Not that she didn’t love them, of course. Her papa was getting older and, at this point in his life, much more mellow than he’d been when Adriana was growing up. He seemed content to let his wife call the shots, and rarely insisted on anything beyond his nightly Cuban and the tradition that each and every one of his children – three from his first wife, three from his second, and Adriana with his current, and hopefully last, wife – reunite at the Rio de Janeiro compound for the weeks before and after Christmas. The opposite had proven true for her mother. Although Mrs. de Souza had been relaxed and accepting of Adriana’s teen years and all her sex-and-drug experimentation, her liberal attitude did not extend to unmarried twenty-nine-year-old daughters – especially those whose predilection for sex and drugs could no longer be called ‘experimental.’ It wasn’t that she didn’t understand good living; she was Brazilian, after all. Eating (low-fat, low-cal), drinking (bottle after bottle of expensive white wine), loving (when one can’t conceivably feign yet another headache) – these were the very essences of life. To be conducted, of course, under the proper circumstances: as a carefree young girl and then not again until after one had found and claimed an appropriate husband. She had traveled and modeled and partied through her own teen years – the Gisele of her generation, people still said. But Camilla de Souza had always cautioned Adriana that men were (slightly) less fleeting than looks. By the time she was twenty-three, she had secured a (fabulously) wealthy older husband and produced a beautiful baby girl. This was how it should be.
The thought of listening to her mother’s spiel for another two weeks made Adriana feel woozy. She stretched out on the slightly sagging lobby sofa and thought through her strategy. Stay occupied during the day, come home late or not at all, and convince them at every possible opportunity that her energies – not to mention her substantial trust fund – were going toward securing a proper husband. If she was careful, they would never know about the grungy British rocker who lived in an East Village walk-up or the sexy surgeon with a practice in Manhattan and a wife and kids in Greenwich. If she was meticulous, they might not even catch on to the gorgeous Israeli who claimed he pushed papers at the Israeli embassy but who, Adriana was certain, worked for Mossad.
Leigh’s raspy voice – one of the few naturally sexy things about the girl, Adriana was always telling her, not that she ever listened – interrupted her thoughts. ‘Wow,’ Leigh breathed, staring at Adriana with widened eyes. I love that dress.’
‘Thank you, querida. My parents came to town, so I had to tell them I was going on a date with an Argentinean businessman. Mama was so happy to hear it that she lent me one of her Valentinos.’ Adriana ran her palms down the length of her short black dress and twirled around. ‘Isn’t it fabulous?’
The dress was indeed beautiful – the silk seemed able to think, knowing where to cling to a curve and where to drape gracefully over one – but then again, Adriana could have looked lovely in a red-checked tablecloth.
‘Fabulous,’ Leigh said.
‘Come, let’s leave before they come downstairs and see I’m with you and not some South American polo player.’
‘I thought he was supposed to be a businessman?’
‘Whatever.’
The cab crept across Thirteenth Street at a glacial pace, mired in the downtown Saturday-night traffic that made a few blocks feel as long as a commute from New Jersey. It would have taken the girls only ten minutes to walk from their building on University to the West Village, but neither even considered hoofing it. Adriana, especially, looked as though she would risk injury and possible paralysis if she so much as thought about walking more than a couple of carefully negotiated meters.
By the time they pulled up in front of the Waverly Inn, Emmy had texted each of them a half-dozen times.
‘Where have you been?’ Emmy hiss-whispered as the girls squeezed through the minuscule front door. She was leaning against the hostess desk and waving in their general direction. ‘They won’t even let me sit at the bar without you.’
‘Mario, such a bad boy!’ Adriana crooned, kissing a handsome man of indeterminate ethnicity on both cheeks. ‘Emmy is a friend of mine, and my dinner guest tonight. Emmy, meet Mario, the man behind the legend.’
Introductions and kisses – air, cheek, and hand – were exchanged before the girls were escorted to the back room and seated at a table for three. The restaurant wasn’t as jam-packed as it normally was since many of its usual revelers were in the Hamptons for Memorial Day weekend, but there was still plenty of opportunity for fantastic people-watching.
‘‘‘The man behind the legend”?’ Emmy asked, rolling her eyes. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Men need to be stroked, querida. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to teach this to both of you. They sometimes require a gentle touch. Learn when to use a firm grip and when to cover it in velvet and they are yours forever.’
Leigh popped some Nicorette. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’ She turned to Emmy. ‘Is she even speaking English?’
Emmy shrugged. She was used to the secrets Adriana tried to impart year after year. They were like pretty little fairy tales: fun to hear but seemingly useless in real life.
Adriana ordered a round of vodka gimlets for the table by grasping the waiter’s hand between her own and saying, ‘We’ll have three of my favorites, Nicholas.’ She sat back to survey the crowd. According to Adriana, it was still a little early – it wouldn’t start really buzzing until midnight or so, once all the first-timers and celeb-seekers left and the regulars could commence the night’s real drinking and socializing – but so far the crowd of thirtysomething media-and-entertainment types appeared happy and attractive.
‘Okay, girls, why don’t we just get it out of the way so we can all enjoy our meals?’ Emmy asked the moment Nicholas delivered their drinks.
Adriana returned her attention to her tablemates. ‘Get what out of the way?’
Emmy raised her glass. ‘The toast one of you will inevitably make that’s intended to remind me how much better off I am without Duncan. Something about how single is fabulous. Or how I’m young and beautiful and men will be beating down my door. Come on, let’s just do it and move on.’
‘I don’t think there’s anything so great about being single,’ Leigh said.
‘And while you most certainly are beautiful, querida, I wouldn’t say almost thirty is all that young.’ Adriana smiled.
‘I’m sure you’ll eventually meet someone wonderful, but men don’t seem to beat down anyone’s doors these days,’ Leigh added.
‘At least not the unmarried ones,’ Adriana said.
‘Are there any left who aren’t married?’ Leigh asked.
‘The gay ones aren’t.’
‘At least not yet. But probably soon. And then there won’t be anyone at all.’
Emmy sighed. ‘Thanks, guys. You always know just what to say. Your unending support means the world to me.’
Leigh broke off a chunk of bread and swirled it around the olive oil. ‘What does Izzie have to say about everything?’
‘She’s trying not to show it, but I know she’s absolutely thrilled. She and Duncan never exactly loved each other. Plus she’s obsessed with the idea that I – quote – “have trouble defining myself outside a relationship,” end quote. In other words, her usual psychobabble bullshit.’
Adriana and Leigh exchanged knowing looks.
‘What?’ Emmy asked.
Leigh stared at her plate and Adriana arched her perfect eyebrows, but neither said a word.
‘Oh, come on! Do not tell me you agree with Izzie. She has no idea what she’s talking about.’
Leigh reached across the table and patted Emmy’s hand. ‘Yes, dear, of course. She’s got a doting husband, loads of outdoor hobbies, and an MD. Did I forget anything? Oh, yes, she matched with her first choice for residency and is in the running for chief resident – a year earlier than expected. You’re absolutely right …
she sounds tremendously ill-equipped to give a little sisterly advice.’
‘We’re getting off track,’ Adriana interjected. ‘Not to be the tactful one here, but I think Leigh was just trying to say that Izzie might have a point.’
‘A point?’
Adriana nodded. ‘It has been a rather long time since you’ve been on your own.’
‘Yeah, like always?’ Leigh added. ‘Not that that’s necessarily bad. But it does happen to be true.’
‘Wow. Anything else you two are just dying to tell me?’ Emmy clasped her menu to her chest. ‘Don’t hold back now.’
‘Well …’ Adriana glanced at Leigh.
‘Just say it.’ Leigh nodded.
‘I wasn’t really serious,’ Emmy said, her eyes wide. ‘There is something?’
‘Emmy, querida, it’s like the big white rhino in the room.’
‘Elephant.’
Adriana waved her hand. ‘Whatever. The big white elephant. You are almost thirty years old—’
‘Thank you for mentioning that yet again.’
‘—and you have only been with three men. Three! This is not to be believed, and yet it’s true.’
The girls quieted while Nicholas placed their shared appetizers on the table: an order of tuna tartare with avocado and a heaping plate of oysters. He appeared ready to take their order, but Emmy placed both hands atop her menu and glared. Defeated, he shuffled away.
‘You two are incredible. You sit here for twenty minutes telling me that I can’t be alone, and then you switch tacks – with no fair warning – and say that I haven’t dated enough people. Do you hear yourselves?’
Leigh squeezed a lemon wedge over the oysters and delicately removed one from its shell. ‘Not dated – slept with.’
‘Oh, come on! What’s the difference?’
Adriana gasped. ‘That, my darling friend, is exactly the problem. What’s the difference? Between dating and random sex? My goodness, we have much work to do.’
Emmy looked to Leigh for help but Leigh nodded in agreement. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have to agree with Adriana. You’re a serial monogamist and as a result have only ever been with three people in any significant capacity. I think what Adi’s saying’ – she was able to sneak in a single use of the hated nickname here because Adriana was distracted on multiple fronts by food, drink, and sex conversation – ‘is that you should be single for a little while. And being single means dating different people, figuring out who and what work best for you, and, most of all, having a little fun.’
‘So what you’re really saying – let’s just be straight here – is that I should be whoring around more,’ Emmy said.
Leigh smiled like a proud parent. ‘Yes.’
‘And you?’ Emmy turned to Adriana, who clasped her hands together and leaned forward.
‘That is exactly what I am saying.’ Adriana nodded.
Emmy sighed and sat back in her chair. ‘I agree.’
At the same time, in nearly the same disbelieving tone, Leigh and Adriana asked, ‘You do?’
‘Of course. I’ve had some time to do a little self-examination, and I’ve arrived at the same conclusion. There’s only one logical way to proceed: I am going to have sex with random men. All sorts and sizes and colors of random men. All kinds of sex, for that matter.’ She paused and looked at Adriana. ‘The level of my planned whoredom will make you proud.’
Adriana gazed back and wondered if she had heard her friend correctly. She concluded that she had, but she must have missed the sarcasm somewhere along the line – this declaration was inconceivable. She said what she always did when she had no idea what else to say. ‘Fabulous, querida. Just fabulous. I adore the whole idea.’
Leigh used her knife to push a bit of tuna and a slice of cucumber onto the tip of her fork and elegantly brought it to her mouth. A quiet crunch, a couple of chews, and she swallowed. ‘Emmy, sweetheart. We were just kidding, you know. I think it’s great you haven’t been with a lot of guys. When someone asks you how many people you’ve slept with, you don’t even have to divide by three! Now, isn’t that nice? To not have to lie?’
‘I’m really not kidding about this,’ Emmy said. She made eye contact with the waiter as he passed by their table and ordered three glasses of champagne when he approached. ‘This is the start of my new life, and trust me, it’s long overdue. First thing I’m going to do on Monday is call up Chef Massey and tell him I’m accepting the job. What job? you might wonder. The one where they want to pay me boatloads of money and give me a huge expense account so I can travel all over the world and stay in the nicest hotels and eat in the best restaurants for inspiration. Inspiration! For new menu ideas. Have you ever heard of something so ridiculous? And who’s the fucking idiot who’s been saying no the last two months because she didn’t want to desert her poor, lonely boyfriend? Yours truly. Didn’t want poor baby Duncan to feel abandoned and unloved while I jetted off somewhere fabulous. So yes, this time I’m going to call him up and take that job, and then I’m going to fuck every single solitary appealing man I meet. Foreign, sexy, beautiful men. And I do mean every last one. How does that sound, girls? Acceptable?’ The waiter returned with their champagne. ‘So please, let’s toast.’
Adriana made a noise that for anyone less beautiful could only be called a snort but coming from her sounded exotic and feminine. Both girls turned to look and she suddenly felt out of sorts. Her friend had just announced plans for a major life change while she herself had been coasting effortlessly along the same path for years. Was Adriana’s role as the group’s jet-setting partyer in jeopardy, or had she just had one too many drinks? There was something unsettling about Emmy’s proclamation. And if there was one way Adriana was not accustomed to feeling, it was unsettled.
She held up her glass and forced a smile.
Emmy smiled back and said, ‘There’s just one condition. I want company.’
‘Company?’ Leigh asked. She gnawed her bottom lip, catching a flake of skin between her front teeth. She looked anxious. Adriana wondered why the girl always looked nervous these days, especially since everything was going so beautifully for her.
‘Yes. Company. I’m willing to completely slut out if you’ – Emmy pointed to Adriana – ‘agree to have a committed, monogamous relationship. With a man of your own choosing, of course.’
Adriana inhaled. She incorporated one of her favorite moves, which consisted of absentmindedly touching a fingertip to her lips, letting it rest there for a moment, and then graze along to the spot right below her left ear. It prompted four men at the adjoining table to stare and Nicholas to come running. She felt that familiar thrill of being watched.
The girls ordered main courses, another round of drinks, and a plate of the truffle mac and cheese to share.
‘So? What do you say?’ Emmy asked.
‘Did my mother put you up to this?’
‘Yes, sweetheart. It was all your mom’s idea for me to pledge to fall into bed with every man I meet over the course of the next year just so you’ll agree to date only one person. She’s a clever one,’ Emmy said.
‘Come on, people, let’s be serious for a minute,’ Leigh said. ‘Neither one of you will actually go through with this, so can we change the subject? Emmy, you made your point. If you want to dive headfirst into another five-year relationship, that’s certainly your prerogative. And Adriana, it’s more likely that you’ll become an astronaut than date only one man. Next topic.’
‘It’s not like I dared her to do something really drastic, like get a job …’ Emmy grinned.
Adriana forced a return smile even though she found it difficult to laugh at herself, especially when the jokes concerned her lack of employment. Her mother’s irritating voice reverberated in her head. ‘Wow. Playing hardball, are we, querida? Well, guess what? I accept your challenge.’
‘You what?’ Emmy asked, furiously twisting a lock of hair.
Leigh’s glass halted halfway to her mou
th. ‘You’ll do it?’
‘I said I’ll do it. When do we start?’
Emmy bit off an asparagus end, chewed daintily, swallowed. ‘I say we take a little time to figure out the terms. By the end of next weekend, we’ll agree to have a plan?’
Adriana nodded. ‘Done. And that will give you’ – she waved her champagne glass in Leigh’s direction – ‘a chance to figure out what your resolution will be.’
‘Me?’ Leigh’s recently plucked brows furrowed. ‘A resolution? Why? It’s not even New Year’s. Just because you two are crazy doesn’t mean I have to be.’
Emmy rolled her eyes. ‘Leigh? Please. What does she need to change? Perfect job, perfect boyfriend, perfect apartment, perfect nuclear family …’ Emmy’s voice became nasal and singsongy. ‘Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,’ she chanted, and dismissed Leigh’s look of displeasure as momentary crankiness.
‘Yes, that may be so,’ Adriana said, looking only at Leigh. ‘But she’ll have to come up with something. You can do that, can’t you, Leigh? Think of one single aspect of your life that you’d like to change? To work on?’
‘Of course I can,’ Leigh said in a snippy tone. ‘I’m sure there are a million things.’
Adriana and Emmy exchanged looks, each knowing what the other was thinking: Leigh might have all her ducks in a row, but it wouldn’t kill the girl to loosen up a little and enjoy herself.
‘Well, you have two weeks to choose one, querida,’ Adriana announced in her huskily authoritative voice. ‘In the meantime, let’s toast.’
Emmy hoisted her glass like it was a lead paperweight. ‘To us,’ she announced. ‘By next summer, I will have prostituted myself out to half of Manhattan and Adriana will have discovered the joys of monogamy. And Leigh will have … done something.’
‘Cheers!’ Adriana called out, again attracting the attention of half the restaurant. ‘To us.’
Leigh clinked her glass halfheartedly. ‘To us.’
‘We are totally, completely, royally fucked,’ Emmy leaned in and stage-whispered.
Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know Page 85