I Still Remember

"What’s for dinner?”

My mom asked as Syd and I brought out dinner to the dining room. The seating arrangments were Rick and Mr. Staal at the deads of the table, one side consisting my mom, Marc, Francesca, Eric, and Tanya, while the other side consister of Mrs. Staal, Jared, Jordan, usually Lindsy but she obviously wasn’t here, Syd, and I. We brought out the plate of steak and set it on the table.

“New York Strip,” I smiled.
“Oh…” Francesca said.
“Is there a problem?” Sydney asked her.
“I don’t eat red meat,” Francesca said.
“Ohh…awkward,” I began.
“Bummer,” Sydney ended for me. “We can go make you something else.”
“No, theres plenty of veggies here, I’ll live,” she smiled.

I took my seat, which was next to Sydney and Mr. Staal. I noticed Marc had his one hand on her leg, so I took the biggest piece of meat, so I could pretend it was Francesca’s head. Mr. Staal clearly noticed that one right away. “Gina, that’s a big piece of steak,” he told me.

“I know.”
“Usually you don’t eat pieces that big,” My mom added.
“I’m very hungry.”
“Do you want to split that?” Marc asked.
“Nope, I will eat this whole piece of steak…and I will enjoy it.”

How dare Marc asks me to split a piece of meat. He should’ve offered it to his girlfriend, who looked like she needed the meat on her. I stab the steak with my fork and begin eating while everyone but Syd and I are talking to Francesca. “Are you feeling okay?” Syd asks me.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I say before shoving the meat in my mouth.
“Francesca, how long have you been doing hair?” Jordan asks.
“Since I was eighteen, my high school offered it for seniors who reached the number of credits they needed to graduate.”

I stab the piece of steak again after hearing that comment. There is no way in bloody hell this girl was smart. She sounded like a fucken Kardashian when she talked. And let me tell you, those Kardasian’s aren’t the brightest crayons in the box.

“I take it you two are very happy with your relationship,” Mr. Staal says.
“Very,” Marc replies, looking at me.

I stab the steak again and jammed the knife into it to block out the piercing voice of Francesca. There very happy my ass. Odds are I was ten times better in bed than she was. I mean, they probably slept together in a nice hotel. Hell, Marc and I had nice…no scratch that, glamorous somewhat drunken sex in a field.

Classy. I know.

“So Gina, how long have you known Marc?” She asks me as I stab the steak again.
“Since we were kids. He and his brothers were my best friends.”
“Cute,” she faked smirked.
“Very,” I reply, stabbing the steak once more until someones fork stabbed me in the leg. “HOLY JESUS!”
“Is everything okay?” My mom asks.
“Everything’s fine, Sydney dropped her fork on my lap. Excuse me…Syd, come help me prepare desert.”
“We have a desert?” She asks.
“WE DO NOW! KITCHEN!”

I close the door to the kitchen and put my hands on my hip. Did she REALLY stab me with her fork? And if she didn’t mean to, that wasn’t supposed to happen during dinner while I pretended Francesca’s head was my piece of steak. “Was that fucken needed?”

“Oh please, I couldn’t handle the sounds you were making with your fork.”
“This bitch needs to,” I began.
“Ya think, if I have to hear one more time about how happy she and Marc are, I’ll shoot someone!”
“I know! Not to mention they don’t look good together.”
“Oh pelase, I know! They look like an odd couple. Thank god your not as tanned as her.”
“Do you think I wanna look like a Kardashian-Oompa Loompa?”

Theres a knock on the door and we see Francesca standing there as the door opens. Luckily, we weren’t loud so anyone could hear us. Sydney stood straighter and crossed her arms. “Is everything oaky?” Francesca asks us.

“Yeah…we were just arguing about dessert, I’m an idiot and didn’t pick up everything we needed for a cake we were going to make. Infact, I’m going to run over to dairy queen and pick up an ice cream cake. Wanna come for a ride Gina?”
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
“Could it wait, I just wanna make sure Gina was okay.”
“Yeah….want me to leave you two alone?”

Did my best friend really have to ask that? This was going to be the moment where the bitch and I duke it out about each other. I give my best friend this look as she closes the door and waits for me in the hallway. I fold my arms across my chest and prepare myself mentally for the beat down. “So…are you okay, you know with me dating Marc, because you seemed very tensed at dinner.”

The bitch knows.

“I could care less about how he dates.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m very sure.”
“Because I know the history between the two of you.”
“There is no history between Marc and I.”
“Cornfield…bottle of red wine…dixie cups. I know all sweetie.”

Marc fucken Staal was going to be a deadman by the time I was finished with whore.

“Just letting you know, if you try to mess anything up…I will kill you.”
“Honey, I’m Italy, okay, and if I wanted to…I could get the whole Italian mob on your ass.”
“Well that’s a risk I’m willing to take for Marc.”
“You really think I want to get back together with Marc?”
“Honey, I can read you like an open book. I’ve dealt with so many bitches like you, and I never lose.”
“Alright Francesca….keep your distance from me, no harm no foul.”
“You’ll be seeing plenty of me, remember that.”

I roll my eyes at her comment. Did she really think I was just going to sit there and watch her foo around with what should be my man? I mean, I usually would but this was a case I was going to make an exception for. “Wow…if Marc really thinks fake hair extensions are going to erase my memory…I don’t know what to tell you. So bring you’re A game bitch.”

“Looking forward to it Gina,” she smirked and walked out of the kitchen.

I walked in the hallway only to hear her respond to Marcs question on if I was okay. Her response, “Oh she’s fine, you know we had a lovely heart to heart, no big.” Sydney looked at me as I threw my hands up in the air. “A lovely heart to heart? Gina what the fuck happened in the kitchen?”

“This bitch is not going to call my love her man. Oh hell no, lets go get that fucken ice cream cake!”
“Wait, so we’re for sure getting rid of her?”
“Syd, I’ve got meat on my bones, I can dance, and I’m from Italy, which were a few of the reasons why Marc is inlove with me. I don’t think fake hair and a jersey accent are going to cut it for him.”
“So…how are we getting rid of her?”
“She’s spending the night here…joy…nothing like a little camp fire will resolve our problem.”

Sydney raised her eyebrow at me as she grabbed the keys to the rental car. I clapped my hands and threw them in the air, singing, “I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, singing ayo, Marc Staal is MY man!”

And that was the beginning of operation get rid of Francesca.