Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (91 page)

I'd been working up the nerve to call Penelope for the past three hours while simultaneously thinking about Sammy, wondering if he was home, preparing to break up with his girlfriend so he and I could be together. He always seemed so happy to see me at Bungalow that I knew he'd do the right thing – which was, of course, to end things with Isabelle and embark on what would surely be a long and happy love affair with me.

Finally my fingers followed my brain's command to dial, and before I could hang up for the thousandth time, Penelope answered.

‘Hi! How are you?' I asked, much too enthusiastically. I still didn't have my exact wording down and was trying to buy as much time as possible.

‘Bette! Hi. What's up?' She sounded equally enthusiastic.

‘Not much. The usual, you know.' I decided then to pull the Band-Aid off quickly: one rip instead of long, slow torture. ‘I've got something to tell you, Pen—'

She cut me off just as I was formulating my first words. ‘Bette, before you say anything, I have something awful to tell you.' She took a deep breath and then said, ‘I can't spend New Year's Eve with you.'

What? How was this happening? Did she somehow already know about the Turkey situation? Was she so upset that she'd decided to cancel on me first? She must have interpreted my confused silence as anger because she rushed on.

‘Are you there? Bette, I'm so sorry, I can't even begin to explain to you how sorry I am. My parents just called to tell us that they've rented a villa at Las Ventanas for the week between Christmas and New Year's. I told them I already had plans for New Year's, but then they said that they'd invited Avery's parents and brother, too, so we all have to go, and I have no choice. As usual.'

This was too good to be true.

‘Really? You're going to Mexico instead?' I was asking just to make sure I had the story straight, but to Penelope I must have sounded very, very angry.

‘Oh, Bette, I'm so, so, so sorry. Of course I'll reimburse you for the ticket you can't use, and I'll buy you another to come back as soon as you can. Just please forgive me. If it's any comfort, my New Year's is going to be an absolute nightmare. …' She sounded so distraught that I wanted to hug her.

‘Pen, don't worry about it—'

‘Really? You're not mad?'

‘If we're all being honest here, I was calling to tell you that I couldn't come out there over New Year's. Kelly wants to send us all to Turkey.'

‘Turkey?'
She sounded confused. ‘Why Turkey?'

‘Work, if you can believe it. We got a new client – some nightclub owners' association – and they want us to promote the nightlife in Istanbul. We're basically exporting the party to them and making sure it gets covered here. They figured New Year's was the perfect time to start.'

She started laughing and said, ‘So you just made me go through that whole sob story when you were calling to cancel on me, anyway? You're such a bitch!'

‘Um, excuse me, you just straight-up told me not to come visit you, so I don't see where you get off calling me a bitch.' We were both laughing, and I felt like a huge weight had been lifted.

‘In all seriousness, though, that sounds so cool,' she said. ‘Are you going to have time to sightsee while you're there? I've heard people describe the Hagia Sofia as a transcendent experience. And the Blue Mosque. The Grand Bazaar. A sightseeing boat ride down the Bosporus! My God, Bette, it sounds incredible. …'

I didn't want to tell her that the only daytime activities I'd seen on the itinerary so far were hot-stone massages, or that the only boat ride scheduled was a booze cruise, so I just murmured along with her and tried to change the subject. ‘I know, it should be great. What's going on with you?'

‘Oh, not much,' she said. ‘This and that, you know?'

‘Penelope! You recently moved across the country, if I recall. How is it out there? What's going on? Tell me everything!' I lit a cigarette and pulled Millington onto my lap, all set to hear how fabulous sun-drenched LA was, but Penelope's tone was clearly not thrilled.

‘Well, so far it's okay,' she said carefully.

‘You sound miserable. What's going on?'

‘I don't know.' She sighed. ‘California's fine. Nice, actually. Really nice. When you get past the whole wheatgrass smoothie garbage, it's really not a bad place to live. We've got a great apartment in Santa Monica, a couple blocks from the beach, and it's fantastic being so far away from our parents. I don't know, it's just …'

‘It's just what?'

‘Well, I thought Avery would calm down a little when we got out here, but he immediately hooked up with a whole crew of Horace Mann kids who moved out here after college. I hardly see him anymore. Since he doesn't start classes until mid-January, he's got another whole month of nothing but time to go out all night, every night.'

I didn't say what I was thinking: typical. ‘Oh, honey, I'm sure he's just getting used to a new place. Things will slow down once he starts school.'

‘I guess. You're right, I'm sure. It's just that, well, he …' She paused. ‘Never mind.'

‘Penelope! What were you about to say?'

‘You're going to think I'm the most evil person ever.'

‘Let me remind you, my friend, that you're talking to someone who's quote-unquote dating a guy for strictly professional reasons. I don't think I'm exactly in a position to judge anyone right now.'

She sighed. ‘Well, I checked Avery's Yahoo account the other night when he was at the Viceroy, and I found a few emails that are rather unsettling.'

‘You guys have access to each other's email accounts?' I asked, horrified.

‘Of course not. But his password was hardly difficult to figure out. I typed in the name of his bong, and voilà! Instant access.'

‘His bong? What did you find?' I certainly didn't think she was evil for hacking into his account. I tried for months to watch as Cameron typed in his password, but he was always too fast.

‘I know I'm probably overreacting, but there are some very cute emails to a girl he used to work with in New York.'

‘Define
cute
.'

‘He went on and on about how she could hold her liquor better than any other girl he's ever met.'

‘Wow, he's a real Don Juan, P. The guy could write a book on seduction.'

‘Right? I know it sounds ridiculous, but they actually sounded flirty. He signed them “xoxo.”'

‘Oh, God. Is he gay? He's definitely not gay, is he? What straight guy on earth does that?'

‘Well, he sure hasn't ever done that with me. It just creeped me out. I casually asked him last night when he got home at three in the morning if he still keeps in touch with anyone from work, and he said no just before he passed out. Am I overreacting? This morning he was so sweet and offered to take me shopping, spend the day together. …'

I didn't quite know what to say. The wedding was still more than eight months away, and it sounded like Penelope might – just might – realize before it was too late that Avery was a supreme jackass and not worth her entire married future. I'd happily fan the fire whenever possible, but she'd have to come to that conclusion herself.

‘Well,' I said slowly, picking my words with the utmost care. ‘It's normal for every relationship to have its ups and downs, right? That's why people get engaged first. It's just that. An engagement. If you discover something about him that you don't think you can live with forever, well, you're not married, and—'

‘Bette, that's not what I'm saying,' she said sharply. Oops. ‘I love Avery, and of course I'm marrying him. I was just talking to my best friend about what I'm sure is a ridiculous, unfounded, paranoid suspicion. It's clearly my own issue, not Avery's. I just need to be more confident in his feelings for me, that's all.'

‘Sure, sure, Pen. I totally understand. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. And of course I'm always here for you, just to listen. I'm sorry I said that.'

‘Whatever, I'm just emotional right now. A little homesick. Look, thanks for listening. I'm sorry about all this stuff. How's everything with you? Philip? Is he good?'

How had things gotten so out of control that my best friend not only asked about Philip but also had no idea that Sammy even existed? It was unfathomable to think I could kiss someone like Sammy and not have Penelope know about it within thirty seconds when we were working together all day and hanging out at the Black Door at night, but it'd been forever since we'd done that. Or at least it felt like forever.

‘It's complicated. Everyone thinks we're dating – even him, probably – but we're really not,' I said, knowing full well that I was making no sense but not having the energy to explain everything.

‘Well, it's probably not my place, but I'm not sure he's right for you, Bette.'

I wondered what she'd say if she knew what my mom had told me about the Westons.

I sighed. ‘I know that, Pen. I'm just overwhelmed right now, you know?'

‘Not really,' she said. ‘You haven't exactly explained it.'

‘It's just that this job has sort of infiltrated the rest of my life. My boss isn't so great at making distinctions between what happens in the office and what goes on everywhere else, so there's a lot of overlap. Does that make sense?'

‘No. What does your boss have to do with your personal life?'

‘It's not just that. Will got me this job and expects me to do well. He called in a huge favor for it. And I am doing well, I think, whatever that means. But the whole Philip thing is sort of tied in.' I knew I was being positively nonsensical, that I could be speaking an African clicking language for all the clarity I was providing Penelope or myself, but I just didn't have the energy.

‘All right,' she said hesitantly. ‘I have no idea what you're saying, but I'm always around, you know? I'm only a phone call away.'

‘I know, honey, and I appreciate that.'

‘Again, I'm so sorry about New Year's, but I'm glad you'll be doing something so much more fabulous. I'll read about it in all the papers. …'

‘That reminds me! I haven't told you. … How could I have forgotten this? You know how New York Scoop has been writing all those nasty things about me?'

‘Yeah, they've been hard to miss lately.'

‘Well, any idea who's writing them?'

‘Of course. It's some stupid pseudonym, right? Ellie something?'

‘Yeah, and you know who that is?'

‘No, should I?'

‘That, my dear Pen, is Abby. Vortex. That whore has been following me around and printing all that stuff under a fake name.'

I heard a sharp intake of breath. ‘Abby is behind all that? Are you sure? What are you going to do about it? You need to shut her down.'

I snorted. ‘You're telling me! Kelly told me weeks ago, but I was sworn to secrecy! I've been obsessing over it, but we're always so rushed and I forgot to tell you. Isn't it crazy? I never thought she hated me
that
much.'

‘It
is
weird. I know she's not your biggest fan – or mine, for that matter – but this seems excessively mean, even for her.'

‘All I want to do is confront her, and I can't. It's incredibly aggravating.' I glanced at the clock on the cable box and jumped off the couch. ‘Ohmigod, Pen, it's already eight. I hate to run – I'm hosting the holiday book club tonight and I have to get everything set up.'

‘I don't know why, but I love that you still read that stuff. You are such a romantic, Bette.'

I thought of Sammy and almost said something but decided to skip it at the last second.

‘Yeah, you know me, always hopeful,' I said lightly.

I felt slightly better when we hung up. I should've spent the evening Googling and reading about the people we'd be taking with us to Turkey, but I couldn't bear to cancel book club if it wasn't absolutely necessary. It took me a full hour to arrange the apartment for the girls, but when the intercom buzzer first rang, I knew it would be worth it.

‘I've decided to honor tonight's Latin theme,' I announced after everyone had settled in. We were reading
Bought by Her Latin Lover,
and the cover featured a tall man in black tie (presumably the Latin lover) embracing an elegant woman in an evening dress on the deck of what looked like a yacht. ‘We have here one pitcher of sangria, and another of margaritas.'

They clapped and cheered and poured.

‘In addition, I have chicken quesadillas, mini burritos, and some killer chips and guac dip. And for dessert, Magnolia cupcakes.'

‘What do pink-frosted cupcakes have to do with our Latin theme?' Courtney asked, plucking one off the serving tray.

‘That was, admittedly, random – I can't think of a Spanish dessert I'd prefer to a Magnolia cupcake,' I said. Just then Millington gave a little bark from her hiding spot in the corner. ‘Baby, come here. Come here, good girl,' I called. She obliged and strolled over, giving everyone a view of the tiny sombrero she wore for the occasion.

‘You didn't.' Jill laughed, scooping Millington up and admiring her hat.

‘Oh, I did. Got it at that baby-costume store in midtown. See, it comes with a chinstrap so it stays on. How great is that?'

Janie helped herself to another quesadilla and absently scratched Millington. ‘Bette, to think you went from a hesitant early member who refused to host to the Martha Stewart of the club. … Well, I just have to say, it's very impressive.'

I laughed. ‘I guess my job is seeping into other areas of my life, huh? I can pull together an event in my sleep at this point.'

We ate and drank first, working up a decent sangria buzz so we'd be able to discuss with complete frankness how much we'd loved the night's selection. By the time Vika pulled her well-worn copy from her messenger bag, we were fairly far gone.