Glamour (9 page)

“If you say so. Thank you.” Helen kissed her on the cheek, thrilled. It was an exquisite gown, modest as well as stylish—even her parents would have no objection.

“Thanks, hon.” Jane gave Sally a bear hug. Anything more, and her voice would have started to crack.

She could hardly believe how Sally had transformed her. Lose the glasses, get some makeup, color and cut her hair—she barely recognized herself. And the nasty bitches that tried to make her life a misery weren’t going to, either.

Jane was big on brains. Not so much on self-confidence. After this party, that was all going to change.

“Jane.”

“Jaaannnneee!”

Sally swooped down on her as she walked along, staring into the middle distance. Helen snapped her fingers in Jane’s face.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

“I’m sorry.” Jane snapped back to the world around her.“I was miles away.”

She didn’t mention her worries. Neither one would understand. But Maureen Smith’s father was a lawyer—a very high-priced
criminal
lawyer. He had gotten countless embezzling billionaires and rich, murdering husbands a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. Okay, not exactly free—Mr. Smith’s fees cost more than the president made in a year.

“Yeah, well, forget all that. What are you doing tonight?” Helen snaked a buff arm through hers.

“I have archaeology club . . .”

“No.You don’t,” Sally announced. “You’re coming with us.”

“I’ve got obligations. . . .”

“And
I’ve
got you an appointment at Fernando’s.” The most exclusive salon in Bel Air. “Just for starters. You can consider yourself kidnapped.You’re coming with us.”

Jane tried a small smile. “Party stuff?”

Despite being a brainbox, she was still sixteen years old. And the idea of being guest of honor at the hot party Maureen couldn’t get into was delicious.

“Bet your ass,” Sally agreed.

“Okay. I’ll come.”

Helen squeezed her arm reassuringly.“Don’t worry, Jane.When we’re done with you, you’re truly going to be beautiful. . . .”

In the whirlwind of activity with her friends, she practically forgot the acid tongue of Maureen Smith.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Mona said. She sighed with satisfaction, walked across the kitchen, and gave Paulie a hug. “You wouldn’t
believe
the response I am getting for this party. Shelby Cusack’s agent just called to ask me if we could squeeze her in!”

“That’s great,” Paulie said absently. Normally, he’d have been thrilled to bits that hot new starlets were paying court to his wife. But right now, his attention was fixated on the screen in front of him.

“We’ve got Feliz, too.You know, the Amazing Feliz? He’s the big lion tamer from Vegas! It’s, like, the most incredible act. And Maureen Ugoretz wanted him for
her
wedding anniversary but she couldn’t afford him. . . .”

“How much is the party costing?” Paulie asked suddenly.The figures . . . they didn’t add up. He suddenly had a dry mouth. His business brain was stuck, like a slow computer dragging—he just couldn’t process this.

“Why?” Mona asked innocently. “We haven’t had one this year. . . .”

“No. I know.” It hit him that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Well, Feliz was a hundred fifty . . .”

“Thousand?”

Mona laughed. “I love it when you make a funny, baby, you crack me up.”

“I like to see you smile,” Paulie responded mechanically.What had he thought the party would cost? With fireworks fit for a county park, fairground rides, a private zoo, party designers on an 8 percent budget, and the best of everything, it would be plenty.

No way would he get out of this for less than a mil. Judging by past triumphs—one point five.

He didn’t blame his wife. It was just her talent. She was a world-class expert on spending cash.

And up until two weeks ago, Paulie Lassiter had loved it.

“You okay, Paulie? You’re looking kinda pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“If your tummy’s bothering you again I can get you some Pepto-Bismol.”

“Nah . . . I think I’m gonna go into the office,” he said.

There had to be some mistake.What he needed was an hour with his accountants, and his lawyers. Maybe fire some of these dumb-ass executives, if they were dumb-asses. Starting to look like they might be crooks.

But he, Paulie Lassiter, was in the clear. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

He tried to calm the churning in his stomach by reminding himself of that. And anyway, Saturday was the party. His wife would expect him to be upbeat.This was only the second major party he’d given for Sally—her sweet sixteenth!

It would be a golden moment and worth every damn penny.

The reckoning could come later. A couple days would make no difference, not right now.

Sally’s party. Sally’s day.Whatever he did in life, it was for her.

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Aisha asked nervously.

“Of course.” Ali gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “She’s ripe, you know it.”

“But to force her . . . what if he’s not the right boy? We brought her up here, darling. Sent her to that school . . .”

Ali’s face darkened. He wasn’t sure if that had been the right move. Helen was growing too bold, too rebellious. Of course he wanted a spirited daughter, but not one who would defy him.

“I never met
you,
” he reminded his wife. “Aya Muna set us up, if you recall.”

She smiled. “Yes. And I didn’t want to marry you.”

He scooped her up and nuzzled her ear. “I wanted you, though.”

“Because you came to my father’s house and climbed up the olive tree by the garage.”

“It’s true.” Ali was proud. “Had to scope you out.”

She had been so beautiful, his young bride, her raven hair flowing loose over her beige cotton dress with embroidered sleeves, hanging out the wash on the line her mother had strung up. He had wanted her instantly, felt his destiny calling. “I won you over.”

Aisha blushed, remembering her wedding night.

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

“The old ways are the best ways.We’re not doing this
to
Helen, we’re doing it
for
her.Think of that—her happiness.Why should young ones make their own choices? Who says they have any idea how to do it? All these American marriages ending in divorce . . . how many ex-wives do you know, stuck with babies?”

Too many. Aisha nodded.

“In the end . . . it is the solemn bond, the friendship that wins through.We are doing what’s best for our little Haya.”

Aisha smiled. He had rarely called Helen by her original name since they’d landed in America, six years ago.

“Ahmed lands tomorrow,” she said, reassured by her husband.

“Good.That is the day of her big party.”

“He can take her to it!” Aisha suggested brightly.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” What if Helen had been wrong? What if there was decadence, after all? Ali had no intention of letting Ahmed see his daughter in any light other than that of a modest and suitable bride. He loved the idea of Helen, wife of a Cairo businessman, contentedly walking through her garden lined with trees, prosperous and—
insh’Allah
—pregnant. “But he can be here, waiting, the next morning. As soon as she wakes up. We will organize the meeting in the morning, and in the afternoon, the
nikkah
.What do you think?”

The engagement ceremony. Under Islamic law, they would be as good as married. It didn’t matter then how long till the party and the wedding reception. Helen would be a married woman . . . all the rest, just so much paperwork.

“She might refuse,” Aisha fretted. “You know her, Ali!”

“She won’t understand what she is getting into. Her Arabic is fading.” Ali had thought of a plan, and hurried to explain it to his wife, to show how clever he was. He had seen the reserve in Helen’s eyes, and he didn’t trust her one bit.“We will tell her it’s a
friendship
ceremony. Old Egyptian custom. She knows no better! She’ll sign, Aisha. And once she realizes . . .” He shrugged.“We’ll have her in Cairo, and it will all be different. She will accept it—and be happy.”

“She might sign the nikkah like that,” Aisha conceded. “But sweetheart, how do you get her to Cairo? Signing a paper is one thing, getting on a plane . . .”

“Here’s where the smart plan comes in.” Ali puffed out his chest a little, because this was brilliant. He hadn’t made almost four hundred thousand dollars in trading this year by being stupid. “We’ll have to waste a little money, but it’s worth it for Helen’s happiness.We tell her we are
all
going to Cairo.”

Aisha’s eyes widened. “But why? The honeymoon is just for them.”

“Not honeymoon.” Ali grinned. “She won’t even know she’s married. Family holiday. I buy the tickets. We all pack hand luggage. Drive to the airport together. Check in, even. I ask her to sit with Ahmed, up front, for politeness.You know Helen is very polite.”

“Go on,” his wife said, doubtfully.

“Our seats will be in back. Of course, they will get on the plane first. We will make to follow them, but we will not get on the plane. We will hang back with Firyal and Rashid. Then she will be on a plane to Cairo, with her husband, by herself!” He clapped his hands together and grinned. “Don’t worry, my darling.You’ve seen the photographs; Ahmed is very handsome. Helen will adjust. She will go to Ahmed’s beautiful house, he has servants, he is wealthy. I expect she may come back here pregnant,
insh’Allah
!”

“Jasmine will miss her,” Aisha sighed. She knew this was best, but the thought of sending her firstborn away made her want to cry.

“We’ll all miss her.” Ali hugged his wife. “But if we want her happiness, we will have to make sacrifices. Once she’s pregnant and has accepted him in her heart, they can come here, and we will all be a family again.”

Aisha nodded, but wept a little into his chest.

Ali stroked her hair fondly. His own marriage had been the most solid thing in his life, and he loved his strong-willed child enough to do right by her. Of course, at first she would feel betrayed, but soon she would understand.

CHAPTER 4

The day of the party dawned bright and clear.

All over town, girls were getting ready for it. Half—the lucky half—of Miss Milton’s Academy. Daughters of movie stars, studio heads, and other power brokers. Some models and actresses, and wives of famous athletes.

Everybody who was anybody.

Maureen Smith was
not
on the list. And nor were half her friends.

They sat in the walk-in closet of Julie Manners, watching her try to pick between eight different outfits. Seething with envy. Why couldn’t
they
go to the ball? Where was a fairy godmother when you needed one?

The Brat Pack were gonna be there! And maybe somebody from Guns N’ Roses. For heaven’s sake!

“You think the blue?” Julie held up an electric blue minidress, no longer than a T-shirt with pretensions.“Or the white?” Body-hugging to the extreme, it was practically see-through.

“Either’ll look great.”
Tramp,
Maureen thought. Just because they hung out together, didn’t mean she had to
like
Julie.

“Don’t know why you’re bothering to go,” Swan Cohen said petulantly. “It’s gonna be a real drag. None of
us
will be there.”

“Oh, I only want to see how
lame
it really is, so I can report back,” Julie lied, smiling sweetly at them.

Miss it! The party of the year! Hell, no. Sally Lassiter was a real bitch and so were her two stupid friends. But if you weren’t at this party, you were
dead
in this town.

Everybody in the room knew it.

“I heard that they got that Jane Morgan scrubbed up. You know, that she looks like a human . . . ,” Swan said curiously.

“No way!” Julie was scornful. “Jane could turn milk sour. Crack mirrors. She’s, like, a total nerd. What the hell could they do with her?”

“And Helen Yanna . . .”

“That towel-head just trails around after Sally. She’s nothing to write home about. Don’t think Rob Lowe’s gonna be asking
her
for a dance.” Julie was scornful. “If the point is to show off those two, Sally’s gonna have wasted a whole lot of Daddy’s dollars. . . .”

“Don’t be so snippy, we all know you crawled to get that invite,” Maureen snapped.

“Sweetie,” Julie retorted acidly,“I don’t
crawl
. I think it’s gonna be fun to show the world that
we’re
the stars of
Sally’s
party.When all her hot dudes are asking for
our
phone numbers, Sally’s gonna feel way dumb.You get it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Maureen said sourly. “We” and “our” included Emma Lightfoot and Caroline Morse from their gang, but not her, Swan, Patsy, or Melissa. For the last two weeks they’d been at each other’s throats. “I get it alright.”

She wasn’t going to give Julie that cool new video console she’d been planning to get her for her birthday. Not anymore!