Page 25 of Mean Moms
A Pop-up Party!
Sofia Perez had successfully befriended the popular, wealthy women at Atherton, but she was starting to think that something was very, very wrong with them.
A darkness hovering over the group like a cloud of gnats.
After her mother had died, Sofia, distraught and grieving, had hired a psychic, an older Colombian woman who’d come recommended by one of the nannies.
They’d sat together in Sofia’s living room and the woman had held Sofia’s hands, then shared that Sofia was being closely watched over by her mama.
Her mother was worried for Sofia’s well-being, the psychic said.
“But why? I’m fine, other than missing her,” Sofia had protested. The psychic shook her head, squeezing Sofia’s fingers tightly.
“You are not fine. You are about to enter a turbulent time. You will encounter evil. You will prevail, but it will be a long, hard fight.”
Sofia had often thought of the psychic’s words as she’d stumbled through her divorce, assuming “the people” the psychic had been referring to were JP and his family. But lately she’d been starting to think otherwise. Was the battle still ahead of her?
The entirety of February had been frigid, and Sofia, not used to New York winters, was perpetually chilled.
She shivered as she entered the Pippins Cottage Home pop-up on Hudson Street.
It was the preview evening for the line, and Belle had invited friends and fashion editors and the moms from Atherton who were still speaking to her.
At the door, Sofia was handed The Dress in her size, then escorted by a young assistant to the luxe dressing room in the back.
The space was about half full when Sofia emerged in the ill-fitting garment. Guests were perusing the goods, most of them wearing The Dress, and Sofia laughed to herself looking at all these fashionable women modeling a version of what Sofia’s grandmother used to wear to flop around the house.
Belle was standing in one corner of the room. She looked terrified.
“Sofia!” Belle came running up to her, embracing her with the force of a lonely child. Her hair was in a long ponytail, and she looked particularly young.
“Thank you for coming. I’m so nervous, I think I’ve sweat through my Dress two times already. We have all the right people here to start building excitement about the line. Your idea was genius! Have you seen Ava? I don’t think she’s here yet.”
Sofia noticed that Belle’s eye was twitching. Belle must have felt it at the same time, and she put her hand to her face, massaging it forcefully, causing a few of her eyelashes to rip off in the process.
“Everything looks great,” said Sofia gently. “And I haven’t seen Ava, no.”
Frost and Morgan breezed in from the changing area, both wearing Dresses.
“Don’t we all look fabulous!” said Frost with enthusiasm, doing a curtsy.
“Congrats! Now we are both newly opened business owners. Thyme & Time is booming, and I know Pippins Cottage Home will be the next big thing,” said Morgan. Belle smiled tightly, and Sofia saw Frost roll her eyes.
Jeff approached them, twirling his Oura ring around his finger.
“It looks like everyone in this room has joined a sex cult,” said Jeff, smirking. He was in his usual backward cap, beard, and sneakers combo.
“Jeff, shut up ,” said Belle, frowning. “That is not supportive.”
“Babe, babe, I was kidding. You’re just stressed,” said Jeff. He patted her back and then, noticing an alert on his phone, stepped away from the group. Morgan changed the subject.
“Have you all heard that Sofia is going to host the annual benefit?”
“You’re a hero, Sofia,” said Frost.
“I do what I can,” said Sofia. “The theme is a surrealist ball—start thinking of your wacky costumes now!” Sofia had volunteered to throw the benefit after she’d heard it was subsidized by the school.
She’d figured it was a good way to solidify her standing on the PA and also get the word out about her own venture, which was beginning to take shape.
“Speaking of,” said Frost, “I had an idea for this Friendsgiving party, inspired by you, Sofia. The women from Sex and the City .” Sofia felt herself flush. To be included in their group costume, as a famous foursome, no less, meant Sofia had really made it.
“I love it,” said Belle, entirely cheered up and always happy to be Frost’s hype man.
“So who’s who?” said Morgan. “Sofia, I know you’re Samantha.” Sofia smiled, though it felt like an insult. She scratched her arms. The Dress was starting to bother her.
“I can’t wait,” Sofia said gamely. “I’ll just have to get a blond wig.”
“I know the best wig place in NYC,” said Morgan, her voice turning into what Sofia now recognized as Morgan’s “Ask Morgan” tone. “It’s where all the cool Hasidic ladies go.”
It was settled that Belle would be Carrie, Morgan would be Charlotte, and redheaded Frost would be Miranda.
Belle went off to pitch her product to the editors in attendance, instructing the others to walk around the store and look extremely interested in everything.
Sofia was bored. She was getting sick of this New York way of socializing—groups of women gathering to celebrate and “support” one another’s ventures.
It all felt fake and not the least bit fun.
She went over to a display of gold necklaces, standing next to two attractive young women in matching pink lipstick, one blond, one brunette.
Both were in The Dress. Sofia pretended to look at her phone while she eavesdropped.
“How many of these rich-lady-with-a-fashion-line previews do I have to attend in one lifetime?” said the blonde. The brunette shrugged.
“We have to cover it on the site because she’s friends with a company board member or something—their kids go to the same school. But come on, if she thinks anyone will ever buy this sad, brown, scratchy thing, she’s out of her mind.”
“It is scratchy,” said the blonde. “But I don’t know. People bought the nap dress.”
“Yeah, but that was during the pandemic, and everyone had lost their mind,” said the brunette.
“What does her husband do again?” said the blonde. They both looked over at Jeff, still on his phone.
“I don’t think anything exciting,” said the brunette. “It’s her dad with all the money. Imagine being that rich and then deciding, wow, what I really want to do is make some ugly dress. Wouldn’t you just, like, do nothing?”
“I’d sleep in, have my nannies deal with my kids, and then go shopping all day,” said the blonde. She scratched herself.
Belle swanned over, her Dress making an oddly stiff swishing sound.
“Girls! Thank you so much for coming,” said Belle. “You both look gorgeous in The Dress.” Sofia kept her back to them, shifting so she could still hear what they were saying.
“I appreciate your support for Pippins Cottage Home and can’t wait to see how you’ll cover it.
Let me know if you have any questions about production or my inspiration.
I’ve always wanted to be a designer, since I was a little girl, and The Dress is the result of playing with this idea of: ‘What is the perfect piece for a capsule wardrobe?’” The two women hmmmed and ahhhed enthusiastically.
Sofia saw Frost across the room, chatting with another woman whom Sofia didn’t recognize.
The previous day, she’d secretly trailed Frost after drop-off, expecting her to go to her art studio on Twenty-Second Street, perhaps to meet Art.
Instead, Frost headed straight to Friend of a Farmer, on Irving Place, waiting outside the restaurant until it opened at 9:00 a.m. Sofia had peeked around the corner to see Frost hugging a man who definitely wasn’t Art.
He was tall and leggy, with shaggy hair, and when he turned around Sofia saw that it was Tim, Frost’s husband.
Holding hands, they went into the restaurant together.
Sofia, surprised, had rushed toward Union Square to escape notice.
Sofia now felt an arm slip through hers. It was Morgan’s. She was wearing a turtleneck under The Dress.
“How are you?” said Morgan sweetly. Sofia didn’t really feel like chatting.
“How are the kids doing? Adjusting to their new life okay?” Morgan tilted her head sympathetically.
Sofia didn’t know what Morgan was fishing for.
Out of everyone she’d met, Morgan was the hardest to pin down.
She didn’t understand Morgan’s motivations, and that upbeat-cheerful- amazing thing.
Sometimes Sofia thought she got a glimpse of a monster inside of Morgan, a flash of bones, filled with the drugs she was taking to stay thin.
Sofia had seen the needle the other day in the bathroom, after she’d heard Morgan kicking the stall. Who was Morgan so angry at?
“Yes, they both really love Atherton,” said Sofia politely.
“You know, you never did tell us how you came to find the school,” said Morgan, looking at Sofia intently. Morgan’s face appeared to be pulled at the edges, like someone had stretched her skin over her cheeks. “It’s rare that two siblings find spots in nonentry grades. You were so lucky!”
“I suppose so,” Sofia said.
Just then, Ava Leo entered the pop-up, cutting their conversation short.
After being accosted by an attendant and doing a double take when asked to wear The Dress, she reluctantly went in to change.
She came back in The Dress, plus her own black blazer, rendering Belle’s creation nearly invisible underneath. Ava walked up to Sofia and Morgan.
“I’m here!” said Ava jovially. “I have to run soon—I have a Gucci event in Midtown after this and then a Prada dinner after that, but I wanted to stop by.” (Everyone in New York was always having “to run” as soon as they arrived somewhere.) “I got the sense that Belle might commit suicide if I didn’t show.
All good with you two?” Sofia and Morgan nodded.