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      Anthony took the Black Card, his hands shaking with rage, and held the door open for the forty or so of us who had already arrived. The line quieted as we filed inside, and everyone tried to see the famous among us.

      ‘There’s Johnny Depp!’ I heard one girl stage-whisper.

      ‘Ohmigod! Is that Philip Weston?’ asked another.

      ‘He dated Gwyneth, didn’t he?’ one of the guys said.

      Philip swelled with noticeable pride and directed me to the table that the mâitre d’ had just emptied for us. The evicted party stood a few feet away, holding their drinks, their faces flush with shame as we took our seats around the banquette.

      Philip pulled me onto his lap and rubbed my leg, kneading it in that way that tickles uncomfortably and hurts at the same time. He mixed me a vodka tonic using the $400 bottle of Grey Goose that was immediately deposited at our table, and greeted every single person who walked past by name, occasionally burying his face in my neck.

      During one of these burrowings, he rested his chin on my shoulder and gazed at the model sitting next to me, legs crossed seductively, face in her hands, elbows on her knees, nipple tassels slipping slightly off-center.

      ‘Just look at her,’ he whispered, his voice husky, his eyes fixed on the youngest-looking girl of all. ‘Look how she imitates the older models, watching how they move their hips, their eyes, their mouths, and doing exactly that because she knows it’s sexy. She’s just growing into that body of hers, doesn’t quite realize what she possesses, and she’s learning like a newly hatched chick. Isn’t it smashing to watch?’

      Mmm, absolutely smashing. Downright gripping, actually, I thought, but I just shook him off and announced I’d be right back. He nearly fell on her as I untangled myself from him, and I heard him complimenting her directly as I walked toward the front of the club.

      Elisa was draped across an attractive man at a banquette near the door, her head and shoulders leaning against his chest while her bare feet – still red with sandal-strap lines – rested in Davide’s lap. She didn’t appear to be too concerned – or even aware of – the BlackBerry situation. I wasn’t sure she was conscious or even alive until I got close enough to see her concave stomach rise and fall with the slightest motion.

      ‘Bette, honey, there you are!’ She mustered enough energy to make herself heard over the music even though she probably hadn’t consumed enough calories that day to remain in a standing position. I decided to address the BlackBerry debacle another time.

      ‘Hey,’ I mumbled, displaying my lack of enthusiasm.

      ‘Come here. I want you to meet the most talented skin-care therapist in Manhattan. Marco, this is Bette. Bette, Marco.’

      ‘Aesthetician,’ he immediately corrected.

      I’d been on my way to thank Sammy, but there was no avoiding putting in at least a few minutes at their table. I sat down and immediately poured myself a vodka tonic. ‘Hi, Marco, nice to meet you. How do you know Elisa?’

      ‘How do I know Elisa? Why, I like to think I can claim responsibility for that flawless, glowing skin!’ He held her head between his manicured fingers and thrust it toward me as though it were an inanimate object. ‘Here, look. Do you see this evenness? Do you see the complete and utter lack of blemishes or discoloration? This is achievement!’ He spoke with a slight Spanish accent and much flourish.

      ‘Mmm, she does look great. Maybe you could help me out sometime,’ I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else.

      ‘Mmm,’ he said back, examining my face. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

      I took that as my cue to excuse myself, but Elisa hoisted herself into a sitting position and said, ‘Darlings, amuse yourselves for a few minutes while Davide and I say hello to a few friends.’

      I looked up to see Davide lean forward so the table would obscure his hands. He deftly opened Elisa’s white and gold Dior bag on the floor, removed a key from its ring, poured white powder from a tiny packet into the key’s longest groove, and held it quickly up to his nose. His hand covered the entire key, and if you weren’t watching very closely, it wouldn’t look like anything more than a casual nose itch, perhaps a little allergy sniffle. He refilled it within a second or two and passed it invisibly to Elisa, who also worked so quickly that I wasn’t even sure what had passed under her nose or when. Another few seconds and the key ring was back in her purse and the two were jumping out of their seats, ready to work the room.

      ‘They could at least have offered us some, don’t you think?’ Marco asked.

      ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ I said, not quite sure whether to announce that I’d never tried it, and while I was immensely curious, I was more scared.

      Marco sighed meaningfully and took a long pull from his drink.

      ‘Rough day?’ I asked, again unsure of both how to proceed or escape.

      ‘You can say that again. Elisa fucked up my schedule again. She knows how much I hate it when she passes out in my chair.’ Another sigh.

      ‘She passed out? Is she okay?’

      His huge eye roll was followed by a long, exhausted exhalation. ‘Look at her – does she look okay to you? Hey, I’m all about starving yourself – I’ve certainly had to do it myself a few times – but you’ve got to take responsibility for your actions! You know when you’re about to pass out! There are little flashes of light before your eyes and you get really dizzy. Your body does this to let you know that it’s time to take a bite of that PowerBar you should be toting around for occasions like this. You gotta heed the warnings, you know, and get the hell out of my chair, or else you’re going to screw up my entire schedule.’

      I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, so I just sat and listened.

      ‘These girls think they can come in after a long week of nose drugs and no food and just conk out in my chair and I’ll take care of them. Well, that used to be okay, but I’ve got better things to do now. The way I see it, it’s the same as some heroin junkie: I couldn’t care less if you’re using, man, just don’t overdose in my home because then it becomes my problem. You know?’

      I nodded. The world is lucky to have a guy as sensitive as Marco, I thought.

      ‘People have it worse than I do, though,’ he continued earnestly. ‘Friend of mine’s a makeup artist. He brings one case of makeup with him, and another of PowerBars and fruit-juice boxes because the girls are always conking out on him. At least when mine faint in the chair, I don’t have to start all over. He also usually sees them right before big events, at their hungriest, since they’ve been on super-starvation to fit into their dresses. It’s tough, man. They leave us to pick up the pieces.’

      ‘Yeah, I hear that. Listen, it was really nice to meet you, but I’ve got to run and say hi to a friend. Will you be here for a few minutes?’ I asked, realizing that if I didn’t escape soon, it might never happen.

      ‘Sure, whatever, great to meet you. Catch you later.’ He nodded in my direction before leaning over to mix another drink.

      I wanted to find Sammy and thank him for what he’d done, maybe explain that I was not there as Philip’s date or his girlfriend or even by choice, but by the time I fought past the door crowd – which seemed to have expanded exponentially in the last hour – Sammy was nowhere in sight.

      ‘Hey, have you seen Sammy?’ I asked Anthony, trying to sound casual.

      He appeared to have calmed down since our last interaction and shook his head while glancing over his clipboard.

      ‘Nah, he headed out early to meet his girl. Left me here alone for one of the biggest parties of the year. Wouldn’t usually do that, so it musta been important. Why, you gotta problem? I’ll try and help you in a few when I get rid of some of these people.’

      ‘No,

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