Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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bra that created cleavage in that flawless way that said, ‘Look at me’ but not ‘I’m an aspiring Pamela Anderson.’ Her friend, looking all of sixteen and lying next to her, playing with her hair, wore a pair of silver fishnets that stretched so far across her infinite legs that they looked partially shredded. She had pulled on a pair of red leather boy shorts over them, which dipped so low at the hips and so high at the thigh that she’d definitely needed to make a special request at the waxer’s. The only accompaniment to the ‘costume’ were the silver fringe tassels hanging from the nipples of her apple-sized breasts and a giant tiara of multicolored feathers and fur that cascaded down her back. I’ve never had a single sexual impulse toward another woman in all my twenty-seven years, and yet I thought I would sleep with either one of them right then.
‘They look like lingerie models, for chrissake,’ I muttered under my breath to no one in particular.
‘They are,’ Philip responded, staring with what can only be described as lust. ‘Don’t you recognize Raquel and Maria Thereza here? They’re Victoria’s biggest girls this year, the youngest Brazilian crop ever.’
I was devastated to see that they don’t airbrush nearly as much as I’d always convinced myself they did. We roamed around the glass-enclosed roof – only the ceiling was open to the sky – as Philip handed out high fives to Jimmy Fallon and Derek Jeter in quick succession and cheek kisses (always just missing the lips) to a long line of fashion-magazine editors, sitcom actresses, and Hollywood starlets. I was checking my cell to see if Elisa or Kelly had called when I spotted Philip massaging the back of the titty-tasseled girl, who I now recognized as the one who’d modeled the cotton bikini panties I’d recently ordered from the VS catalog and who I’d mentally blamed for misrepresentation when I’d put them on and looked in the mirror. The Hotel Costes soundtrack thumped out of some flattened, plasma-like unit that hung from one of the outdoor walls while people alternately danced, smoked, did drugs, munched sushi, and ogled each other. I kept checking the door for Elisa, worried they wouldn’t find us on the terrace, and eventually sent her a text message with elevator instructions. At some point I accepted a drink from a gorgeous, shirtless waiter wearing a loincloth and heels, but I remained rooted near the door, making sure I could see everyone who arrived and left. There was a brief break in the fun when Caleb announced that a fleet of cars was waiting downstairs to transport everyone to the club, but then the partying continued straight through the elevators and into the two dozen Town Cars that lined the block as far as I could see.
‘Philip, we can’t leave this party!’ I hiss-whispered as he tried to hustle me into the elevator. ‘We’re waiting for the BlackBerry people.’
‘Stop fretting, love. Elisa rang to tell me that your boss rang to tell her that the meeting is canceled for tonight.’
I couldn’t have heard that correctly. It was impossible!
‘What? You can’t be serious.’ I couldn’t even consider the possibility that I’d been forcefully removed from Penelope’s dinner to tend to clients who didn’t need tending.
He shrugged. ‘That’s what she said. Come on, love, you can call from the car.’
I wedged myself between Caleb and Philip and tried not to touch any of the exposed body parts of the girl who was lying across all our laps.
I dialed Elisa and nearly screamed with frustration when it went to voice mail. Kelly answered on the third ring, sounding vaguely surprised to hear from me.
‘Bette? I can barely hear you. Anyway, the meeting’s off for the night. We had a lovely dinner at Soho House and then had drinks by the pool, but I don’t think they’re quite used to New York partying. They went back to the hotel already, so you’re off the hook. But they’re very excited about this week!’ She was screaming above music somewhere and didn’t realize that even though she couldn’t hear herself, I could hear her perfectly.
‘Oh, well, okay. Um, that’s fine. As long as you’re sure—’
‘Are you with Philip?’ she shouted.
At the sound of his name coming through the phone, he squeezed my knee and started moving his hand upward.
‘I am. He’s right here. Do you want to talk to him?’
‘No, no, I want you to talk to him. I hope you guys are at Bungalow. It’s going to be a huge night – everyone will be there for Caleb’s birthday.’
‘Huh?’
‘Lots of photogs, lots of opportunity …’
Despite the weirdness of Kelly’s obvious pimping tactics, I liked my job – and Kelly – at that point. I knew I didn’t ever want to go back to mutual funds. I wanted this BlackBerry party to be the best event of the year and I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take a few pictures with Philip before sneaking out and meeting Penelope and Michael at the Black Door. Besides, we were already heading there anyway, right? Despite my outrage at being yanked from Penelope’s dinner, I tried to tell myself it wasn’t that bad. …
‘Sure thing, I hear you,’ I said with faux cheeriness while removing Philip’s hand from where it currently resided – my inner thigh – and tapping it the way a grandmother might. ‘Thanks, Kell. See you Monday.’
The cars pulled up single file along Twenty-seventh Street and I saw that the line was almost a hundred people, all of whom stared, slack-jawed, as we exited the fleet of cars in our outrageous costumes. Sammy was standing off to one side while a man from the party wearing a long blond wig and very high heels yelled at him. I tried to get his attention as we cut in front of the entire line, but another bouncer approached us first.
‘How many are you?’ he asked Philip pleasantly, giving no indication that he knew who anyone was.
‘Oh, I don’t know, man, forty? Sixty? Who bloody knows?’
‘Sorry, dude – not tonight,’ the doorman replied, turning his back. ‘Private party.’
‘My man, I don’t think you understand. …’ Philip clapped him on the back and the bouncer looked like he might deck him, but then he noticed the credit card Philip was brandishing – the one and only Black Card. The negotiations began.
‘I only have three tables right now. I’ll let in six per table and an additional ten people, but that’s the best I can do,’ he said. ‘Any other night, no problem, but tonight it’s really out of my hands.’
This guy was clearly new and had no idea who he was dealing with, and Philip looked like he was ready to let him know. His voice tight and controlled, he got within three inches of the bouncer’s face and said, ‘Look, man, I don’t give a toss what your problem is. Caleb is one of my closest mates and it’s his party. Three tables is bullshit. I want six tables, starting with two bottles apiece, and everyone admitted. Now.’
I noticed Sammy finishing his conversation and tried to slink away from the front as quietly as possible so I could lose myself in the crowd; I was desperate not to let him see me with Philip. All around me, guys were working their cell phones, calling anyone and everyone they knew who might get the bouncer to release the velvet rope; girls approached the doormen with puppy eyes, stroking their arms and quietly making their pleas for admittance. Sammy walked toward Philip and caught my eye as I moved closer again to hear what was happening. I fervently hoped he would tell them all to fuck off, to take their money and party elsewhere, but he just looked quickly at me again and addressed the other bouncer.
‘Anthony, let them in.’
Anthony, who’d already been surprisingly accommodating and nonconfrontational, appeared dismayed at this development and began to argue. ‘Dude, they have like eighty fucking people. I don’t care how much cash they got, it’s my ass on the line if—’
‘I said let them in. Clear out whatever tables you need to and give them whatever they want. Do it now.’ And with that, Sammy glanced at me one last time and stepped inside the door, leaving Anthony to handle us.
‘See