Sammy’s expression as I stepped out of the taxi didn’t disappoint. I watched him as his eyes covered the distance from my sparkly silver heels to the super-glam chandelier earrings Penelope had bought me for my last birthday. His smile grew wider until he finally finished looking and said, ‘Wow.’ It was followed by something that sounded like a low moan, and I thought I might die of happiness.
‘You like it?’ I asked, resisting the urge to twirl around. By some miracle, we were alone on the sidewalk, the last of a group of smokers having just ducked back inside.
‘Bette, you look absolutely beautiful,’ he said, and it sounded like he actually meant it.
‘Thanks! You look pretty good yourself.’ Breezy and light, I kept reminding myself. Keep it breezy and light, and leave him wanting more.
‘Are we still on for later?’ he asked, giving a ‘one-second’ gesture to two girls who’d just approached the velvet rope.
‘Sure. I’m up for it if you are. …’ My words were casual, but it took tremendous control for me not to choke with hopefulness.
‘Definitely. If you don’t mind waiting, I can probably be out of here by one. One-fifteen, latest. I know a good place nearby.’
I breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to cancel. No matter that one A.M. was still a solid four hours away, or that I’d be a zombie at work the next day. None of it mattered one tiny bit because in a survivable period of time, I was going to be tucked into a corner booth with my head resting on Sammy’s strong, solid shoulder, sipping my tiny espresso and laughing girlishly at the delicious things he’d be whispering in my ear – things like how it was time that each of us end whatever ‘situations’ we had with Isabelle and Philip so we could be together, fully and with honesty; how he’d never met anyone who understood him as well as I did; and how it was so incredible that we’d known each other as kids back in Poughkeepsie. He’d tell me that it wouldn’t be easy – us being together, what with the social and professional pressures we’d both face – but that we had something worth fighting for, and he was ready and willing. I would pretend to think this all over, nodding occasionally and cocking my head at certain words, as if to say, ‘Why, I can see what you mean,’ and when I finally looked up at him and agreed that yes, this was all sounding like a good idea, he would pull me toward him and kiss me, at first softly and then with more urgency. From that moment on we’d be together in every sense of the word, best friends and lovers and soul mates, and while there’d surely be challenges, we’d get through it all side by side. I’d read the same story play itself out so many times in my novels that I could barely believe I finally had my own real-life version.
‘Sure, that sounds great.’ And before he could change his mind or say another word, I gracefully (I hoped) sashayed past him, opened the door myself, and glided into the packed room.
One o’clock rolled around with surprising swiftness. I capitalized on my good mood by circulating around the room, chatting first with Elisa and then Davide and then a few guys I knew peripherally through Avery. Nothing could ruin my night, not even catching a glimpse of Abby, skulking in a darkened corner beside the bar. She caught me looking at her and before I realized what was happening, she was standing next to me, hugging me in greeting. I pulled myself away and took a step back, examined her face as though I were trying to place it, and then simply turned around and walked away. For a split second she called out my name and tried to follow me, but I stuck my right hand in the air as I walked in the opposite direction, and by the time I reached Kelly & Company’s table, she had disappeared. I’d just calmly poured myself a glass of champagne when Sammy walked over and motioned that he could leave.
We walked for nearly ten blocks before reaching a tiny diner that still had Christmas candles in its windows. He held the door for me and then chose a small corner booth – just like I’d envisioned. I blew on my hands to warm them, and when I wrapped them around my mug of hot chocolate, Sammy placed his own over mine.
‘Bette, I have to ask you something,’ he said, his eyes meeting mine directly.
I nearly gasped but was able to control my breath. Ask me something? Ask me what? Ask me if I am dating anyone else because you think now would be a good time to stop? Ask me if I can actually see myself being your lifelong partner? The answer is yes, yes, of course, Sammy, but isn’t it a tad early for that discussion? I was considering all of these possibilities and more when he said, ‘I need to ask for your patience.’
That sort of brought things to a grinding halt. My patience? I didn’t know for sure, but that didn’t sound like the opening of a commitment conversation to me. At least not the way it happened in any self-respecting romance novel.
As usual, any previous command I had of the English language had vanished.
‘My patience?’ I repeated.
‘Bette, I want to make this work – more than anything – but I need you to be patient with me. I got a phone call this morning that blew me away.’
‘What kind of phone call?’ I asked. This was definitely not good news.
‘From a lawyer. Some partner at a huge firm in midtown. He said he represented some investors who might be interested in backing a new restaurant. Apparently, they have a stake in a bunch of different businesses, but no restaurants right now. They’re looking to get behind a hot new chef – his words, not mine – and they’re considering a few different options. He asked if it sounded appealing to me.’
Well, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. Luckily, I remembered that I was expected to react. ‘Congratulations!’ I said automatically. ‘That’s just great news, don’t you think?’
He looked relieved. ‘I do – of course I do. It’s just that if I want to pursue this, I’m going to be crazy busy. They want me to write up a pitch covering all my ideas on possible spaces, themes, decor, even preferred prep and sous and pastry chefs. I’d have to give them all that – and three entirely different menu proposals – in the next month.’
I finally understood the ‘patient’ part.
He continued, ‘I barely have any time as it is with work and class, but this is going to take every possible free second I can find. The good news is that it’ll allow me to put the brakes on the whole Isabelle situation, which is a huge relief, but I’m going to be busier than ever. I wouldn’t ever ask you to wait for me, but, well, if there’s any way you could understand that—’
‘Don’t say another word,’ I said, leaning in toward him across the table. ‘I understand completely, and I couldn’t be happier for you.’ I forced myself to say what I knew was right, and when I was rehashing the conversation later on, back in my own apartment with Millington on my lap, I congratulated myself on getting the words out. It wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear, that much was sure, but like every single heroine I’d ever read about, I would fight for what I wanted.
I managed to smile at Sammy even though he looked genuinely distraught. ‘You’ll be great,’ I said. We held hands across the table, and I squeezed his as I said this. We finished our drinks and I held back the tears until he put me in a cab. This was just another small obstacle to overcome, and I was willing to do it. Anything worth having was worth working for, and Sammy was worth having. If patience was what it took, then patience was what I had. Sammy and I were clearly meant to be together.
28
‘Okay, everyone, this is it. Quiet down now, and let’s get started!’ Kelly had just inhaled her fourth Diet Coke and ordered her fifth as we settled in for our final meeting before the Playboy party. We were at a secluded sectioned-off table at Balthazar, Kelly’s favorite lunch place and her preferred venue for working meetings before big events. The food had just arrived; Kelly pushed aside her Niçoise salad and stood up from the table, shaking slightly with caffeine nerves.
‘As you all know, tomorrow is D-day. We’ll run through the checklist together, but this is a mere formality. Why, you may ask, is this a mere formality? Because everything – everythi
ng – will be executed without a hitch. If there is ever a time for perfection, it’s tomorrow night. And just in case there’s any doubt in anyone’s mind, it will be fucking perfect, because I won’t have it any other way.’
We were all nodding, accustomed to Kelly’s pre-event pep rallies, when there was a slight commotion at the door. Our table turned to look, along with everyone else in the restaurant. Leo spoke first.
‘Ashlee and Jessica Simpson with’ – he strained his neck to assess the accompanying group – ‘that kid, what’s his name? The one Ashlee was dating on and off? Ryan something? And the girls’ father.’
‘Who’s on it?’ Kelly barked.
‘Got it,’ Elisa snapped back.
She pulled her cell phone from her massive peacock blue Marc Jacobs Stella bag and began scrolling through numbers. She found the one she was looking for and pressed Send. Ten seconds later she was talking rapidly as we all listened.
‘Hi, this is Elisa from Kelly & Company. Yeah, exactly. Anyway, I just got word that the girls are in town, and we would love to host them at our Playboy party tomorrow.’ It was assumed that the person on the other line knew all about the party. After all, who didn’t?
Elisa smiled and gave Kelly a knowing look while pointing at her phone. ‘Yes, of course. No, I understand entirely. We’ll be willing to provide a completely private fifteen-minute arrival window so they won’t share the carpet with anyone else, and naturally they’ll be escorted to their own table in the VIP section.’
She paused to listen and then said, ‘The girls will have a personal concierge all night, so anything they need can be arranged immediately. I can guarantee they’ll be subjected to absolutely no interviews; however, if they’d be so kind as to pose for a few select photographers, it would be our pleasure to cover the cost of their hotel suites, hair and makeup, transportation, and, if required, wardrobe selection.’
Another pause, and then a frown. ‘Yes, of course they’ll both be there. Mm-hmm, I’d be happy to set that up for you.’ Her excitement had subsided and she was now clearly faking it. ‘Great! I’ll be in touch first thing tomorrow morning so we can arrange all the details. I so look forward to seeing them tomorrow night. Fabulous! Ciao!’
‘Well done!’ Kelly said as our group broke into light applause, reminding me again that Kelly was, as far as bosses go, pretty great. ‘What was their final request that you said we could accommodate?’
Elisa gritted her teeth. ‘Oh, the publicist mentioned how both girls have crushes on Philip Weston. She wanted to know if he would come over and meet them.’
Kelly screeched. ‘Of course! Too easy! Bette, you and Philip will greet those girls the moment they walk in and show them to their seats. Tell Philip to flirt, flirt, flirt. Elisa, have Bette call and follow up with the publicist tomorrow, okay? Speaking of which, Bette, how are we doing with your end?’
I could feel Elisa staring at me, and I sensed the look wasn’t filled with love. ‘Uh, everything seems to be in order.’ My focus was the midnight surprise. I’d been working on it nonstop for the past month, ironing out every minute detail, and I was finally confident it was going to be spectacular. Kelly had approved my plan but insisted it stay between us, since she didn’t want to risk anything being leaked to the press. As a result, no one but the two of us and Hef himself had any idea what was happening at midnight. ‘The midnight show is a go – I expect everything will run smoothly there.’
Elisa yawned loudly.
I continued. ‘I’ve credentialed all the press with passes that are impossible to copy, alter, or fake, and each will be sent by messenger to its recipient exactly one hour before start time. Here are copies of the press grid’ – I paused here to pull out a stack of papers and pass them around the table – ’with every reporter and photographer who will be in attendance; what, if anything specific, they’re most interested in covering; who they tend to feature the most; the people and places each will or will not be able to access; and, of course, their drink preferences.’
Kelly nodded and studied the sheet. ‘Are escorts listed on here?’
‘Certainly. Everyone from the office will take turns, according to my schedule, escorting various members of the press to ensure they’re exposed to the people we’d like them to meet.’
‘I had a final meeting yesterday with the production company we’re using, and I’m comfortable with how that side is shaping up,’ Elisa interjected. ‘Their plans for bar layout, bartenders, lighting, risers, music, decorations, and catering all seem to mesh with our instructions and the client’s preferences.’
Kelly pushed the lettuce around on her plate and then changed her mind, choosing to sip her chardonnay instead. ‘Okay, that’s good,’ she murmured. ‘But back to this press situation for a minute. Bette, did you touch base with all the photo editors to let them know they have our full cooperation with anything they might need?’
‘I did. I had a couple of the interns call them at the beginning of the week, and they reached everyone by Wednesday. All in all, I think we’re in great shape.’
The lunch meeting continued like this for another hour before Kelly gave us the rest of the afternoon off to go home, attend grooming appointments, try to relax, and mentally prepare ourselves for the following evening. I’d already planned to stay in that night – with Millington and a huge bowl of extra-buttered microwave popcorn – and watch bad movie after bad movie on TNT, so I was ecstatic to hear that I had the afternoon off, too. Of course, the extra time would mean even more opportunity to think about Sammy. It hadn’t been too much of a problem the past couple of weeks because I’d been swamped with prep work, but I shuddered to think of how much I could obsess if given a little free time.
Kelly paid the check and everyone was saying good-bye when Elisa pulled me aside.
‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ she asked.
‘Sure, what’s going on?’
‘Look, I know that things have gotten a little weird between us, but I really think we should do our best to work together tomorrow night. Neither of us wants to spend the whole night working, so we need to figure out a system where only one of us is on and the other can relax. And then switch. You know?’
I was surprised to hear her acknowledge that there was tension between us, but I was glad she no longer seemed so annoyed. ‘Sure, sounds good. I can’t imagine there’s going to be much time tomorrow to do anything besides deal, but we can try, you know?’
This was apparently all she needed to hear. ‘Great. That sounds great. See you tomorrow, Bette!’
I watched as she tightened her fringed scarf around her emaciated neck and ducked into the cold street. Strange girl, I thought, watching her hail a cab. I waited until her taxi had pulled away before heading outside myself. I had all afternoon to myself for the first time in recent memory, and I didn’t want to waste a single second of it.
29
I’d just finished You’ve Got Mail and was halfway through Can’t Buy Me Love when the phone rang. I was surprised to see Penelope’s number come up on caller ID – surprised and thrilled. I’d given her the bare-bones rundown on Sammy, but she had no idea how much I adored him. I’d managed to read between the lines of her upbeat soliloquies to determine that Avery wasn’t around a whole lot, that she still hadn’t found a job, and that the couples they were hanging out with weren’t exactly her type, but she wouldn’t admit any of this outright. Left with not much to say, we emailed each other silly forwards and texted stupid things and spoke very occasionally about safe subjects, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d received a good, old-fashioned, late-night call from my best friend.
‘Hey, B, how are you? Sorry to be calling so late, but the time difference really sucks and I figured you might still be up. Avery’s out of town again and I don’t really have anyone else out here to call and bother, so you’re the lucky winner tonight!’
Her voice sounded hollow and I wished we were closer. ‘Pen, I’m so glad you calle
d! How are you?’
‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘Hardly. Just watching bad movies. What’s going on with you? It’s so good to hear from you.’
‘Is your British trust-fund boyfriend there?’ she asked.
Had everything been normal, Penelope would have already analyzed a hundred times over with me what Sammy’s ‘being patient’ meant, and would have reassured me repeatedly that it was only a matter of time before he and I would be together. Now, despite knowing about Sammy, she didn’t even seem to understand that I wasn’t actually dating Philip.
‘Pen, he’s not my boyfriend, you know that. Philip and I are expected to go to the Playboy party together, but only for the photos.’
‘Right, of course. When is that? That’s a big deal, right?’
‘It’s tomorrow night! It’s stressful because we’ve been working on it forever now and I’m pretty much first-in-command, after Kelly. But so far it seems like everything’s in line. If the photographers behave themselves and the Bunnies all show up, we should be okay.’
We continued on like this for a few minutes, neither of us acknowledging that we had huge knowledge gaps about each other’s lives.
‘So what do you plan to do about Abby and the fact that she keeps printing those lies about you?’ she asked, sounding like the old Penelope for the first time all night.
I’d been trying not to think about it, but when I did, the anger – the feeling of being violated – was enough to drive me mad. ‘I still can’t figure out why she hates me so much. It’s torture not being able to confront her. Do you think people really believed that I was having an affair with the Hilton sex-tape guy? I don’t even know his name!’
Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know Page 76