Being Audrey Hepburn (19 page)

I turned to see Isak Guerrere, my newest, bestest friend.

“Isak, it’s so nice to see you,” I said, concerned I might be a little tipsy.

“You as well, my dear. And look at you: you’re wearing another wonderful dress by your favorite designer who is not me!”

I smiled. “That’s true. I’m sorry to say.”

“What genius designed this fabulous frock? Valentino, of course, but refreshed, almost sassy. Extraordinary,” he said.

I gave him a disproving look.

“I know, I know. Designer X is a secret. But I’m the one you should be telling
all
your secrets to!” he said. If only I could. “At the very least, you have to introduce this Designer X to me. I insist!”

“I promise,” I said.

“Well, you can make up for it by having a drink with me at the bar. I hear your friend, Tabitha Eden, is playing in the Drawing Room tonight … What do they call her? The Princess of Pop? Everyone is royalty these days!”

“Regretfully, dear Isak, I am quite late and must be going.” I made a sad face.

“
Quelle dommage,
” Isak said. “Just another disturbing pattern in our relationship.

You always seem to be leaving as you see me. Is it the jellied hair? I know. It’s an acquired taste,” he said with a sparkle in his eye.

My phone buzzed—Jake? I grabbed a peek. No, it was Jess.

“HOWZIT GOING? DYING TO KNOW!”

I sighed. Jake had forgotten by now, probably celebrating with his friends.

“Not the news you wanted to hear, I assume,” Isak said. I tried to hide my disappointment.

“No, it’s fine, Isak. I’m sorry to be such poor company, probably a few too many watermelon and gingers. I’d be careful of those if I were you.”

“Point taken. May I help you to your car?”

I hesitated.

“Well, then a taxi?”

“No, Isak, thank you,” I said. “I think … I think I’ll walk.”

“Oh my, how will you ever forgive me?”

“Pardon?”

“Right this way,” he said, grabbing me by the arm. “Please forgive me for suggesting that you take a lowly taxicab to what must be an important romantic rendezvous. I know that look…”

I was startled as Isak pulled an earsplitting two-fingered whistle.

“It’s okay, Isak, darling. You’re so nice, but I…” A limousine drove up and Isak opened the door. I stopped yammering. There was a lovely little man in the front seat wearing a chauffeur’s cap.

“Allow me to provide my limo to safely carry you to your rendezvous,” he said. He must have seen my jaw drop.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to talk to Rudy. He talks too much anyway.” Rudy, the chauffeur, rolled his eyes and gave me a little wave.

“But I’m not even sure where I’m going…” I stuttered, astonished.

“Ah, an adventure! Wherever it is, Rudy will find it. He’s a GPS jockey, could have been one of Santa’s reindeer—actually, maybe he was.” Rudy shrugged good-naturedly. I started to get in, stopped, and turned to give Isak the biggest kiss and hug ever. He looked totally astonished.

“Remind me to offer you my limo more often,” he said. “Have fun, sweetie.”

As Isak closed the door behind me, I sunk down into the luxurious black seats, imagining what it would be like if this were my normal everyday mode of travel. Not having actually attended prom, I’d never been inside a limo and was glad I had saved all my excitement for this moment.

“And where might we be going, miss?” Rudy inquired gently, not wanting to disturb my reverie.

“Oh, call me Lisbeth. Well, it’s this bar; it’s a club, really—called Reilly’s? It’s in Jersey, near Montclair. I hope that’s okay? Is that too far? Do you have any idea how to find it? I’m sorry—I don’t know where it is. I know that’s odd, but you see…” Rudy was losing interest as I rambled, and I was losing my Audrey, so I stopped.

“I know exactly the place,” Rudy said after a pause. “My boyfriend and I love that bar. Best karaoke in Jersey every Wednesday night at midnight.”

“Really?” Up-and-coming rock and rollers and gay karaoke nights, who knew?

“Please sit back and relax. I’ll take care of everything,” Rudy said as the car accelerated onto the Westside Highway.

“Thanks Rudy.” I couldn’t believe my luck.

“B THERE SOON. DON’T BE MAD. I REALLY WANT TO C U XXOX ME.” Then I thought a moment and added, “AGAIN.” But before I could hit
SEND
, my phone was buzzing like crazy.

“MUST TALK NOW.” Mom? Texting?

There were two more texts in rapid succession.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I NEED YOU HOME.”

Mothers should not be allowed to text,
I thought,
especially mine.
But I wondered what the urgency was. Maybe she was just pissed that I’d barely been home in the last week and that, when I had been, it was only to change my clothes and get some sleep.

The other possibility was that she had figured out that I wasn’t going to college. Either way, it was a whole lot better not to respond right away. As a kid, it had taken me a long time to learn that it was safer to let the storm blow over a bit rather than rushing right into a hurricane.

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE,” she texted.

Oh God. I closed my eyes and tried not to think.

“Lisbeth, we’re here,” Rudy said in a quiet voice. I opened my eyes and noticed we had stopped. I wondered how long I had been sleeping.

“We arrived a moment ago,” he said as if reading my mind.

“Oh. Thanks Rudy, is it…?”

“Still open?” Rudy answered before I could ask. “Yes, but I do think the band is leaving. There’s a van backing up near the service entrance.”

“Red, white, and blue?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’d better go,” I said, wondering if Jake had already left ahead of the band.

“Would you prefer I wait?”

“No, no. You’ve been too kind already. I’ll find my way from here,” I said as Rudy hopped out of the car and opened my door.

“You’re certain?” Rudy asked. “The neighborhood is okay, but…”

“Yes, thank you. And by the way, you can tell Isak he’s wrong. You absolutely do not talk too much. In fact, you’re perfect.” Rudy smiled, made a little bow, stepped back into the car, and drove away.

“Nice limo. Is that from your ‘friend’?”

I turned to see Jake standing a few feet away near the entrance to Reilly’s. Stragglers were leaving, happily boozed and laughing it up. He looked washed out.

“Yes, Isak. But he’s just a—”

“That’s okay. Don’t explain.” Jake was pissed off, but I could see he was trying to keep his cool. Maybe the gig didn’t go well. Maybe he was tired of my excuses. I searched my mind for something to say.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, good timing. The band finished playing an hour and a half ago.” Jake closed his eyes, and it seemed like he was trying to make a decision. He stared down at his boots.

“Well, how’d it go?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good actually.” He warmed up a little, begrudgingly. “An A and R rep showed up. Offered us a deal.”

“Really?” I asked, inching closer. “That’s so great!” I was going to run up to him and smother him in hugs and kisses and say I really did want to wear this dress for him and I would next time, when this woman came out of the bar and walked up behind him.

Lingering with her well-manicured hand hanging on his shoulder, she didn’t see me at first. “Hey Jake, should we have one more for the road?” she asked. I noted the plural pronoun. She wasn’t your ordinary garden-variety groupie, either. From her top-of-the-line True Religions to her red high-heeled cowboy boots and blond tresses, everything about her screamed big bucks.

“Sure, Monica, I’ll be right there. Give me a minute,” he said. That’s when she noticed me, gave me a quizzical look like she felt sorry for me, and went inside.

Shit. I guess I was later than I’d thought.

“So it went
really
well,” I said and tried not to get emotional. “I’ll be going. See you at the Hole.”

“Wait.”

I stopped and turned.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“Yeah? It’s okay, Jake. I wasn’t here. I can’t blame you. I really should go.”

“Lizzy, listen, I’m trying to tell you…” But I kept walking and he stopped talking.

I pictured him running after me.

But he didn’t.

27

“STILL UP?”

I texted Jess and waited.

The wind was blowing down North Pine Street. I was trying not to get all weepy, wishing I had done something differently. Anything. Wishing Jake understood or I had told him to begin with. Now it was too late. I had no right to be jealous. I hoped it was the wind that was making my eyes tear up. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, seeing that cowgirl lingering behind him. The sad way she looked at me.

When I heard footsteps behind me, I panicked and picked up my pace. On the uneven sidewalk, I felt my ankle twist. Shit, Jess was right about the Louboutin heel not lasting. I kept walking anyway, not wanting to stop for a snapped heel. I turned on my phone light to make sure whoever was behind me knew I was ready.

The footsteps came closer and then faded. I glanced back. No one was there.

The wind whistled around me, giving me the creeps. Why hadn’t Jess texted me back already? I absolutely could
not
go home in this dress.

“KNOCK KNOCK?” I texted and waited.

I tried to think about what ZK and Tabitha were doing now. Not walking on a dead-end street in the dark, I bet. This fantasy project of mine felt pretty pathetic at one o’clock in the morning. The evening had been miraculous and all. But here I was, all alone with nowhere to go.

My phone buzzed.

“OF COURSE I’M UP! ITS ONLY 1AM,” Jess texted.

“OK F I CRASH?” I asked.

“DUH I’VE BN W8N. COME 2 MY HOUS TELL ALL!”

I dialed Hometown Call-a-Cab, figuring there was enough money in my little peacock feathered clutch to get to Jess’s house. Once inside, I slipped off my shoes. The taxi cost exactly fifteen dollars. I hoped he wasn’t expecting a tip. I figured eighty-six cents wouldn’t be interpreted as a compliment.

I let myself in Jess’s back door. I’d had her key since the seventh grade in case of … well, emergencies. Climbing the creaky stairs to her room, I tried to make sure I didn’t wake her mom.

Jess was sitting cross-legged on her bed with the orange Cassini in pieces across the bedspread. I gasped.

“No worries. If I can take ’em apart, I can put ’em back together again,” she said, smiling. “I never stop being amazed at what goes on inside the clothes. Breaking down these dresses is better than all the courses at FIT. I just had to open one up completely to see how it was structured. They sure knew how to rock a cocktail.” She put down her seam ripper and looked up at me with expectation.

“So? Spill it! From the beginning!”

I propped myself up against some pillows and began replaying everything in detail, from the clipboard Nazi who loved my blog to meeting ZK, from the gorgeous clothes everywhere, the jewelry, and the rooftop pool to Tabitha’s crazy, erratic behavior and every single word that Isak Guerrere said about Jess’s dress. Telling it all to Jess, I realized how unreal and remarkable it was.

“Do you think Isak Guerrere actually liked the dress? You sure he isn’t just being nice?” she asked.

“He
is
nice, very nice. And yes, I think he really loves all the dresses. I’m pretty sure he used the word ‘genius,’” I said. “He’s even envious I don’t wear
his
designs.” Jess beamed with satisfaction, and she seemed totally excited about the possibilities. This was the first time I could ever remember Jess actually caring about what anybody else thought of her or what she’d done.

“They know you as Designer X from my blog.”

“Oh, I like that,” Jess said. “Lisbeth, you must be pretty incredible in action,” she said. Although she’d seen me at charity events before, it definitely seemed so much more remarkable that I had hung out with the whole famous gang at the Soho House.

“They’re actually buying you as one of their own. It’s so weird.”

“The scariest thing is this Dahlia Rothenberg chick. She’s really nasty about Tabitha and talks behind her back like she’s dirt. And she looks at me as though she’d like to rip me apart—if it wouldn’t damage her perfect nails. I don’t know if she’s on to me or she just hates me for some other reason.”

“Are you getting too many looks from ZK?”

“I guess,” I said, studying the edge of one of the pillows.

“So, what’s next?” she asked, neatly placing the dissembled dress in pieces on her desk by the window.

“Well, ZK invited me to this opening thing next week. By the way, what’s a Schnabel? Is it a drink like schnapps?”

“Julian Schnabel—he’s an artist,” she said.

“Oh cool, an art opening. And get this—Tabitha says she wants to go shopping. Can you imagine what that girl buys? Has to be some serious cash.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she wants me to go shopping on Fifth Avenue with her,” I said, uncertain why she’d responded so strangely.

“Do you hear yourself?” she asked. “What on earth are you talking about?” Jess seemed appalled.

“What do you mean?” I asked tentatively.

“Lisbeth, what are you going to do? You’re broke.”

“I don’t really need any money. I’m not going to buy anything. Hey, last night I went out and drank and ate and then there was the limo. I forgot to tell you about that…” But Jess was reacting oddly, and I didn’t want to go into all that stuff about seeing Jake with the swag cowgirl.

“School will be coming up in a month,” Jess said. “You haven’t talked about it once, let alone made any plans to get ready.”

“That’s because I’m not going to school.”

“What?!” The way Jess scowled at me—you would have thought I had confessed to robbing a bank or committing murder.

“It would be the end of all of my possibilities,” I said. “The end of my life.” It felt terrible to say it out loud like that. But there was relief in saying it.

“Does your mom know?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Jeez.” Jess turned away from me, peering out the window into the darkness. It was so dark you couldn’t even see the moon. I felt bad. Not just because I’d been lying all that time to her and everyone about college, but I knew that Jess would be disappointed in me. Despite her enthusiasm for reworking the dresses and the fun of sneaking into those events, she had been clear: she regarded it all as a prank. All along, I knew she thought my Audrey dream was shallow.