Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (83 page)

‘Yeah, I hear that. Listen, it was really nice to meet you, but I've got to run and say hi to a friend. Will you be here for a few minutes?' I asked, realizing that if I didn't escape soon, it might never happen.

‘Sure, whatever, great to meet you. Catch you later.' He nodded in my direction before leaning over to mix another drink.

I wanted to find Sammy and thank him for what he'd done, maybe explain that I was not there as Philip's date or his girlfriend or even by choice, but by the time I fought past the door crowd – which seemed to have expanded exponentially in the last hour – Sammy was nowhere in sight.

‘Hey, have you seen Sammy?' I asked Anthony, trying to sound casual.

He appeared to have calmed down since our last interaction and shook his head while glancing over his clipboard.

‘Nah, he headed out early to meet his girl. Left me here alone for one of the biggest parties of the year. Wouldn't usually do that, so it musta been important. Why, you gotta problem? I'll try and help you in a few when I get rid of some of these people.'

‘No, no problem. Just wanted to say hi.'

‘Yeah, well, he'll be back tomorrow.'

I bummed a cigarette from a guy in an emerald green prom dress and willed myself to go back inside. I didn't have to, though. The party had come to me.

‘Bette! I was hoping I'd see you here!' Abby screeched as her behemoth breasts threatened to overtake her entire face. ‘You should be inside keeping an eye on that boy of yours, don't you think?'

‘Hey, Abby. I'd love to chat, but I was just leaving.'

‘It's Abigail now, actually. Come inside and have one cigarette with me, okay? For old times' sake.'

I wanted to tell her that there had been no old times, but I was already feeling defeated by the mental image of Sammy curled up with Isabelle, the Botox beauty.

‘Sure,' I said listlessly. ‘Whatever.'

‘So, tell me. How is everything with Philip? It's just so amazing that you two ended up together!' she said, leaning in conspiratorially.

‘Amazing? Not really.' I tried to think of something, anything, to end the conversation.

‘Bette! Of course it is! Now, I hope you don't mind if I ask you a personal question, but I've always been dying to know: How is he in bed? Because, as I'm sure you're aware, there are rumors that—'

‘Abby, I don't want to be rude, okay? But I really need to leave. I cannot have this conversation now.'

She appeared completely unfazed. ‘Sure, no problem. I know how tired you must be from the new job. Anyway, we'll be sure to catch up soon, right? Oh! And I just love what you did with that suit – only you could make something so average look so good!'

I backed away as though she were a rabid dog and began to stumble back to Elisa's table to collect myself. Instead, I headed to the bar and drank down a martini – mixed just the way Will liked them. It wasn't half-bad, actually, sitting and getting drunk solo, but when an entire horde of gorgeous and mostly naked girls commandeered my personal space, the temptation to leave was just too great to resist. No matter Kelly's photo ops – I just couldn't endure more of Philip's fascinating musings on the growth cycle of South American models or Marco's suggestions for the most efficient starvation techniques, so I texted both Philip and Elisa one line claiming sudden illness and collapsed into the backseat of a cab. I looked at my watch – one-thirty in the morning. Would they still be at the Black Door? I got my answer when Michael slurred hello on the fifth ring.

‘Sorry,' I said.

‘Just got home,' he replied. ‘You missed a good night. But the Black Door with Pen and Avery is a lot different from the Black Door with Pen and Bette!'

I began calling Penelope as soon as the meter began running and continued calling until I finally fell asleep, a little after three in the morning. It went to voice mail every time.

I resumed my calling seven hours later, desperate to explain to Penelope that it wasn't how it appeared, but no one was answering. Avery finally picked up the phone a little after noon, sounding groggy and slightly hung over.

‘Hey, Bette, what's up?'

‘Hi, Avery. Is Penelope there, please?' I had zero interest in exchanging any words with him past the required minimum.

There was a rustle and something that sounded suspiciously like a whisper before Avery said, ‘Actually, she's at her parents' for brunch today. Can I leave her a message?'

‘Avery, please put her on. I know she's there and I know she's upset with me and I want to explain everything. It's not really how it looked.' I was pleading.

His voice got lower and more conspiratorial; he was trying to talk so Penelope couldn't hear. ‘Hey, Bette? Don't worry about it. I would've rather been at Caleb's party last night, too. Trust me – if there was any way I could've gotten out of that miserable dinner last night, I would've been right there with you. Pen's just over-reacting.'

Of course Avery would know about the party. I felt ill.

‘It wasn't like that, Avery. I wouldn't have rather been—' I realized I was justifying my actions to the wrong person. ‘Can you just put her on?'

There was some more rustling and a muffled call and then Penelope was saying hello as though she didn't know I was the one on the other end.

‘Hey, Pen. It's me. How are you?'

‘Oh, Bette. Hello. I'm fine, how are you?'

The conversation felt distinctly like dozens I'd had with my overly polite but slightly senile great-grandmother. Clearly, Penelope was every bit as furious with me as I'd feared.

‘Pen, I know you don't want to talk to me right now. I'm sorry if Avery tricked you into picking up the phone, but I really want to apologize. It didn't go down last night the way it appeared.'

Silence.

‘I got a call from work saying that some people from the BlackBerry account were in town unexpectedly and I had to go meet them. I'm in charge of their event this week, and there's just no way I could've refused to stop in and say hello.'

‘Yes, that's what you said.' Her voice was ice-cold.

‘Well, that's exactly what happened. I was planning to run over there for an hour and do my thing and then hopefully make it back before dessert. I was waiting for the car Elisa said she'd send when Philip showed up. Apparently Elisa sent him to get me instead of the car since the BlackBerry people wanted to meet him, too. I had no idea, Pen, seriously.'

There was a pause and then she said, very quietly, ‘Avery said everyone saw you at some guy's birthday party downtown. That doesn't sound like work to me.'

I was more than a little creeped out by the ‘everyone saw you' comment but rushed on to explain what had actually transpired. ‘I know, Pen, I know. Philip told me that Elisa'd told him that we were going to meet Kelly there.'

‘Oh. Did the meeting go well?' She sounded like she was thawing a bit, but this next part wasn't going to do much to help it along.

‘No, I didn't even get to meet them. Apparently, they got tired and headed back to their hotel after having a drink with Kelly. At that point, it was one
A.M.
! I couldn't get back to you. I'm so sorry, Pen. I left your going-away dinner because I thought I had no choice, and it all ended up being for no reason whatsoever.' It sucked, but at least it was true.

‘Why didn't you come to the Black Door?' she asked. But then her voice softened. ‘I knew you wouldn't have left just to go to some party,' she said. ‘Avery kept insisting that you'd invented that whole work story because this was going to be the most amazing birthday party ever, but I didn't really think you'd do that. It just got harder to believe when I saw you ride off with Philip.'

I wanted to strangle Avery with the phone cord, but I was finally making progress with Penelope and had to concentrate on that. ‘You know I'd never do that, Pen. There was nowhere else I wanted to be last night. And if it's any comfort, it was a horror of an evening. Absolutely, positively, undeniably
not
fun.'

‘Well, I'm sure I'll read about it online this week.' She said it lightly and laughed, but I could tell she was still upset. ‘Speaking of which, did you see this morning's edition?'

My heart skipped a very small beat. ‘This morning? It's Sunday! What are you talking about?'

‘Oh, it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the others. Don't worry,' she rushed to say. I knew she intended to make me feel better, but her statement had the opposite effect. ‘Avery showed me a few minutes ago. It just has some snarky comment about how you were wearing a business suit to a costume party.'

It was incredible! Relatively speaking, the installment was totally innocuous, but for some reason it was even more upsetting than all the lies and misrepresentations about my nighttime activities: if I couldn't even make clothing choices without inviting public commentary, there was not a shred of privacy left.

‘Great. That's just great' was about all I could manage to say. ‘Well, as evidenced by the fact that I did indeed wear a suit to a costume party last night, you can see that I wasn't planning on leaving your dinner.'

‘I know, Bette. We're past that, okay?'

We were about to hang up when I remembered that I hadn't invited Penelope to the BlackBerry party.

‘Hey, Pen, why don't you come on Tuesday? Bring Avery if you want, or just come by yourself. It should be fun.'

‘Really?' she asked, sounding pleased. ‘Sure, that sounds great. You and I can finally sit down and catch up. It feels like it's been a while, doesn't it?'

‘I'd love to, Pen. All I want to do is sneak off to some corner and make fun of everyone we see, but I should tell you now that I'm not going to have a free second. I'm in charge of the whole thing, and I just know I'll be racing around, dealing with a hundred things. I'd love for you to come by, but it won't be the best night for catching up.'

‘Oh, right. Of course. I knew that,' she said.

‘What about right after Thanksgiving?' I asked. ‘We could have dinner alone, just the two of us, before you go.'

‘Uh, sure. Why don't we play it by ear?' I'd lost her again; she sounded desperate to hang up.

‘Okay. Well, uh, I'm sorry again about last night. I'm looking forward to next week …'

‘Mmm. Have a good day, Bette. Bye.'

‘Bye, Pen. Talk to you soon.'

When you're twenty-seven and the phone rings in the middle of the night, you're apt to think it's some guy drunk-dialing an invitation to come over and ‘hang out' rather than a work-related disaster that will surely change your life forever. Not so the night before the BlackBerry party. When my cell phone blared at three-thirty in the morning, I was certain I would have to deal.

‘Is this Betty?' an older woman asked as soon as I'd flipped open the phone.

‘Hello? Who is this? This is Bette,' I said, still groggy even though I'd already bolted upright and had a pen in hand.

‘Betty, this is Mrs Carter,' the woman's voice said.

‘I'm sorry. Could you say your name again, please?'

‘Mrs Carter.' Silence. ‘Jay-Z's mama.'

Aha! ‘Hi, Mrs Carter.' I thought about the way I'd separated the invites on the party list and how Mrs Carter was the only person who was cross-referenced as ‘Celeb Mother.'

‘We are just so excited to be hosting your son and his whole pos – uh, his friends tomorrow. Everyone's just really looking forward to it!' I said, silently congratulating myself on the feigned sincerity I heard in my own voice.

‘Yes, dear, well, that's why I'm calling. Is this too late? I figured a big party planner like yourself would definitely still be awake at midnight. I wasn't wrong, was I, sweetheart?'

‘Um, no, not at all. Of course, I am in New York, so it's three in the morning here, but please don't worry about a thing. You could call me anytime. Is something wrong?'
Please no, please no, please no,
I chanted silently, wondering what else I could add to the $150,000 paycheck, penthouse suites at the Hotel Gansevoort, and business-class plane tickets we'd thrown in for the man, his mom, his superstar girlfriend, and his nine closest friends. When I'd asked why they needed hotel rooms at all – even I knew Jay-Z had a palatial New York pad – his mom had laughed and said, ‘Just book it.'

‘Well, dear, my son just called and said he really doesn't see the need to take a flight that early tomorrow. He was hoping you could book us all on something later.'

‘Something later?'

‘Yes, you know, a flight that gets in later than the one already—'

‘I understand what you mean,' I said a little too sharply. ‘It's just that the event starts at seven and as of now you're all scheduled to land at two. If we make it any later, there's a chance you won't arrive in time.'

‘Well, I'm sure you'll figure that all out, dear. I've really got to be getting some rest for our big travel day tomorrow – that LA-to–New York leg always tuckers me out – but just fax me the confirmation when it's all fixed. Ta-ta now.' And she hung up before I could say another word.

Ta-ta? Ta-fucking-ta? I threw my cell phone against the wall and felt absolutely no satisfaction when it made a weak bleating sound, right before the battery cover popped off and the screen went blank. Millington had buried her face under my pillow hoping to escape my wrath. I wondered if it wasn't too late in life to develop a severe and all-consuming addiction to tranquilizers. Or painkillers. Or both. Blessedly, the airlines were open all night, and I was dialing American from my land line before I could damage any more of my belongings.

The operator who answered sounded just as tired and hassled as I felt, and I braced myself for what would surely be an unpleasant interaction.