Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (168 page)

‘I can't believe he finally retired,' Randy said. ‘It's weird, but this September is going to be the first year in almost fifteen that we won't be starting a school year together.'

Brooke followed everyone else into the dining room and set her plate and a can of Dr. Brown's next to her brother. ‘Aw, you're going to miss him, aren't you? Who are you going to eat lunch with?'

Julian's phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it.

‘He seems relatively calm considering the album only just dropped,' Randy said, taking a huge bite of an even bigger sandwich.

‘He might seem it, but he isn't. His phone's ringing off the hook, and he's constantly talking to people, but no one's really sure of anything yet. I think later today, or we'll know tomorrow? He says everyone's hopeful that it'll debut in the top twenty, but I guess you can never be sure,' Brooke said.

‘It's incredible,' Michelle said, nibbling a piece of rye bread. ‘I mean, did you ever think you'd be saying that Julian's album is going to debut in the top
twenty
? People try their whole lives for that, and this is only his first …'

Brooke swallowed her soda and wiped her mouth. ‘It hasn't happened yet … I just don't want to jinx it. But yes, it's just about the craziest thing ever.'

‘It's actually not the craziest thing ever,' Julian said, walking back into the room with one of his signature grins. His smile was so enormous, it made Brooke forget their earlier tension.

Michelle held up her hand. ‘Don't be so modest, Julian. Objectively speaking, having your first album debut in the top twenty is the craziest thing ever.'

‘Actually, having your album debut at number four is the craziest thing ever,' he said quietly before breaking into yet another killer smile.

‘What?' Brooke asked, her mouth falling.

‘That was Leo. He said it's not official, but it's on track to hit at number four. Four! I can't even process it.'

Brooke leapt out of her chair and into Julian's arms. ‘Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,' she kept saying over and over. Michelle let out a little shriek and after giving both Brooke and Julian hugs, she went to retrieve a special bottle of whiskey to toast Julian.

Randy returned with three highball glasses of brown liquid and one with orange juice for Michelle. ‘To Julian,' he said, holding his glass up. They all clinked and sipped. Brooke grimaced and set hers down on the table, but Randy and Julian downed both of theirs in single gulps.

Randy clapped Julian on the back. ‘You know, I'm happy for you and all the success and blah, blah, blah, but man, I have to say – it's pretty fucking cool having a
rock star
in the family.'

‘Oh, come on, guys, it's not—'

Brooke swatted Julian's shoulder. ‘They're right, baby. You're a star. How many people can say they debuted at number four on the charts? Five? Ten? I mean, like, the Beatles and Madonna and Beyoncé and … Julian Alter? It's total insanity!'

They celebrated and talked and peppered Julian with questions for another forty-five minutes before Michelle announced that it was time to get ready, that they'd be leaving for the restaurant in an hour. The moment Michelle handed them a pile of towels and closed the guest room door behind her, Brooke tackled Julian in a hug so hard they both ended up falling onto the bed together.

‘Baby, it's happening. It's really, undeniably happening,' she said, kissing his forehead and then his eyelids, cheeks, and lips.

Julian kissed her back and then propped himself up on his elbows. ‘You know what else it means?'

‘That you are now an official celebrity?' She kissed his neck.

‘It means you can finally quit Huntley. Hell, you can quit both jobs if you want.'

She pulled back and looked at him. ‘Why would I do that?'

‘Well, for starters, you've been working like crazy the last couple of years and I think you deserve a break. And things are starting to fall together financially. Between the percentage I get from the Maroon 5 tour, the private parties Leo books, and now the proceeds from this album – well, I just think you should relax and enjoy it a little.'

Everything he said was perfectly logical, but for reasons she couldn't quite articulate, Brooke felt herself bristle. ‘I don't do it only for the money, you know. The girls need me.'

‘It's perfect timing, Brooke. The school year doesn't start for another two weeks, so I'm sure they could find someone to replace you. Then even if you decide to stay at the hospital, you'll hopefully have some free time.'

‘“If” I decide to stay at the hospital? Julian, this is my career. It's what I went to grad school for, and even though it might not be as important as debuting at number four, I happen to love it.'

‘I know you love it. I just thought maybe you'd want to love it from afar for a little.' He nudged her and smiled.

She peered at him. ‘What are you suggesting?'

He tried to pull her back down on top of him, but Brooke squirmed away.

He sighed. ‘I'm not suggesting anything horrible, Brooke. Maybe if you weren't so stressed about your hours and your schedule, you'd enjoy being able to take a little time off. Maybe travel with me more, come to the events?'

She was silent.

‘Are you upset?' he asked, reaching out for her hand.

‘I'm not upset,' she lied. ‘I feel like I've been making a huge effort, to find a balance between my work and everything that's going on with you. We went to
Leno
together, and the
Friday Night Lights
party, and Kristen Stewart's birthday party in Miami and Bonnaroo. I stop by the studio on nights when you work late. I don't know what else I can do, but I'm pretty sure the answer isn't to quit on my career and follow you around. I don't think you'd be happy with that no matter how much fun it might be in the beginning, and honestly, I don't think I'd respect myself for doing it.'

‘Just think about it,' he said as he pulled off his shirt and walked toward the bathroom. ‘Promise me that.'

The sound of the running shower drowned out her answer. Brooke resolved to put the issue out of her mind for the night; they didn't need to decide anything, and just because they weren't on exactly the same page didn't mean anything was wrong.

Brooke took off her clothes, pushed back the shower curtain, and climbed in.

‘To what do I owe this honor?' Julian asked through squinted eyes. His entire face was covered in soap.

‘To the fact that we have less than a half hour to get ready,' Brooke said as she twisted the hot water handle a full turn.

Julian yelped. ‘Show a little mercy!'

She slid past him, enjoying the feel of his soapy chest against hers, and immediately hogged the stream of piping hot water. ‘Aaah. That feels great.'

Julian feigned a sulk and retreated to the far end of the tub. Brooke laughed. ‘Come on over,' she said, even though she knew he couldn't tolerate anything hotter than lukewarm water. ‘There's more than enough for both of us.'

She squeezed some shampoo into her palm, changed the water temperature back to tepid, and kissed his cheek. ‘There you go, baby.' She slid past him again and smiled as he tentatively stepped under the stream. She lathered her hair and watched Julian enjoy the barely warm water.

It was one of the hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny little details they knew about each other, and this knowledge never failed to make Brooke happy. She loved thinking that she was probably the only person on earth who knew that Julian hated submerging himself in very hot water – baths, showers, Jacuzzis, hot springs, he scrupulously avoided them all – but could withstand muggy, humid temperatures without complaint; that he was also a self-proclaimed ‘hot drink gulper' put a cup of scorching hot coffee or a bowl of steaming soup in front of him, and Julian could pour the contents down his gullet without so much as a testing sip; that he had an impressive tolerance for pain, as evidenced by the time he'd broken his ankle and hadn't reacted with more than a quick ‘Dammit!' but would squeal and squirm like a little girl whenever Brooke tried to pluck an errant eyebrow hair. Even now, as he lathered up, she knew he was grateful to have bar soap instead of a liquid body wash, and that as long as it didn't smell like lavender or, worse, grapefruit, he would use anything handed to him.

She leaned over to kiss his unshaven cheek and got a spray of water right in the eyes.

‘Serves you right,' Julian said, and patted her butt. ‘That'll teach you to mess with a number-four artist.'

‘What does Mr. Number Four think about a quickie?'

Julian kissed her back but then stepped out of the shower. ‘I'm not explaining to your father that we're late for his party because his daughter jumped me in the shower.'

Brooke laughed. ‘You're such a wuss.'

Cynthia was already at the restaurant when they arrived, bustling around the private room in a frantic whirlwind of energy and orders. They were at Ponzu, which, according to Cynthia, was the new hippest restaurant in southeastern Pennsylvania. According to Randy, the place used ‘Asian fusion' to describe their overambitious attempt to tackle sushi and teriyaki dishes from Japan, Vietnamese-inspired spring rolls, a pad thai that few Thai people would recognize, and a ‘signature' chicken and broccoli dish that was no different from his cheapie Chinese delivery joint. No one seemed to mind the lack of any actual fusion dishes, so the four of them kept their mouths shut and immediately set to work.

The guys hung two massive, matching foil signs that read,
HAPPY 65TH
! and
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RETIREMENT
, while Brooke and Michelle arranged the flowers Cynthia had brought in the glass vases provided by the restaurant, enough for two arrangements per table. They'd only finished the first batch when Michelle said, ‘Have you thought about what you're going to do with all that
money
?'

Brooke almost dropped her scissors she was so surprised. She and Michelle had never talked about anything personal before, and a conversation about Julian's financial potential seemed totally inappropriate.

‘Oh, you know, we've still got tons of student loans and all sorts of bills to pay. Not as sexy as it seems.' She shrugged.

Michelle switched out a rose for a peony and cocked her head to the side, examining her work. ‘Come on, Brooke, don't kid yourself. You two are going to be rolling in it!'

Brooke had no idea what to say to this, so she just laughed awkwardly.

All of her dad and Cynthia's friends showed up at exactly six and milled around munching passed hors d'oeuvres and sipping wine. By the time Brooke's father arrived for what he fully knew was his “surprise” party, the crowd appeared appropriately festive. They proved it when Mr. Greene was escorted to the back room by the maître d' and everyone shouted ‘Surprise!' and ‘Congratulations!' and her father cycled through the usual reactions of people pretending to be surprised by their non-surprise surprise parties. He took the glass of red wine that Cynthia handed him and downed it in a determined effort to enjoy the party, although Brooke knew he'd rather have been home preparing himself for Sunday's preseason game schedule.

Thankfully Cynthia planned to do the toasts during the cocktail hour; Brooke was a nervous public speaker and didn't want to spend the entire evening dreading her two minutes. One and a half vodka tonics made it a bit easier, and she was able to deliver her preplanned speech without a hitch. The audience seemed to especially like the story Brooke told about the first time she and Randy visited their father after the divorce and found him in the kitchen one morning, packing his oven with piles of old magazines and paid bills since he didn't have a ton of storage space and didn't want the oven to ‘go to waste.' Randy and Cynthia followed suit, and despite an awkward mention on Cynthia's part regarding ‘the instant connection they felt the very first time they met' – which, incidentally, was when Brooke's father was still married to Brooke's mother – everything went off without a hitch.

‘Hey, everyone, can I have your attention for just one more minute?' Mr. Greene asked, rising from his place in the middle of a long, banquet-style table.

The room grew quiet.

‘I want to thank you all so much for coming. I'd especially like to thank my lovely wife for scheduling this party on a Saturday instead of a Sunday – she finally knows the difference between college and professional football – and thanks to all four of my lovely children for being here tonight; you guys make it all worthwhile.'

Everyone clapped. Brooke blushed and Randy rolled his eyes. When she glanced over at Julian, he was busily typing under the table.

‘And one last thing. Some of you may already know that we have a rising star in the family …'

This got Julian's attention.

‘Well, I'm just thrilled to announce that Julian's album will be debuting at number four on the
Billboard
chart next week!' The room cheered and clapped. ‘Please raise your glass to my son-in-law, Julian Alter, for accomplishing the near-impossible. I know I speak for everyone when I say how incredibly proud we are of you.'

Brooke watched as her dad walked over and embraced her surprised but clearly delighted husband, and she felt a surge of gratitude to her father. It was exactly the sort of thing Julian had waited a lifetime for his own father to say, and if it wasn't going to come from him, she was happy he'd get to hear it from her family. Julian thanked her dad and quickly took his seat again, and although he was obviously embarrassed to be the center of attention, Brooke could see how pleased he was. She reached over and squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back twice as hard.

The waiters had just begun bringing out the appetizers when Julian leaned over to Brooke and asked if they could go to the restaurant's main room for a moment to talk privately.