Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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to avoid any extra queasiness.
‘Perfect.’ Kelly nodded. ‘Think about potential party favors, too. Oh, and Bette?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Do you have any plans to see Philip this weekend?’
‘Philip? Who’s Philip?’ I thought she was still talking about The List, but apparently we’d transitioned seamlessly back to my personal life.
‘Bette!’ She giggled. ‘That gorgeous super-stud whose bed you occupied last night? You will be seeing him, right?’
‘Oh, right, Philip. It wasn’t exactly like that, Kelly. It was more like—’
‘Oh, Bette, stop right there. You don’t owe me any explanations at all. It’s your life, you know,’ she pointed out, apparently seeing no irony whatsoever in the statement. ‘I just hope you’ll consider going out with him over the weekend, is all. Maybe have dinner at Matsuri or stop by Cain or Marquee?’
‘Uh, well, I’m not sure he’ll call me, but if he does, then well, I guess—’
‘Oh, he’ll call, Bette, he’ll call. I’m glad to hear you’re into the idea. Because frankly, you’d be crazy if you weren’t! I’m headed out early today, so have a great weekend, okay?’
‘Sure. Will do. You, too, Kelly,’ I said, inching closer to the door, still not really believing that I had just promised my boss I’d continue sleeping with a guy I hadn’t slept with yet. ‘See you Monday.’
She picked up the phone, smiled, and gave me a thumbs-up. I beelined for my area, near Elisa, but was stopped several times on the way by people grinning at me in knowing ways or calling out ‘Nice work’ or ‘Great work with Philip.’ Elisa had gone out to lunch (read: a liter of Fiji water, a Baggie of baby carrots, and a half-dozen Marlboro Lights), according to a note she left on my computer, so I picked up the phone and called Penelope.
‘Hey, how are you?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine. And you?’ I responded in my detonation voice, so quiet and uptight that it gave the impression something might blow up at any second.
‘Great. Thanks for inviting me to dinner last night. It was, uh, really interesting.’
‘So you hated it?’
‘No! Bette, I didn’t say anything like that. I didn’t hate it at all. It was just, uh, different from what we usually do. Hope you don’t mind that I bailed early, but I was exhausted. How was the rest of the night?’
‘Are you asking just to be polite or have you not seen the news today?’ I mentally crossed my fingers that she hadn’t heard.
‘Yeah, I’m just being nice. Avery forwarded it to me first thing this morning. It’s taken every last ounce of willpower not to call you. I want the full play-by-play. Start with “When I met him at Bungalow he was wearing a black ribbed shirt and black pants with a thirty-four-inch inseam and he bought me a Stoli Vanilla and Sprite.” Proceed at that detail level, please.’
‘Pen, I can’t really get into it here,’ I said tersely, looking up to notice that half of my coworkers were pretending to stare at their screens while listening to me intently.
‘Bette! You can’t be serious! You go and have sex with one of the hottest guys in the free world – Avery’s always talking about how every female in Manhattan worships him – and you can’t tell me about it?’
‘I didn’t sleep with him!’ I all but screamed into the phone. Skye and Leo – in addition to a few assistants – jerked their heads up and grinned at me in unison.
‘Whatever,’ I heard someone else whisper.
Leo just rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘Oh, dear God, we’re not all that stupid.’
And for a minute I was flattered. So what if it was slightly slutty to meet someone and sleep with him that very night? Better everyone considered it a possibility that Philip Weston would deign to have sex with me, I suppose, than just assume he’d taken me in for the night out of pity and a sense of obligation and spent as little time as possible actually in the bed I occupied.
‘Whoa,’ Penelope was saying. ‘Touchy, touchy. Okay, so you didn’t have sex with him. I believe you. The only question I have now is, why the hell not? I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you of your recent celibacy. What are you holding out for? He’s supposedly incredible!’
I finally laughed for what I realized was the first time all morning. Seriously, what was the big deal? If I wasn’t going to get fired for my rather public indiscretion – and that certainly didn’t seem to be an option – then why not just enjoy it?
‘I remember very little about what actually happened last night,’ I whispered, placing my hand over the receiver, ‘but I’ll tell you whatever I can dredge up when I get home tonight.’
‘Can’t. Avery and I have dinner at his parents’ house and I can’t seem to talk him out of it. What about tomorrow night? Can we meet for a drink at the Black Door?’
‘I’d love to, but I’m meeting the book club for dinner and drinks. Little Italy, I think.’
She sighed. ‘Well, we should probably make a plan now for the weekend after next since I’m in St Louis for work the next two weeks. Are you around?’
It felt strange to have plans with people other than my book club, Will, or Penelope, but work had already begun to seep into my weekends, too. I checked my rapidly filling calendar. ‘Yeah, totally, I just promised Kelly that I’d go with our group from here to scout a new location for the Playboy party. It’s still four months away, but everyone’s already panicking. Want to come?’
Penelope hesitated. I could tell she wasn’t into the idea, but she couldn’t really say no since she’d already admitted to being free. ‘Uh, sure. That sounds great. We’ll figure out the details this week. And of course, if you suddenly “remember” anything about last night, I’ll take that, too.’
‘Bitch,’ I shot back.
She just laughed.
‘You have fun with your future in-laws, you hear? Be sure to listen up when they tell you exactly how many grandchildren they want, broken down by gender and eye color. You do, after all, have certain obligations now. …’
It was good to hear her laughing again.
‘Bettina Robinson, I’m not sure you’re in a position to offer advice on such things right now, considering your rather tawdry exploits in the last twenty-four hours. … Talk to you later.’
‘Bye.’ I hung up the phone and decided that such a night and morning warranted a second bacon, egg, and cheese on a buttered roll. I still had to do that invitation list for five hundred and party favors, but I decided it could wait. My hangover could not.
Three weeks later – three weeks of list-making, wardrobe-building, party-going, and general immersion in the culture of Kelly & Company – I stood waiting for Penelope to arrive. The line outside Sanctuary looked absolutely unbearable. Whole hordes of girls smoothed their Japanese-reconditioned hair with manicured hands while the boys – revitalized from various steak dinners – gripped their forearms to keep them from tottering over sideways on their heels. The early November night was chilly, but no one seemed to notice that it wasn’t July anymore. Skin – scrubbed, buffed, waxed, moisturized, tanned, and glowing – was everywhere, from huge expanses of bronzed cleavage to slightly sparkling stretches of stomach to those inches of upper thigh that are rarely spotted away from the beach or the gynecologist’s office. A few people swayed in time to loungy music emanating from behind the imposing steel door, and most seemed to