Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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overheard two perfect strangers talking about Philip’s ‘new girlfriend, what’s her name?’
By the time I’d dropped my laptop bag on the circular table, the entire staff had surrounded me.
‘I suppose you’ve all seen it already?’ I asked no one in particular, flopping into a leather work chair.
‘It’s really nothing we don’t already know,’ Kelly pointed out, sounding disappointed. ‘It just says here that one Mr Philip Weston has been seen so frequently in the company of one Ms. Bettina Robinson that it would only be fair to consider them an item.’
‘An item?’ I asked, incredulous. In my horror at seeing the picture and the caption, I’d simply forgotten to read the accompanying text.
‘Oh, yes, it says here that an unnamed source claims that the two of you spend nearly every night together, after partying at all the hot spots like Bungalow and Marquee.’
‘We are not dating,’ I insisted.
‘The pictures are right here, Bette. And it very much appears that you are, thank God.’ Kelly turned her twenty-inch flat-screen Mac monitor toward the group so we could all enjoy the photos of Philip and me.
My personal and professional lives had become not only intertwined but completely dependent on one another. Any idiot could see that my connection with Philip had made me an accepted part of the team with a swiftness that made my head hurt.
‘Well, it’s just that dating is kind of a strong word,’ I said awkwardly. Why did no one understand?
‘Well, whatever you’re doing, Bette, just keep on doing it. Do you know we’ve been hired to represent BlackBerry solely because you’re dating Mr Weston?’
Solely? I thought.
‘Surprise, Bette! We got a call from their internal PR company just this morning. They want us to introduce their new BlackBerry to New York’s younger set, and picked us because we clearly have access to that world. BlackBerry’s already huge, of course, with the Wall Street crowd, and everyone who’s anyone – and most people who aren’t – in Hollywood already has one, but they haven’t hit as big with the younger crowd. We will do our best to change that, of course. And I’m happy to report that I’m putting you in charge of all the logistics, reporting to me only for approval.’
‘In charge?’ I stammered.
‘Their account rep told us how much she’d love to have you planning and Philip hosting the event, so I think it works out perfectly!’ she sang, not the least bit aware that Philip most likely still didn’t even know my full name.
‘Skye will help you with whatever you need’ – a quick glance at Skye informed me that she wasn’t thrilled with this pronouncement – ’and we’ll all be here to support you. The party is scheduled for November twenty-second, which is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, so you’d better get started immediately.’
I did a few mental calculations and realized that it was less than three weeks away. I said as much.
‘Oh, Bette, stop stressing,’ Elisa said with an exasperated eye-roll. ‘It’s nothing. Find a venue, get sponsors, order invites, work The List, and save all your presswork until that week. Anything that Philip hosts will be automatically covered, so this is not exactly going to be a lot of work.’
When the meeting finally ended, I ducked out with my laptop and headed to Starbucks in a panicky effort to figure out exactly what needed to happen for the BlackBerry event. I almost hoped Philip would make it some sort of quid pro quo that he’d host the event if I’d sleep with him … and then immediately felt pathetic. Everyone assumed we’d already consummated our relationship, but the reality was that we both seemed to avoid the situation entirely. Which wasn’t difficult, considering he only seemed to want to mug for the cameras. He was great with the suggestive remarks, but he never really followed up on any of them, and he seemed almost relieved when I brushed him off and left alone each night. There hadn’t been much time to think about it, but I figured he had some sort of top-secret girlfriend (or five) that he kept sequestered away and was content to let the general public think we were dating. It was vaguely insulting – I still wanted him to want to have sex with me – but we seemed to have an unspoken agreement to maintain the present arrangement.
I left a message with Amy Sacco’s office asking if we could reserve Bungalow for the BlackBerry event, just as Penelope called on the other line.
‘Hey, what’s going on? What warrants the middle-of-the-day call? How’s Aaron? Have you seen him lately?’
‘Do you know how much the quality of my work life has improved since you left?’ Penelope asked. ‘No offense, but it’s almost worth not having you around to never have him utter the word powwow. How’s lover boy?’
‘Oh, you mean my boyfriend? He’s dreamy,’ I said.
‘Tell me,’ Penelope said, trying to sound enthusiastic. I know she couldn’t stand the thought of Philip, but she’d been kind enough not to say that outright … yet.
‘Let’s see. Things are, like, so amazing. We go to these wonderful parties where he spends at least a few minutes talking to me before flirting with every other girl there. Often I’m allowed to bring him his favorite cocktail – gin and tonic, for the record. I let him kiss me for the photographers and then we go our separate ways. No sex, by the way. We haven’t even spent the night together since I passed out there the first time I met him.’
‘Maybe he’s just so overwhelmed by the amount of sex he’s having with every model, actress, and socialite in London, Los Angeles, and New York that he’s just physically exhausted? It’s possible, you know.’
‘Did I ever tell you what a good friend you are, Pen? Seriously, you always know exactly what to say.’
She laughed. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t have to spell out that I think you’re not doing yourself justice. But enough, let’s talk about me for a second. I have something to tell you.’
‘You’re knocked up and feel guilty about getting rid of it because you’re engaged and old enough to take responsibility for your own actions?’ I asked eagerly, leaning in closer to the phone as though she could see me.
She sighed, and I knew she was rolling her eyes.
‘You’re knocked up and it’s not Avery’s baby?’
When this elicited nothing but another exasperated sound, I decided on just one more.
‘You’re knocked up and—’
‘Bette.’ Her voice tightened and I could tell she wasn’t enjoying this nearly as much as I was.
‘Sorry. What’s up?’
‘I’m leaving.’
‘You’re what?’
‘I’m leaving. Done. I’m finished.’
‘Ohmigod, no.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It’s definite?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you serious? Just like that? Over? Are you okay with it?’
I was doing everything possible to contain my glee at the idea that she wouldn’t be going through with the wedding, but it was difficult, especially since I knew she’d probably had to walk in on Avery and some girl, a scenario I’d already decided was the only way she’d ever believe it. That aside, she sounded good. Maybe it was the best thing and she knew it.
‘Honestly? I didn’t expect this, but I couldn’t be happier. I’ve wanted to do it for a long time and, well, I’m just so excited about what’s next.’
I slowly took a sip of my coffee and contemplated this new information. ‘You wouldn’t be this excited if you hadn’t met someone else. Who