Everyone Worth Knowing (61 page)

29

I'd just finished
You've Got Mail
and was halfway through

Can't Buy Me Love
when the phone rang. I was surprised to see

Penelope's number come up on caller ID—surprised and thrilled.

I'd given her the bare-bones rundown on Sammy, but she had no

idea how much I adored him. I'd managed to read between the

lines of her upbeat soliloquies to determine that Avery wasn't

around a whole lot, that she still hadn't found a job, and that the

couples they were hanging out with weren't exactly her type, but

she wouldn't admit any of this outright. Left with not much to say,

we emailed each other silly forwards and texted stupid things and

spoke very occasionally about safe subjects, but I couldn't remember

the last time I'd received a good, old-fashioned, late-night call

from my best friend.

"Hey, B, how are you? Sorry to be calling so late, but the time

difference really sucks and I figured you might still be up. Avery's

out of town again and I don't really have anyone else out here to

call and bother, so you're the lucky winner tonight!"

Her voice sounded hollow and I wished we were closer. "Pen,

I'm so glad you called! How are you?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Hardly. Just watching bad movies. What's going on with you?

It's so good to hear from you."

"Is your British trust-fund boyfriend there?" she asked.

Had everything been normal, Penelope would have already analyzed

a hundred times over with me what Sammy's "being patient"

meant, and would have reassured me repeatedly that it was

only a matter of time before he and I would be together. Now, de-

spite knowing about Sammy, she didn't even seem to understand

that I wasn't actually dating Philip.

"Pen, he's not my boyfriend, you know that. Philip and I are expected

to go to the
Playboy
party together, but only for the photos."

"Right, of course. When is that? That's a big deal, right?"

"It's tomorrow night! It's stressful because we've been working

on it forever now and I'm pretty much first-in-command, after

Kelly. But so far it seems like everything's in line. If the photographers

behave themselves and the Bunnies all show up, we should

be okay."

We continued on like this for a few minutes, neither of us acknowledging

that we had huge knowledge gaps about each other's

lives.

"So what do you plan to do about Abby and the fact that she

keeps printing those lies about you?" she asked, sounding like the

old Penelope for the first time all night.

I'd been trying not to think about it, but when I did, the

anger—the feeling of being violated—was enough to drive me

mad. "I still can't figure out why she hates me so much. It's torture

not being able to confront her. Do you think people really believed

that I was having an affair with the Hilton sex-tape guy? I don't

even know his name!"

"No one does," she said, clucking quietly. "I have no idea what

her problem is, although I guess it's not such a stretch to imagine

her printing all this trash about you when she used to steal

people's papers in college and pass them off as her own, right? Do

you remember sophomore year when she skipped her grandmother's

funeral because they were interviewing new columnists

for the paper? The girl is seriously disturbed. Avery always said

she's the type who'd sell out her own parents to get ahead, and I

think he's right. He slept with her, of course, so I guess he'd

know."

"What? Avery had sex with Abby? I didn't know that."

"I'm not totally sure, but I'm assuming he has. All of his friends

did. Hell, every guy we know did her in college. I think I'd rather

not know for sure, but if I had to bet . . ."

I swallowed a wave of nausea at the thought and mustered the

energy to say, "So how is that fiance of yours, anyway? You said he

was out of town?"

Her sigh said more than any of the words that followed. "He's

fine, I guess. I haven't seen a lot of him, that's for sure. I thought it

would change once he was back in school and had to be on campus

every day, but it's only given him more free time to stay out

late. He's met a whole new crew of friends, so I guess that's good."

"Do you like any of their girlfriends?"

She snorted. "What girlfriends? They're all twenty-two-year-old

kids, right out of school. He acts like he's the godfather and they're

his acolytes. It's slightly disturbing, but how can I say anything?"

Well, that made two of us. I tried to steer the conversation to

something more neutral. "I'm sure it's just a period of adjustment.

Are you guys at least exploring the city? I know LA's no New York,

but there's got to be something to do there, right?"

"I go to the beach occasionally. Shop at Whole Foods, signed

up for yoga, doing the whole Jamba Juice thing. Interviewing a lot.

I know something will come up, but so far there's been nothing interesting.

Avery'll be back the day after tomorrow, so maybe we'll

take a little road trip to Laguna. Or Mexico again—that was nice. If

he doesn't have to study the entire time." She sounded so listless

that I wanted to cry for her.

"Where is he, honey? How long has he been gone?"

"Oh, he's just back in New York for a few days. Family business

of some sort—a meeting with his trust administrator and accountant

or something like that. I'm not sure what, exactly, but I

had an interview today, so he said he could handle it alone and

there was no reason for me to fly all the way across the country."

"Got it. Well, I wish you were here to come with me to the

Playboy
party. I'd put you on Bunny patrol, have you scout the

room and make sure all their tails stay attached. Sounds awesome,

huh?"

"Sure does. Bette, I miss you a lot."

"I miss you, too, Pen. And if you feel like it, get on a plane and

come home for a visit. You didn't move to Guam, you're just on

the left coast. If you're feeling a little homesick, we'd love to see

you for a visit. Maybe you and me and Abby can go out for lunch

and then read in the paper the next day that we were both seen

having sex with the Giants' entire defensive line. Doesn't that

sound fab?"

She laughed and I wanted to hug her. "To tell you the truth,

I'm not necessarily opposed to having sex with the entire team.

That's not bad, is it?"

"It's sure not, honey, it's sure not. Listen, I've got to try and

sleep a little because tomorrow's going to be brutally long, but can

we talk when the party's finally over?"

"Sure. It's just so good to hear your voice. Good luck getting

through tomorrow night with no major scandals. I love you, B."

"I love you, too, Pen. Things are going to get better from here,

I promise. I miss you, and I'll talk to you soon."

I placed the receiver back on its base and crawled into bed to

finish the movie, happy just knowing that Penelope and I would

somehow be okay.

30

"Check, one-two-three, check. Can everyone hear me? Count

off. One . . ."I called into my earpiece, waiting for everyone else

to call their numbers and let me know that the headphones were

working. When Leo called out number sixteen, I knew we had

everyone, and I took a deep breath. Guests were just beginning to

show up and I was frantically trying to stem the tide of problems

that wouldn't seem to stop. All my cool confidence and perfect

plans from the day before were starting to seep away, and it was

getting harder to quell my panic.

"Skye, can you hear me?" I hissed into the microphone that

crawled stealthily out of my ear and stopped right above my top lip.

"Bette, honey, I'm right here. Calm down, everything's just

fine."

"I'll calm down when you tell me that the step-and-repeat is finally

finished. It looked like shit ten minutes ago."

"I'm standing outside, and it's all good. Thirty feet of
Playboy

Bunny logos on cardboard, just waiting for celebs to step in front

of it for pictures. They put the finishing touches on it just a minute

ago, and it should be dry in another few minutes. No worries."

"Elisa? Do we have the final schedule for press set up and with

security? Sammy from Bungalow 8 is in charge of the VIP entrance,

so he needs to know which photographers are allowed where." I

was barking orders like a lunatic and hating the sound of my own

voice more with eveiy passing minute. I hadn't hesitated when I'd

said Sammy's name, though, and that was progress. He'd kissed

me on the cheek when I'd arrived a few hours earlier and whispered

"Good luck," and it was all I could do not to faint. The only

thing getting me through the night was the knowledge that we

would be in the same room for the next six hours.

"Check.
ET
and
Access Hollywood
have prime placement. E!

was still wavering on whether they were coming—they're pissy

they didn't get the exclusive—but if they send someone, we're

ready. All of those plus CNN, MTV, and a guy who's doing a party

documentary for Fox and has clearance from some big-name studio

head are being allowed inside; regular tabloid paparazzi will

remain outside. Everyone's been briefed on who's who and who's

VIP enough to use this entrance. There's just one question. Who's

Sammy?"

I couldn't very well point out over the mic that Sammy was

hooked up to our system and listening to every word we were saying—

nor that the mere sight of him set my nerves on fire. "Elisa,

very cute. Just give him the list, okay?" I prayed she would drop it

at that, but in her hunger-induced perma-haze, she persevered.

"No, seriously, Bette. Who's Sammy?" she whined. "Oh, wait,

he's head of the production crew, right? Why does he need a finalized

VIP list?"

"Elisa, Sammy is in charge of security tonight. We weren't

thrilled with the idea of using Sanctuary's gestapo door people, so

Sammy was kind enough to help us out. He should be out front,

going over the last-minute details. Just get him a list." I thought that

would be the end of it, but of course Elisa wasn't finished.

"Oh, wait! Sammy. Isn't he that guy Isabelle was keeping on

commission? Totally! I remember now. He was in Istanbul with us,

wasn't he? She had him racing around like a slave all weekend.

You thought they were—"

"What? Elisa? I can't hear you. I'm talking to Danny right now,

so I'm muting my headphones. Back in a few." I tore the headphones

off and collapsed on one of the banquettes, trying not to

imagine what Sammy had just thought of that little exchange.

"What up?" the ever-articulate Danny asked from his post at the

bar. He was ogling the Bunnies as they scampered from place to