WORTHY, Part 2 (6 page)

“This way,” Jane continued blithely, “if something goes south with one of my guys, I just focus on another. If somebody starts to annoy me, I don’t have to try and work things out. I just dump him and add another.”

“I could see how that might work for you,” I said carefully. I really didn’t, but I wasn’t about to try and convince Jane that my point of view was correct. Taking my hair down from the clip I’d twisted it into to keep it out of my face while I was putting on my makeup, I shook my curls out.

“You lucky thing,” Jane remarked, watching me arrange my hair to fall over my shoulders. She had ensnared another section of her own dark hair with the curling iron. “All you have to do is toss your head and your hair is ready to go.”

“It’s about the only thing lucky about me,” I said ruefully. I would’ve given up every golden strand to have Jonathan at my side instead of his sister. I missed him acutely. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t go out after all. I don’t feel right.”

“Stop,” Jane scolded, unwinding a fresh ringlet from the iron. “Where’s this coming from? Just keep sipping on that cocktail, Michelle. We’re almost ready to leave.”

“I just wish Jonathan were here,” I said glumly, tasting the gin and tonic. It wasn’t so bad. It sort of tasted like Sprite.

“Boring,” Jane said with a wicked smile. “If Jonathan were here, he’d probably be working, and you’d probably be pining away for him. You need to take care of yourself, you know. Have a little fun. You don’t think it’s all business over there for him, do you?”

“He has to go to all of these different places to keep his job,” I said. “He’s traveling constantly. I know it’s hard for him.”

Jane scoffed and wrapped some more hair around the curling iron. “Oh, poor baby Jonathan. Has to go to Paris, London, Madrid, Monaco, boohoo! I feel so sorry for him. Amsterdam? Please, no! Shanghai? God forbid!”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying all of the cities he’s visiting are amazing,” she said. “You can bet your ass he’s wining and dining those assholes at the finest bars and restaurants money can buy. Short of sucking cock, he’s doing everything he can to keep that job, and that includes seeing the sights of all those gorgeous cities. I mean, Christ, you should’ve just gone to Paris. It would’ve been a perfect honeymoon.”

“I couldn’t go,” I said softly. “Collier and Jonathan both agreed that it would look better if it were just him.”

“Of course he couldn’t drag his new wife along,” Jane said. She was almost done with her hair. “I bet he took the Amsterdam chairman to the red light district.”

“The what?”

“Oh, you know,” Jane said, her eyes meeting mine for the briefest of moments. “Sex and drugs. Prostitution and pot. Living it up. I’m probably going to go back soon. It’s fucking Babylon, Michelle, and if you’re not debauching, you’re not doing it right.”

I was quiet, absorbing that. Was that why Jonathan hadn’t been calling me as often as I wished he was? Was he too busy “entertaining” other people, or was he too busy being “entertained?” It was a terrible thought, but one that made sense. Of course he wouldn’t want to call me if he was really doing all of that disgusting stuff to impress the chairmen. He would never want me to know.

“Aw, don’t,” Jane said, setting her curling iron down and giving me a brief hug and a slap on the ass. “You look so sad. If you cry, you’re going to smear that makeup and we’re going to have to do it all over again.”

I blinked and looked at myself in the mirror. I could apply my own makeup by now, and the only other person who’d performed such miracles on me was Rowan. But the way Jane had done my makeup was completely different from what I’d ever seen.

My eyes were so dark that I looked almost angry, but it was somehow powerful and sexy at the same time. I looked like a movie star, and I was still just in a robe.

“I think it’s time to put our dresses on, take a tequila shot, and go to the fucking club,” Jane said. “What do you think?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I wanted nothing more than to forget the idea that Jonathan was having an incredible amount of fun without me. I deserved to have fun by myself. Jane was right about that — it was silly to sit around, wasting away while waiting for my husband to return. If he was having fun, I could have fun, too.

“I can’t hear you,” Jane said, smiling and looking away. “What was that? You want to mope around the house for the rest of the night?”

“No!”

“Then you’re ready to put your hot fucking dress on?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” Jane corrected. “Let’s do it, then.”

Lucy had to have heard us. She’d poured two tequila shots and had them ready at the bar, wedges of lime in a shot glass between them. There was even an ornate crystal saltshaker.

Jane and I were practically the same size, but I had to hold my breath for her to zip me into the dress she’d picked out. Its gold sequins shimmered in the light from one of the many chandeliers dotting the room, and it was shockingly short. I’d have to keep tugging it down all night to make sure my assets were completely covered.

If possible, though, hers was even shorter, but Jane didn’t seem to mind when the very bottom of her — well, bottom — made an appearance.

“Let’s take this shot and start the party,” Jane said, hoisting one of the glasses from the bar. Lucy watched us placidly, her face not giving away whatever she might be thinking of us in her head. I found that I cared not at all.

“This is my very first tequila shot,” I said, my words slurring a little.

“You can’t be serious,” Jane said, her mouth hanging open. “My very first tequila shot was when I was fifteen years old.”

“That’s young,” I said. “I was still in high school.”

“I was, too,” Jane laughed. “Well, here’s how you do it. Lick your hand, sprinkle the salt on the lick, lick the salt, take the shot, suck the lime. Got it?”

“Lick and salt and take and suck,” I said, slobbering on my finger. “Got it.”

Jane laughed and pulled out her phone. “I gotta get a photo of this,” she said. “Everyone’s first tequila shot should be carefully documented and preserved for posterity.”

I sprinkled salt on the wet part of my finger and took up the shot. I balanced the lime in my free hand and stared at Jane as she snapped photos with her phone.

“What are we cheers-ing for?” I asked.

“Pardon?” Jane smiled as she tapped away at her phone.

“What’s the cheers?” I asked, studying the seemingly innocuous amber liquid in the tiny glass. This was nothing. I was fully confident that I’d be able to handle it, no problem. “We should toast to something.”

“You’re right,” Jane said. “Cheers to taking care of ourselves and having fun and not giving a fuck!”

“Cheers!” I answered, and licked my finger. The salt made me pucker, so I threw back the shot. God! It was awful, like nothing I could’ve ever been prepared for. It scorched a path down my throat all the way to my stomach, where it started raising hell with all the other alcohols I’d consumed. I gagged terribly, the taste pervading my mouth and nostrils.

“Suck that lime!” Jane yelled at me. “If you puke that up, I’m going to make you take another one!”

I did as she told me, putting all of the fruit’s flesh in my mouth and sucking for all I was worth. I buried my teeth to the hilt in the sour pulp, and to my surprise, it worked. The sharp citrus banished the disgusting taste of the tequila and soothed my upset stomach. I smiled at Jane, the green rind masking my teeth, and she cackled as she snapped more pictures.

“I’ll make a tequila drinker out of you yet,” she said. “Now, let’s go. The car’s been waiting for us for hours.”

“For hours?” I repeated. “Damn. We should’ve hurried.”

We replaced our glasses on the bar, and Lucy took them to wash.

“Thanks for everything, Lucy,” I said, my words a little slow. I had to really focus on forming them in my mouth. “The drinks were really delicious.”

“Just doing my job, Miss Michelle,” she said briskly, looking down.

“But I really appreciate it,” I insisted, putting my hand over hers. “Really. I appreciate you so much. You’re my friend. It’s been really good to see you around again. I missed you while you were gone, and I’m sorry that happened.”

“Please, it’s fine,” Lucy said, withdrawing her hand quickly. “You need to be going.”

“Michelle,” Jane groaned. “You’re so embarrassing. Stop fraternizing!”

“Stop what?” I asked, confused. “I’m just thanking Lucy for everything.”

“Her paycheck thanks her for everything,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Now, come on.”

Feeling a little stupid and confused, I grabbed my wristlet, made sure my phone and credit cards were inside, and followed Jane. Even though there weren’t many steps to manage from her floor, we still took the elevator in consideration of the mile high shoes we both tottered in.

“I don’t understand what’s so bad about talking to Lucy,” I complained as Jane typed away at her phone. “She’s my friend. She helps me out.”

“No one who’s paid to be help you is your friend,” Jane said. “Lucy’s the help and that’s that. You don’t fraternize with them. That’s the first lesson my mother taught me.”

“What, by telling you not to?” I asked skeptically. Jane pretty much did whatever she wanted to do, I was discovering.

“No,” Jane said, not looking up. “By firing my nanny — the woman who raised me.”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “That must’ve been terrible.”

Jane shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

When we made it out to the car — we had to hold onto each other for support, weaving a little alarmingly — I was surprised to see Brock already inside.

“Well, I was going to yell at you two for holding up the party, but I can see now that the end result was completely worth the wait,” he said, kissing both of our hands. “Ladies, it is a genuine pleasure. You look amazing, both of you.”

His eyes lingered overlong on my legs, and I remembered to yank the hem of the dress down. Jane did no such thing, sliding into the car almost obscenely.

“Tell me you haven’t been waiting for us for hours,” I said worriedly. “I’d feel terrible.”

“I’m sure you would,” Brock said sarcastically. “All women love to keep men waiting, Mrs. Wharton. Especially you Whartons.”

“Ugh, don’t call her Mrs. Wharton,” Jane groaned as the car took off. “You’ll remind me of my mother.”

“Amelia going clubbing,” he chuckled. “Can you imagine it?”

“No,” I said, my eyes widening. “No, I really can’t.”

“Oh, my mother parties,” Jane said. “She just doesn’t call it that. It’s all social function this and that and benefit this and that. Those old birds down wine and mimosas like it’s nothing but water. Where do you think I got my talents from?”

Brock procured a trio of crystal glasses from the car’s minibar and poured us a bit of an almost red liquid.

“What’s this?” I asked, trying to hold it up to the passing lights to discern what kind of drink it was.

“We don’t ask questions when good things happen,” Jane scolded. “Now drink your brandy like a good little girl.”

She and Brock launched into an in-depth conversation about people I didn’t know, so I contented myself with watching the cars and buildings pass. The woods were beautiful, but the city had its own strange, modern beauty as well. Maybe I wasn’t giving it a good enough chance. Maybe I needed to open my heart to this place in order to find my happiness without Jonathan.