Dream Life

by Lauren Mechling

  “Claire, meet my dad,” Diana said, and I had to stop myself from doing a double take.

  Mr. Stoeffels took a sip from his amber-colored drink and stooped down to extend a liver-spotted hand. “I hear I have you to thank for saving the day.”

  “My pleasure,” I said. “It’s not every day you get to save the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  “Not to mention our businesses.” He took a swig from his drink and laughed in the charmed, nothing-can-touch-me way they do in old movies. “You gals are terrific.”

  I could feel creases stretching across my forehead. “Becca said the exact opposite—she said that the bridge needed to be fixed anonymously so people didn’t get the wrong idea and assume that—”

  “It’s a general rule that when people say that, what they mean is they don’t want people to get the ‘right’ idea.” He let off a chuckle and took another sip.

  Diana’s drained expression told me her father was speaking out of line. “Dad,” she said quickly. “Let’s go find those spring rolls.”

  “Don’t interrupt me, Diana.” He sounded stern.

  “Agreed.” I glared at Diana. “Go on, Mr. Stoeffels.”

  “In case you haven’t heard,” he continued, “your work paid off quite handsomely. The city just approved a land use application the Stoeffels Realty Company submitted over two years ago. Now our plan for the Liberty Building is good to go.” He raised his glass at me.

  And suddenly, like the meaning of a song you’ve already heard a thousand times but never really listened to, it all crystallized.

  Mayor Irving wasn’t just accepting favors—he was granting them too. Operation Vertigo Girl wasn’t just a good-for-the-sake-of-good project—it was a means to another end. Or, looking around at the happy parental faces in the room, four other ends. It must be convenient to have a daughter whose secret club is doing favors for the city when your business stands to make millions off of it. And, I realized with a shudder, it was no coincidence that the Shuttleworths’ new ketchup factory was going up without a single problem.

  Diana was pulling at her hair and wouldn’t meet my eye.

  “Funny how things work around here,” Diana’s dad said.

  “A laugh a minute,” I muttered, and tore away.

  I was too hurt by Becca’s duplicity to even consider saying good-bye to her. I approached a friendly looking caterer and asked if she could do me a favor.

  “Let me guess. You want me to see if we have more mini lobster rolls in the back?”

  “No, I have to go.” I pointed my parents out to her. “Can you wait ten minutes and tell them their daughter left? I’d say good-bye myself but—”

  “They won’t let you,” she finished off my thought.

  “Well done.” I looked up and glimpsed Becca across the room. She was swanning around, looking happy and effortless. And then she caught my eye and raised her glass at me.

  Something inside me went dead and I fake-smiled back at her.

  “I understand, I get bored at parties, too,” came the caterer’s voice.

  I forced a grin. “I’m having fun, but I just have something else to take care of.”

  “Sure you do. Get out of here.” She shooed me away.

  The Waldorf isn’t too far away from Becca’s place, and when the hotel came into view, my walking went from fast to hyperactive. I flew into the lobby fast as a whippet and the elevator ride up to Kiki’s thirty-seventh floor apartment felt like the longest journey of my life.

  Clem let me in and Kiki squinted at me from her spot by the coffee table. She gave the Oleg Cassini dress a nod of approval.

  “Something about your face says ‘code red,’” Clem said. His pants were rolled up to his knees, a habit he’d taken to ever since concluding that his shins were his best-looking feature.

  “Can you excuse us for a second, Clem?” I asked.

  Kiki gave me a not-this-again look and started tottering toward her bedroom.

  “I just went to the Blue Moons’ celebration at the Shuttleworths’, and there’s more to the club than I’d realized,” I said after she’d shut the door behind us.

  “Go on,” Kiki said from her perch on the cranberry ottoman.

  “You’re never going to believe this.” I was pacing so hard I thought I’d make permanent dents in the carpet. “The Blue Moons aren’t just doing good works for the city out of the kindness of their hearts. All of their parents are reaping benefits.”

  “Is that so?” She chuckled lightly.

  I was outraged. She knew!

  “How could you not tell me there was a dirty conspiracy all along?”

  “I compliment you on your innocent worldview, but there’s no conspiracy. I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘quid pro quo.’” She must have read my confused expression. “It’s a Latin way of saying ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’”

  “You make it sound like it’s something cute.” I was so flustered my voice was violently bouncing off the silk wallpaper. “These people are buying their way through life. And they had me helping them without bothering to tell me what I was getting into. And—” I paused, feeling my throat clench the way it does when I’m about to cry. “Becca didn’t say anything about it all this time.”

  “You can’t mean to tell me you’ve never repaid a favor.”

  “Sure, I burned Louis a Ronettes CD when he fed my fish one weekend. That’s not exactly the same thing.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Same thing, different scale. People are bound to be selfish. It’s human nature.”

  “That’s highly debatable.” I looked up at the ceiling.

  “We can debate it if that’s what you want. And I’d win.” Kiki stretched out her arms and cracked her knuckles. “Maybe you’re just feeling left out.”

  “I don’t think so.” My tone was defensive.

  “I’m sure there are some favors you wouldn’t be above accepting.”

  “That’s not the point.” I was swatting away the ideas that were springing to mind. My inner wishes had nothing to do with multimillion-dollar deals or ketchup factories.

  “Now why don’t you stop being so coy and tell me what strings need to be pulled to make you happy.”

  I turned away and caught my reflection in the windowpane. With my blond bob and puckered expression, I looked more than a little like Kiki circa 1959.

  “Don’t be a Stubborn Susie. Tell me. If you don’t I’ll figure it out.” She whistled.

  I inhaled deeply. “Fine. I know that what Reagan did was terrible, but I think she deserves another shot. She risked everything to undo her bad behavior and all she got was kicked out of the Moons and a Dartmouth rejection letter. Her future is totally ruined.”

  “Enough of the negative. What would you like to happen?”

  “A lot,” I said, thinking it through. “I want Reagan to get into college. At this point she’s suffered enough.”

  “What else?”

  “I want Ian to get to correct the Toro Boy movie.”

  “And? I feel there’s something else.”

  A moment passed before an idea hit me. I checked to make sure she was ready for it. “And I’d like you and Mom to make up.”

  Kiki brushed her hands together. “That all seems eminently within reach.”

  “Even the last part?” I could feel my guard slipping down.

  “I’m not the queen of warm and fuzzy, but I can ask your mother to lunch. So long as it isn’t one of those French places.” She sniffed disapprovingly. “Now let me ask you one thing about this Reagan girl. Do you think she’d be willing to attend therapy sessions? There’s the Trilling Institute on the Upper West Side that Mamie Swinson went to when she kept getting caught nicking dresses at Saks.”

  “She’s a shoplifter too?” I repeated, my jaw dropping. Mamie Swinson, who had been married to an Austrian prince as well as the CEO of some huge French bank, was one of Kiki’s wealthiest friends.

  “She w
as. There’s no accounting for these complexes,” Kiki said. “Mamie’s all cured, and serves on the board. I’d be happy to ring her up and see if she could get your friend into the program.”

  “That would be great,” I gushed.

  “And you’re sure that Reagan can get by as a student?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She wouldn’t be using her scrapes with the law as an excuse for her unpopularity with the admission committees, would she?”

  “She’s at the top of her class,” I assured my grandmother.

  “Good. As it happens, Dean Rabinowitz and I are overdue for a dinner. Tell that poor friend of yours if she gets me her transcript before then, we’ll get her straightened out.” A pause followed. “So long as she straightens out the rest.”

  She was losing me. “What rest?”

  Kiki looked at me like I had a one-digit IQ. “With the culinary boy. Her father does run the movie studio, does he not?”

  “He won’t even talk to her.”

  “I have a feeling that will change if she promises to give the Trilling Institute a fair shake. It’s highly respected. Seems like a fair deal, does it not?”

  My eyes darted away and I mulled it over for a moment. Doing nice things for people was one thing, but I didn’t like to think of people trading life-changing favors like Pokémon cards. And wasn’t it slightly hypocritical of me to be having this vaguely sleazy conversation if it was exactly the kind of thing I was mad at Becca for participating in?

  “Don’t let your thoughts wander there,” Kiki said, reading my mind. “I’m one hundred percent sure your friend had your best intentions at heart.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She totally used me.”

  “Is that right? And you’re telling me you would have been happy if she’d kept sliding out of sight and leaving you to your own devices this semester?”

  I felt stumped. The way Kiki was spinning it, Becca’s inviting me into the club didn’t sound so bad.

  “You two are due for a chat. And now that you’ve learned your big lesson, are you going to put it to use or sit there like a lemon?” Kiki came closer and rubbed my shoulder. “Your friends need you.”

  “Fine,” I said at last. I felt twin pangs of helplessness and relief.

  “Tremendous,” Kiki boomed as she rose to her feet. “I’d tell your friend to go ahead and order one of those Columbia sweatshirts. Not to wear, of course.” She wrinkled her nose like a rabbit. “Hooded garments are for stick-up artists, not pretty girls.”

  { 27 }

  The Heart of the Matter

  Half an hour later, I pulled my bike up outside the Shuttleworths’ house. I could see through the windows that the party was still going strong. A caterer opened the door for me, and I tiptoed in, hoping my reentry wouldn’t rate a second glance from any of the guests.

  Looked like today was my lucky day. My parents were still chatting with Diana’s family and Becca was at the back of the living room, talking to Poppy’s parents under an oil painting of a devilish-looking cherub. She looked up and smiled but my determination must have showed. Becca’s face had morphed into a dark cloud by the time I reached her side.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, giggling nervously.

  “Sure,” I said unconvincingly. “I just need to show you something upstairs.”

  It took Becca a second to get the hint.

  “Of course.” Becca turned to face Mr. and Mrs. Williamson and plastered on a fake smile. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  I barely glanced at the grown-ups before leading Becca up the stairs and into her room. It was messier than usual, with piles of dresses on the bed and colorful shoes scattered around the floor like confetti.

  She cleared a spot on her comforter and sat down, crushing a sweater sleeve in the process. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

  “You could say that.” I was having trouble figuring out where to start and turned to stare out the window. I let myself go with the bull’s-eye. “I’m not coming to the initiation ceremony.”

  “Did you get a better invitation?” Her tone was uncertain.

  I pivoted to look her in the eye. “Stop messing with me, B. I finally get it.”

  “Get what?” She sounded genuinely exasperated.

  “The Moons. They’re not just a bunch of girls doing good stuff because they’re so great. It’s all a scheme to get the city to do favors for their families.” I stopped. “For your families.”

  She shifted in place, momentarily speechless.

  “That’s not fair,” she said at last. “We do care about the city.”

  “Well, whatever. That’s not even the worst of it,” I said.

  Just at that moment, the door creaked and we both looked up, expecting to see a person. It took me a second to realize that Bella had butted her way into the room. She scurried over to the bed and jumped into Becca’s lap.

  “Sorry for that,” Becca said. “For the dog, I mean.” Bella wheezed and we both had to contain our smiles. “Go on.”

  “Becca, you and your families are free to do whatever you want. But why would you let me get so obsessed with helping you out and not tell me the truth? This whole project was about a sweet real estate deal for Diana’s father. And that ketchup factory your parents are building. And, for all I know, all the other Moons’ parents are benefiting too.” Tears were filling my eyes as I waited for her to speak, but she was just playing with the dog’s paws. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I had to swallow hard to keep from crying. “For God’s sake, you totally used me.”

  When Becca finally looked up at me, tears were streaming down her face. “Claire, I’m so sorry. But for the record, I didn’t bring you in so you could do anything for my family.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I only invited you because I missed having you around. So I convinced the rest of the girls to let in a few new members. That’s the only way I got to tell you about the club.”

  “But not the important part,” I reminded her, still smarting from it all.

  “It didn’t seem relevant,” she protested.

  “What about it wasn’t relevant?” I challenged.

  Becca sniffed. “Not the way I see it. In my view, what Mayor Irving does at the end of the day isn’t even my business. I just like the stuff that comes before it.” She breathed deeply. “I’m so sorry it had to play out like this. I just wanted my best friend around, that’s it.”

  I wanted to be furious with her, but her sincerity was melting my resolve.

  “I should have told you.” Her words were breaking up. “I’m sorry. It was a big fat mistake. But my heart was in the right place. And you still saved the city from more Sink Landon eyesores. Will you forgive me?”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said after a moment’s thought. “But I’m still not becoming a Full Moon.”

  “You have to stay in,” Becca pleaded. “I’ll level with you next time. I’ll tell you more ugly details than you could ever want to know.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m serious.”

  Becca’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “I’m still your friend. I’m just saying no to the Moon part. The whole payment scheme, it icks me out.”

  She sighed and cracked her knuckles. “I wish I had the same reaction to it all, but I guess I’m used to that sort of thing. It’s been going on around me ever since I can remember.”

  I glanced around the room, my gaze sweeping past the jewelry boxes on the vanity up to the outrageously high ceilings. “I’ll bet.”

  A bittersweet smile passed Becca’s lips.

  “We still have to clean up this mess,” I told her.

  She chuckled. “I know, it’s a pigsty in here. It was actually pin-neat this morning, but then I had to go and have a preparty wardrobe meltdown.” She gave Bella a hearty pat before lifting her off her lap. Then she crouched in front of a pile of shoes, reaching for a pair of canary-yellow pumps. “Lemme just toss these in th
e closet.”

  “B, hold up.” I was shaking my head. “I wasn’t talking about your room. I meant a really important mess.”

  She scrunched up her nose in confusion.

  “Reagan,” I said. “Not to be little miss bleeding heart, but I think she deserves a second chance.”

  Becca looked mortified. “At being in the Moons? No way.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about,” I said. “College. She came through for us, and now she’s royally screwed.”

  “Isn’t that what we wanted?” Becca checked. “She totally went behind our backs and was helping Sink Landon.”

  “There are degrees of screwed,” I said. “I’m not saying we should be friends with her. But I think a thank-you for coming through for us wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Besides, there’s something she can help me with that would mean a lot to me.”

  “Well, what do you propose? It’s not like we can magically fix her life.”

  “We don’t need magic,” I said. “Just a kernel of kindness.”

  She rolled her eyes and let go of one pump. Smiling, I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  { 28 }

  The Sweet Spot

  I chose Serendipity 3, a Candy Land–pink Upper East Side institution known for its extravagant dessert menu. According to Kiki, it used to be popular with people like Andy Warhol and Jackie Kennedy, though now it caters nearly exclusively to little-girl-and-grandmother pairings. It didn’t seem like the most obvious place for a transaction like the one we were about to conduct, though you never knew. Ever since Thursday’s bombshell, the world had seemed a whole lot harder to read.

  Right after the party at the Shuttleworths’, I’d called Reagan and told her that Kiki had an ingenious plan to get her into Columbia. I instructed her to meet me at Serendipity on Saturday. All she needed was to bring her academic records and have a little conversation with her father regarding my favorite male classmate.

  Becca licked a globule of chocolate fudge off the back of a long wooden spoon. “Their sundaes used to be way bigger,” she recalled. “You could hardly see over them.”