SPENCER:

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me, Chelsea.”

“Spencer, I’m seriously not above calling the police.”

“You wouldn’t call the police on me.”

Well, there was that one time but it involved vodka, her sculpting tools, and my first straight girl crush so I think she had some valid and necessary concern for my safety and the safety of others.

“Spence, I’ll get over the fact that you think it’s ok to lie to me, but you have to give me time.”

“Then you’ll talk to me?”

“No, then I’ll lose your number and send all the clothes of yours I still have to you via the United States Postal Service. Goodbye.”

I scowled at her through the partially open front door of her apartment. How dare she throw away years and years of friendship over something as simple as lying and general distrust.

“Chelsea, please. At least let me plead my case so I can go home and get ready for this stupid gala.”

She sighed, “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I picked up this amazing, black Chanel dress…a total classic, with like these beautiful pair of Jimmy Choo’s.”

“Nice, are they the ones with the straps or without?”

“No, no. No straps. Because remember, I already had that pair with the straps.”

“That’s right. Those are probably the ones I was thinking of, but yeah, I remember now. How much?”

“Oh God, don’t even ask.”

“Small fortune, huh?”

“I could’ve bought a baby for the money I laid down for these shoes. Actually, I could probably purchase a couple of babies. Fuck that. I could be a regular fucking Angelina Jolie for the price of those goddamn shoes.”

“Worth every penny?”