by Sarah Miller
Amber was still desperate to please. “Can I get you anything?”
Pilar was hungry. “Water,” she said. “With a cucumber slice.”
There was a knocking sound. I thought it was Amber knocking on the door of Madison’s dressing room, but it was someone knocking on my door.
“Come in.” My voice came out totally cheerful. Wow. I was actually not in a terrible mood. I was kind of having fun.
Mom gave me a sort of shy smile, the kind of smile you give to someone depressed to be upbeat, but not annoyingly so. “Hi,” she said.
I tried to figure out from her face if my father had told her my giant lie about getting a scholarship for winning a championship I had not yet won for an organization I had not yet agreed to join.
“Do you want something from Jim’s?”
Jim’s Steak-Out has the best hamburgers in Buffalo. My mother is pretty healthy, but she eats them when she’s really stressed out. So now I knew my father hadn’t told her. He might have even encouraged her to get food from there tonight as a sign to me that my mother didn’t know.
I said I wanted a double with bacon.
She looked relieved that I was hungry.
“It seems like you’re doing better,” she said.
“Oh…,” I said. “I was just looking at something really funny.” Obviously I was talking about Madison and Pilar’s competitive shopping trip, but my mother thought I meant one of my books.
“Glad to see you’re better.” My mother left and I went back to Pilar.
I want my stomach to be flat like Madison’s. I know that eef it was then I maybe could not feel so upset that Madison was supposed to wear that Yves Saint Laurent vintage tunic. It was so supposed to clash with the décor, and it didn’t show off her collarbone, which is just stupid when you’re that thin. I just need to get her out of here. The problem is, I don’t know how.
A louvered door swung open, and Madison emerged in an unflattering dress with weird ruffles on it. “Ick,” she said. “I look like Tweety Bird.” She kind of did. She frowned. “Where the fuck is that chick with my Coke?” Madison said, going back into the dressing room.
“Hmm,” Pilar said. “I don’t know. That looks nice.”
Madison leveled an evil glare at her. “It so doesn’t look nice. What is your problem?”
Ok, thees was worst lie ever. I can’t believe she is drinking Coke when she knows my metabolism is not good for Coke. Pilar sipped her water dutifully and without pleasure, and then let its lone slice of cucumber float onto her tongue. She crunched the cucumber up and swallowed it. Fuck. Eating cucumbers reminds me of pickles, and that reminds me of Reubens and Cuban sandwiches. I am hungry. What can I eat? Nothing. I hate it when my stomach hangs over the top of my pants. I will eat tomorrow, I guess.
Amber trotted back in. “Anyone need anything in here? How are you liking those dresses?”
“I looked like Ryan Seacrest’s gay mom in the first one,” Madison said coldly. “Where’s my Coke?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry…I…” But Madison swung the louvered door closed. Amber looked as if she was about to cry. Then she saw Pilar watching her. Amber pasted on her smile. “How are you doing?” she asked Pilar. “I love that top. I totally just wish I had boobs.”
Pilar smiled as she realized, Madison is so jealous of me. I have boobs and she doesn’t. That’s it. That’s exactly how I am going to get out of here. She checked the dressing room doors to make sure they went all the way to the floor, so that you could take your underwear off but no one would know.
“There is something you could do for me,” Pilar said, indicating that she and Amber should move out of the dressing room area. “Bikinis,” Pilar said quietly when they got outside. “Bring me some bikinis.” Madison hates it when I try on bikinis. She gets so jealous of my boobs. That’s why she’s trying to get back at me right now. Because I tried on all those bikinis at Miss Sixty and she was, like, trying them on too at first and barely filling them out so she stopped. I will now try on bikinis and she will get so jealous of my big boobs, then, she will stop trying on dresses and she will wear that Yves Saint Laurent tunic that is not right for that bar, and I will get the job.
Amber prattled on. “Don’t you love summer! Cute tanks, boy shorts! And it is so fun to just think about going to the beach, right, when you’re trying on awesome, supercute bikinis!”
“Shhh,” Pilar said.
“Supercute bikinis,” Amber whispered.
“Right,” Pilar whispered. “The kind with the push-up thing.”
“But what about her Coke?”
“Fuck her Coke!” Pilar whispered. “Bring the bikinis first…. Oh, but act like…you just thought they would look good on me. Like I didn’t ask for them or anything, OK?”
Amazingly, Amber nodded. “Got it.” Pilar was clearly not the first person to make such a request to her. I got the feeling a lot of shit like this went down at Fred Segal.
But it wasn’t as good was what was about to go down, because I don’t think a lot of shoppers here had people inside their head.
I wanted to get out of Pilar’s head. But as long as I was there, I might as well have a good time. And make sure she had a bad one.
I wasn’t going to do anything terrible. Just something to make me feel just a tiny little bit better about the fact that she’d made out with my boyfriend and didn’t even care.
Chapter Ten
I actually stood on a pile of my brother’s Golden Books to make myself a little taller. It was effective. I dialed and cleared my throat.
“Fred Segal. Carolyn speaking.”
“Hello,” I had said in a smooth, adult voice. “This is, uh, Ann-Sylvie at Miss Sixty.”
“Hi, Ann-Sylvie! What a cool name!”
“I grew up in Montreal,” I said.
“Oh my God, so did my ex-boyfriend!”
“We had a customer in here earlier, and she…well. She was trying on bathing suits…and she and her friend were talking about how they were going to Fred Segal’s afterwards. I wanted to make sure she doesn’t wreak the same havoc on your inventory that she did on ours.”
I fully expected her to hang up on me. I mean, it was ridiculous. But in fact, Carolyn gasped, “Thank you so much for telling me. You guys are always so good about alerting us to this sort of thing.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, dumbfounded, and was about to hang up, when Carolyn said, “Hello? Hello? What does she look like?”
I told her about Pilar’s long shiny hair and pretty eyes and perfect skin. I said, “I mean, you can’t miss her because she is probably, I have to admit, the most beautiful girl in the store.” I think Pilar would have liked my description.
“‘The bathing suit inventory at Fred Segal’s is not at your disposal.’” Madison cracked up every time she said it. “It was so good.”
Pilar was indignant and humiliated. I’d expected that. But the added bonus was that they were in the limo now, on the way to the bar, and Pilar, having taken four showers at the hotel, was still afraid she had some terrible, impossible-to-locate odor. How else would the woman at Miss Sixty know…Oh, it was all too terrible to think about!
Pilar crossed her arms and looked at the passing landscape, the klieg lights charging through the dark sky, the shining fenders, the self-satisfied smiles of people in convertibles, and the parade of bare legs and beautiful shoes. I have never been so humiliated, ever. Everyone tries on bathing suits without underwear. How does she catch me? How?
And then there was the little matter of Madison’s dress, which Madison had emerged wearing at the exact moment when trembling Amber came in to inform Pilar that “the bathing suit inventory at Fred Segal’s is not at your disposal.”
The dress Madison had finally found was a perfect dress. First of all, it was white, and Pilar considered white to be a color that had been created especially for her. She owned white. It had a high halter neck, which (a) showed off Madison’s sublime collar
bone and (b) was a look Pilar desperately wanted to be able to pull of, but, having rather large breasts, could not. It was short and inventive, with little cut-out triangles all over that showed glimpses of skin, but not so inventive that you saw the dress and missed the svelte object of envy underneath. It was the best dress Pilar had ever seen. She stood there, reeling in horrified embarrassment at the memory of trying on bikini after bikini at Miss Sixty, with each try-on breaking the California state law that prohibits people from trying on bathing suits without underwear.
Now, sitting in the limo, shamed, jealous, unhappy in her high-waisted black pants and low-cut sweater, she burned with a desire to be vindicated. Elias Ganz better pick me. He weell see how incredibly beautiful I am, and he weell pick me.
Poor Pilar. Crazy Pilar. Lucky me for thinking up such a nasty trick. I had just meant to have some fun. The fact that she was so totally unraveled for tonight was just an added bonus.
I IMDb’d this Elias Ganz character. He hadn’t done anything big yet, but he had a couple projects coming out, one called Tricky Sticky Ricky and another called Salon Rorschach. A quote attributed to him in The Hollywood Reporter online read, “Bottom line: filmmaking is the best way I’ve found to communicate with the world. Look, if I were a Bushman, I’d just get really good at clicking my tongue.”
Which was just a roundabout way of saying, “I’m a total douche.”
Pilar entered the bar, causing the same kind of stir she’d caused walking into that hotel room back in Boston. Women’s eyes widened over their glasses of wine, men’s jaws went slack. Adrenaline and sudden confidence coursed through Pilar’s body. This is where I am meant to be, at exactly this moment. This is the center of the universe, and I am at the center of that center, wearing an awesome outfit.
She sounded so obnoxious, but seriously, she wasn’t wrong. The sheer amount of energy directed at her was undeniable. I couldn’t ignore it. How could she?
I spotted Elias the instant she did. He had wavy dark red hair that he wore combed back, and a strong chin. He was seated in a buttery leather chair with a view of the room, a long, dark space whose neutral surfaces looked creamy and expensive under flickering candles. Behind him a long swimming pool surrounded with spindly, prehistoric-looking plants rippled and gave off a bright turquoise glow. A red lamp over his head cast a flattering shadow. He pushed his hair off his forehead and looked up. When he saw Pilar, he smiled, ever so slightly. It was a predatory smile, and Pilar liked it.
She was aware of him, and everyone in the room, watching her as she walked across the room, muttering to herself, Stomach in, butt out, stomach in, butt out.
Pilar hung back as Elias kissed Madison’s cheek and leaned into her, with two left fingers on her flank. “Madison,” he said, “amazing dress.”
Pilar stiffened. But then he turned to look at her. There was no mistaking what was in his eyes, unbridled lust. Pilar was used to grown men looking at her like this. All right. Here we go, Madison.
There was a couch perpendicular to Elias’s chair, and Pilar lunged for the place next to him. “Such a pretty garden, planted around the pool like that,” she murmured to Madison, as if that were her reason for sitting in this spot. Madison drew one leg over the other and leaned back elegantly. I’m slouching, Pilar thought, and snapped upright. I have to remember not to drink too much. OK. I can do that. I got this.
A waitress in a white shirt, gold lamé skirt, and heels appeared at his side. Pilar sized her up immediately—70 percent.
“Connie, would you be so kind as to bring a bottle of the Perrier-Jouët?” Elias said. “Three glasses for now.”
Connie smilingly obliged and was gone.
“So,” Elias said, leaning back grandly in his leather chair and running a hand through his thick, mogulesque head of hair. “I had an insane day of work.”
“I can imagine,” Madison said. “I know your job is nonstop.”
“After I have a long day I always like to get a foot rub,” Pilar said.
Elias smiled with one side of his face. He eyed his feet and eyed Pilar’s lap. She patted her thigh. They laughed.
“So why was your day hard?” Madison said quickly. “What are you working on right now?
Madison would never have the idea of giving him a foot rub.
His iPhone buzzed. “Excuse me,” Elias said. “Tina! Ha! Fuck you.”
Madison turned to Pilar. “Dude. Don’t act like such a slut. I can’t believe you’re worried about what I would tell him and you’re telling him you’re going to give him a foot rub.”
“What?” Pilar said innocently. I am going to get somewhere with thees Elias guy. I can feel it.
Elias hung up. The bottle arrived. “You’re busy, angel. I got it.” Connie sauntered off. “Where was I? Oh right,” Elias said, popping, then pouring. “I really am dying to know…you know, I’m from here, so I don’t know what it’s like not to know this place, and I want to know, what do two East Coast girls do when they come to LA?”
“Shopping,” Pilar said, drinking fast.
“Going to museums,” Madison said, taking a sip.
“We went to one museum for maybe half an hour,” Pilar said. “I don’t really like the museums.”
“No?” Elias crossed his legs and inched up a little in his chair. Pilar saw his heavy eyes turn down just a little and she knew he was trying to get a look at her chest, so she inched over a bit as well to help him out. “Why’s that?”
“You can’t buy anything in them.”
“Are you serious?” he said. “Is she serious?” he asked Madison.
Before Madison could answer, Pilar laughed. “I’m a hundred percent serious.” She turned to Madison. “You hate museums too.”
Pilar had thought he might find it cute, her ribbing her friend, and she seemed to have been right when he laughed.
“I don’t hate museums,” Madison said. “I loved the Lucian Freuds yesterday.”
“Oh yes,” Elias said, “Lucian Freud is very good.”
He doesn’t care, Pilar thought.
The iPhone buzzed and Elias rolled his eyes at it. “Excuse me,” he said, and ducked out of the room.
“Pilar,” Madison said, as soon as Elias was out of earshot. “Why are you making him think you’re not into school or, like, art?”
Madison ees just trying to screw me up. “He said grades weren’t important,” Pilar said. “And, like, aren’t we in competition for this job, so, like, eef you don’t like how I’m acting, well, I guess that’s good for you.”
“Well, he could give it to both of us,” Madison said. “If you decide to come across as, like, sort of, like, kind of smart.”
“People make movies here, not libraries,” Pilar scoffed, and helped herself to more champagne.
Then Connie was at her side. “Hey, someone at the bar wanted to send you a shot.”
“Me?” Pilar said.
“You better not drink that,” Madison warned.
But Pilar poured it down. She had just thought about what happened with the bathing suits, and it freaked her out. The shot went down and the thought went away.
Elias came back and sat down. “So, tell me about Midvale! How is my old alma mater?”
“Ugh,” Pilar said. “What do you want to know?”
“How are your classes?”
Pilar laughed. “They’d be a lot better if I could bring a sleeping bag and a bottle of wine.”
Elias broke into a smile again, and as he shifted his position, his leg rested lightly against hers.
Madison sat up and crossed her hands in her lap. “We saw all the Éric Rohmer pictures the week before break, and I thought they were pretty good. But I really just love Tarkovsky,” she said.
Pilar drizzled the last of the champagne into her glass and said, “Tarwhatsky?”
“You two are hilarious,” he said.
Pilar knew he just meant her.
Madison and Elias chatted on about movies. I can tell he ees
totally bored, she thought. And, like, he keeps looking away from her while she’s talking and looking at me. At one point Elias whispered into Madison’s ear, looking right at Pilar. Madison looked back at Pilar. She looks pissed. He must be asking her about me.
An hour passed. Elias’s friends showed up, Terry Hall and James Aslan, indie film bad boys and best friends, famous enough so that even I knew them. They made sort of artsy violent movies with Asian girls running around nude and lots of people getting killed. Terry and James were always together, drinking and touching their stubble, pretending they didn’t want to be lovers.
The men all bear-hugged one another while Madison inched over to Pilar. “Pilar,” she hissed. “Watch it.”
“I’m not drunk,” Pilar said. Two more shots had been sent over. She couldn’t tell who had sent them, and she didn’t care. She felt good.
“Take it easy,” Madison hissed. “And next time, check that camel toe at the door, okay?”
The guys sat down on the couch, Terry on the other side of Pilar, then Madison, and James on the end. James Madison, Pilar thought, wasn’t that a person? James was blond and surfer-y, Terry was dark-haired and mutely serious. He just stared at Pilar. “Jesus,” James said. “You’re really hot. Your breasts are like cupcakes.”
“Uh, dude,” Terry said.
Pilar moved her head around until she caught Elias’s eyes. “Help,” she said.
Madison and Elias were still talking about movies. “I really enjoy Louis Malle,” Elias was saying.
“Oh, he is wonderful,” Madison said. “Murmur of the Heart is one of my favorites.”
Terry and James ordered drinks and kept staring at Pilar. “How old are you?” James said.
“You like Murmur of the Heart?” Elias said. “I’m impressed.”
“Help,” whimpered Pilar.
“You look like you’re doing just fine,” Elias said. And Pilar was pleased to see the wolfish look in his eyes again. Sure, he was talking to Madison, but he hadn’t looked at her like that, not once.
“Oh,” Pilar said, arranging one of the gold sofa pillows under her head and resting on it, her cleavage now well displayed, her hips slightly off the couch. “I guess I am.”