Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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rations of vegetarian dahl, I had asked in my sweet ten-year-old voice, ‘Uncle Will, what’s it like to be gay?’
He’d raised his eyebrows at my parents, glanced at Simon, and looked me straight in the eye. ‘Well, dear, it’s quite nice, if I do say so myself. I’ve been with girls, of course, but you do soon realize that they just don’t, ah, well, work for you, if you know what I mean.’ I didn’t know, but I was certainly enjoying the pained faces my parents were making.
‘Do you and Simon sleep in the same bed like Mommy and Daddy?’ I’d continued, sounding as sweet and innocent as I possibly could.
‘We do, darling. We’re exactly like your parents. Only different.’ He took a swig of the scotch my parents kept on hand for his visits and smiled at Simon. ‘Just like a regular married couple, we fight and we make up and I’m not afraid to tell him that even he can’t pull off white linen pants before Memorial Day. Nothing’s different.’
‘Well then, that was an illuminating conversation, wasn’t it?’ My father cleared his throat. ‘The important thing to remember, Bette, is that you always treat everyone the same, regardless of how they might be different from you.’
Booooring. I had no interest in another love-in lecture, so I settled on one last question: ‘When did you find out you were gay, Uncle Will?’
He took another sip of scotch and said, ‘Oh, it was probably when I was in the army. I sort of woke up one day and realized I’d been sleeping with my commanding officer for some time,’ he replied casually. He nodded, more sure now. ‘Yes, come to think of it, that was rather telling for me.’
It didn’t matter that I was slightly unclear on the terms sleeping with and commanding officer; my father’s sharp inhalation and the look my mother shot Will across the table were perfectly sufficient. When I’d asked him years later if that was actually when he realized he preferred men, he’d laughed and said, ‘Well, I’m not sure that was the first time, darling, but it was certainly the only one that was appropriate for the dinner table.’
Now he sat calmly, sipping his martini and waiting for me to tell him all about my new and improved life. But before I could come up with something to offer, he said, ‘I assume you’ve gotten the invitation to your parents’ for the Harvest Festival?’
‘I have, yes.’ I sighed. Every year my parents threw their Harvest Festival party in the backyard to celebrate Thanksgiving with all their friends. It was always on Thursday, and they never served turkey. My mother had called a few days earlier and, after listening politely to the details of my new job – which to my parents was only slightly preferable to padding the coffers of a huge corporate bank – she’d reminded me yet again that the party was coming up and that my presence was expected. Will and Simon always RSVPd yes, only to cancel at the last moment.
‘I suppose I’ll drive us all up there Wednesday when you’re done with work,’ Will said now, and I barely managed to keep from rolling my eyes. ‘How is everything going, by the way? Judging from everything I’m reading, you seem to have, ah, embraced the job.’ He didn’t smile, but his eyes sparkled, and I swatted him on the shoulder.
‘Mmm, yes, you must mean the new little write-up in New York Scoop.’ I sighed. ‘Why are they after me?’
‘They’re after everyone, darling. When your sole mission as a columnist – online or otherwise – is to cover what’s being consumed in the Condé Nast cafeteria, well, nothing should really surprise you. Have you read the latest?’
‘This isn’t the latest?’ I felt the familiar dread begin to build.
‘Oh, no, darling, I’m afraid to say it isn’t. My assistant faxed it here an hour ago.’
‘Is it awful?’ I asked, not really wanting an answer.
‘It’s less than complimentary. For both of us.’
I felt my stomach flip. ‘Oh, Christ. I can understand Philip, but for whatever reason they’ve made me their project, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Now they’re including you?’
‘I can hold my own, darling. I’m not thrilled, but I can handle it. As far as you’re concerned, you’re right. There’s not much you can do, but I would certainly advise you not to do anything exceptionally stupid in public, or at least while you’re in the company of this certain gentleman. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.’
I nodded. ‘I just don’t think my life is interesting enough to chronicle, you know? I mean, I’m no one. I go to work, I go out because I have to, and all of a sudden, my activities are fair game for public consumption.’
‘Not yours – his,’ Will pointed out, absentmindedly fingering the platinum ring that Simon called a wedding band and Will referred to as ‘Simon’s security blanket.’
‘You’re right. I just can’t seem to extricate myself. He’s omnipresent. And it’s such a weird situation.’
‘How so?’ We both smiled when Simon swooshed by in an angry huff of ivory linen, and Will mouthed the word snit.
‘Well … I don’t actually like Philip as a person, but—’
‘Darling! Don’t let that stop you from dating someone! If liking the person was a requirement for having sex with them, well then, we’d all be in trouble.’
‘See, that’s the other thing. I’m not actually sleeping with him. Or rather, he’s not sleeping with me.’
Will raised an eyebrow. ‘I have to admit, that one puzzles me.’
‘Well, at first it was because I didn’t want to. Or at least that’s what I thought. I just thought he was kind of a jerk, and even though I’m sure of it now, there’s something that attracts me to him. Not in any kind of redeeming-quality way whatsoever, but he’s certainly different from everyone else I know. And he’s just not interested.’
Will was about to say something but stopped himself just as his mouth opened. He appeared to regroup for a minute and then said, ‘I see. Well, ah, I have to say, I’m not actually surprised.’
‘Will! Am I that much of a cow?’
‘Darling, I have neither the time nor the inclination to spoon-feed you compliments right now. You know that’s precisely not how I meant it. I just find it unsurprising since it’s the men who talk about sex the most, the ones who make it such a crucial element of their identities, who actually define themselves by it, are usually the ones not performing up to par. With most people, when they’re happy with that area of their lives, they’re also happy to keep it private. All of this is by way of saying that I think you have the best situation possible right now.’
‘Oh, really? Why’s that?’
‘Because from what you’ve mentioned before, it’s important to your boss and colleagues that the Brit stay in the picture, right?’
‘Correct. Your niece is a glorified prostitute, and it’s all your fault.’
He ignored that comment. ‘Well, it seems that it’s an easy out, no? You can continue spending time with him as you – or your company – see fit, but you don’t actually have to, ah, participate in anything unsavory. You’re getting credit for minimal work, darling.’
That was an interesting way of looking at it. I wanted to tell him about Sammy, maybe even ask his advice, but I realized it was ridiculous to talk about my unrequited crush. Before I could broach the subject either way, my cell phone rang.
‘Philip,’ I announced, wondering, as usual, whether to answer it. ‘He seems to instinctively call at the most inopportune times.’
‘Answer it, darling. I’m going to find Simon and soothe his jangled nerves. That man is a walking basket case, and I’m afraid it’s due in no small part to yours truly.’ With that, he strolled out.