Chasing Harry Winston

by Lauren Weisberger

  “No. From what he said, it sounds like he thinks Jesse came on to me in some way, made me uncomfortable, and I freaked. Figures that’s why I don’t want to work with him anymore, and he even tried to tell me that the occasional pervy author was part of the deal, a hazard of the trade or whatever.” Leigh laughed ruefully and took a sip of tea. “I wonder what he’d think if he knew I practically dragged Jesse to bed?”

  “Querida, I can’t believe you actually quit your job! What’s your game plan?”

  “Guess what? For the first time in my entire life, I don’t really know.” Leigh refilled her teacup and didn’t appear too concerned. “I want to take some time off, not rush into anything, maybe travel a little before hopefully starting school this fall. I haven’t really figured it all out, but I’ll probably have to sell my apartment and”—she paused for a minute and turned to Emmy—“find a roommate? No pressure, Em, I swear, but I know you hate your place and have been talking about moving forever, so no need to answer now, but maybe we could find a cute two-bedroom together somewhere?”

  Leigh was ruining everything! Adriana had a whole plan. She had been so excited to tell Emmy about it, and now Leigh was screwing it all up. She tried to interject. “Well, guess what? I have something—”

  “Ohmigod, are you kidding?” Emmy was practically shrieking. “I would love that. Love, love, love it. I can’t stand that fucking studio for one more second. I’ll move anywhere. Anywhere! My only requirement is an oven. And a stove. That should be manageable, right? Just say the word.”

  “Done!” Leigh said. “Let’s start looking right away. I’m ready to move as soon as my place sells.”

  “Hellooooo? Do you two hear me? Hello!” Adriana said, a bit more peevishly than she intended. “I have something that might be of interest to you both.”

  The girls turned and looked at her expectantly.

  “So, nothing’s finalized yet—and I probably shouldn’t even be saying anything—but I will most likely be moving to Los Angeles.”

  That silenced them. It was satisfying to watch Leigh gasp and Emmy’s mouth drop open. What’s a girl got to do to get a little attention around here? Adriana thought.

  “What?”

  “Why?”

  “Is it Toby?”

  “Are you moving in with him?”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “Is it definite?”

  “Are you getting married?”

  This was absolutely delicious, better even than she had hoped. She sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything. Just calm down.” By which she meant, of course, Keep firing questions at me, I love it! Happily, her friends obliged, and Adriana reveled in their curiosity until she got to utter the words she never thought she’d hear herself say, words that made her prouder and more excited than she could possibly have imagined.

  “I have a job offer, and I plan to accept it,” she said and sat back to relish her friends’ reactions. It was so delicious springing exciting news on her unsuspecting friends. How else could you get them to pay attention?

  “A what?” Leigh asked with a puzzled expression.

  “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘job’?” Emmy asked, looking equally confused.

  “Oh, come on! What do you think I mean?” This was exasperating! Was it really so impossible to imagine her with a job just because she’d never kept one before? Puh-lease. The whole world worked; she was sure she could handle it, too.

  “Okay, Adi, don’t make us beg for it. Give us the rundown,” Leigh said, leaning forward over the table.

  Adriana took a deep, dramatic breath. So kill her for wanting to enjoy this! It wasn’t every day Adriana de Souza was taken seriously. “Let’s see, the CliffsNotes version is fairly straightforward. You already know about the Marie Claire column?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Well, we were out to dinner the other night with some of Toby’s colleagues at Paramount. He was bragging about my columns getting picked up—you should’ve seen it, he was absolutely adorable—and one of the women, a producer of some sort, started acting all interested. She kept asking all these questions about me, the columns, how Marie Claire found me, when the first one was getting published…and like a million others. I sort of thought she was just being polite, but she called the next day and told me that she was interested in—are you ready for this?—developing my ideas into a movie!”

  “Ohmigod,” Emmy breathed.

  Leigh looked dumbstruck. “No way. No, no, no way!”

  Adriana nodded happily. “Yes, yes, yes! I e-mailed her the samples I’d submitted to Marie Claire and she called back later that very same day. Said she wanted to preempt anyone else and start working on it before the first column actually gets published and, in her words, ‘inevitably becomes a phenomenon.’ She called me the next Candace Bushnell.”

  “Shut up!” her friends called out simultaneously.

  “I’m completely serious.”

  Leigh leaned even closer; she was practically pressing her face against Adriana’s. “So what does that mean? What will you do for her?”

  “I didn’t totally understand, either, but Toby said that the first step is to get an agent—he’s recommending someone good—and then they’ll negotiate a consulting contract on my behalf. The producer has a deal with Paramount and a trailer on their lot, and she’s going to pair me with a screenwriter to work on developing a script. If everything goes through, I’ll be moving in the next two months.”

  What she hadn’t told her friends was that the producer was fine with her working from New York—had expected it, even—and that it was entirely her choice to move to LA. It was just time for a change. Adriana had been in New York since the day she’d graduated, and she knew she’d move back sooner than later. If she didn’t try living somewhere else now, it might never happen. Plus, the idea of getting even farther away from her parents and their meddling restrictions was immensely appealing.

  “Adriana, that is so incredible. Incredible. Congratulations!” Leigh said as she pushed herself up from the table and went to hug her friend.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Adriana asked Emmy, who had begun tearing up.

  “Sorry,” she sniffled. “I really am so happy for you. I just can’t believe you’re going to move.”

  “Querida! You went first, remember? Culinary school in Cali? As if there aren’t perfectly good schools on the East Coast. But you came back, and I will, too. Besides, I have something that might make you feel better.”

  “What?” Emmy asked. She said it petulantly, like a stubborn, curious child.

  “I think you’re really, really going to like it.”

  “What? Tell me! What?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t want to live in my apartment while I’m gone. And”—she paused dramatically and turned to Leigh, who was just staring at her—“you, too, querida. I didn’t realize you two were planning to live together, but what could be more perfect than my place? I spoke to my parents and they were thrilled about Emmy staying there, and I’m sure they’ll love it even more if you’d both be there. Three bedrooms, rent-free, of course, with only two caveats: You have to send them their mail wherever they are once a week, and you have to deal with their occasional visit to New York. Which should be significantly less frequent since I won’t be here. What do you both think?”

  “Gee, I don’t know,” Leigh said. “Sounds like a shitty deal to me.”

  “Yeah, seriously. Fucking miserable. A free three-bedroom, its only responsibility a once-weekly trip to the post office. Christ, Adriana, how could you even suggest it?”

  “Please, querida! The post office? Uch! We have an arrangement with UPS; they come to the apartment, pick up the mail bundle, package it, and ship it. You’ll only need to collect it from the lobby mailbox,” Adriana said in her best isn’t-it-obvious voice.

  Leigh slammed her hands against the table. “Holy shit, it just occurred to me. The penthouse me
ans the top floor.”

  “Stating the obvious, Leigh,” Adriana said.

  “And the top floor means no one banging on the ceiling! Ohmigod!” she started to laugh and cry at the same time. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about anything in my entire life!”

  Emmy made a dramatic show of raising her arms and staring at the ceiling. “Penthouse A, here we come!”

  “And you, Adriana?” Leigh asked. “Where, my dear, are you going to live while Emmy and I sleep in blissful nonclomping silence? Do I sense some cohabitation in your immediate future?”

  Adriana smiled. This might be the best part of all. “Well, Toby did ask me to move in with him,” she said as the girls clapped, “and while things are going really well with us—surprisingly well, actually—I think that’s even more reason not to jump into anything.” She stopped, sipped her tea, and pretended to ponder something. “So…I’m going to take the money I’ll earn from the consultant project and the columns and rent my very own little apartment in Venice Beach. Just a little studio, as close to the beach as possible. Near the farmers’ market, I think.”

  Emmy turned to Leigh and sighed. “Leigh, do you believe it? Our little girl is growing up. Doing everything all on her own!”

  Adriana held up her hands for silence. “Not so fast, querida. I do have one favor to ask of you, and it’s a big one.” She could feel herself tense up, praying that Emmy would say yes.

  Emmy peered at her with curiosity. “A big one, huh? Bigger than Penthouse A? Hit me, Adi.”

  “I was hoping you might let me, uh, borrow Otis for the year? Oh, Emmy, I know he’s your pet, and I know it’s crazy to drag the poor thing across the country, but we’ve just bonded so much these past few weeks. In a weird way—and please don’t laugh at me for this—I think of him as my good-luck charm. My life just sort of fell into place when he arrived. Would you mind terribly?” Adriana knew Emmy wouldn’t mind—would in fact be ecstatic that she wanted to keep him—but there was no harm in letting Emmy think she was pulling one over on her, right? It was a small gift for a best friend.

  “Hmm,” Emmy murmured, pretending to mull this over. “I guess it would be okay. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of someone’s good-luck charm? If you’d like to take Otis with you, then by all means, he’s yours.”

  “To Otis,” Leigh said, raising her teacup.

  “To Emmy on her birthday. In the immortal words of our waitress, may everyone look so good at thirty!” Adriana added, holding her teacup aloft.

  Emmy was the last to raise her cup and clink it with her friends’. “To the three ringless wonders. May we be every bit as wonderful but hopefully not so ringless in another thirty years.”

  “I’ll toast to that!” Leigh said.

  “Me, too,” Adriana added, filled with excitement about everything that lay ahead. “Cheers, queridas. Cheers to us.”

  it’d be nauseating if it weren’t so goddamn cute

  Three Months Later

  “Emmy!” Leigh called from Adriana’s old bedroom, which with the addition of her fluffy down comforter, a cluster of silver picture frames, and her favorite reading chair she had easily made her own. “The car’s downstairs. We’re going to be late!”

  She heard her friend stomping back and forth between rooms, inevitably packing every item that wasn’t nailed down. “Have you seen my Nano? Or my phone charger? I can’t fucking find anything!”

  Leigh zipped up her neatly packed carry-on roller and carefully placed the matching satchel on top of it. She ran through a mental checklist and, after satisfying herself that she hadn’t forgotten anything, pulled her belongings into the hallway. She walked into Emmy’s room—previously the de Souzas’ guest room—went directly to her dresser, and plucked both Nano and phone charger from the giant glass fishbowl Emmy used as a catchall. “Here. Throw these in your purse and let’s go. We are not missing this flight!”

  “Okay, okay,” Emmy mumbled, yanking a brush through her hair. “This is an obscene hour to be awake, never mind actually moving. I’m doing the best I can.”

  It took another fifteen minutes to get Emmy out the door and ten more for the car to circle around the block, pick them up, and head to JFK. They were exactly thirty minutes behind Leigh’s preferred schedule—just because the airlines suggested you should be there two hours beforehand didn’t mean that two and a half wasn’t better—and normally she’d be a wreck, but today she was too excited to let anything bother her. It had been almost three months since they’d last seen Adriana, sent her off with a blowout going-away dinner at the Waverly Inn with twenty-five of her nearest and dearest friends, and they were finally headed west for a visit.

  Once Adriana moved, Emmy hadn’t even bothered giving thirty days’ notice on her apartment; she just paid two months’ rent and moved out immediately. Leigh expected it would take some time to sell her place—after all, it had taken her over a year to find it—but the broker called two days after the first viewing to say they had an offer. She ended up selling it to the very first couple who saw the place (newly engaged, naturally, and giddy with excitement) at twelve percent more than she’d purchased it for a year earlier. Even less the broker’s commission, Leigh earned enough on her initial investment to finance a few months’ worth of doing absolutely, positively nothing—or at least nothing constructive—before she began school in September.

  “So, do you think we’ll go to the Ivy?” Emmy asked, cradling her Starbucks thermos between her hands. “I mean, I know it’s hideously clichéd and trite and all that, but it is our evaluation brunch. I sort of think we have to go for it.”

  Despite the predawn hour, Emmy couldn’t seem to stop talking.

  “I don’t know,” Leigh said, hoping she wouldn’t encourage her.

  “Can you believe it’s been a year since that first dinner at the Waverly Inn?” Emmy asked.

  “I know. Crazy, isn’t it? It feels like yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? You’re fucking nuts. It feels more like a decade ago. This must have been the slowest year of my life. It’s as though time just stood still. Like I’m living in this complete warped time freeze of—”

  “Em, sweetheart, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need you to stop talking. Just until we get there,” Leigh said.

  Emmy held up a hand and nodded. “Enough said. No offense taken. I have no idea why I get like this. It’s like exhaustion and this compulsive need to talk go hand in hand. The more tired I am, the chattier—”

  “Please.”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Leigh’s phone rang. She got that flippy feeling in her stomach when she saw the caller ID. “Hi!” she breathed into the phone. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “What would you say if I told you I set the alarm just so I could wish you a safe trip?” Jesse asked, sounding tired but happy.

  “I’d say you were a giant liar and that you should tell me the real story.”

  He laughed and Leigh felt herself start to grin. Just the sound of his laugh was enough to make her feel giddy with excitement. “Well, in that case, you probably already know I’ve been up all night. Literally, just sitting here, waiting to call you.”

  “The up all night I’ll believe, but try again on the waiting.” She turned to see Emmy glaring at her while flapping her hands open and closed to imitate talking. Leigh smiled and blew her a silent kiss.

  “All right, you got me. Up until three writing, then from three to six playing Grand Theft Auto, then coffee, then calling. More believable?” he asked.

  “Much.”

  With any other man, she would’ve been horrified to discover a video-game addiction. It had even once been on her list of nonnegotiable deal-breakers (right there alongside excessive back hair and/or sweating, a penchant for bathroom humor, and any type of religious fundamentalism), but despite her ardent attempts at disapproval (mocking, eye-rolling, relentless teasing), she secretly found it adorable. And truth be told
, she rather liked it when he let her choose the gang-bangers’ outfits at the beginning of each game. Was this love? She wasn’t ready to say that yet, but damn, it had to be close.

  “Are you in the car?” he asked.

  Leigh sighed, picturing him stretched out under the covers, getting ready to sleep for a few hours before hitting up Estia’s for his late-morning rounds. “Yeah. We’re actually almost there, so I should go. I miss you.”

  “I miss you,” Emmy whispered. “Oh, Jesse, baby, I miss you so much. How can I live without seeing you for an entire four days? Ohmigod, like two star-crossed lovers.” Leigh reached over to poke her friend, but Emmy managed to flatten herself against the car door.

  “What’s she saying?” Jesse asked.

  “Nothing at all.” Leigh laughed. “I’ll call you when we land, okay? Get some sleep.” She resisted making a kissing sound into the phone for Emmy’s benefit.

  “My god, it’d be nauseating if it weren’t so goddamn cute,” Emmy said with a long, dramatic sigh.

  It was nauseating, Leigh knew this, but she was too happy to care. Jesse had called incessantly for two straight months after “the incident,” as they both now called it; he e-mailed, left messages with her assistant, texted her phone three, four, fives times a day. She screened him each and every time, not wanting to confuse her already screwed-up life any more. Just because it felt complicated didn’t mean it was; regardless of how many times he called or apologized or tried to explain himself, the fact remained that Jesse was married. Period. She’d made a big enough mistake already just by sleeping with him; she didn’t need to make everything worse by getting further involved.

  Which worked, all said and done, until she decided to leave Brook Harris. She was still going into the office every day, but it was only to help transition her authors to their new editors. Henry had wisely taken Jesse on himself and, in that way that only an über-experienced editor can, had coaxed Jesse into cleaning up the writing without mortally offending him. When she read the galley, Leigh could only shake her head at its improvement: Jesse surely had another huge hit on his hands. Leigh had even managed to keep him mostly out of mind until the day he e-mailed her in all caps. It had no subject line and read, “MEET ME AT THE ASTOR PLACE STARBUCKS TONIGHT @ 7 P.M. I JUST WANT TEN MINUTES. AFTER THAT, I’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE IF YOU WISH. PLEASE COME. J.”