He wiped his hands with a napkin, shot me a sidelong glance with a twinkle in his eye, and then opened the far right drawer and pulled out a large sapphire-blue velvet case stamped with ‘HW’ on top of it.
Harry Winston...
“What have you done?” I asked him in surprise.
“Maybe some shopping. Maybe something for the love of my life.” He offered me the box, which felt smooth, sumptuous, and heavy in my hands. “A month or so ago, I might have heard that this was going up for auction,” he said. “I might even have gone to that auction and made certain that said item became yours.”
“Oh, Alex, I don’t know what you’ve done, but you know that this isn’t necessary.”
“Nobody tells me what I get to give my wife. So, you know, open it. I’ve already shown it to Blackwell, who might have you wearing red tonight for a reason...”
When I opened the box, I gasped. Inside was a ruby-and-diamond clustered necklace set in what looked to me like platinum. Because of its brilliance, I couldn’t quite tell. Parts of the setting seemed yellow to me, as if it were intercut with gold.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “It’s gorgeous—thank you!”
I kissed him on the lips, and felt him smile as my lips pressed against his.
“There are a few things you should know about it,” he said when we parted. “For instance, its first and only owner was Elizabeth Taylor.”
I just blinked at him. “Come again?”
“Richard Burton gave this to her in 1968.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Alex, you know that she’s my favorite actress.”
“In fact, I do know that.”
Of course he did—thus the necklace.
“So,” he said. “About the necklace. I looked over the information that came with it before you joined me for sandwiches tonight, so let me see if I can get this straight. I believe that there are thirty-one rubies weighing in at about fifty-seven carats, and one-hundred-eighty-six pear-shaped and round brilliant diamonds weighing in at about thirty carats. It’s set in platinum and yellow gold. Taylor wore it to a handful of events. But probably the biggest and most notable event was at the Academy Awards in 1970.”
“I can’t believe this...”
“Well, believe it.”
I started to tear up. “What have I ever done in my life to deserve you?”
“I often ask myself the same thing about you.”
“But I have nothing for you tonight.”
“How can you say that when you’ve given me all of you, Jennifer? You’ve put your life on the line for me twice since we’ve been together. You’ve taken bullets for me, for God’s sake. You are my best friend and closest confidant. And for me? That’s a gift in and of itself. In fact, that’s a gift that this necklace can never compete with. But I hope that you enjoy it anyway. I know how much you admire Taylor, and now you have a bit of her history to call your own.”
Before he could say another word, I was on top of him, he was laughing, we were kissing, his hands were on my ass, my hands were planted firmly on his rock-hard torso—and for the first time that day, my heart had a lightness to it that I couldn’t ignore.
WHEN I LEFT HIM, I took the elevator to the fifty-first floor, where Blackwell and Bernie would be waiting for me in the pseudo dressing room that was just off Blackwell’s office. I was so overwhelmed by Alex’s gift that my head was in the ether. As I took the elevator up, I opened the box and admired the necklace again before the elevator slowed and the doors slid open.
Only to reveal Blackwell.
“You’re two minutes late,” she said with her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t mean to be.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Is this some sort of a trick question?”
“Please. You’re the trick in question.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Well, that was clever.”
“You don’t even know clever, girl.”
“Are we about finished now? Bernie’s waiting.”
“To see your necklace.” She looked down at the box in my hands and her eyes brightened. “It’s beyond divoon, isn’t it?”
“I’m still stunned,” I said as I stepped out of the elevator.
“As was I when Alex first showed it to me. And the provenance! Liz! Burt! God!” She came forward and hugged me. “I hope it lifted your spirits, my dear. I’ve been worried about you today.”
“About that,” I said. “I want to apologize for even going there. I had a big, fat pity party for myself this morning, which I regret. I have an amazing husband. I’m blessed with great friends. I have a life that cannot be taken for granted. Earlier today, I got caught up in my own emotions, which never is a good thing. Now it’s time to move beyond them, chill out, and see if cutting down on work or meditation is the answer.” I gave her a kiss on each cheek. “But still, Barbara—thank you for listening to me today.”
“I will always be there for you, just as I know you will be for me.” She hooked her arm around mine and we started down the hallway. “Let’s go and see Bernie. He’s already dying to see the necklace. And I mean, dying. When I told him about it, I think I saw some sort of arousal in his pants. A kind of... stiffening.”
“Barbara!”
“Well, it’s true. And it’s because it has to do with Liz. I saw it!”
“You’re horrible.”
“I’m a cat on a hot tin roof, and you love me for it.”
“I do.”
When we entered the dressing room—which really was nothing more than a spare office tricked out with a dressing table and racks of dresses—Bernie turned to look at us as we moved inside.
“Get the Liz over here,” he said to me at once. Dressed from head to toe in black, Bernie was a slender, stylish, good-looking man in his mid-fifties with a shock of beautifully cut silver hair offset by light blue eyes. Over the past few years, he had become one of my very favorite people in the world. I loved him like an uncle. “I must see it in person!” he said.
I shot him a look. “In person?” I asked him as we crossed the distance between us. “Have you seen it before?”
“Darling, please—I saw it on television when she wore it at the goddamned Academy Awards.”
“You didn’t,” I said as I kissed him on each cheek.
“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.”
“And let’s just stop right there,” Blackwell said. “Especially after you told Madison, Jennifer, and me all about... that... that sordid Buck person from your past.”
“Buck,” Bernie said with stars in his eyes. “The first love of my life. We lasted three whole hours. I’ll never forget him—especially the way he lassoed me in my bedroom and then tied me up like a hog before he had at me—”
“Bernie,” Blackwell said. “Enough about Buck.”
“Fine,” he said. “But how about if I tell you about Tex? Because that love affair is a story that should also be revisited.”
“I totally want to hear that story,” I said.
“Oh, God,” Blackwell said.
“Do you?” Bernie asked me.
“Yes! Tell me about Tex!”
He checked his watch. “We’ve got ninety minutes before we need to get you down to meet Alex, so there’s time. OK, so Tex. Another great love of my life.”
“Which means that you met him for forty-five minutes at a peepshow over on Eighth Avenue when that part of the city was still the poster child for sex,” Blackwell said.
“How cruel of you,” he said. “Tex was the real deal, Barbara. He wasn’t some trick I picked up at some local leather bar like the Lure—may that place rest in peace. I met him at the Hangar Bar on Christopher Street, which isn’t nearly as slutty as the place where I met Buck. It’s actually a friendly neighborhood gay bar. People aren’t necessarily there to score. I certainly wasn’t that night—and neither was Tex.”
�
�When was this?” I asked.
“Twenty-one years ago. I was in my mid-thirties.”
“And Tex?”
“Around the same age.”
“What did he look like?”
“Like a God. Despite his name, he was half Greek. And, goodness, did he look it. Curly black hair. About six-foot-four. A face and a profile to die for. And then there was his body, which could have buffed a car.”
“How unusually descriptive...” Blackwell said.
“Who spoke to whom first?” I asked.
“I never speak first,” Bernie said. “Too shy. Too insecure. Story of my life. We exchanged glances with each other for a while, and then he sent a beer over to me. We talked for the rest of the night. We decided to see each other for lunch the next day—and then we were partners for the next four years.”
“You were?” Blackwell said.
“We were.”
“I had no idea. Why haven’t you ever told me about him?”
“Because of how it ended. Because I still miss him, despite what he did. There are some relationships you want to revisit, and some that cut so close, you never want to think about them again. But I’m with friends tonight, so to hell with it. We had four wonderful years together before he cheated on me—and when he did, that was the end of it. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you with a story that isn’t as fun or as salacious as Buck’s story, but it was what it was. Tex and I had something special until we didn’t. But that’s how life sometimes goes, isn’t it? You win big—and then you lose even bigger.”
“Well,” Blackwell said. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, love.”
“Look, after twenty-plus years, it’s fine. Besides, I choose to remember our best years together, as I imagine you do with Charles.”
“Please! I’m hardly there yet. But I have to ask you, Bernie, what is it with these names? Buck. Tex. What’s next? Hoss?”
“I’ve never been with a Hoss, but I’ve seen a few horses in my time—if you know what a mean.”
“How absolutely vulgar.”
“You know, I wish I could have brought you to a leather bar, Barbara. You would have loved it.”
“In an odd way, I probably would have.”
“I know you would have. You would have been the star. People would have flocked to you. You would have been their new queen.”
“But we’re beyond that now, aren’t we?” she said with a graveness to her voice that I knew all too well—one big heaping of drama was the on way. “Our youth is dead to us...”
“Perhaps we should send out farewell cards...”
“I’m afraid... that it might be too late for that.”
“I think you might be right.”
“We’re in the last few days of our lives!”
“Death could happen at any moment,” Bernie said. “With no warning, I could just drop dead right here in front of both of you—with hairspray clutched in my hands!”
“How positively macabre...”
“But nevertheless true.”
“And yet it can’t happen yet for either of us,” she said. “Not now. Not with the spring collection so soon upon us. You have no idea how many Chanel suits I’ve ordered. And yet there’s a possibility that I might never see them. I could be robbed of them at any moment.”
“Je suis desole...”
“Nous sommes presque morts!”
“Je sais...”
I held up my hand. “OK, you two—stop whipping yourselves into a froth like you usually do.”
“Fine,” Bernie said. “Now, come on—show me the loot. I’m dying here.”
I giggled when he said that, and opened the box for him.
“Holy, Cleopatra! It’s the real deal!”
“As if Alex would give her an impostor,” Blackwell said.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I just can’t believe that I’m seeing the necklace in person. And that Liz actually wore it. And now it belongs to Jennifer—as well it should.”
“Let me look at it again,” Blackwell said. She came between us and admired the necklace. For a moment, her hand hovered over it as if she was about to touch it, but then she balled her hand into a fist and simply said, “Even I’m not worthy of laying my hands upon it.”
“You two are killing me.”
“As for killing it, tonight you are going to slay,” Bernie said. “Because if you’re going to wear that, then I have my work cut out for me. I had a feeling that we’d need to do something interesting with your hair, and this seals it. So, let’s start there and then we’ll move on to makeup and the dress.” He turned to Blackwell. “Champagne?”
“Why do you say it in such an demanding tone?”
“Maybe because, with death so close, I’m just hungry for it.”
“Oh,” she said with her fingertips pressed against her lips. “Well, that I can understand. You know, I might have a bottle of Dom chilling in our little refrigerator over here.” She arched an eyebrow at us. “Or maybe there are three bottles chilling...”
“I can’t drink that much,” I said. “I need to be on point tonight.”
“Who’s talking about you?” Blackwell said. “Just because you’re Lizzing it up tonight doesn’t mean that this moment is all about you. Bernie and I are the ones who will be in the cups when you leave. As for you—one glass. That’s it. After all, as you’ve duly noted, you have business to attend to tonight. Now, let’s get this party started, shall we? I’m popping the cork!”
WHEN BERNIE WAS ALMOST finished with me, I looked at Blackwell in the mirror. “How are things progressing between Cutter and Daniella?” I asked.
“I don’t know what that young man has done to her, but she’s a changed woman. You’ve seen it yourself. She’s become the young woman I always wanted her to be—respectful, smart, logical, and not so emotional. He’s good for her. And I dare say that my daughter is good for him.”
“I have seen the change,” I said. “Do you think anything will come of it?”
“It’s only been three months, so who knows? Still too soon to tell. I do know that they’re enjoying themselves, and that’s all that this mother asks.”
“How about Alexa? Alex and I are delighted to have her now working for Wenn Environmental, but the last time I saw her about a week or so ago, she didn’t mention the young man she met at Sugarloaf. His name was Justin, right?”
“It was Justin—and that relationship is now six-feet under. Well, at least the romantic part is. Two weeks ago, they decided to stop seeing one another. The good news is that it wasn’t personal. Justin is going to NYU to become a doctor. Alexa is now working on her own career at Wenn. They each came to the conclusion that they should work on their careers while remaining good friends. And I say cheers to that because that’s how adults behave. Both are perfectly happy with their choices. And frankly, who knows what will happen between them in the future? They’re both so young. I think they made the right choice.”
“Whatever makes all of them happy,” I said.
“Cheers to that,” Barbara said as she touched her glass to mine.
“Finished!” Bernie said.
I looked at myself in the mirror—and then looked again.
Bernie stepped away so that Blackwell could move closer and join me.
“Who is that?” I said, barely recognizing myself.
“Exactly,” Blackwell said. “My God—it’s you, but it isn’t you. It’s like it’s Super You.”
“I know. How does he do it—I mean, look at me. At her! Who is she? Because this sure as hell isn’t how I looked when I dragged my sorry ass out of bed this morning.”
“It’s the best of you,” Bernie said.
“What did you use on my skin to make it glow like this?” I asked.
“My own concoction. It’s a mixture of a whole host of elixirs, herbs, and holy water. I’ll give you a jar.”
“Her eyes,” Blackwell said. “You’ve gone smoky with her before, but
this is beyond anything you’ve ever accomplished. Christ, with her eyes alone, she could melt the pants off any man.”
“And some of the women—and isn’t that the point?”
“I love my hair,” I said as I turned from side to side. “But I always love an up-do. This one seems inspired by the seventies.”
“For good reason,” Bernie said. “With that necklace, we had to go retro tonight.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. Ten minutes left before we send her on her way to meet with Alex. We need the dress—STAT.”
“I’ll get it,” Blackwell said. “Jennifer, in the meantime—strip!”
When I was dressed, Blackwell and Bernie stood back to appraise me.
“You’re like a plate of sparkling ice,” she said. “The coveted Valentino sleeveless column gown with a broad cape in red silk. Contrast lining. Round neckline. Column silhouette. Look at how the hem falls to the floor, Bernie. And how Jennifer’s necklace complements the dress so beautifully.”
“It’s stunning. But what about earrings?”
“I knew what Alex had purchased for her, so I brought a pair of my own ruby and diamond earrings for her to borrow tonight. As for her fingers and wrists? She wears nothing more than her wedding and engagement rings. We don’t want to take attention away from the necklace.”
She went over to the dressing table, grabbed her purse, and pulled out a small black velvet box. Inside was a gorgeous pair of ruby and diamond teardrop earrings that indeed lifted the entire look when she put them on me.
“There,” she said, and she stepped back to soak me in. “Perfection. Now, go join your husband—and win the night.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“PEOPLE ARE STARTING to arrive,” Gia said quietly to Carlo. “And just look at them pose for the paparazzi. You can almost taste how much these people love their moment of flashing attention.”
They were in the Camry sitting down low in their seats. Carlo was behind the wheel and Gia was in the seat behind him. Both wore black. Both had on black leather gloves and both had their black ski masks resting in their laps. They were parked on the right side of the street—just across from the Witherhouses’ mansion where a clutch of reporters had gathered just outside the entrance to photograph the well-festooned before they entered the building.
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