Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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to sleep. Or maybe he’d start having flashbacks from all the acid he did in college and try to eat a parakeet or fly out a window. Poor, sweet Penelope.
‘Bette, love, are you ready to leave?’ Philip asked, draping his arms over my shoulders as though he were my long-term boyfriend instead of the guy I didn’t want to want to sleep with. ‘Let’s go back to my flat. Maybe you won’t be too drunk tonight to—’
‘Uh, yeah, why don’t you, me, and Sonja,’ I said a bit more snottily than I intended, ‘have a slumber party? Wouldn’t that be fun!’
He slid his hand up the back of my lingerie top. ‘What’s with all the attitude? Seriously, love, you’ve got to relax. Come on, I’ll put Sonja in a suite upstairs and then you and I can spend a little quiet time together, okay?’
Before I could respond, Philip was whispering to Sonja in French. She did little except nod enthusiastically, raise her perfect eyebrows, and giggle when he was finished. ‘Oui, oui, of course it is okay to spend the time alone together,’ she said, providing us with her blessing to engage in slightly drunk, somewhat random sex.
‘You know what, Philip?’ I said, not knowing how to explain that I wasn’t really up for tonight when I wasn’t even sure myself. ‘It’s not right to put her in a hotel when she’s just with you for a week. I mean, she’s only fifteen. Don’t you think you should keep an eye on her? She can’t walk three feet without guys hitting on her, you know.’
He looked thoughtful, as though he was actually buying my whole ‘concern for Sonja’ thing. He nodded. ‘Quite right, love. I’ll take her home and tuck her in, and then we’ll head to a hotel somewhere. Good call. Cheers,’ he announced in the direction of the others, who merely glanced once in our direction and nodded in acknowledgment. Elisa stopped gawking long enough to give me a none-too-subtle thumbs-up.
I figured it’d be easier to drop them both off at the Archives and then redirect the cab to Murray Hill than argue about it, so I waved to Elisa and followed Sonja and Philip to the front door, feeling like the chubby, uncoordinated child of two Olympic athletes.
‘Hey, guy, call us a cab, will you?’ Philip called to the doorman, snapping his fingers in that general direction. It was undeniably obnoxious, but considering what an asshole the guy had been to us, it seemed perfectly acceptable to me. That was, until a closer look revealed that it wasn’t the malnourished, wig-sporting Romero but the cute (and rude) bouncer from Bungalow 8. Sammy. He turned to look at Philip with a venomous expression and noticed me trying to hide off to the side. His eyes bore into mine with just a moment’s recognition before he turned his attention back to the street and silently hailed a cab from the dozens that were flying past.
Sonja scooted in first and Philip dove in next to her, leaving me standing four inches from Sammy as he held the cab door open. I don’t know why I got in with them, but I did. It was like my body was following some invisible script.
‘Thanks,’ I managed to say quietly, just as Philip said, ‘Mate, I’ve got two gorgeous girls coming home with me, if you know what I mean. You mind being quick about this?’ Sonja giggled and rested her delicate head on Philip’s shoulder; Sammy looked at me one last time, expressionless, and slammed the door. Just as the cab pulled away, I looked at the restless line outside the club, the camera-ready paparazzi waiting for celebrities to exit, the crush to be inside like its own form of addiction. And even though I couldn’t pinpoint why, I was quite sure I wanted to cry.
‘How do you eat like that and stay so tiny?’ I asked Penelope for the thousandth time since we’d met. We’d just settled into a booth at EJ’s after an hour-long wait. I was famished enough to order one of everything on the menu, but I was enjoying my still-thin figure too much to jeopardize it now. I’d managed to cut out all trips to Dylan’s and even most of my morning bacon, egg, and cheeses – with the occasional Slim Jim acting as my only real indulgence – and it was almost starting to feel normal to police myself with food. Which only made it all the weirder when Penelope ordered the way we always had – three-egg cheese omelet with bacon and hash browns, accompanied by a short stack of chocolate-chip pancakes and a baby fistful of oozing, melted butter. She raised her eyebrows when I ordered an egg-white omelet with spinach and tomatoes and two slices of dry whole-wheat toast, but she kindly refrained from commenting, with the single exception of a murmur: ‘Elisa influence much?’ I ignored her wan smile and changed the subject.
‘Is everything okay with you and Avery?’ I asked as sympathetically as I could, wanting very much to draw her out and not sound critical. I’d helplessly watched them leave Sanctuary, knowing how upset she was but feeling powerless to do anything but watch. When she’d called early this morning, I immediately ducked out of my standing Sunday brunch plans with Will and Simon and jumped in a cab downtown.
She avoided my eyes and instead concentrated on slicing her pancakes into small, even pieces. Slice, spear, mouth, repeat. I watched this cycle three times before she spoke. ‘Everything’s just fine,’ she said tonelessly. ‘Once he explained everything to me, I could see that last night was just a big misunderstanding.’
‘I’m sure. It must have been surprising to see him there when you weren’t expecting it,’ I prompted, hoping to elicit some sort of acknowledgment from her.
She laughed without pleasure. ‘Well, you know Avery. Likely to crop up just about anywhere, any time of the night. It’s good one of us is social, I suppose, or else we’d drive each other crazy sitting in the apartment all the time.’
I didn’t know where to go with that, so I just nodded.
‘What about you? Looked like you were having fun when I left, talking to Elisa and Philip. Was it a good night?’
I stared at her, thinking about how awkward I’d felt with Elisa and Philip, as if I were a trespasser in a members-only world – a feeling that had become pretty familiar to me since I’d joined Kelly & Company. I thought about how I’d gotten in the cab and argued to be dropped off alone and how – much to my surprise – Philip hadn’t argued back, not one bit. I thought about how empty my apartment had seemed when I got home, and how even Millington curled up beside me in bed didn’t make me feel much better. And I looked at Penelope and wondered just when, exactly, we had grown so far apart.
‘It was all right, I guess. I was hoping to hang out with you more …’ I stopped short when I realized it sounded accusatory.
She lifted her gaze and looked at me sharply. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting the situation with Avery. Also, I would have loved for it to be us, going out, like we used to, but you were the one who had us meet up with all your work friends to scout the location. It seems like they’re omnipresent these days.’
‘Pen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I was just saying that I’d rather hang out with you any day. After you left, it just got worse. Philip was babysitting some girl from home and I shared a cab home with them because I didn’t want to start a big scene at the club, but then people saw me getting in the backseat, and I felt like shit. Oh, and Abby, too. It was just a giant mess and I wish I’d left when you did.’
‘So did you go home with him? Where did the girl sleep?’
‘No, I just got in the cab because it seemed easier than listening to him throw a fit. I made them drop me off first, but people watching would never know that.’
‘Why didn’t you go home with him? And who’s “people”?’ I could tell she was trying to keep everyone straight, but she hadn’t even met all the players.
‘Well,’ I lied, ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to get involved in Philip’s world. He’s tied in to just about everyone and everything at work, which makes it all even weirder.’
‘I wouldn’t know. You didn’t introduce me,’ she said lightly.
I