Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (169 page)

‘Is this your way of getting me into the bathroom?' she whispered as she followed Julian. ‘Can you imagine the scandal? I just hope if we're caught, it's Sasha's mother who catches us …'

Julian led her into the hallway where the restrooms were, and Brooke yanked on his arm. ‘I really was just kidding,' she said.

‘Rook, I just got a call from Leo,' he said, leaning against a bench.

‘Oh yeah?'

‘He's out in L.A. now, and I guess he's been having a bunch of meetings on my behalf.' Julian looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped.

‘And? Anything exciting?'

With this, Julian couldn't contain himself anymore. A huge smile broke out on his face, and although Brooke had an immediate gut feeling that the something exciting was going to be something she didn't like, she mirrored him and smiled right back.

‘What? What is it?' she asked.

‘Well, actually …' Julian's voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide. ‘He said that
Vanity Fair
wants to include me with a group of up-and-coming young artists for the October or November cover. A
cover,
can you believe it?'

Brooke wrapped her arms around his neck.

Julian brushed his lips quickly against her and pulled away first. ‘And guess what? Annie Leibovitz is shooting it.'

‘You're joking!'

He grinned. ‘I'm not. It's going to be me and four other artists. Mixed mediums, I think. Leo thought they'd probably do a musician, a painter, an author, that sort of thing. And guess where they're going to shoot it? At the Chateau.'

‘Of course they are. We're going to be regulars!' She was already mentally calculating how she could miss the least amount of work and still accompany him. There was also the issue of what to pack …

‘Brooke.' Julian's voice betrayed nothing but his expression was pained.

‘What's wrong?'

‘I'm sorry to do this to you, but I've got to leave right now. Leo booked me on a six o'clock flight out of JFK tomorrow morning, and I still need to get back to New York and grab some things from the studio.'

‘You're leaving
now
?' she sputtered, realizing Julian's ticket for one was already booked, and although he was doing his best to appear solemn faced, he couldn't contain his excitement.

Instead, he hugged her and scratched the spot between her shoulders. ‘I know it sucks, baby. I'm sorry this is so last-minute, and I'm sorry I have to leave in the middle of your dad's party, but—'

‘Before.'

‘What?'

‘You're not leaving in the middle of the party, you're leaving before we even eat.'

He was silent. For a moment she wondered if he was going to tell her the entire thing was a big joke, that he didn't have to go anywhere.

‘How are you getting home?' she finally asked, her voice tinged with resignation.

He pulled her into a hug. ‘I called a taxi to the train station so no one has to leave. That way you'll have the car to get back tomorrow. Does that work?'

‘Sure.'

‘Brooke? I love you, baby. And I'm going to take you out to celebrate everything as soon as I'm back. It's all good stuff, you know?'

Brooke forced a smile for his sake. ‘I know it is. And I'm excited for you.'

‘I think I'm back on Tuesday, but I'm not totally sure,' he said, kissing her softly on the lips. ‘Leave all the planning to me, okay? I'd like for us to do something special.'

‘I'd like that too.'

‘Will you wait for me here?' he asked. ‘I'm just going to run back in and quickly say good-bye to your dad. I don't want to draw all sorts of attention to myself …'

‘Honestly, I think it'd be better if you just went,' Brooke said, and she could see his relief. ‘I'll explain what happened. They'll understand.'

‘Thank you.'

She nodded. ‘Come on, I'll walk you out.'

They walked hand-in-hand together down the stairs and managed to escape to the parking lot without running into any of the party guests or her family. Brooke once again assured Julian that it was better this way, that she would explain everything to her father and Cynthia and thank Randy and Michelle for their hospitality, and that all of it was preferable to making a big good-bye scene where he'd need to explain himself a hundred times over. He tried to look solemn when he kissed her good-bye and whispered his love, but the moment the taxi came into view, he bounded toward it like an excited golden retriever going after a tennis ball. Brooke reminded herself to give him a big smile and a happy wave, but the taxi pulled away before Julian could turn around and wave back. She headed back inside, alone.

She glanced at her watch and wondered if she had time for a run after her last appointment and before going to Nola's. She committed to making it happen just as she remembered that it was 93 degrees outside and only an insane person would run anywhere in that kind of heat.

There was a knock on her door. It was her first session with Kaylie since the new school year had begun, and she was eager to see the girl. Her e-mails had been sounding more and more positive, and Brooke was confident she was well on her way to adjusting to school. But when the door opened, it was Heather who walked in.

‘Hey, what's up? Thanks again for the coffee this morning.'

‘Oh, my pleasure. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that Kaylie won't be making her appointment today. She's home with some sort of stomach flu.'

Brooke glanced at the day's absentee sheet on her desk. ‘Really? Because she's not on the list today.'

‘Yeah, I know. She was in my office earlier today and she looked horrible, so I sent her to the nurse and the nurse sent her home. I'm sure it's nothing serious, but I just wanted to let you know.'

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.'

Heather turned to leave, but Brooke called out, ‘How did she seem to you? Other than feeling ill.'

Heather appeared to think about this. ‘You know, it's hard to say. It was only our first meeting since last year, and she didn't really open up. I've heard some rumblings from the other girls that Kaylie befriended Whitney Weiss, which gives me pause for obvious reasons, but Kaylie didn't bring it up. I will say that it definitely looks like she lost a significant amount of weight.'

Brooke's head snapped up. ‘How much would you say is significant?'

‘I don't know … twenty, maybe twenty-five pounds? She looked terrific, actually. She seemed really pleased with herself.' Heather noticed that Brooke looked worried. ‘Why? Is that bad?'

‘Not necessarily, but that's an awful lot of weight to lose in a short amount of time. And the whole Whitney friendship? Let's just say that together, I think there's a red flag there.'

Heather nodded. ‘Well, I think at this point you'll see her before I do, but keep me in the loop, okay?'

Brooke said good-bye to Heather and leaned back in her chair. Twenty-five pounds was actually an enormous weight loss over two and a half months and the Whitney connection wasn't comforting. Whitney was an extremely slim girl who had put on five or seven pounds after she quit playing field hockey the previous year, and her underweight mother had immediately shown up in Brooke's office demanding the name of a reputable ‘fat camp,' as the woman so crudely put it. All of Brooke's vehement protestations that it was a completely normal, even welcome, amount of weight gain for a growing fourteen-year-old girl made no difference, and Whitney was sent to a posh camp upstate to ‘work it off.' Predictably, the girl had begun to show signs of bingeing and purging since then, something to which Kaylie certainly didn't need any exposure. She made a mental note to call Kaylie's father after their first meeting and see if he'd noticed anything unusual about her behavior.

She made a few notes about her earlier sessions and then left, the suffocating blanket of early September humidity hitting her like a wall as all thoughts of taking the subway went straight to hell. As though an angel above had read her mind or, more likely, a Bangladeshi taxi driver had seen her frantic arm-waving, a cab pulled directly up to the school's entrance to dispatch a customer and Brooke fell into the air-conditioned backseat.

‘Corner of Duane and Hudson, please,' she said as she moved her legs closer to the cold air pouring from the vent. She spent the entire duration of the ride with her head back and her eyes closed. Just before the taxi pulled up to Nola's building, a text came in from Julian.

Just got an e-mail from John Travolta!!! Says he ‘loves' the new album and congratulated me on it,
it read.

Brooke could feel Julian's excitement through the screen.
John Travolta?!
she texted back.
No way! So awesome.

He wrote it to his agent and agent forwarded it to Leo,
Julian responded.

Congrats! Very cool. That's a keeper,
she wrote, and then followed it up with,
At Nola's now. Call when you can. Xoxo.

Nola's one-bedroom was at the very end of a long hallway, and it overlooked a trendy café with outdoor tables. Brooke walked straight through the propped-open door, dumped her bag while simultaneously kicking off her shoes, and beelined for the kitchen.

‘I'm here!' she shouted as she helped herself to a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. Her favorite guilty pleasure, and one she allowed herself only at Nola's apartment.

‘There's Diet Coke in the fridge. Grab me one, too!' Nola screamed out from the bedroom. ‘I'm almost finished packing. I'll be right out.'

Brooke cracked open both their cans and walked back to hand one to Nola, who was sitting in a massive pile of clothing, shoes, cosmetics, electronics, and guidebooks.

‘How the
fuck
do they expect me to get all this stuff into a backpack?' she snapped, trying to cram a round brush into the pack's front pocket and, when she failed, flinging it across the room. ‘What was I thinking, signing up for this?'

‘I have no idea,' Brooke said, surveying the chaos. ‘I've actually been asking myself that for about two weeks now.'

‘This is what happens when your vacation time doesn't roll over and you don't have a boyfriend – you make decisions like this. Sixteen days with eleven strangers in Southeast Asia? Seriously, Brooke, I blame you for this.'

Brooke laughed. ‘Nice try. I told you it was the worst idea I'd
ever
heard the moment you floated it, but you were very determined.'

Nola pulled herself up, took a sip of Diet Coke, and walked to the living room. ‘I should be a cautionary tale for single women everywhere. No impulsive, last-minute group tours. Vietnam is not freaking going anywhere – what was my big rush?'

‘Oh come on, it'll be fun. Besides, maybe there'll even be a cute guy in your group.'

‘Uh-huh. Sure there will be. Definitely not a bunch of middle-aged German couples or wannabe Buddhist hippies or, possibly, all lesbians. No! It'll be chock-full of adorable, eligible men aged thirty to thirty-five.'

‘I like your positive attitude!' Brooke said with a grin.

Something caught Nola's eye and she moved toward the living room window. Brooke glanced out and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

‘At that first table all the way on the left? Natalie Portman? Wearing that little pageboy cap and sunglasses as a disguise, as though her essential Natalie Portman-ness doesn't shine right through?' Nola said.

Brooke looked again, this time noticing the girl in the cap as she sipped from her wineglass and laughed at something her dinner partner said. ‘Mmm, yeah, I think that probably is her.'

‘Of course it is! And she looks freaking fantastic. I can't figure out why I don't hate her. I should, but I don't.' Nola cocked her head to the side but never took her eyes off the window.

‘Why should you hate her?' Brooke asked. ‘She actually seems like one of the more normal ones.'

‘Even more of a reason you should hate her. Not only is she insanely attractive – including when she's completely bald – but she's also a Harvard graduate, she speaks like fifteen languages, she's traveled all over the world encouraging people to support microfinance, and she's so in love with the environment that she won't wear leather shoes. And on top of all that, everyone who's ever worked with her or so much as sat next to her on a plane swears she's the coolest, most down-to-earth person they've ever met. Now, tell me, please, how can you possibly not hate someone like that?'

Nola finally left her window perch and Brooke followed her. They both flopped down on opposite slipcovered love seats and each turned on her side to face the other.

Brooke took a gulp and shrugged, thinking about the photographer outside their apartment. ‘Good for Natalie Portman, I guess?'

Nola shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘My god, you're a piece of work.'

‘What did I say? I don't understand. Am I supposed to be obsessed with her? Jealous of her? She's not even real.'

‘Of course she's real! She's sitting right across the street, and she looks amazing.'

Brooke draped an arm across her forehead and moaned. ‘And now we're stalking her, which I'm not feeling great about. Leave her be.'

‘Feeling a little sensitive about Natalie's privacy?' Nola asked more gently.

‘Yeah, I guess. It's weird; the part of me that's been reading these magazines for years and has seen every movie she's ever been in and can name every dress she's sworn to the awards show makes me want to sit at that window and stare at her all night. Then there's the part of me …'

Nola pointed the remote control to the TV and scrolled through the channels until she found the alternative rock station. She propped herself up on her elbow. ‘I hear you. What else is going on? Why are you in such a shitty mood?'