What is it that makes today’s home so different, so appealing?
“I really like that sofa. Where ever did you get it, Lucy?” Mary flattens the wrinkles in her dress.
“I was looking through a furniture catalogue and it immediately caught my eye. Something about the design is so enticing, isn’t it?”
“Well I, for one, loathe it. It looks cheap and callous.”
“Are we talking about the sofa or your dress, Debbie?” Blue reapplies cherry red lipstick.
Cucumber and cream cheese finger sandwiches lie on a silver tray on the center of the coffee table. Lucy paints her fingernails verdigris.
“Blue, Debbie, no one is making you two stay. Cut the gas or leave,” says Mary.
“Oh, fine. But in all actuality, I love your nail color, Lucy! It looks like something you would wear to a ball. You aren’t planning to go to any soon, now are you?”
“Oh, Blue, who told you?” Lucy finishes painting her left pinky.
“Told who, what?” Debbie eyes the sandwiches.
“I heard from a little birdy that Brad invited Lucy to go out with him to a big bash on Friday evening.”
“Mary, who told you that? Is it true? Please tell me it is! That sounds marvelous.” Debbie reaches for one of the sandwiches.
“Well as a matter of fact, he did, but that’s none of your concern now is it,” says Lucy.
Debbie takes a bite out of the sandwich and everyone falls silent. She picks up a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth and puts the remainder of the sandwich down on the table. Apparently, no one else is hungry.
“I love having all of you over to my place. You are such great company.” Lucy picks up the tray of sandwiches and takes them back to the kitchen.
***
Drowning Girl
“I heard that Brad brings girls on fake outs all the time.” Debbie crosses her legs.
“Stop being so negative. You’re such a god awful bummer.” Blue buffs her nails with a metal file.
  “Yeah, well, I heard that he likes to play back seat bingo,” and Mary bats her eyes.
They all giggle.
“I loved my night with Brad.”
“You’re so very lucky, Lucy!” Mary reeks of violets and pansies. “I wish I was as lucky as you are.”
“What happened? Tell us everything.” Blue taps her nails on the sofa cushion.
The ladies lean into the circle, 360 degrees of lipstick and mascara.
“Well it was just really swell,” and Lucy tells them of the big bash and the car ride home and every detail in every nook and cranny of the night.
***
Lucky Strike
“Hey, want a cigarette?” Mary blows out clouds of smoke and tips the box in Lucy’s direction.
“I’m good. Thanks though.”  Lucy twiddles her thumbs.
“Don’t be a cube. They’re Luckys,” Mary insists.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t smoke.”
“I’ll take one.” Blue reaches into the carton and pulls out one of the cigarettes.
“Last chance, Lucy?” Mary coughs and hands Blue a matchbook.
“Well, I guess I’ll have one. Just this once.”
The women sit out on the balcony and schmooze in long frocks and lazy silk. Mary wears diamonds, Lucy, pearls, and Blue, a shallow grin. Debbie sits in the corner sulking.
“Oh, Debbie, get over the world. You don’t always need to act like such a sour puss.” Blue lights her cigarette.
***
Three Machines
“Do you ever wonder if we’ll ever find true love?” Blue smacks her bubble gum.
“What’s the use, Blue? You’re hopeless anyways,” retorts Debbie.
“My bad, Monroe. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.” Blue flashes her an oh-so-artificial smile.
“Don’t call me that.” Debbie returns the favor with a sarcastic grin.
“On a brighter note, how are you and Brad?” Mary is flipping through Vogue.
Lucy lifts her heart shaped sunglasses and places them on her forehead. She sighs.
“Cheer up. Things can only get better from here.” Mary tears out a photo of Evelyn Tripp in a white mink fur coat.
“Oh, things are just kind of… you know?” Lucy pulls the shades back over her eyes.
“I understand.” Blue blows a large, pink bubble and pops it with her fingernail.
***
Spoon Bridge and Cherry
“I love a good parfait.”
Mary sits opposite a parfait, Blue sits opposite chocolate cake, and Lucy stuffs her face with apple pie.
“Mary, all you like is the cherry on top.”
“That’s not true, Blue! I like all of it from the—”
“Don’t take it to personally, Mary. It’s just Blue being Blue.” Debbie only has a glass of water.
“Oh, Debbie, knock it off. Stop being bitter. Just because you and Ricky are off the hook does not give you a right to act like that.” Blue hasn’t touched her cake.
“Oh, sorry, Your Royal Highness. I’ll make sure to tell you the same thing after you and your boyfriend break up. Oh, wait, you don’t have one either.”
“You take that back!” Blue turns red in the face.
“Make me.”
Blue boils over and stabs the table with her fork, screaming like Eris in her chariot.
“Ladies!” Lucy shouts in a panic.
“Sorry, Monroe, I just got a little carried away.” Blue stares into Debbie’s eyes.
Debbie scoops up a spoonful of creamy parfait and licks the spoon clean, rolling her tongue on the silver edge, completely satisfied.
***
Oof
“Lucy, don’t cry,” Mary consoles.
“Lucy, come here, my dear,” Blue soothes.
“Lucy, your mascara is running,” Debbie remarks.
Lucy runs to Mary’s arms. “Oh, it’s of no use. Now, no one will ever want me. Look at me. I’m all washed up.” She wipes under her eyes and mascara smears across her face in streaks.
“Don’t say that! You will always be able to find someone. I mean, look at me and Benjamin. We’re in love. I swear it,” Mary brags and smirks, all gums and no teeth.
“One day, Lucy, one day, we will find you a man, even if that day isn’t today.” Blue holds Lucy in her arms, careful not to let any of the dripping eye makeup stain her outfit.
“I guess you’re right. Blue, would you fetch me a cigarette? I need a smoke.”
***
Marilyn Diptych
“My god, Debbie, stop being such a Monroe and wigging out all the time over nothing.”
“Well, Blue, not all of us are living la dolce vita, now are we!”
“You’re one to talk!”
“Calm down, ladies. No need to get yourselves in a tussle.” Lucy tends to Debbie and Mary to Blue.
“Get the -------- ---- away from me, Mary.” Blue pulls a revolver out of her purse.
Mary backs off.
“Could you all just shut up and listen, for once? My god, you are all so full of yourselves, with the primping and the—”
“Now, Blue, calm down,” lulls Lucy.
“No Lucy. It’s my turn to talk.” Blue turns the gun on Lucy. “As I was saying, I don’t like this life. I don’t like tea at two and dinner at nine. I don’t like dress fittings and shoe shopping. I don’t like any of this and I thought up a really easy way to end this all. Goodbye.”
Blue points the gun to her temple and shuts her eyes, for what appears to be the last time.
“Blue there’s no need to do this.”
Blue’s eyes open and the life floods back into her. “Debbie, of everyone here, I cannot stand you the most. You are so critical of everyone! Everyone!” She points the pistol at Debbie. “I am done with the criticism and the critique.” Blue walks up to Debbie and places the barrel of the gun to her forehead, point blank.
And as Debbie’s life comes to a close, she notices the world has lost all of its color. A grayscale mind in a black and white world.
And then the gun goes off with a pop.
“Dear lord. Blue shot Marilyn.”