa swayed and mumbled incoherently.
“I know you’re trying to take me down, and you won’t get away with it,” Dee yelled. “I know I could just fire you, but that would be too easy. I’m going to make you pay.”
Willa’s eyes bulged. Then she cupped her hands and threw up into them.
“Take her to the bathroom and leave her there,” Dee said to Tara.
So she did.