Читать книгу Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont - Лорен Вайсбергер, Lauren Weisberger, Lauren Weisberger - Страница 22

‘Tell me again why your mother is throwing you a going-away dinner when she’s so pissed you’re moving?’ I asked Penelope. After a full day of list-checking and sponsor-calling for the BlackBerry party – which was now only four days away – it seemed like everything was shaping up nicely, and I’d retreated to Penelope’s in the hope of discussing something, anything, that wasn’t related to publicity. I was flopped on the floor of the bedroom that Avery and Penelope now shared, although it didn’t appear that Avery had compromised much on combining their stuff: the king-sized waterbed rested on an imposing black platform, a frat boy–style black leather couch ate up what little room remained, and the only item that could qualify as ‘decor’ was an oversized and slightly discolored lava lamp. The apartment’s pièce de résistance, however, was a fifty-five-inch plasma screen that hung from the living room wall. According to Penelope, Avery didn’t know how to wash a dish or launder a pair of socks, but he carefully detailed his flat-screen with special nonabrasive cleaning solution every weekend. The last time I’d been over I’d heard Avery instruct Penelope to ‘tell the maid to keep that surface cleaner away from my flatty. That shit fucks up the screen. I swear to God, if I see her go near my TV with that can of Lysol, she’s gonna be looking for a new job.’ Penelope had smiled indulgently, as if to say ‘Boys will be boys.’ She was currently packing Avery’s clothes in the Louis Vuitton suitcases his parents had bought them for their engagement-party trip to Paris while simultaneously bitching about the dinner that was to be held in their honor that night. I didn’t inquire why Avery couldn’t pack his own clothes.

‘You’re asking me? She said something asinine about “keeping up appearances” or something like that. Honestly, I think she didn’t have anything else scheduled for tonight and couldn’t bear the thought of staying home.’

‘That’s a really positive way of looking at it.’ The empty bag in my hand reminded me that I’d just plowed through sixteen ounces of Red Hots in twelve minutes flat. My mouth alternated between numb and tingly, but that never slowed me down.

‘It’s going to suck and you know it. The best I’m hoping for right now is tolerable. What the hell is this?’ she mumbled, holding up a bright blue T-shirt with yellow lettering that read I DO MY OWN NUDE SCENES. ‘Eww! Do you think he’s ever worn this?’

‘Probably. Toss it.’

She threw it in the garbage. ‘Are you sure you don’t hate me for making you come tonight?’

‘Pen! I hate you for moving, not for inviting me to your going-away dinner. I mean, I’m not exactly complaining about your parents picking up the tab for dinner at the Grill Room. What time should I get there?’

‘Whenever. It starts at eight-thirty or so. Come a few minutes early, maybe, so we can do shots in the bathroom?’ She smiled wickedly. ‘I’m seriously considering bringing a flask. Is that bad? Ick. Not as bad as these …’ This time she held up a pair of faded, well-worn boxers with a none-too-subtle arrow in fluorescent pink pointing directly to the crotch.

‘A flask is definitely in order. What am I going to do without you?’ I moaned pathetically. I had not yet come to terms with the idea that Penelope, who’d been my best – and only – girlfriend for the past ten years, was moving across the country.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, sounding more certain than I would’ve liked. ‘­You’ve got Michael and Megu and your whole new crew at work, and you’ve got a boyfriend now.’

It sounded weird for her to mention Michael, considering we almost never saw him anymore.

‘Puh-lease. Michael has Megu. The “crew” at work is precisely that – a bunch of people with mysterious access to huge piles of cash and a penchant for spending it on lots and lots of alcohol. As for the boyfriend remark, well, I’m not even going to dignify that.’

‘Where’s my favorite girl?’ Avery called right after the front door slammed. ‘I’ve been waitin’ all day to get home and get that cute ass of yours into bed!’

‘Avery, shut up!’ she called, appearing only slightly embarrassed. ‘Bette’s here!’

But it was too late. He’d already shown up in the doorway, shirtless, with his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped to reveal lime green seersucker boxers.

‘Oh, hey, Bette.’ He nodded in my direction, looking not the least bit distraught that I’d been witness to his seduction scene.

‘Hey, Avery,’ I said, diverting my eyes to my sneakers and wondering for the umpteenth time what, besides his admittedly flat stomach, Penelope saw in him. ‘I was just heading out. Gotta get home and get ready for the big dinner tonight. Speaking of which, what does one wear to the Four Seasons?’

‘Whatever you’d normally wear to dinner with your parents,’ Penelope said as a very ADHD Avery starting shooting hoops with his balled-up pairs of socks.

‘You might want to reconsider that. Unless, of course, you want me showing up in palazzo pants with a matching GIVE PEACE A CHANCE T-shirt. I’ll see you both there tonight.’

‘Right on,’ Avery said, holding up two fingers in a sort of combination peace/gangster sign. ‘Later, B.’

I hugged Penelope and let myself out, trying not to envision what would inevitably take place the moment I left. If I hurried home, there’d be time to drag Millington out for a quick walk and maybe even take a bath before dinner. I cabbed it home and chased Millington around the apartment for a few minutes as she made a concerted effort to duck me. She instinctively knew when I was planning to take her outside, and unlike any dog I’d ever met, she hated it. All that dust and pollen and ragweed – she’d be incapacitated for hours afterward, but I thought it was important for her to get out every now and then. Otherwise it was around the block and back. I marveled at her metabolism. We’d just made it to Madison Square Park and managed to dodge the crazy guy who usually chased Millington with his grocery cart when I heard my name.

‘Bette! Hey, Bette, over here!’

I turned to see Sammy sitting on a bench, drinking coffee, his breath visible in the icy air. With what appeared to be an absolute knockout of a woman sitting right next to him. Dammit. There was no escape. He’d obviously seen me and then watched as I looked right at him, so there was no conceivable way to pretend the whole thing had never happened. Plus, Millington decided to be social for the first time in her entire short life and took off toward them, yanking her Extend-a-Leash to its maximum capacity and hurling herself into his lap.

‘Hey there, puppy, how are you? Bette, who is this cutie?’

‘Charming,’ said the brunette, eyeing Millington coolly. ‘Of course, I prefer the Cavalier King Charles, but Yorkies can be appealing as well.’

Meow.

‘Hi, I’m Bette,’ I managed to say, extending my hand to the girl. I’d tried to smile warmly at Sammy, but I imagine that it looked like a grimace.

‘Oh, formal, are we?’ she said with a little laugh. She gave me her hand after making me wait three seconds longer than was comfortable. ‘Isabelle.’

Isabelle was no less attractive up close, but she was older than I’d originally figured. She was tall and thin in the way that only the truly hungry can be, but she lacked that certain freshness of youth, that dewy-faced contentment that said ‘I haven’t gotten too beat up by the Manhattan dating scene – I still even hold out hope that I’ll meet a good guy one day.’ Isabelle had clearly given up the dream long ago, although I imagined that her size 2 Joseph pants combined with her gorgeous chocolate brown Chloe bag and obscenely pert breasts provided some sort of comfort.

‘Uh, so what brings you here?’ Sammy asked, clearing his throat with such awkwardness that it was obvious these two were not friends or siblings or coworkers. And more to the point, he wasn’t volunteering any explanations.

‘Walking the dog. Getting some fresh air. You know, the usual,’ I said, realizing that I sounded more than a little defensive. For some reason my polite conversation skills had just evaporated.

‘Yeah, same here,’ he said, sounding sheepish and slightly embarrassed.

When it was clear that neither of us could think of anything else to say, I scooped Millington from Sammy’s lap, where she was obviously enjoying being stroked – how I could understand! – mumbled a good-bye, and tore off in the direction of my apartment with a speed that bordered on humiliating. I could hear Isabelle laughing and asking Sammy who his little friend was, and it took every ounce of willpower not to whip around and suggest that next time she have her doctor adjust her Botox injection so she wouldn’t have that telltale deer-caught-in-headlights expression.

So it was official, I thought, as I stood under the shower’s scalding hot water: Sammy had a girlfriend. Or, rather, I suppose it was more appropriate to call her a woman friend, since the female in question couldn’t conceivably be a day under forty. Of course he hadn’t been jealous that day in Starbucks when he’d made fun of Philip. Feeling more ridiculous with every passing moment, I quickly dressed in one of the old, navy bank pantsuits that had been relegated to the back of my closet and spent not one second longer than necessary drying my hair and applying the faintest traces of concealer.

By the time I’d arrived at the Four Seasons, I’d almost managed to convince myself that I didn’t care. After all, if Sammy really wanted to date someone with better clothes, more money, and a chest three times the size of mine, well, that was certainly his prerogative. Who needed someone that shallow, anyway? I was just working myself up to start a list of his many, many flaws (none of which were immediately apparent, but which certainly must exist somewhere) when my cell phone rang. It was Elisa, probably calling, as usual, to ask obsessively detailed questions about when, where, why, and with whom I’d last seen Philip, so I screened it and approached the mâitre d’. The phone rang again mere seconds later, and even though I switched it to vibrate, she sent a text message that read: 911. CALL IMMEDIATELY.

‘Bette? Hey, have you found them yet?’ Michael asked, walking toward me, looking haggard and slightly miserable. Penelope had told me he was on yet another huge M&A deal. All-nighters four days and running.

‘No, are we the first ones here?’ I kissed him on the cheek and thought about how long it’d been since I’d seen him. Weeks and weeks; so long I couldn’t remember. ‘Where’s Megu?’

‘She’s at the hospital. I think Pen said they might all have a private table in the back, so let’s go there.’

‘Perfect.’ I took the arm he offered and had an odd feeling of homecoming. ‘You know, it’s been forever since we’ve all hung out. What are you doing afterward? Why don’t we talk Pen into going to the Black Door for a drink or six?’

He smiled even though it looked like it took all his energy and nodded. ‘Definitely. We’re all already in the same place, and when the hell does that ever happen? Let’s do it.’

The table looked to seat about eighteen or twenty, but just as I was saying my hellos to Penelope’s father, my phone began to vibrate again.

‘I’m so sorry, please excuse me,’ I said to Penelope’s dad and bolted toward the door again to turn it off. Elisa again. Christ, what could be so important that she needed to take the full-stalk approach? I waited for it to stop buzzing and then flipped it open to turn it off, but she must have dialed again because I heard her voice emanating from my palm.

‘Bette? Is that you? Bette, it’s crucial.’

‘Hey, listen, this really isn’t a good time for me. I’m at my friend’s—’

‘You’ve got to get down here right away, Kelly’s freaking out because—’

‘Elisa, you didn’t even let me finish. It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday night and I’m just about to start dinner at the Four Seasons with my friend and her entire family and it’s really important, so I’m sure you can handle whatever Kelly’s freaking out about.’ I congratulated myself on being firm and setting boundaries, something my mother had been trying to teach me from age six.

She was breathing heavily at this point, and I heard the faint clinking of glasses in the background. ‘Sorry, hon, but Kelly’s not taking no tonight. She’s at dinner with the BlackBerry people right now at Vento and she needs us to meet them at Soho House by nine-thirty, latest.’

‘Impossible. You know I’d be there if I could. It’s mandatory that I stay here for at least the next couple hours,’ I said, hearing a waver in my voice. ‘I mean, nine-thirty is ridiculously early, and I don’t understand why, if she expected us to meet them, it has to be on a Saturday night, or why she couldn’t have mentioned it beforehand.’

‘Look, I hear you, but there’s no way out. You’re in charge of the party, Bette! They came into town early and Kelly thought a dinner meeting would appease them, but apparently they want to meet you … and Philip. Tonight. Since the party is so close, and apparently they’re nervous.’

‘Philip? You can’t be serious.’

‘You are dating him, Bette. And he did agree to host this event for us,’ she said, sounding like a bossy older sister. I saw Penelope approaching me out of the corner of my eye and knew I was being horrifically rude.

‘Elisa, I really—’

‘Bette, honey, I don’t want to pull rank here, but your job’s on the line. I’ll help as much as possible, but you’ve got to be here. I’ll send a car to the Four Seasons in thirty minutes. Get in it.’

As the call cut off, Penelope threw her arms around my neck.

‘I love your plan!’ she said, grabbing my hand and walking me toward the table. I overheard Mr Wainwright talking loudly about a lawsuit he was overseeing to a rather subdued, dignified-looking woman, and I wondered if Penelope might not want to save her grandmother from her future father-in-law.

‘Plan?’

‘Yes, Michael told me about the reunion at the Black Door tonight. Such a good call! It’s been forever since we’ve done that and’ – she looked around – ’I’ll need to drink heavily after this. You have no idea what Avery’s mother did tonight. Took my mom and me aside and presented me, quite proudly, with a copy of Fête Accompli!: The Ultimate Guide to Creative Entertaining and the entire Barefoot Contessa cookbook series. Oh, but it gets better. Not only did she highlight all of her suggestions for dinner-party themes, she also made notes by all of Avery’s favorite dishes so I may properly instruct the cook. She made a special point of letting me know that as a general rule, he doesn’t like any food that should be consumed with sticks, in her words.’

‘Sticks?’

‘Chopsticks. She said they “confuse him.”’

‘That’s fantastic. She sounds like a real treat.’

‘Yep. My mother just stood there, nodding. She did manage to comfort Avery’s mom by pointing out how easy it would be for us to find household help in California, what with the hordes of Mexican immigrants. The “promised land of cheap labor,” I think were her exact words.’

‘Let’s just remember never to allow our parents in the same room again, okay?’ I said. ‘They’d have a field day with this one. You remember what a disaster it was last time?’

‘Are you kidding?’ she said. ‘How could I not?’

We’d cleverly kept our two sets of parents from being in the same place through four years of college, but during graduation it had proven impossible. Each was curious about the other and after much prodding from both mothers, Penelope and I had grudgingly scheduled a dinner for everyone on Saturday night. The stress began with the restaurant selection: my parents were rallying to try the all-organic raw-food bar that had published a number of famous cookbooks, while Penelope’s parents insisted on going to their usual place when they visited – Ruth’s Chris Steak House. We compromised on some high-end, pan-Asian chain that displeased everyone, and things only spiraled downward from there. The restaurant didn’t serve my mother’s type of tea or Penelope’s father’s favorite cabernet. As far as conversation topics went, politics, careers, and future plans for the graduates were out, since there were no shared opinions or ideas whatsoever. My father ended up talking to Avery for most of the meal and then making fun of him later; I spoke to my mother, Penelope talked only to hers, and her father and brother exchanged the occasional sentence or two in between gulps from the three bottles of red wine they killed together. It had ended as awkwardly as it started, with everyone eyeing each other suspiciously and wondering what their daughters saw in one another. Penelope and I had dropped them all at their respective hotels, hit the bars immediately, and proceeded to drunkenly imitate each one, all while swearing to never repeat that evening.

‘Come here – talk to my father for me, will you? It’s been a few decades since he’s socialized outside the office and he doesn’t seem to know what to do.’ She seemed in reasonably high spirits, and I wondered how to tell her that I could only stay through drinks because I had to go to a party with the gorgeous bad boy I was supposedly dating.

‘Pen, I’m so sorry to do this and I acknowledge that it’s the shittiest, most selfish thing in the whole world, but I just got a call from work and I have absolutely positively no choice but to go because I’m in charge of this particular project and there are people in from out of town that my boss is currently with and she’s insisting that I meet them and even though I told her that I was at something really, really important she basically threatened my job – through a third party, of course – if I’m not downtown in under an hour and I argued and argued, but she was adamant, so I’m planning to get down there and back as quickly as possible and of course I’m still up for the Black Door if you guys don’t mind waiting for me.’ Stop. Deep breath. Ignore death look on Penelope’s face. ‘I’m sorry!’ I wailed loud enough to cause a few of the waiters to glance in our direction. I somehow managed to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, Michael’s surprised look from a few feet away, and the reproachful stare from Penelope’s mother for making the commotion.

‘When do you have to leave?’ Penelope asked calmly, her expression revealing nothing.

‘In a half-hour. They’re sending a car.’

She unconsciously twisted the small diamond stud in her right ear and gazed at me. ‘Do what you need to do, Bette. I understand.’

‘You do?’ I asked, not quite believing her, but hearing no anger in her voice.

‘Of course. I know you want to be here, and sure, I’m disappointed, but I know you wouldn’t go unless it was really important.’

‘I’m so sorry, Pen. I promise to make it up to you.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Go on, take that seat over there next to Avery’s cute single friend and at least enjoy the time you have.’ She was saying all the right things, but the tightness of her mouth made her words seem forced.

Avery’s decidedly uncute single friend immediately started reminiscing about his wild and crazy frat days at Michigan while I quickly worked my way through drinks two and three. One of Penelope’s friends from the bank, a girl I didn’t know when I was there but who seemed to be with Pen all the time now, made an impromptu toast that was adorably funny and charming. I tried to suppress my bitterness when Penelope threw her arms around the girl, and I insisted to myself that it was my paranoia speaking and that no one was staring at me, thinking me an awful friend. The half-hour passed in a split second. I thought it better to steal away than make a big production and explain myself to everyone, so I tried to catch Penelope’s eye but simply left when it seemed like she was deliberately avoiding me.

On the sidewalk, I offered a dollar to a well-dressed man for a cigarette, but he refused and tossed me one for free, adding a pitiful headshake. There was no car in sight and I thought about going back in for a few more minutes, but just then a very familiar-looking lime green Vespa pulled up alongside the curb.

‘Hey, love, let’s do this,’ Philip said, flipping up the screen on his helmet and plucking the cigarette from my fingers for a drag. He kissed me roughly on the mouth, which, incidentally, hung open from shock, and dismounted to get the second helmet from underneath his seat.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, inhaling sharply on my cigarette when he handed it back.

‘What does it look like I’m doing here? It seems we are obliged to attend. So let us hurry this along, okay? Nice suit.’ He looked me up and down and snickered.

His cell phone rang to the tune of ‘Like a Virgin’ – it was my turn to snicker – and I heard him tell someone we’d be there in ten minutes.

‘I’m actually waiting for a car that Elisa’s sending,’ I said.

‘Afraid not, love. Elisa sent me. We’re going to pay a visit to my dear friend Caleb, and Elisa’s going to bring the business blokes to us.’

This was not making any sense, but he did seem to be working on direct orders from Elisa. ‘Why are we going to your friend’s apartment?’ I asked.

‘He’s having a little birthday gathering at his place. Costume party, actually. Let’s go.’ It was only then that I noticed he was in full seventies disco gear, from brown polyester bell-bottoms to a skintight white collared shirt and some sort of bandanna tied around his head.

‘Philip, you just said we had to meet Kelly and the BlackBerry people. We can’t be going to a costume party right now. I don’t understand!’

‘Hop on, love, and stop stressing. I’m handling it.’ He revved the Vespa, if such a thing is possible, and tapped the seat behind him. I hopped on as gracefully as my pantsuit would allow and wrapped my arms around his waist. His rock-hard abs pushed back.

I still don’t know why I turned around. I don’t remember thinking anything was out of the ordinary – if you discount the fact that I was being kidnapped by a raging metrosexual celebrity on a Vespa – and yet I looked over my shoulder before we flew off, only to see Penelope standing on the curb. She was holding out her hand, my scarf draped limply over it, her mouth open, staring at my back. My eyes met hers for just the briefest moment before Philip revved the scooter and it shot forward, away from Penelope, leaving no time to explain anything at all.