Free Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me by Chelsea Handler Page B

relationship with someone, she prefers that person to sleep in an entirely other state.
    Heather McDonald had been studying Gina over the weekend and was working on an impression of the poor girl to add to her repertoire. In case you didn’t know, Heather does borderline decent Drew Barrymore and Celine Dion impressions, and an impression of some poor girl who was popular in the ’80s and had cerebral palsy. I have to say, though, that her impression of Gina was dead-on. Like I said, Gina has been in the business a long time. She likes to talk about movie sets she worked on in the seventies, and she acts as if she’s met every big-time Hollywood person there is to know. I guess at some point in her life she threw a fur coat out of the sunroof of a limo on Sunset Boulevard and told Heather about it.
    That night in Cabo, Heather stumbled on to the patio where we were all sitting and was thrilled to share Gina’s fur-coat-limo-sunroof story with us while doing her newfound impression of Gina. Chelsea laughed and then noticed that one of Heather’s eyes was pointing off to the right. Heather is a pretty bad drunk, so Chelsea demanded that she go to bed before she started becoming really annoying. Heather stumbled away on her weird little legs, and the rest of us laughed at her.
    “That impression is pretty good,” I said. “She sounded just like Gina.”
    “Where is Gina?” Amy asked. “I think I’m sharing a room with her, aren’t I?”
    “She’s passed out,” Chelsea said. “You can sleep in my room.”
    “Wait, I’m sleeping in your room,” Sarah reminded Chelsea. “Amy can go get in bed with Gina. I doubt she’ll wake up.”
    “No, Sarah,” Chelsea said. “Amy can’t share the bed with Gina. Roy has to.”
    “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’m sharing a room with Michael.”
    “Not tonight, you aren’t,” Chelsea informed me. “Tonight you’re sharing a bed with Gina.” She went on to tell me that she thought Gina liked me. “She’s always talking about what a good cook you are.”
    “That doesn’t mean she likes me, stupid. And, by the way, it’s called a ‘chef.’ ”
    “Sorry, that’s what I meant. I mean, you’re a pretty good chef, but you aren’t worth going on and on about the way Gina does. She likes you. She’s alone in bed, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to go in there and bring your relationship to the next level.”
    I don’t have a ton of self-confidence, due to the circumference of my head. When someone tells me that a pretty girl is interested in me, even if it’s Chelsea, I want so badly to believe it that I just do.
    Since Chelsea’s friends have all been trained by Chelsea, they joined in with her. Amy started saying that she’d noticed Gina giving me the eye a couple of times while we were lounging at the pool, and Sarah said she thought she’d overheard Gina asking Michael Broussard if I had any interest in a long-term commitment. Pretty soon all three of those assholes had me considering changing my Facebook status to “It’s complicated.”
    “Roy, go in there and get in bed with her,” Chelsea demanded. “She’ll like it. Every girl loves to be held, especially after a long day of drinking in the sun.”
    I don’t drink as much as my sister or the losers she hangs out with, but I’d had a couple of sips of tequila that day, so I was finding what they were saying very interesting. Plus, I hadn’t been with a makeup artist before. I had heard they’re pretty crazy in the sack.
    Even though I had already made up my mind to do so, I let Chelsea tell me a few more times to go crawl in bed with Gina. “I expect a full report,” she yelled as I got up and walked slowly toward my newfound lover’s room.
    About two and a half minutes later I walked back to the patio to rejoin Chelsea for a nightcap.
    “What happened?” Amy asked.
    I went to grab a chair.
    “Don’t sit down. You don’t get to sit down until you tell us