Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (105 page)

‘Amazing,' I breathed. ‘And yet not at all surprising.'

‘Yeah, well, it only took a few minutes from there to set up an anonymous Hotmail account, let the good folks at New York Scoop know that their star columnist wasn't a college graduate, and give them a little clue as to why she'd departed without a degree. I called their offices every day asking for her until I was told yesterday that she was no longer with the paper, at which time I sent a helpful little anonymous tip to Page Six as well.'

‘Ohmigod, Penelope, you evil bitch. I didn't think you had it in you!'

‘So, as I said before, happy birthday! I found out about it months ago, when I wrote the letter, but I thought if I waited, it would make a fine birthday present. Consider it my gift to you. And myself,' she added.

We hung up, and I was unabashedly elated, imagining Abby walking the streets, panhandling, or – better yet – wearing a McDonald's apron. When the phone rang again within seconds, I snapped it open without looking first.

‘What else?' I said, assuming it was Penelope calling back with some forgotten juicy tidbit.

‘Hello?' I heard a male voice say. ‘Bette?'

Ohmigod, it was Sammy. Sammy! Saaaaaaaammmmmy! I wanted to sing and dance and scream his name to the entire coffee shop.

‘Hiiiii,' I breathed, barely able to believe that the call I'd waited nearly four months for – the call I'd
willed
to arrive – was finally happening.

He laughed at my obvious joy. ‘It's good to hear your voice.'

‘Yours, too,' I said much too quickly. ‘How have you been?'

‘Good, good. I opened up a place, finally, and—'

‘I know, I've been reading all about it. Congratulations! It's a huge success, and I think that's just incredible!' I was dying to know how he'd managed to put it together so quickly, but I wasn't going to risk anything by asking a thousand annoying questions.

‘Yeah, thanks. So, look, I'm kind of racing around, but I just wanted to call and—'

Oh. He had the tone of someone who'd moved on, most likely had a new girlfriend who had a fulfilling job helping other people … someone who didn't own a pair of tattered, stained sweatpants but who always lounged around the apartment in the cutest silk pajama sets. Someone who—

‘… and see if you'll have dinner with me tonight?'

I waited to make sure I'd heard him right, but neither of us ended up saying anything. ‘Dinner?' I tentatively ventured. ‘Tonight?'

‘You probably have plans, don't you? I'm sorry to call at the last minute, I just—'

‘No, no plans,' I shouted before he could change his mind. No chance of playing it cool, either, but suddenly that didn't seem to matter. I hadn't missed a brunch or a Thursday dinner since I'd quit Kelly & Company, so Will would just have to understand about tonight. ‘I can totally have dinner.'

I could hear him smiling through the phone. ‘Great. Why don't I swing by your place around seven? We can have a drink in your neighborhood, and then I'd like to bring you by the restaurant. If that sounds okay …'

‘Okay? That sounds perfect, just perfect,' I gushed. ‘Seven? I'll see you then.' And I snapped my phone shut before I could say one word to fuck it up. Fate. It was absolutely, positively, undeniably fate that had inspired Sammy to call on my birthday: a sign that we were, most definitely, destined to be together forever. I was debating whether or not to tell him that I turned twenty-eight that day when it occurred to me that I was going to
see
him that night.

My preparations were frenzied. I called Will from the cab on my way home, begging his forgiveness, but he merely laughed and told me that he'd happily take a rain check if it meant I was finally going out with a boy. I raced into the corner nail place for a quickie manicure and pedicure and then threw in a ten-dollar, ten-minute chair massage to try to relax. Penelope took charge of stylist duties and assembled multiple outfit pieces, including three dresses and an intricately beaded tank top, two pairs of shoes, four bags, and her entire stash of jewelry, which had recently been supplemented by her parents in an attempt to cajole her out of mourning. She dropped them off and left, planning to spend the night with Michael and Megu and wait for an update from me. I tried things on and discarded them, frantically straightened the apartment, danced to Pat Benatar's ‘We Belong' with Millington in my arms, and, finally, sat demurely on the couch and waited for Sammy's arrival exactly one hour before he was due.

When Seamus rang my buzzer, I thought I might cease breathing. Sammy arrived at my door a moment later. He had never looked so good. He was wearing some sort of shirt/jacket/no-tie combo that came across as stylish and sophisticated without trying too hard, and I noticed that he'd let his hair grow to that perfect length that wasn't really short or long – Hugh Grant–­ish, if I had to explain it. He smelled both soapy and minty when he leaned forward to kiss my cheek, and had I not been death-gripping the door frame, I would've surely collapsed.

‘It's really great to see you, Bette,' he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the elevator. I walked effortlessly in my borrowed D&G sandals and felt pretty and feminine in a skirt that skimmed my knees and a summerweight cashmere cardigan that revealed just the right amount of cleavage. It was just like all the Harlequins always said it was: even though it had been months since we'd last seen each other, it felt like not a single day had passed.

‘You, too,' I managed, content to just gaze at his profile all night.

He led me to a charming neighborhood wine bar three blocks west, where we settled into a back table and immediately began talking. I was delighted to see that he hadn't really changed at all.

‘Tell me how you've been,' he said, sipping from the glass of Syrah he'd expertly ordered. ‘What have you been up to?'

‘No, no, no way. I'm not the one with the hugely exciting news,' I said.
Well, isn't that the understatement of the century?
I thought. ‘I think I've read pretty much every word they've written about you, and it all sounds so fantastic!'

‘Yeah, well, I got lucky. Really lucky.' He coughed and looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Bette, I, ah, I've got something to tell you.'

Oh, Christ. There was no possible way that was a good sign, none whatsoever. I chided myself for my premature enthusiasm, for thinking that the fact that Sammy had called – and on my birthday, no less – meant anything more than he was just being friendly and making good on a promise between old friends. It was those goddamn Harlequins – they were the problem. I vowed to quit those miserable things: because they just made it too easy to maintain totally unreasonable expectations. I mean, Dominick or Enrique never said ‘I've got something to tell you' before asking the woman of their dreams to marry them. Those were clearly the words of a man about to announce that he was in love – just not with me. I didn't think I could handle even a whiff of bad news.

‘Oh, really?' I managed to say, folding my arms across my chest in an unconscious attempt to brace myself for the news. ‘What's that?'

Another strange look crossed his face, and then we were interrupted by the waiter placing the check in front of Sammy. ‘Sorry to rush you out, guys, but we're closing now for a private party. I'll take this as soon as you're ready.'

I wanted to scream. Hearing that Sammy was in love with a swimsuit model cum Mother Teresa was going to be hard enough – did I really have to
wait
to hear the news? Apparently yes. I waited as Sammy rooted around in his wallet for the exact amount and then waited again while he went to the men's room. More waiting for a cab outside, and then another wait while Sammy and the cabbie discussed the best route to Sevi. We were finally on our way to his restaurant, but there was another wait when Sammy apologized profusely but proceeded to answer his cell phone. He murmured a bit and made some ‘uh-huh' noises, and at one point he said yes, but otherwise he was vague, and I knew in the pit of my stomach that he was talking to
her.
When he finally clicked off his phone, I turned to him, stared him right in the eye, and said, ‘What did you have to tell me before?'

‘I know this is going to sound weird – and I swear I only found out myself a couple days ago – but remember how I told you about those silent investors?'

Hmm. This wasn't sounding like a declaration of love for another woman – positive development, to be sure.

‘Yeah. They were looking to back the next hot young chef or something, right? You had to pitch some ideas and menus?'

‘Exactly.' He nodded. ‘Well, the thing is, I sort of have you to thank for this.'

I looked at him adoringly, waiting for him to tell me that I was his inspiration, his encouragement, his
muse,
but what he said next didn't really have anything to do with me.

‘I feel weird being the one to tell you, but they insisted it happen this way. The investors who backed me are Will and Simon.'

‘What?' I whipped around to look at him. ‘
My
Will and Simon?'

He nodded and took my hand. ‘You really didn't know, did you? I thought you may have convinced them somehow, but they insisted you had no idea. I only recently found out, too. I hadn't even seen them since they came to brunch at Gramercy Tavern months ago.'

I was so stunned I could barely speak, and yet the only information that seemed to process was what I hadn't heard: so far, Sammy wasn't telling me he was hopelessly, passionately in love with someone else.

‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Say you're not mad,' he said, leaning closer to me.

‘Mad? Why would I be mad? I'm so happy for you! I don't know why Will didn't tell me. I guess I'll get the entire story at brunch on Sunday.'

‘Right. He said that, too, actually.'

There wasn't time for me to process this new development, since the cab reached the Lower East Side in record time. As soon as we pulled up I recognized the tiny awning from the pictures in the paper. Just as Sammy slammed the car door, I noticed a well-dressed couple examining the sign posted outside. They turned to us and with great disappointment said, ‘Looks like they're closed tonight for some reason,' before turning to find somewhere else to eat.

I looked at him quizzically, but he just smiled. ‘I have a surprise for you,' he murmured.

‘A private tour?' I asked with such hope in my voice that it was almost embarrassing.

He nodded. ‘Yes. I wanted tonight to be extra-special. I closed down so we could be alone. I hope you don't mind that I'll have to be in the kitchen for a few minutes,' he said. ‘I've planned a special Sevi menu just for tonight.'

‘You have? I can't wait. What does
Sevi
mean, by the way? I don't think I've read that anywhere.'

He took my hand and smiled at me before looking at his feet. ‘It means
love
in Turkish,' he said.

I thought I might pass out from happiness. Instead I concentrated on putting one foot squarely in front of the other. I followed him into the darkened dining room and tried to adjust my eyes, but a moment later he'd found the lights and I could see everything. Or, rather, everyone.

‘Surprise!' came the shouts. There was a cacophonous call of ‘Happy birthday,' and I realized I knew every single face that stared back at me.

‘Ohmigod' was all I uttered.

The small tables had been pushed together to form a single long one in the middle of the room; all my friends and family had been installed around it and were waving and calling out to me.

‘Oh. My. God.'

‘Come here, sit down,' Sammy said, taking my hand once again and leading me to the head of the table. I hugged and kissed everyone on the way to my seat and then flopped into my designated chair, at which point Penelope placed a cardboard tiara on my head and said something embarrassing along the lines of ‘
You're
our heroine tonight.'

‘Happy birthday, honey!' my mom said, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. ‘Your father and I wouldn't have missed this for the world.' She smelled faintly of incense and was wearing a beautiful hand-knit poncho that had surely been made from dye-free wool. My father sat next to her, his hair carefully arranged in a neat ponytail, his best pair of Naots proudly on display.

I looked down the table and saw everyone assembled: Penelope and her mom, who was delighted Penelope was in-the-know enough to get them into the new hot place; Michael and Megu, both of whom had specially requested the night off to come celebrate with me; Kelly and Henry, the guy she'd been with at the
Playboy
party; all the book-club girls, each clutching what appeared to be wrapped copies of new paperbacks; and, of course, Simon, who'd swathed himself in what seemed like a surplus of linen, and Will, who was throwing back his namesake martini (I learned later that Sammy had named the house drink The Will) at the foot of the table, directly across from me.

After repeated shouts of ‘Speech, speech,' I managed to pull myself out of my seat and say a few awkward words. Almost immediately, a waiter brought out bottles of champagne, and we all toasted my birthday and Sammy's success. And then dinner began in earnest. Heaping platters of food emerged from the kitchen on the shoulders of waiters, all steaming and deliciously aromatic and placed in front of us with great flourish. I watched as Sammy sat across the table, looked up at me, and winked. He began talking to Alex, pointing to her nose piercing and saying something that made her laugh. I watched them for a moment in between bites of a delicious cumin-and-dill-spiced lamb dish, and then let my eyes wander around the table: everyone was chattering happily while they passed the dishes around and refilled one another's champagne glasses. I heard my parents introducing themselves to Kelly while Courtney told Penelope's mom about our book club and Simon told jokes to Michael and Megu.