Everyone Worth Knowing (24 page)

known one another for years. "Come here. Y'all just have to meet my

favorite party boy, Avery Wainwright. Avery, this is—"

Apparently the look on both our faces was enough to stop her

mid-sentence, a feat I'd never before thought possible.

"Hey, honey, I didn't know you were coming here tonight,"

Avery said, extracting himself from Elisa's signature arm-grip and

enveloping Penelope in a rather awkward bear hug.

"I didn't know you were, either," she said quietly, not quite

meeting his eyes. "You said you were going to dinner with the

boys tonight."

I wished I could scoop up Penelope and whisk her off to the

Black Door, where we could drown that yucky feeling—he hadn't

done anything technically wrong, but I knew her stomach was

sinking anyway. But there was nothing to do but try and divert attention

away from their two-person show.

"I did go to dinner with the boys. We all went to Sparks, and

then most of them wanted to get home, but I decided to check this

place out with Rick and Thomas. See, they're right over there," he

said quickly, the words tumbling out in the panicky tone of someone

who'd just been caught.

Rick and Thomas were, in fact, located where he'd indicated.

In the thirty seconds since they'd arrived, a group of very young

girls had accepted their invitation to join them at their VIP table

and were just beginning to shimmy and dance on the banquette.

Penelope looked like she was ready to throw up. I could tell it

was coming to her in waves, the realization that if she hadn't been

there, Avery would most likely be grinding against one of those girls

right now.

"Mmm," she murmured, watching as Rick and Thomas sandwiched

a girl between them and gyrated. "I see."

"Pen, come here, baby, it's not like that. They know those girls

from work and they're just being friendly."

"Work?" Her voice was steely and her eyes had turned to ice.

Everyone was waiting for a colossal fight, so I began chatting up

Elisa, Philip, Danny, and Sonja simultaneously and nudged Penelope

to move a few feet away to spare us a scene.

"So, Sonja, what sort of agencies are you interviewing with?" I

asked, wondering if Philip had perhaps meant "schools" instead.

She was really, really young.

"Oh, you know, the common ones. Elite, Ford, Wilhelmina.

Phee-ly says I will make beautiful model."

"Sure do, doll. Ever since this one was a mere tyke, trolling

around the villa in nappies, I thought she was splendid. Jailbait,

but splendid." He was now officially leering.

"Gel-bet? What is gel-bet?" she asked us both, her eyes crinkling

adorably.

"Nothing, doll. Why don't you sit right here and look ravishing

and let me talk to Betty for a minute, okay?"

"You know, Betty is really cute, but I prefer Bette," I said as

nicely as I could manage.

"You are a randy one, aren't you?" He put his hands on my

hips and pulled me close, but didn't make a move to kiss me. It

was hard to concentrate on his flawlessly chiseled face when I

could hear Avery pleading in the background.

"Honey, I don't know why she called me a 'party boy.' You

know
I like to go out. Hell, I wish you'd come with me more.

Elisa's just a silly cokehead who happens to know where the good

parties are, that's all."

That bastard. He had the nerve to stand there and call Elisa a

cokehead through clenched teeth and a lower jaw so jittery it

looked like it was hooked up to electrodes. Penelope knew a lot

of things the rest of us didn't—how to wrap presents, when to

write thank-you notes, the best way to set a dinner table—but she

was painfully clueless when it came to Avery, drugs, or Avery and

drugs. Skye finally came back from the bathroom, her jaw all atwitter

as well. The DJ switched from chill lounge music to OutKast,

which apparently inspired Elisa to grab Davide and Skye and begin

dancing on the banquettes. She rarely took her eyes off Philip,

who had walked across the room, but he didn't seem to notice.

Her stilettos began piercing neat, clean holes in the white suede,

and I felt better with each little ripping sound.

But not for long. The voice behind me was unmistakable, and I

immediately felt my stomach sink.

"Bette! So funny seeing you here!" Abby tugged on my arm,

causing my champagne to splash on the suede.

"Hey, Abby," I said as flatly as possible, looking around for a

possible escape before even making eye contact.

"So, you and Philip are looking pretty hot and heavy, huh?"

She winked and I suppressed an urge to scratch the grin off her

face.

"Mmmm. What brings you here?"

She laughed and adjusted a five-inch heel, which did little to

disguise her height. "Does anyone need a reason to have a little

fun? Ohmigod, is that Avery Wainwright? We haven't had a chance

to catch up recently. That boy grew into a
very
handsome man,

don't you think?"

"He's engaged," I snapped. "To Penelope. You remember Penelope,

don't you?"

She feigned cluelessness. "Hmm. Well, you know what they

say . . ."

"No, what's that?"

"Nothing's final until the vows are exchanged." She rubbed her

hands together as though she was anticipating something very delicious

or exciting.

At my reaction she said, "Oh, Bette, calm down. I was just kidding!"

A look of mock horror passed over her face. "You should really

work on that sense of humor, you know. Speaking of which—"

"Abby, it was really great bumping into you, but I've got to get

back to my friends. Sort of a work night, you know?" I ducked out

from behind her and began sliding away.

"Sure, honey, but let's get that lunch sometime soon, okay? I'd

love to hear
all
about Philip and the new job and everything.

Everyone's still talking about that mention in New York Scoop,"

she called after me.

I wanted to make sure Penelope was holding up, but Avery

had her cornered and neither looked thrilled, so I made my way

back to our table, where Davide handed me a drink.

Penelope immediately walked over. "Bette, I think we're going

to head out," she said wearily, sounding as though she'd rather kill

herself than either stay or leave.

"You okay? Seriously, why doesn't Avery just stay here and

hang out and you and I can go get something to eat? I wouldn't

mind leaving before I do something I'll seriously regret, like going

home with Philip and making mad, passionate love to him, even

though I think he's the most obnoxious guy I've ever met."

She sighed. "No, thanks. I think we really need to get home. I'll

call you tomorrow."

I wondered if they'd sleep at all that night. Avery was so

amped up on coke that it would take a horse tranquilizer to put

him to sleep. Or maybe he'd start having flashbacks from all the

acid he did in college and try to eat a parakeet or fly out a window.

Poor, sweet Penelope.

"Bette, love, are you ready to leave?" Philip asked, draping his

arms over my shoulders as though he were my long-term

boyfriend instead of the guy I didn't want to want to sleep with.

"Let's go back to my flat. Maybe you won't be too drunk tonight

to—"

"Uh, yeah, why don't you, me, and Sonja," I said a bit more

snottily than I intended, "have a slumber party? Wouldn't that be

fun!"

He slid his hand up the back of my lingerie top. "What's with

all the attitude? Seriously, love, you've got to relax. Come on, I'll

put Sonja in a suite upstairs and then you and I can spend a little

quiet time together, okay?"

Before I could respond, Philip was whispering to Sonja in

French. She did little except nod enthusiastically, raise her perfect

eyebrows, and giggle when he was finished.
"Out, out,
of course it

is okay to spend the time alone together," she said, providing us

with her blessing to engage in slightly drunk, somewhat random

sex.

"You know what, Philip?" I said, not knowing how to explain

that I wasn't really up for tonight when I wasn't even sure myself.

"It's not right to put her in a hotel when she's just with you for a

week. I mean, she's only fifteen. Don't you think you should keep

an eye on her? She can't walk three feet without guys hitting on

her, you know."

He looked thoughtful, as though he was actually buying my

whole "concern for Sonja" thing. He nodded. "Quite right, love. I'll

take her home and tuck her in, and then we'll head to a hotel

somewhere. Good call. Cheers," he announced in the direction of

the others, who merely glanced once in our direction and nodded

in acknowledgment. Elisa stopped gawking long enough to give

me a none-too-subtle thumbs-up.

I figured it'd be easier to drop them both off at the Archives and

then redirect the cab to Murray Hill than argue about it, so I waved to

Elisa and followed Sonja and Philip to the front door, feeling like the

chubby, uncoordinated child of two Olympic athletes.

"Hey, ,guy, call us a cab, will you?" Philip called to the doorman,

snapping his fingers in that general direction. It was undeniably

obnoxious, but considering what an asshole the guy had been

to us, it seemed perfectly acceptable to me. That was, until a closer

look revealed that it wasn't the malnourished, wig-sporting Romero

but the cute (and rude) bouncer from Bungalow 8. Sammy. He

turned to look at Philip with a venomous expression and noticed

me trying to hide off to the side. His eyes bore into mine with just

a moment's recognition before he turned his attention back to the

street and silently hailed a cab from the dozens that were flying

past.

Sonja scooted in first and Philip dove in next to her, leaving me

standing four inches from Sammy as he held the cab door open. I

don't know why I got in with them, but I did. It was like my body

was following some invisible script.

"Thanks," I managed to say quietly, just as Philip said, "Mate,

I've got two gorgeous girls coming home with me, if you know

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what I mean. You mind being quick about this?" Sonja giggled and

rested her delicate head on Philip's shoulder; Sammy looked at me

one last time, expressionless, and slammed the door. Just as the

cab pulled away, I looked at the restless line outside the club, the

camera-ready paparazzi waiting for celebrities to exit, the crush to

be inside like its own form of addiction. And even though I

couldn't pinpoint why, I was quite sure I wanted to cry.

10

"How do you eat like that and stay so tiny?" I asked Penelope

for the thousandth time since we'd met. We'd just settled into a