How to Meet Cute Boys (31 page)

Mmmm
… Perhaps disaster had been averted without my help. Or they were all fighting in the bushes. Either way, I decided I could
spare a minute. Just a superquick minute before I went to check on my sister.
Yes
. Max hadn’t seen me yet, the party was crowded, but he was about to. He looked … really good. His hair was getting long—kind
of John Lennon after the Beatles split up. I brushed my hair from my eyes and stood still while trying not to look like I
was just cooling my heels waiting for him.

And he got closer.

And closer.

He was going to see me any minute now.

His eyes flicked in my direction.

I thought,
This is it,
and tried to think of my opening line—maybe something charming/casual/funny—and then

he walked

right

by.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

“Sorry?” I was stunned into complete paralysis. Max was heading out the double doors onto the street.

“DUDE CHANDRA MCINERNEY JUST WENT APESHIT IN THERE THIS IS AMAZING EVERYONE WILL PICK UP THESE PICTURES DO YOU THINK THAT
MAYBE I’LL GET INTERVIEWED FOR
PEOPLE
OR
INSTYLE
OH MY GOD I’LL BE THE NEXT LIZZIE GRUBMAN BUT THIS TIME THE MOVIE STAR IS THE ONE WHO GOES POSTAL AND I’M THE HEROIC PUBLICIST
WHO SAVES THE DAY!”

It was Steph, beside herself with glee. Chandra’s public detonation at her party was a true coup. But I was too busy gawking
over her shoulder to revel. I watched Max give his ticket to the valet and then, when his car came, get in. He paused for
a moment and I had the irrational thought that maybe he was having second thoughts and was about to run back inside to find
me. But then he started the engine and peeled out. From what I could tell, he didn’t look back. Not once. But I knew he’d
seen me.
I saw him see me
.

“Steph, I’m sorry but I have to find a bathroom.”

I walked/ran to the nearest facilities and locked myself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat and hugging my knees.
It was as though I’d been physically hit. I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to hold back any weird sobby noises I was about
to make. There were two girls at the sinks talking loudly and fixing their makeup and I wanted to have my meltdown in peace.

“Did you see—I mean it was so …” one said.

“Amazing. Totally fucking amazing …” the other said.

“She took out the waitress and two busboys.”

“She’s
so
street …”

“Legit …”

“Love her movies …”

“Me too!”

Finally I heard them singing Chandra’s praises as they walked down the marble hall back toward the lobby, hoping they’d get
another glimpse of her. I was sure Krantz had whisked her off by now and at that moment was probably in the back of some limo
actually telling Chandra the waitress deserved it.

I held my breath. I wanted to make sure there was nobody else in the bathroom. When ten more seconds passed without a sound,
I sniffled. Then I blew my nose. And I sniffled again.

But then I thought I heard a sniffle.

I sniffled.

Sniffle.

Was that my sniffle echoing,
I thought,
or someone else’s sniffle?

I sniffled.

Sniffle.

“Who’s there?” I said.

No answer.

So I waited, completely silent, dying to sniffle but not letting myself, and then,
Sniffle
.

“Who is that?”

A little voice: “Nobody.”

Unbelievable.

“Audrey, is that you?”

“No.”

Great
. I looked at the ceiling and sighed.
She had to be here for this, right?

“Audrey, it’s Ben.”

Sniffle, sniffle
. From the sound of it, she was about three or four stalls down.

“Oh,” she said. “Great.”

“Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The booming echo of a blowing nose resonated through the empty room.

“He found you, didn’t he?” I said.

There was silence. I read bathroom graffiti to pass the time. Right in front of my face someone had written the words,
YOU ARE AWFUL
. The room was amplifying everything, and I could hear Audrey breathing so I knew she was still there. The air was sharp with
disinfectant and air-conditioning. My head hurt. After a minute, her voice bounced gently off the tiles.

“He’s probably already driving back to San Francisco,” she said.

“Oh, Audrey. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I just … I was having fun. For once.”

“Come on. You have fun all the time.”

“Yeah right.” She blew her nose again. “Not like you. With your fabulous job. Your fabulous friends …” She laughed a little.
“They obviously hate what I’m wearing. Even
I
hate what I’m wearing … Oh fuck it. Maybe marriage is just something to do.”

“Are you joking?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “My friends are psychos.”

“They are not.”

“
Yes they are
. Nina’s slept with half the staff at Whole Foods. Chandra is violent, she’s a complete hypochondriac, and she thinks her
assistant has put a contract on her head. That Collin guy is a professional ass kisser. And on top of it all I just saw Max
outside and he totally snubbed me. Didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Trust me, you don’t want my life.”

“Maybe,” she said. I exhaled. But then she said, “Maybe I do.”

Suddenly, inexplicably, I found myself rushing to defend her traditional choices, her commando fiancé … “Audrey, you’re crazy!”
I said. “Jamie
loves
you. He gave you a
ring
. He can
make a commitment. Do you have any idea how HARD IT IS TO FIND A HALF-DECENT GUY WHO WILL MAKE A COMMITMENT?
”

I begged her to tell him I’d gotten her drunk. To say that I’d left her alone to get harassed by some hideously drunken commercial
actor. “Blame it on me,” I said. “Everyone will believe it if you blame it on me.”

“Ben, calm down,” she interrupted. “It’s not like it’s happening to you.” Then she said, “Do you think you and I have nothing
in common anymore?”

I thought about this for a second, fiddling with the toilet paper roll. “Well, we’re both in the bathroom crying at the same
time over our completely destroyed relationships,” I said.

“Good point.”

“And we probably both need a drink right about now.”

“True. But can we go somewhere that has white wine? I like white wine.”

“Sure.”

“And Ben?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your lip gloss?”

“The one I’m wearing?”

“I like it.”

I said of course.

When Audrey was little, she used to break into my room and go through all my makeup, try on all my clothes, scratch my favorite
records. I hated it. Begged my mom to have locks installed on my door. She refused, so I hung a sign outside my room that
said,
NO ENTRY PERMITTED WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE MANAGEMENT
! While I rummaged through my purse looking for the lip gloss, it dawned on me that maybe it wasn’t the sign that made Audrey
stop breaking in, but the fact that I’d hung it up at all.

I took a tissue and smeared it under each eye, checking to see if it came away black with mascara, and stood up, straightening
my skirt. Aud came out of the stall doing the same. I handed her the tube of lip stuff. It was almost empty, but probably
enough for one more coat.

“Know what, Audrey?” I said, putting my arm around her. “This’ll probably look really good on you.”

“Are you completely insane?”

It turned out Audrey didn’t have to blame me. That had happened all on its own, and the Mother had been yelling since she’d
called at 9
A.M
., way before my scheduled wake-up time.

“But it’s not my fault!” I said when she came up for air. “
She
wanted to talk to the Mambo guy. She wanted to drink drinks with the Mambo guy. And then
she
decided to
kiss
the Mambo guy. I tried to talk her out of it. I was like, ‘Now, Audrey, you can’t just go around …’ ”

She cut me off. “I guess your sister will just have to figure it out the hard way. She’ll have to learn, just like I did,
that you can party through your twenties, but you can never get back the years you wasted on men, and booze, and cheap sex.”

“Yeah, well, those don’t really sound like wasted years to me, Mom.
And you used to agree with me on that
.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“I can’t remember.”

She hung up.

Even my dad, Mr. Free to Be You and Me, was less than thrilled. He sent an e-mail from Costa Rica that was four words long:
“Nice work. Aloha, Dad.”

Audrey had been causing one to-do after another since the party. First she flew back to San Francisco and told Jamie she needed
time to think. Then she packed her bags and took off to stay with a college friend who lived in New York and apparently had
some great job doing product research for Urban Outfitters. Her wedding, which Audrey hadn’t exactly said was on and hadn’t
exactly said was off, was exactly six weeks away. Not much time to reunite the happy couple. Not to mention the fact that
if they didn’t get back together within the next two weeks, the Mother was going to lose her deposit on the church. She was
threatening to sue me for the expenses, plus emotional distress. I told myself she was just kidding.

The phone had been ringing off the hook all morning—so much so I didn’t even have a chance to change out of my pajamas. The
next call came from Audrey, and I braced myself for another tirade—she was probably regretting what she’d done by now and
looking for a scapegoat. Except, surprisingly, she sounded like she was having a fantastic time.

“Can you believe I’m in Manhattan!” she gushed. “I’ve never gone anywhere alone before. Sharon lives in this great loft in
Chelson—”

“Chel
sea
.”

“Whatever! And she says she’s going to introduce me to lots of cute guys who I can flirt with as much as I want!”

I made a last-ditch attempt. “And what will Jamie be doing while you’re slutting it up in Chelson?”

“I’m not slutting it up. I’m doing what you would do and I like it.” I heard a clink.

“Are you drinking?” I asked. It was only twelve-thirty in the afternoon in New York.

“Kiwi martinis, why?” she said. “Look, I want to hang out a little bit, do my own thing, not think about consequences. You
should understand.”

I lit a cigarette. Thanks to years of hanging out, the only constant in my life was my nicotine habit. And now I’d created
this monster.

“So what happened with Max?” Audrey asked. It was probably the first question she’d asked me in years that didn’t seem vaguely
hostile.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. I almost started to gloss it over, but then I decided to just let the facts speak for
themselves. “I’m positive he saw me at that party, but he hasn’t called to explain why he acted like that.”

“You’re disappointed.”

“Yes, I guess I am.”

“You thought he’d change his mind.”

“I thought he’d realize that deep down I wanted the same things he did.” I sighed. “I mean, I was happy. I didn’t need a
super
serious relationship, I just needed to know where I stood.”

Audrey paused. Then she said, “You know, I never said anything before, because I didn’t know how you would take it, but sometimes
to get what you really want, you first have to admit to yourself what it is.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I think you should have just skipped all the maneuvering and said out loud that you wanted a commitment from
Max. That you wanted to be his girlfriend, that you wanted his love and devotion—the whole enchilada—and if he said he didn’t
want those things, too, at least you would have been able to just go on with your life.”

“Well.” I was taken aback by this sudden insight—especially from Audrey, of all people. I didn’t know what to say. So I finally
laughed and said, “Thank you very much, Mrs. Future Republicans of America.”

She laughed too and said she had to go—she was meeting “friends” for drinks later at Bungalow 8 and wanted to go shopping
in SoHo for something fabulous to wear.

On top of it all there was Finn, who’d been calling several times a day for the last week and leaving horrible messages that
went something like, “
Be-e-en!
Come to Scotland with me! I leave in four days—still time to pack! The entire country awaits you!
Say you will Be-e-en
…”

In fact, that was probably him calling again. I still didn’t know if I wanted to go—I changed my mind about every five minutes.
If I did go, I had to get in some pitch ideas to Kiki first. Lately trying to think of a story was harder than a home bikini
wax. Sure, I could have pitched “What to Do When You’ve Inadvertently Ruined Your Sister’s Life.” Or maybe “Go or Stay: You’ve
Been Invited for a Thrilling Weekend Away with a Needy Maniac, Now What?” But those didn’t seem quite right.

“Jesus Christ,” I said to the ringing phone. “I’m coming.”

I hopscotched over my latest shopping purchases—which were strewn around the room, still in their bags—and trod on Freak,
who was sleeping on the floor in a patch of sun. He bit my ankle. Hard.

“Finn,” I said, picking up, “if you keep calling me I’m never going to get any work done and then there’s no way I’ll be able
to come with you.”

“Who’s Finn?”

“Hello?”

My breath. It was gone.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said. Then, “How are you?”

I couldn’t talk.

“B, are you there?”

“I’m here.” I tried to put some casualness in my voice. Max and I hadn’t spoken in so long, I felt like I should at least
sound okay. Even if I had no idea if I actually
was
okay.

“Well, how’ve you been?”

“I’m doing good,” I said. “Doing really good, actually. Everything is just … good. How are you?”