Clara burst into laughter at this. Lorraine cracked a smile, too, though she doubted anyone had really believed the story. “Erm … good one, Melvin.” She looked down at her light green floral-print day dress with its ruffled skirt and her perfectly matching heels. Could a crazy girl put such a fantastic outfit together? She thought not. “Whatever gets the job done.”
“I had to pay some damages,” Melvin went on, “and they put your name on a watch list, but they’re not going to press charges.”
Lorraine raised her eyebrows. How much had he paid for her bad-cop routine gone wrong? Melvin was at Columbia almost entirely on scholarship—he didn’t have much money to throw around. Lorraine threw her arms around his neck in a sideways hug and kissed his cheek. “Aw, Melvin, thank you so much! I’ll pay you back.”
Melvin’s face turned bright red and he scooted away from her. “I can’t believe this is why you called me—to involve me in your petty crimes. I thought something serious had happened, and when I got there, well …” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “I helped you out this time, but don’t call me for any more of these shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans? I can’t get in trouble with the cops again!” Lorraine exclaimed. “You know that, Melvin! You, Mr. Squeaky Clean, could probably steal a car right in front of the owner’s eyes and he’d still never suspect you.”
Melvin wiped his brow with one of the napkins from the table. “Raine, you’re not asking me to—”
“No, no! Believe me, my career in crime is over.” Lorraine took off her hat and plopped it right onto Melvin’s head. “Though I’m not sure you should end yours. You’d look pretty spiffy in a fedora.”
Melvin chuckled and scooted back into the booth. He slid Lorraine’s chocolate milk shake away from her and sipped it. It was the rudest thing Lorraine had ever seen him do, and also the most attractive. Was Melvin finally growing some backbone?
“All right, so tell me what this is all about,” he said with the hat still on. The way it flopped over his forehead, Lorraine couldn’t see his face—it was a good look for him.
“Well,” Lorraine said, “we’re trying to stop Marcus from marrying that gold digger. Clara here—she’s a reporter for the Manhattanite—found out all sorts of dirt about her. The woman’s changed her name about a thousand times, and she’s wanted for robbery and assault. And those are just the things the cops know about! Once Clara digs a little deeper—”
“I’m not going to pursue this any further,” Clara cut in.
She was looking wistfully out the window. The coppers were finally leaving, and Deirdre was back in her normal clothes: a peach crocheted day dress with little black bows down the front where buttons would usually be. It was still hard to believe such a delicate flower of a woman had committed all those crimes.
Which was probably exactly how she’d gotten away with them.
“What?” Lorraine exclaimed. “Why? Now we know it’s her—she confessed!”
“If Marcus wants to marry that Deirdre woman, it’s his business.” Clara reached over to take a French fry from the basket they’d been sharing (“These are more French than that lying harlot,” Lorraine had commented when the waiter brought them) and nibbled it. Lorraine noticed sadness in Clara’s eyes. “I need to stop pretending it’s mine.”
“Applesauce, it’s not,” Lorraine said. The cheerful bell over the door jingled as an elderly couple left. “Don’t be an idiot like me! Haven’t you learned anything from my example?” She looked at Melvin. “Marcus is only with this Deirdre girl because he misses Clara, who lied to him and broke his heart.”
“Thanks for that,” Clara said.
“But I thought you liked Marcus,” Melvin said.
“Oh, that was so three weeks ago,” Lorraine replied, waving him off. “Nope, Clara’s the only girl for Marcus—anyone but the two of them could see that in a second.”
It was only when Lorraine said it that she truly believed it. Clara and Marcus really did belong together. With their runway-ready looks, neither of them had any business being as smart and sensitive as they were. They needed to get back together, get married, and have beautiful blond children. Who would probably also be charming and clever enough to take over the world.
Clara raised her eyebrows at Lorraine and opened her mouth, surely to object, but Lorraine wouldn’t let her.
She met Clara’s eyes. “The only reason that girl’s spell works on him is because he can’t see straight. He got hit so hard by you. Like he was hit by a brick. Yep, that’s it exactly—he was smashed in the head by a brick full of love.” Lorraine let out a tiny cough. “For you. Not me at all. Definitely for you, Clara.”
For a second, Clara looked as though she might start crying. Lorraine dug into her purse, readying a tissue, but then Clara blinked, took a deep breath, and composed herself.
“Do you really think so, Raine—that he, you know … the love brick? For me? He was so cold when I went to see him … not that I didn’t deserve it.”
Clara was asking Lorraine’s opinion as if it actually mattered to her. The way Gloria used to, back before everything had gone so wrong between them.
It felt really nice.
“Probably because you told him you were only there as a friend,” Lorraine said. “He wanted you to tell him that you’re lost without him, that you want a happily-ever-after with him, so that he could sweep you into his arms, and—”
“It’s true,” Melvin chimed in. He took off the hat now, and swept his hair back with his hands. Actually, it was a good head of hair, Lorraine thought. “Men don’t really want to be friends with women.”
Lorraine elbowed him in the ribs. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re friends with me, right?”
Melvin glanced away sheepishly. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts about it!” Lorraine said. “Clara, you need to snap out of it. We have to stop this devil woman together.”
What she didn’t say out loud was that not only did she want to help Marcus, but she wanted to help Clara, too. After all, they were starting to become … friends. Weren’t they? Stranger things had happened. Lorraine had been manager of a speakeasy before she’d turned eighteen, after all.
“Spare me the theatrics, Raine,” Clara said. She straightened her hat and grabbed her briefcase. “I’m gonna get out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Lorraine asked lightly.
Clara sighed. “The Manhattanite offices. I’ve got to talk to Parker, see if he’ll actually let me write something about this Deirdre.”
Lorraine’s lips spread into a big smile. They were friends. It was such a relief to finally have a real girlfriend in the city. She had Becky, she supposed. But she and Becky really didn’t have much in common. Lorraine had started to wonder whether Becky was joking about that matronly stuff at all. She’d made shortbread the other day, and it had been delicious.
“Melvin, you mind letting me out?” Lorraine asked.
“Of course not.” He drank down the last of her milk shake and stood.
Lorraine sprang from the booth and gave Clara a hug. “Sorry for fouling everything up earlier. I’ll try to keep my flair for the dramatic in check from now on. Though you do have to admit … Deirdre looked much better with the dress over her head, don’t you think?”
Clara swatted her back. “You’re so bad, Raine.” She giggled. “But seriously—if all this works out, and if Marcus ever speaks to me again, I’ll be sure to tell him everything you’ve done. I think he’d be impressed by how far you’ve gone to help him.”
While Clara made her way to Midtown, Lorraine and Melvin began the long walk to the Columbus Circle subway station. Lorraine had already blown enough money on the cab she and Clara had convinced to follow Deirdre’s town car to the dress shop.
They moved past Bloomingdale’s on Fifty-Ninth Street and Lorraine felt a pang at the sight of the enormous store and its windows full of mannequins modeling Patou and Chanel. But she could shop anot
her day. Right now it was time to just be happy she wasn’t in jail.
In the distance she could see Pulitzer Fountain burbling in front of the Plaza Hotel, and the trees of Central Park beside it. She glanced at Melvin. It was kind of nice to spend time with him off campus. He seemed like less of an insufferable brain without that constant tower of books in his arms.
“Hey,” Melvin said as they walked. “That was nice what you said to Clara back there. About Marcus and everything. You used to like him a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yep, I wrote bad poetry and everything.” Lorraine’s cheeks pinked at the fool she’d made of herself over Marcus Eastman in prep school. “I was so far gone over him—I used to crash his baseball games and ask for his help on math homework I’d already finished just so I’d have an excuse to stare at him.”
She’d wanted so badly for Marcus to feel the same way about her. Lorraine’s face still flushed every time she thought of the one and only time they’d ever kissed. They’d been at the Green Mill with Gloria and Clara, and Marcus was already so clearly beginning to fall for Clara. She’d leaned in to kiss him and he’d pulled away, horrified. She’d had to cover, say that she was drunk and being silly—but really, she’d been as sober as a judge.
The worst part of that memory was how long Lorraine had persisted in the senseless crush after it had happened.
And then in New York there’d been Hank. Their whole relationship had been a big fat lie, but Lorraine had walked away from it having learned a big fat truth: It was really, really nice when the boy you liked actually liked you back.
Now she could hardly believe how long she’d chased after Marcus, thinking she could convince him to have feelings for her. Why go to all that trouble when there were boys out there who would like her all on their own? Surely there had to be a few lining the streets of New York. She just had to find them.
She shrugged at Melvin. “But Marcus never liked me that way. I should’ve realized that a long time ago.” How lovely it was to finally admit that, without it feeling like her whole world would come crashing down. “How about you, Melvin, have you ever been in love?”
His cheeks got a little rosy and he gave her a quick glance. “Well, there is this one girl I sort of like … but I don’t think she likes me the same way.”
“Well, then she’s crazy. You’re a real catch, Melvin.” Just like when she’d said Marcus and Clara belonged together, Lorraine had to say the words to realize that she believed them. Melvin really was a great guy.
“You think so?”
“I do.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, with the park on their right and the hulking skyscrapers of the city on their left. Lorraine watched a few picnickers pack up their blankets as the sun began to set.
“So why do you want to help Marcus?” Melvin asked. “If you’re not trying to get him to like you?”
“It’d just be nice to have him back as a friend. Maybe then some of the Barnard girls would give me the time of day.”
“Ah, so you do have an ulterior motive. I should’ve known.”
She glanced over at him, ready to be insulted. But his smile made it clear he was kidding. He really did have such a nice smile—how had she never noticed? “Of course. I’ll leave true selflessness to you—you’re much better at it than I ever could be.” She paused. “Like what you did today. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
Lorraine looked at him then—really looked at him—walking with his hands plunged into his pockets. He didn’t walk with his chest puffed out like Marcus or Hank, men who knew how charming and attractive they were. But Lorraine was beginning to find that she liked that about Melvin. He didn’t think about how he appeared to anyone else—when he walked he thought about deeper things, like books and art. And Lorraine, maybe. People he cared about.
Melvin was funny, and not in the biting way Marcus had always been. And he was the sort of boy who got better looking the more you got to know him, though it wasn’t as if he were handsome. Still, as long as he kept his glasses on, Melvin’s strong chin, sculpted cheekbones, and full lips were practically swoony. He didn’t have to spend all his time at Lorraine’s beck and call. There were plenty of brainy girls at Barnard who would be happy to give Melvin the attention he deserved.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to him. “You do everything for me, and you never complain, and I never do anything for you. Why?”
He glanced down at her with his head cocked to the side. “Why do you think?”
Could it be … did Melvin do all this because he liked her? Could Lorraine be the girl he’d been talking about before? But no … he’d just said Lorraine did everything with an ulterior motive. He’d been joking, but would he really joke that way with the girl he carried a torch for?
“I’m your friend,” Melvin explained.
Ah, right. Friends. Of course.
“Now come on,” he said, “you’re gonna help me study for U.S. and European History. You owe me.”
Lorraine linked her arm through Melvin’s. “Oh, all right. Can we skip over Queen Victoria, though? She’s such a bore.”
“You’d be surprised. She and Albert actually had a pretty saucy marriage.”
“Really?” She paused. “Well, I guess that’s not actually so surprising.”
“Why not?”
“Well, in my experience, the people who seem dull at first can turn out to be some of the best people you’ll ever meet.” She peered at his brownish eyes behind his glasses and tightened her arm around his. “Once you get to know them.”
The two of them walked past the last bit of Central Park and a cool wind blew Lorraine’s hair back from her face. She smiled at the leaves of the trees beside them. They were just beginning to change color—a little flash of yellow on one tree, a bit of orange on another. The shift was only just starting, but soon it would be as though the trees had completely new leaves.
And now it looked like Lorraine, too, had new leaves after all.
GLORIA
Gloria was tired.
She’d been ready to fall into bed when the group had gotten back from a drunken scavenger hunt in Great Neck Plaza the night before. But Forrest had decided that it was the perfect time to set up the tightrope he’d just bought in the backyard. Gloria wasn’t sure how no one had broken any bones—though the mattresses the servants dragged outside had helped.
Gloria still hadn’t been able to dig up anything else on Forrest. And to make matters worse, Hank didn’t know where Jerome was. Thank God Ruby had agreed to help them, or Hank probably would’ve sent Gloria back to prison by now. Ruby would bring the information the feds needed to Marcus’s wedding tomorrow. Then, with Hank’s blessing, Ruby and Forrest would run off to Paris. And Gloria would be free to focus her attention on finding her fiancé.
But for now, she was still stuck here. After three weeks at Forrest’s villa, she’d almost started to think three a.m. beach bonfires and sled rides down the grand staircase were normal. Talking to an old friend helped her remember how absurd Forrest Hamilton’s lifestyle really was.
“What are Forrest and his pack of vamps getting up to now?” Marcus asked over the telephone. “Sparking some fireworks in the living room? Parachuting off the rooftop?”
“I’m not sure even Glitz or Glamour would be dim enough to try to set off fireworks indoors,” Gloria replied. “I should mention the parachute idea to Forrest, though—sounds right up his alley. But no, they’re all playing chess.”
“I don’t believe it. Sounds far too civilized for his crowd.”
“Well, it is human-sized chess. Forrest had the tiles out on the terrace painted to look like a chessboard.”
“Ah, there we go. Has anyone chucked a pawn off the terrace yet?”
She sat up from the sofa, looking out at the broad terrace through the wood-paneled den’s ornate French doors. The chessboard took up almost the entirety of the terrace. Larger pieces like the king and quee
n were more than half as tall as Forrest and his houseguests. Forrest and Glitz controlled the aquamarine pieces, while Marty, Ruby, and Glamour pushed the ivory ones.
Marty was the only one who seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to the game. Glitz and Glamour were using their respective bishops to have a sword fight of sorts. Ruby twirled her skirt this way and that and sang while a besotted Forrest applauded. Ruby had been singing soft, sweet songs in French all morning.
“No, but it’s only a matter of time,” Gloria replied with a laugh. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to this sort of thing now that you’re an experienced college man.”
“You forget I was nearly engaged by the time school started. I’ve been behaving myself these days, unlike you.”
“Well, I hope you haven’t completely reformed. The scoundrel Marcus Eastman is the one who’s been my best friend all these years.”
“I’m still me, don’t worry. I’ve just got my head on a little straighter. And you’re one to talk—I hope I’ll even recognize you at my wedding. You’ve turned into this singing jailbird who cavorts with shady billionaires. Doesn’t sound like the Gloria Carmody I used to know.”
Marcus was joking, but Gloria recognized the truth in his words. Would the girl Gloria had been in Chicago, president of the Honor Society and example to all the other debs in town, even recognize the woman Gloria had become?
Gloria didn’t think so. And she was so glad.
When Marcus spoke again, his tone was more serious. “Really, Glo, what are you doing out there? You’re way too good to spend your days as one of Forrest Hamilton’s girl toys. And now he’s coming with you to my wedding?”
“Just as friends,” Gloria corrected quickly. That way Forrest and Ruby would be able to flee the wedding directly and catch their ship to Paris. “You don’t want to know what I’m doing here, believe me.” Gloria peered outside again. She couldn’t see Forrest anymore—he’d probably returned to his own side of the chessboard, which Gloria couldn’t quite see from her vantage point. “It’s complicated,” she told Marcus in a whisper. “I’m working for the FBI, but I can’t really talk about it. Forrest thinks I’m here as a guest, more or less—he doesn’t know that I’m trying to bring him down.” Gloria thought of Ruby. “And I’m very close to getting what I need to satisfy the FBI and have him locked away.”
Diva Page 16