Four Blondes

by Candace Bushnell

  Tanner Hart looks at his watch. Soon he’ll be bored. (It’s just another movie premiere.) In an hour, he’ll be able to pick up a chick and go back to his hotel room. Then he’ll be bored again. (And he’ll have to do it all over again, which in itself will be boring.)

  “Jimmy!” Tanner shouts. James and Winnie Dieke are squeezing through the crowd. They’re still wearing their coats. James looks pained. Winnie looks annoyed. (James has been going downhill, Tanner thinks, ever since he married Winnie and had a child. He looks like a prisoner. Tanner has to free him. Winnie looks like she needs a good fuck. Tanner has to free her too.)

  Winnie spots Tanner. She waves.

  “We’re going to say hi and then we’re going home,” she says to James.

  James says nothing. He’s waiting for a moment when he can escape.

  “Jimmy my boy. Jimmy baby.” Tanner grabs James around the neck, swaying him from side to side. Then he pushes James away and puts his hands on either side of Winnie’s face. He pulls her toward him and kisses her on the lips. “I love you guys,” he says.

  “Everybody loves us,” Winnie says.

  “Yeah, but I especially love you,” Tanner says. “Did you have any trouble getting in? Those people at the door are such assholes. I keep telling the publicity people, but it doesn’t make any difference. Jimmy, where’s your drink? Somebody get this man a cocktail,” Tanner screams. He sits down and leans back. He pulls Winnie onto his lap. “Watch out, Jimmy boy,” he says. “I’m going to steal her from you one of these days.”

  I wish you would, James thinks.

  Winnie giggles, plucks the martini glass out of Tanner’s hand, and takes a large gulp. (Winnie is a different person in front of Tanner. She flirts. Disgustingly, James thinks. Does she think Tanner would ever be interested in her?)

  “Whoa. Go easy, baby, easy,” Tanner says, taking his glass back and patting her on the butt. He slides his hand underneath the back of her coat. Winnie doesn’t object. (She hates Tanner until she sees him. And then she can’t help herself. She loves him.)

  “How are you?” Winnie asks. “I mean, really?”

  “I’ll be right back,” James says.

  “Hold on, bro,” Tanner says. He passes James a vial of cocaine. Turns back to Winnie. “So where’s my future wife?” he asks.

  James is elated. He feels like a naughty schoolboy who has just run off with the teacher’s chalk. (He did run off once with the teacher’s chalk, when he was very young. It felt good for three minutes, until he got caught. Then he was sent home from school. It was embarrassing. It was unfair. It was only a tiny piece of chalk.) James runs into Clay Ryan in the bathroom. “Christ,” Clay says. “I’m trying to get away from my wife.”

  “So am I,” James says. He hands Clay the vial of cocaine. Clay sticks in the tip of a key and holds it up to his nose. “So what about Winnie’s sister, Evie?” he asks.

  “She’s hot,” James says.

  * * *

  Evie wants to fuck Tanner and she’s excited about it.

  She’s met Tanner three times before, and every time, he made a point of putting his hands on her. It’s his way of saying that if she wanted to fuck him, he would.

  She tells herself that nothing will come of it (she tells herself that something might come of it, that she might, through some fluke of nature, be “the one”), but she doesn’t care. She just wants to fuck him once. To see what it would be like. (She wants to fuck a movie star. She’d like to fuck lots of movie stars. Who wouldn’t?)

  Evie runs into James and Clay outside the bathroom.

  They look like they’ve been up to something. James is wiping his nose. (He is so uncool, Evie thinks. Pathetic, really. How can Winnie sleep with him? He has no hair.)

  “Have you seen Winnie?” she asks.

  James and Clay take Evie into the bathroom. “I never do this,” James says.

  Evie says, “Oh James, shut up.”

  “Don’t tell Winnie,” James says.

  “I’m going to tell Winnie,” Clay says. “I’m going to tell the whole fucking world. Including my wife. Fuck her.”

  They run into Tanner outside the bathroom. Tanner, Clay, and Evie go into the bathroom. James goes to the bar to get a drink. In the stall, Tanner presses up against Evie. Like Clay isn’t even there. Evie thinks she might swoon. Tanner is better in person than he is on the screen.

  “How come you weren’t at the wedding?” he asks.

  “Which one?” Evie says.

  “James and Winnie.”

  “Rehab,” Evie says.

  Veronica and Winnie are sitting at a table. “I’d just like some appreciation sometimes,” Veronica says. “When I met Clay, he was living in an apartment with no bathroom.”

  “James is either working or on the Internet or watching TV,” Winnie says. Why does she always get stuck with Veronica?

  “I mean, could he listen? To me? His latest thing is bad investments.”

  “They have time for everything except you,” Winnie says. “Well, now I don’t have time for him.”

  “And does he even notice? And now they’re all on coke,” Veronica says. “Look at them all jabbering away like monkeys. It’s disgusting.”

  James and Evie and Clay sit down with Veronica and Winnie.

  “James is doing a piece on chimpanzees,” Evie says.

  “Oh James, don’t talk about it. It’s so dull,” Winnie says.

  “I just found out that the government is illegally importing chimpanzees for secret medical research. They’re stashing them in a warehouse in lower Manhattan,” James says.

  “Why would anybody bring monkeys into Manhattan,” Winnie says.

  “Did you know that in some chimp tribes, the females are lesbians? And they let the male chimps watch?” Clay asks, leaning over to Evie.

  “Clay, we’re going,” Veronica says.

  “Hold on,” Clay says. “I haven’t finished my drink.”

  “Who wants another drink?” James says.

  “That’s enough,” Winnie says.

  “Tanner’s ordering another drink,” James says.

  “Tanner’s leaving,” Veronica says. And, in fact, Tanner is leaving, moving toward the elevator, kissing and squeezing people along the way.

  “We’ll give you a ride uptown, Evie,” Winnie says, standing up.

  “That’s okay. I don’t have to be up in the morning,” Evie says. She has one eye on Tanner. She can’t let him get away. “I’ll be back,” she says.

  “Sure,” Clay says.

  Veronica gives him a dirty look.

  Evie hurries after Tanner. Winnie and James and Veronica and Clay are so boring. Why is Winnie always trying to control her? Doesn’t she understand that Evie and Tanner are one kind of person and Winnie and James are another? (They are partiers. Fun people.) She manages to squeeze herself into the elevator with Tanner just before the doors shut.

  “Good girl,” Tanner says. He looks at Evie appraisingly and thinks, She’ll do. (He’s had hundreds of girls like Evie. Sexy and available. Too available. After a certain age they can’t find husbands. Or even boyfriends. He’d rather fuck Winnie. At least she isn’t available.) “Just promise me one thing,” Tanner whispers. “Don’t give me any of that marriage shit.” He starts singing, “It ain’t me, babe. It ain’t me you’re looking for. Babe.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Evie giggles.

  The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Tanner grabs Evie’s hand. They hurry out to the street. The limo driver is holding open the door. There’s a crowd, held back by police barricades. “Maestro!” Tanner screams.

  He pulls Evie into the limo.

  Clay and Veronica and Winnie and James are standing on the street corner. Trying to get a cab. (Or trying not to get a cab, James thinks.)

  “If you want to kill yourself, go right ahead,” Veronica says to Clay. “I really don’t give a flying fuck anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?” Clay asks.<
br />
  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Clay. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Let’s get a drink,” James says.

  “You’ve both been doing coke,” Winnie says.

  “I haven’t been doing coke,” James says.

  “Can you believe this, man?” Clay says to James. “I mean, how much more of this do we have to take?”

  “You are such a loser, James,” Winnie says. “Let’s get in a cab and go home.”

  “I’m not getting in a cab,” James says. “I’m getting a drink.”

  “James!”

  “No!” James says. “Tanner sits there snorting up a gram of coke and no one gets on his case.”

  “Tanner is a famous movie star who makes fifteen million dollars a picture,” Winnie says.

  “Tanner is an alcoholic, a drug addict, and a sex addict. He’s a complete sicko degenerate,” Veronica says.

  “So it’s all about money,” Clay says.

  “What are you talking about?” Veronica says.

  “She,” Clay says, pointing at Winnie, “just said that Tanner makes fifteen million a year. So that makes it okay.”

  “Picture. Fifteen million a picture. And no, it’s not okay.”

  “I’ve had enough,” Clay says to James. “What about you?”

  “I just want a drink,” James says.

  Tanner’s limo pulls up to the corner. Tanner rolls down the window. “Anybody need a lift?”

  “I’m with you, Tanner,” Clay says.

  “Me too,” James says. He doesn’t look at Winnie.

  “Don’t you get in that limo, Clay.”

  “Hey sis, lighten up,” Tanner says. “Me and the boys are going to have a few pops.”

  Clay and James get into the limo, climbing over Evie, who’s lying on the floor, laughing. “Hello, boys,” she says. As the limo pulls away, James sneaks a look back at Winnie. Her mouth is open, but for once, nothing is coming out.

  JAMES FEELS ILL

  Four A.M.

  James doesn’t feel so good. He stole the chalk. He’s being punished. He thinks (but he’s not sure) he hears voices. “What have you done now, James?” his mother says. “At the rate you’re going, we’ll have to send you to reform school. Do you want to be a failure? Like your father?”

  Was his father a failure? His suits were always rumpled. He owned three dry-cleaning stores. Was he having an affair with Betty, the woman who did his books? “Pull down your pants, James,” his father says, taking off his belt.

  It was only a tiny piece of chalk. A sliver, really.

  “Hey, let me in,” James says. His voice is a croak. It seems to be coming from somewhere to his left. (Somehow he’s at his building. Somehow he got into a cab and obviously gave the cab driver his address. But it seems like ages ago. Maybe yesterday.)

  “Yes?” the doorman says. James has never seen him before.

  “I’m James Dieke. I live here,” he says, holding up his keys.

  The doorman lets him in. “Are you new?” James says. It feels better to talk. If he can just keep talking, maybe he can get through this. “Are you married? I’m married. I’m not sure if I like being married, but what can you do?”

  “Good night,” the doorman says.

  James rides the elevator to his floor. Does it take a minute or forever? He grew up on Long Island in a row house. Every house was the same. His had rattan furniture from Sears.

  (His grandmother ate red-and-white-striped candies. Peppermints, she said. She wore flowered housedresses.)

  Winnie’s house had a pool and a tennis court. Her father was a judge. Winnie had a black Prince tennis racket.

  This is very, very important.

  Someone brought a monkey to school once. Its tail was worn.

  Birds are chirping. It’s a terrible noise. Who knew New York City had so many birds? He enters his apartment. He’s going to show them all. He’s going to write this book. It’s earth-shattering. People have to know about this.

  “Winnie,” he says.

  She’s lying in bed. She opens her eyes and glares at him. Turns over.

  Someone’s got to know about this.

  James shakes her. “It’s this giant government plot, Winnie. Winnie, are you awake? It’s the overcrowding of the niche structures but instead of using rats they’re using monkeys and they’re finding that the same behavior occurs in primates which means that it goes all the way to the heart of the inner-city housing crisis. Of course, Stephen Jay Gould discovered the same construct in his snail studies . . .”

  “Go . . . to . . . the . . . couch.”

  “. . . which he then applied to primates, and Darwin never read Mendel. Do you know what that means? Darwin never read Mendel?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, James?” She looks at him. Then she must really look at him because she says, “Holy shit. You’re a mess. You look like a bum. And you smell.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you up,” James says. He isn’t sorry. Suddenly, he feels an overwhelming (and inexplicable) affection for her. He wants to make love. He wants to have sex. He’s got to have sex.

  He sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re so wonderful. You’re such a wonderful wife. I always want to tell you how much I love you, but you never give me a chance.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Winnie says. “I’d ask you to move out right now, but it’s too late. You can go to a hotel in the morning.” She pulls the covers over her head.

  “Everybody admires you so much. Tanner is crazy about you.”

  “I can’t have this,” Winnie says. She’s going to explode. She has work in the morning. (Why is it that everybody else thinks that their shit is so much more important than her shit? She’d like someone else to acknowledge the importance of her shit. For once.)

  James puts his arms around her. He tries to kiss her.

  “James,” she says.

  “You’re so . . . pretty,” James says, trying to stroke her hair.

  “James, go to sleep. . . . James, stop it. . . . I’m going to have you arrested for conjugal rape. . . . James, get off me.”

  Winnie screams. James rolls to the side. He moans.

  “Go to the couch!” Winnie says.

  “I can’t.”

  Winnie throws off the covers. “We’re going to have a long talk tomorrow. About your behavior. We’re going to start making some big changes around here.”

  “Winnie . . .”

  “I mean it, James. We have a child. You have responsibilities. Where the hell, and I really want to know this, where the hell do you and Clay get the idea that you can run around and act like six-year-olds? Do you see Veronica and me going out and drinking and doing drugs and staying up until four in the morning? How would you like it? How would you like it if I went out and stuck my hand down guys’ pants and did drugs with them in the bathroom and God knows what else? Maybe I’m going to do that some night. Because you know what, James, I don’t care anymore. I’ve had it.”

  “Winnie?”

  “And this business about chimpanzees and alpha males. I’m beginning to think you’ve lost it. Wake up, James. It’s the millennium. Men and women are equal. Get it? So why don’t you think about how I feel? Do you think I like taking care of you all the time? What about me? I’d like to be taken care of I’d like to have a husband who could at least pay . . . all the rent. You’re a burden, James. I’m tired of doing eighty percent of the work and reaping twenty percent of the profits. I’m tired of—”

  “Winnie?”

  “Shut up, James. It’s my turn. I’ve had to listen to your bullshit all evening. I’ve been sitting here for the last five hours wondering where you were and what you were up to. I’m so sick of you, James. You’re no better than Evie. Does she think we didn’t see her hiding in the limo? Hiding! She’s thirty-five! She’s obviously trying to sleep with Clay. And God knows what she’s trying to do with Tanner.”

  “Clay?” James says.

  “Yes. Clay. A ma
rried man.”

  “Winnie, I—”

  “What?”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Winnie, I think I’m having a heart attack. I’m going to die. Winnie. I think I’m dying.”

  “Oh James. You’re such a loser.” Winnie puts her head in her hands. “You can’t even do coke right.”

  IV

  JAMES SAYS NO

  James wants to be nursed and coddled. (Like when he was a little boy. Like when he was sick. His mother would make a bed for him on the couch and let him watch TV all day. His father would call him on the phone. “Hey sport,” he’d say. “How’s the sport?”) He wants Winnie to say, “Oh James, you poor sweet baby.” (He wants Winnie to be like his mother. Or at least motherly.)

  Instead she says, “They said you’re fine.”

  I’m not fine, he wants to scream. He wishes Winnie would go away. He wishes he could tell her to go away. He can’t now. He can’t ever. “I know,” he says.

  “You can leave now.”

  “I know,” he says. He pushes the buttons on the remote control, changing the channels on the TV above his head.

  “So. Can we go?” she says. “James. I’ve got to get back to my office.”

  “I need my clothes.”

  “They’re right here,” Winnie says. She picks up his clothes from the chair and dumps them on the hospital bed.

  James looks at his shirt, his sweatshirt (with the logo of Winnie’s magazine on it), his jeans, socks, and white briefs. His clothes look tainted. “I need clean clothes,” he says.

  “Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” Winnie says in a stage whisper. (She doesn’t want to be overheard by the old man in the next bed, who is practically dead. Who has a scab-covered leg sticking out from under the covers.)