Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (157 page)

‘Hey, baby.' Julian circled around the group and came up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck and she almost groaned aloud. He was wearing his uniform, unchanged even after all these years: white T-shirt, Levi's, and a knit cap. The outfit couldn't have been less exceptional, but it had come to signify pure sexiness to Brooke. The cap was Julian's signature, the closest thing he had to a ‘look,' but only Brooke knew it was more than that. Just last year Julian had been crushed to discover the tiniest bald spot in the history of hair loss. Brooke tried to assure him that it was barely noticeable, but Julian would hear none of it. And truth be told, it
may
have gotten slightly bigger since he'd first pointed it out, although she'd never admit it.

No one who saw all those luscious dark curls peeking out from under the cap would ever guess what Julian was trying to cover up underneath it, and for Brooke, it only added to Julian's appeal, made him more vulnerable and human. She secretly loved that she was the only one who ever got to see Julian without the caps, when he would safely pull them off at home and shake his curls just for her. Had someone told Brooke a few years earlier that she'd find her thirty-two-year-old husband's increasing baldness to be one of his most appealing qualities she would've laughed with disbelief, but that is exactly what had happened.

‘How are you feeling? Are you nervous?' Brooke asked, searching his face for a hint as to how he was holding up. He'd been a wreck all week – barely eating, never sleeping, even vomiting earlier that afternoon – but when Brooke tried to talk to him about it, he'd completely turtled. She had wanted to accompany him to the venue that night, but Julian insisted she go with Nola. He said he needed to talk through a few things with Leo, get there early, make sure everything was set up. Something must have worked, because he looked a little more relaxed.

‘I'm ready,' he said with a determined nod. ‘I'm feeling good.'

Brooke kissed him on the cheek, knowing he was wracked with nerves but proud of him for holding it together. ‘You look good. You look ready. You're going to be fantastic tonight.'

‘You think so?' He sipped his club soda, and Brooke noticed his knuckles were white. She knew he was dying for something stronger, but he never drank before a performance.

‘I know so. When you're sitting at that piano, all you're thinking about is the music. Tonight is no different from doing a gig at Nick's. The crowd always loves you, baby. Remember that. Just be yourself, and they're going to love you here too.'

‘Listen to your wife,' Leo said, returning from a quick chat with the people behind him. ‘Just forget where you are and why you're here and do your thing. Got it?'

Julian nodded and tapped his foot furiously. ‘Got it.'

Leo motioned toward the area in the back of the room. ‘Let's get you set up.'

Brooke stood on her tiptoes and kissed Julian on the mouth. She squeezed his hand and said, ‘I'll be right here the whole time, but forget about all of us. Just close your eyes and play your heart out.'

He shot her a grateful look but couldn't bring himself to say anything. Leo led him off, and before she could finish her wine, one of the A&R guys announced Julian over the microphone.

Brooke looked around again for Nola and spotted her talking to a group of people in front of the bar. That girl knew everyone. Happy to have Trent there, Brooke let him lead her to a little sliver of couch space, where he motioned for her to take a seat. She perched herself on the end of a velvet sofa and nervously gathered her hair into a knot. She rooted around in her bag for a hair tie but couldn't find one.

‘Here,' said the beautiful Asian girl Leo had winked at earlier. She pulled a brown elastic off her wrist and handed it to Brooke. ‘I have a million.'

Brooke paused for a minute, unsure what to do, and the girl smiled. ‘Really, it's fine. There's nothing more annoying than not being able to get hair off your face. Although if I had your hair, I'd never tie it back.'

‘Thanks,' Brooke said, accepting the tie and immediately twisting it into her ponytail. She was going to say something more, maybe something self-deprecating about how she wouldn't wish being a redhead on anyone, but at that moment Julian took his seat at the piano, and she heard his voice, a little shaky, thanking everyone for coming.

The girl took a swig from the bottle of beer she was holding and asked, ‘Have you ever heard him before?'

Brooke could only nod and pray the girl would stop talking. She didn't want to miss a single moment, and she was totally preoccupied wondering if anyone else could hear the slight wobble in Julian's voice.

‘Because if not, you're really in for something. He is the sexiest singer I've ever seen.'

This caught her attention. ‘What?' she asked, turning to the girl.

‘Julian Alter,' the girl said, waving toward the piano. ‘I've heard him a couple times in different venues around the city. He has a few regular gigs. And I'm telling you, he's ridiculously good. Makes John Mayer look like amateur hour.'

Julian had begun to play ‘For the Lost,' a soulful song about a young boy who loses his older brother, and she felt Trent glance in her direction – he was probably the only other person in the entire room who knew what truly inspired that song. Julian himself was an only child, but Brooke knew he often thought of the brother who had died of SIDS before Julian was born. To this day the Alters never discussed James, but Julian had gone through a stage where he wondered, sometimes obsessively, what James would've been like today, how different life might have been with an older brother.

His hands moved across the piano keys, producing the first haunting notes that would eventually build to a powerful crescendo, but Brooke couldn't focus on anything but the girl beside her. She wanted to hug her and slap her all at the same time. It was disconcerting to hear this perfectly attractive girl rave about Julian's sexiness – no matter how long they'd been together, she never got used to that aspect – but it was so rare to hear a totally honest and unfiltered opinion.

‘You think so?' Brooke asked, suddenly desperate for the girl to agree.

‘Oh, definitely. I tried to tell my boss, like, a dozen times, but Sony got him first.' The girl's attention to Brooke started to wane as Julian's volume increased, and by the time he tilted his head and sang out the raw, emotional chorus, she was fixated only on him. Brooke wondered if she noticed Julian's wedding band through the haze of worship.

Brooke turned to watch, and it was all she could do not to sing along. She knew every word by heart.

He finished the song to rousing applause – genuine, enthusiastic applause – and moved effortlessly into the second. He had hit his stride, and there wasn't a single sign of any anxiety. Just that familiar sheen across his forearms and the furrowed brow of concentration as he sang the words he had spent months, sometimes years, perfecting. The second song was over in a flash, and then the third, and before she realized what was happening, the crowd was ecstatically cheering and calling for an encore. Julian looked pleased and a little confused – his instructions to play three songs in under twelve minutes couldn't have been clearer – but he must've gotten the green light from someone offstage, because he smiled and nodded and eased right into one of his more upbeat songs. The crowd roared their approval.

By the time he pushed back the piano bench and took a modest bow, the air in the room had changed. More than the loud cheering and clapping and whistles, there was that electrified feeling of having been part of something important. Brooke stood, hemmed in on all sides by her husband's admirers, when Leo approached. He gruffly greeted the hair-tie girl by name – Umi – but she immediately rolled her eyes and walked away. Before Brooke could process that, Leo grabbed her arm a little too tightly and leaned in so close she wondered for the briefest second if he was going to kiss her.

‘Get ready, Brooke. Get ready for one fucking crazy ride. Tonight is only the start, and it's going to be insane.'

‘Kaylie, sweetheart, I don't know how else to say it: you do not need to lose weight. Look at your statistics; look at this chart. You are absolutely perfect just the way you are.'

‘No one else here looks like me,' Kaylie said, lowering her eyes. The girl absently twisted her limp brown hair in circles around her forefinger, methodically wrapping and turning, wrapping and turning. Her face was filled with anxiety.

‘What do you mean?' Brooke asked, although she knew what Kaylie meant.

‘I just … I never felt fat until I came here. At public school, I was totally normal, maybe even on the skinny side! And then this year rolls around and they stick me in this weird place because it's supposed to be so fancy and special, and suddenly I'm obese.' The girl's voice cracked at the last word, and it was all Brooke could do not to hug her.

‘Oh, sweetheart, you're no such thing! Come here, look at this chart. One hundred twenty-five pounds at five-one is well within the healthy range.' Brooke held out her laminated chart showing the huge range of normal weights, but Kaylie barely glanced at it.

She knew it wasn't particularly comforting in light of all the astonishingly thin girls in Kaylie's ninth-grade class. Kaylie was a scholarship student from the Bronx, the daughter of an air-conditioning repairman who raised her alone after her mother was killed in a car accident. Her father was clearly doing something right, considering the girl's straight-A record in middle school, success on the field hockey team, and, according to what Brooke heard from other teachers, an ability to play the violin that far surpassed that of her peers, and yet here was his lovely, accomplished daughter, and all she could see was that she didn't fit in.

Kaylie tugged at the hem of her plaid skirt, which rested across thighs that were strong and muscular, but nowhere near fat, and said, ‘I guess I just have bad genes. My mom was really overweight, too.'

‘Do you miss her?' Brooke asked, and Kaylie could only nod, the tears welling in her eyes.

‘She always told me I was perfect just the way I am, but I wonder what she would've said if she could see the girls here.
They're
perfect. Their hair is perfect and their makeup is perfect and their bodies are perfect, and even though we all have the same exact uniform, even the way they
wear
it is perfect.'

It was one aspect of the job she had least expected but had grown to appreciate more than she could express, this crossover between nutritionist and confidante. They'd learned in grad school that anyone who came into regular contact with teenagers and was merely willing to listen could play an important role as a caring, involved adult, but Brooke hadn't known what they meant until she started at Huntley.

Brooke spent a few more minutes explaining that although it might not have felt that way, Kaylie was well within a healthy weight limit. It was a hard argument, especially considering the girl's muscular, athletic body was broader than most of her classmates', but she tried.
If only I could fast-forward her through four years of high school and send her straight to college,
Brooke thought.
She'd realize then that none of this ninth-grade nonsense means anything in the long run
.

But Brooke knew from experience that this was impossible. She, too, had self-consciously been on the larger end of normal all through high school and Cornell, straight up until grad school, when she went on a drastic diet and lost almost twenty pounds. She couldn't keep it off, though, and gained fifteen of it back almost immediately. Now, despite mostly healthful eating and a dedicated running program, Brooke was also on the outer limits of the healthy range for her height and, just like Kaylie, was acutely aware of that fact. She felt hypocritical even trying to tell Kaylie not to worry about it when she herself thought about it every day.

‘You
are
perfect, Kaylie. I know it doesn't always feel that way, especially surrounded by girls with so many advantages, but believe me when I tell you that you're absolutely beautiful. You're going to make friends here, find the girls you connect with, and feel more at home. And then before you know it, you'll kiss the SATs and prom and some dumb boyfriend from Dalton good-bye, and you'll run off to a fantastic college where everyone's perfect in their
own
way, in exactly the way
they
choose. And you'll love it. I can honestly promise you that.'