The Elite (7 page)

“Ah, the infamous Marissa . . .”

Drew’s dad placed his fork at the side of his plate and surveyed his son calmly. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re
bored
of my stories?”

“That’s
exactly
what I’m trying to tell you,” Drew said, walking toward his room and shutting the door behind the sound of his parents’ laughter, and then the unmistakable sound of two pairs of lips meeting and retracting. He shook his head, smiling. He was probably the only kid in Manhattan to have two still- happily married parents—and things could definitely be a lot worse than having a dad who told the same stupid story over and over. Drew kicked a pile of dirty laundry out of the way, maneuvered around his still-unpacked suitcase, and sat down on the bed, grabbing his laptop. He couldn’t 5 5

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help but wonder if Madison would someday be one of those stories, if someday
he’d
be the one standing in the kitchen telling his own son about the one who got away.

And as he stretched out on the bed and checked his e-mail, he realized that not only wasn’t he ready to become his father, he also wasn’t ready to let Madison go just yet.

5 6

better late

than

never . . .

Madison flopped down on her w hite Siber ian goose-down comforter and exhaled loudly. Drew had only been back for a nanosecond and already everything was even worse than before he’d left. Maybe now that she was home, she’d be able to calm down—though just thinking about the way Drew had flirted with that horrible Casey girl right in front of her, she seriously doubted it. Was he just trying to piss her off? Make her jealous? Had he suddenly developed a brain tumor? There had to be some reason to explain his decidedly dumbass be-havior. Even though Madison didn’t know if she even
wanted
to be with Drew anymore, she wasn’t sure she was ready to give him up either—especially not to some terminally uncool, J E N N I F E R B A N A S H

frizzy- haired loser. After all, she was Madison Macallister: She had a reputation to uphold and a legend to create.

Madison stared up at the sky- blue ceiling above her head, the only slice of color in her otherwise monochromatic bedroom lair. Her room was the only place in their overstuffed, overdecorated pent house apartment where she felt comfortable anymore. Her mother, Edith Spencer Macallister, was going through a truly unfortunate Baroque period, and two months ago had ordered the apartment completely redone, and the Danish ultramodern furniture burned. Now, the massive, sunken living room was covered in muted frescos starring demented round- faced cherubs—complete with gold- leaf trim—and the minimalist style Edith had favored last year had been replaced by massively uncomfortable, sprawling antique furniture with way too many spindly legs. Swirling silk-damask drapes in shades of French blue and gold, and tinkling crystal chandeliers hanging everywhere certainly didn’t help the space feel less like a museum. All the apartment needed now were a few peasants and a guillotine. Every time she entered the Louis XIV nightmare that her apartment had become, Madison was happier than ever that she had declared her own room with its white-on-

white decor, and sleek

chrome furnishings, completely off- limits.

A sharp rap on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

Madison sat up and crossed her legs beneath her as Edie entered the room in a cloud of Vera Wang perfume, a bronze Norma Kamali sheath dress hugging her bony size- zero frame, and strappy gold Jimmy Choo sandals on her feet. Ancient 5 8

T H E E L I T E

Roman coins spilled from her throat in a shower of gold, and a platinum-and-diamond ring sparkled on her left hand—in which she held a large, cream- colored envelope. Her blue eyes, expertly outlined in bronze liner, were as unfocused as ever due to her chronic pill popping. Edie referred to her monthly intake of Valium as her “therapy.” Madison had quit trying to get her mother to stop overmedicating years ago, but if Edie wanted to float through life in a haze of prescription narcotics, then who was she to stop her? They’d played that game for as long as Madison could remember—and she was tired of losing.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, sitting down on Madison’s bed and crossing her slim ankles.

“Where else would I be?” Madison snapped, pulling a hair tie from her wrist and pulling her slightly tangled blond hair back in a ponytail.

“I see
someone
forgot to take her Prozac,” her mother said with annoying calm, reaching over and straightening the rumpled corner of the comforter.

“Someone around here certainly needs medication,” Madison said dryly, picking at a loose thread on her fifteen-hundred- thread- count Egyptian cotton sheets, “but I think we both know it isn’t me.”

Edie shook her head, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile. “Tsk- tsk,” she clucked, “I guess
someone
woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“I woke up on the wrong side of my
life
this morning,”

Madison said, her green eyes flashing, “but that’s besides the point.”

5 9

J E N N I F E R B A N A S H

“Well, maybe this will cheer you up.” Edie threw the envelope she held down on the bed and smiled, showing rows of brilliantly Zoom- whitened teeth—courtesy of Dr. Haven, cosmetic dentist to practically the entire Upper East Side.

“What is it?” Madison asked suspiciously, picking up the heavy envelope to examine the return address.

“The Van Allens are throwing a welcome home party for Drew,” Edie said excitedly, squeezing Madison’s arm.

“
That’s
supposed to cheer me up? A party? What am I—

six?” Madison pulled away, uncurled her legs, and walked over to her dressing room, which had been converted into an enormous walk- in closet. She began sifting through her jeans, looking for her favorite pair of Rock and Republic Stevie jeans with the pink Swarovski crystals on the back pockets. Drew couldn’t even act like a normal human after being away for three months—what were his chances of being able to pull it off at this party? Well, screw him, she wasn’t going. Not even if he begged. OK, maybe she’d consider if he really begged—

and brought her flowers. And Godiva chocolates. And told her that she was right—every time they fought for the rest of their lives. Then she could probably live with it.

“You know, Madison,” her mother began in the mea sured, I’ve- had- just- about- enough- of- your- shit tone Madison had heard more times than she could count, “if this is the way you speak to Drew, it’s no
wonder
that he hasn’t been around lately.”

“Oh, really?” Madison said coolly, sticking her head out from the closet, her face expressionless, her hands filled with denim. “You think so?”

6 0

T H E E L I T E

“Definitely.” Edie shook her blond, shoulder- length, heavily blown- out mane—courtesy of Frederic Fekkai—vigorously for emphasis. She loved helping Madison with her boy problems; it made her feel as though she was fulfilling some great maternal duty.

“He hasn’t been around because HE’S BEEN IN

AMSTERDAM FOR THE WHOLE SUMMER!” Madison screamed, finally losing what was left of her patience, and throwing the armload of jeans on the floor as her MacBook erupted in a jangling of bells.

“Amsterdam,” Edie mused thoughtfully, examining her glossy, French- manicured nails. “Hmm. When did he get
back
?”

Madison rolled her eyes, walked over from the closet and sat down at her desk, logging on to Gchat. “Today, Mother. He got back
today
.” Madison turned around and pointed to the invitation laying on the bed. “Hence the need for a
welcome home
party.
” God, why didn’t her mother take the hint and just leave?

Every time Edie attempted any kind of mother/daughter bonding, it was always a disaster. Most of the time, it was hard for Madison to believe that she and her mother were even remotely related, much less mother and daughter.

“Well,” Edie said brightly, “I’m sure you have your hands full with the first day of ju nior year coming up so quickly.” She got up, absentmindedly smoothing the material of her dress with the palm of one hand. Edie walked toward the door, then paused, motionless for a moment, one hand on the knob. “It
is
Monday, isn’t it?”

Madison rolled her eyes so hard it felt as if they might get 6 1

J E N N I F E R B A N A S H

stuck there and start rattling around in her skull. “Yes, Mother, school starts Monday.”

“I
knew
it,” Edie said triumphantly, closing the door behind her.

Madison shook her head as she checked her e-mail, deleting a shitload of spam from her inbox. She couldn’t exactly blame her father for running for the hills last year. Living with Edie was like living in the fucking looney bin. But having a father you saw on the first Sunday of every month—if he didn’t cancel—was like having no father at all. Madison didn’t know exactly what it was that her dad did for a living—something with finance, maybe? But what ever it was, it kept him preoccupied enough with fifteen- hour workdays and chronic overtime. Even before the divorce, she’d gotten used to not really having a two- parent house hold. Even on the rare occasions when her father had been home, he’d immediately locked himself in his office and yelled at people on the phone all night long.

The computer sounded again, signaling an instant message.

dva1990: “Of all the computers, on all the networks, in all the world, she had to walk into mine . . .”

Madison smiled, despite her anger. Drew knew that
Casablanca
was the only “old” movie that she loved. In fact, it was the only movie they’d ever been able to agree on—usually she thought anything in black- and- white was outdated and boring. On their first real date, he’d taken her to a midnight 6 2

T H E E L I T E

showing at the Angelika, and they’d sat in the darkness, both mouthing every word along with Bogie and Bergman.

socialiez666: Um, technically aren’t you walking into mine?

dva1990: Good point. J

dva1990: Sorry about today. U have plans for breakfast tomorrow?

Madison smiled as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

socialiez666: Care to make me an offer I can’t refuse?

dva1990: You know the place, you know the time, but just in case—Uncommon Grounds, 10 AM? Be there?

socialiez666: Definitely. J

Madison logged off and leaned back in her chair, smiling happily. What an idiot she’d been to think that Drew was even remotely interested in anyone else. After all, there was only one Madison Macallister, and everyone wanted her. It would only be a matter of time before she had Drew back just where she wanted him—and then she could decide what to do next. She looked at her overstuffed closet, wondering what to wear. She needed an outfit that would make him drop to his knees when she walked through the door. A flounce of blue-and- white tropical- printed silk caught her eye. She was still mad at Drew, of course, but that didn’t mean that she had to punish her new Tracey Feith sundress, did it?

6 3

sibling

rivalry

Sophie St. John s tared into the enor mous Viking refr ig -

erator in her parents’ apartment in The Bramford, completely and utterly confused. She could’ve
sworn
that she had a leftover spicy tuna roll from Nobu in here yesterday. Their maid, Mar-guerite, had left Sophie her usual daily snack of chilled raw carrots and celery sticks on a white Spode dinner plate. But Sophie didn’t want carrots—she wanted a spicy tuna roll. Ever since Madison had embarked on her turn- Sophie- into- Nicole Richie plan, she’d been trying to lose five pounds—not that it was going very well with all the mojitos she’d drank today.

Where the hell was that spicy tuna roll, anyway? Sophie kicked off her pink Coach flip- flops and flexed her bare feet on the cool, Mexican- tiled floor. She leaned over and rummaged in T H E E L I T E

the back of the fridge, digging behind some moldy lettuce.

She was going to go seriously psychotic if she didn’t find that sushi.

“Find anything interesting?”

Sophie turned around to face her older (by one year—not that he ever stopped yakking about it) brother, Jared, who had entered the kitchen wearing green Billabong board shorts and a black T-shirt. Jared had the body of a swimmer—all tanned flesh and lean muscle, and was forever planning complicated surfing expeditions to Hawaii or the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. He already had plans to move out to Southern California next year so he could surf full- time. And considering that he just got kicked out of Exeter at the start of his se nior year, it seemed as good an option as any. Not that anyone was talking about it.

Her parents—and Jared for that matter—had been decidedly tight- lipped about the details surrounding his expulsion. All Sophie knew was that for the last two years she’d basically had the run of their im mense apartment, and now that Jared was back, not only did he
always
seem to be home, but to add insult to injury, her food also began disappearing on a regular basis—

something that really annoyed her. Despite her size- two figure, or maybe because of it, the one thing Sophie really loved was her food. Steal it and you were going to pay—big- time.

Sophie rolled her eyes as she took in her brother’s greasy hair and rumpled, dirty clothes. Jared was truly the king of multislacking, and, as a result he’d perfected the fine art of whiling his days away surfing the Web, watching random TV

shows, and text messaging his loser friends—all at the same 6 5

J E N N I F E R B A N A S H

time. His greasy dark hair fell over one blue eye, and Sophie noticed immediately that he was chewing on something that smelled suspiciously fishy.

Sophie stood up, hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed with two burning circles of red. “That better not be
my
spicy tuna roll you’re stuffing in your face!”

Jared swallowed hard, his full, red lips stretching into a grin.

“First come,” he said, flopping down on one of the supremely uncomfortable wooden chairs their mother had insisted on, and put his tanned, bare feet up on the shiny oak dining table, “first served.” Jared smiled, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Just looking at his smug, self- satisfied face made Sophie want to punch him—so she did just that.