14

      ‘Tell me again why your mother is throwing you a going-away dinner when she’s so pissed you’re moving?’ I asked Penelope. After a full day of list-checking and sponsor-calling for the BlackBerry party – which was now only four days away – it seemed like everything was shaping up nicely, and I’d retreated to Penelope’s in the hope of discussing something, anything, that wasn’t related to publicity. I was flopped on the floor of the bedroom that Avery and Penelope now shared, although it didn’t appear that Avery had compromised much on combining their stuff: the king-sized waterbed rested on an imposing black platform, a frat boy–style black leather couch ate up what little room remained, and the only item that could qualify as ‘decor’ was an oversized and slightly discolored lava lamp. The apartment’s pièce de résistance, however, was a fifty-five-inch plasma screen that hung from the living room wall. According to Penelope, Avery didn’t know how to wash a dish or launder a pair of socks, but he carefully detailed his flat-screen with special nonabrasive cleaning solution every weekend. The last time I’d been over I’d heard Avery instruct Penelope to ‘tell the maid to keep that surface cleaner away from my flatty. That shit fucks up the screen. I swear to God, if I see her go near my TV with that can of Lysol, she’s gonna be looking for a new job.’ Penelope had smiled indulgently, as if to say ‘Boys will be boys.’ She was currently packing Avery’s clothes in the Louis Vuitton suitcases his parents had bought them for their engagement-party trip to Paris while simultaneously bitching about the dinner that was to be held in their honor that night. I didn’t inquire why Avery couldn’t pack his own clothes.

      ‘You’re asking me? She said something asinine about “keeping up appearances” or something like that. Honestly, I think she didn’t have anything else scheduled for tonight and couldn’t bear the thought of staying home.’

      ‘That’s a really positive way of looking at it.’ The empty bag in my hand reminded me that I’d just plowed through sixteen ounces of Red Hots in twelve minutes flat. My mouth alternated between numb and tingly, but that never slowed me down.

      ‘It’s going to suck and you know it. The best I’m hoping for right now is tolerable. What the hell is this?’ she mumbled, holding up a bright blue T-shirt with yellow lettering that read I DO MY OWN NUDE SCENES. ‘Eww! Do you think he’s ever worn this?’

      ‘Probably. Toss it.’

      She threw it in the garbage. ‘Are you sure you don’t hate me for making you come tonight?’

      ‘Pen! I hate you for moving, not for inviting me to your going-away dinner. I mean, I’m not exactly complaining about your parents picking up the tab for dinner at the Grill Room. What time should I get there?’

      ‘Whenever. It starts at eight-thirty or so. Come a few minutes early, maybe, so we can do shots in the bathroom?’ She smiled wickedly. ‘I’m seriously considering bringing a flask. Is that bad? Ick. Not as bad as these …’ This time she held up a pair of faded, well-worn boxers with a none-too-subtle arrow in fluorescent pink pointing directly to the crotch.

      ‘A flask is definitely in order. What am I going to do without you?’ I moaned pathetically. I had not yet come to terms with the idea that Penelope, who’d been my best – and only – girlfriend for the past ten years, was moving across the country.

      ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, sounding more certain than I would’ve liked. ‘­You’ve got Michael and Megu and your whole new crew at work, and you’ve got a boyfriend now.’

      It sounded weird for her to mention Michael, considering we almost never saw him anymore.

      ‘Puh-lease. Michael has Megu. The “crew” at work is precisely that – a bunch of people with mysterious access to huge piles of cash and a penchant for spending it on lots and lots of alcohol. As for the boyfriend remark, well, I’m not even going to dignify that.’

      ‘Where’s my favorite girl?’ Avery called right after the front door slammed. ‘I’ve been waitin’ all day to get home and get that cute ass of yours into bed!’

      ‘Avery, shut up!’ she called, appearing only slightly embarrassed. ‘Bette’s here!’

      But it was too late. He’d already shown up in the doorway, shirtless, with his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped to reveal lime green seersucker boxers.

      ‘Oh, hey, Bette.’ He nodded in my direction, looking not the least bit distraught that I’d been witness to his seduction scene.

      ‘Hey, Avery,’ I said, diverting my eyes to my sneakers and wondering for the umpteenth time what, besides his admittedly flat stomach, Penelope saw in him. ‘I was just heading out. Gotta get home and get ready for the big dinner tonight. Speaking of which, what does one wear to the Four Seasons?’

      ‘Whatever you’d normally wear to dinner with your parents,’ Penelope said as a very ADHD Avery starting shooting hoops with his balled-up pairs of socks.

      ‘You might want to reconsider that. Unless, of course, you want me showing up in palazzo pants with a matching GIVE PEACE A CHANCE T-shirt. I’ll see you both there tonight.’

      ‘Right on,’ Avery said, holding up two fingers in a sort of combination peace/gangster sign. ‘Later, B.’

      I hugged Penelope and let myself out, trying not to envision what would inevitably take place the moment I left. If I hurried home, there’d be time to drag Millington out for a quick walk and maybe even take a bath before dinner. I cabbed it home and chased Millington around the apartment for a few minutes as she made a concerted effort to duck me. She instinctively knew when I was planning to take her outside, and unlike any dog I’d ever met, she hated it. All that dust and pollen and ragweed – she’d be incapacitated for hours afterward, but I thought it was important for her to get out every now and then. Otherwise it was around the block and back. I marveled at her metabolism. We’d just made it to Madison Square Park and managed to dodge the crazy guy who usually chased Millington with his grocery cart when I heard my name.

      ‘Bette! Hey, Bette, over here!’

      I turned to see Sammy sitting on a bench, drinking coffee, his breath visible in the icy air. With what appeared to be an absolute knockout of a woman sitting right next to him. Dammit. There was no escape. He’d obviously seen me and then watched as I looked right at him, so there was no conceivable way to pretend the whole thing had never happened. Plus, Millington decided to be social for the first time in her entire short life and took off toward them, yanking her Extend-a-Leash to its maximum capacity and hurling herself into his lap.

      ‘Hey there, puppy, how are you? Bette, who is this cutie?’

      ‘Charming,’ said the brunette, eyeing Millington coolly. ‘Of course, I prefer the Cavalier King Charles, but Yorkies can be appealing as well.’

      Meow.

      ‘Hi, I’m Bette,’ I managed to say, extending my hand to the girl. I’d tried to smile warmly at Sammy, but I imagine that it looked like a grimace.

      ‘Oh, formal, are we?’ she said with a little laugh. She gave me her hand after making me wait three seconds longer than was comfortable. ‘Isabelle.’

      Isabelle was no less attractive up close, but she was older than I’d originally figured. She was tall and thin in the way that only the truly hungry can be, but she lacked that certain freshness of youth, that dewy-faced contentment that said ‘I haven’t gotten too beat up by the Manhattan dating scene – I still even hold out hope that I’ll meet a good guy one day.’ Isabelle had clearly given up the dream long ago, although I imagined that