Anybody Out There?
Page 87
“How do you two guys know each other?” Lauryn asked, her eyes bulging suspiciously from me to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie’s eyes flashed a desperate signal. Don’t tell them, please don’t tell them.
Don’t worry, I flashed back. I’m saying nothing.
We were saved from a mortifying “How do we know each other Anna?” “I don’t know, Mackenzie, how do we know each other?” shtick by the arrival of Queen Candace and King George.
Candace—dressed in downbeat black—thought the Edison women and Mackenzie were the crowd waiting to be made over by her.
“Well, hey.” She almost smiled. “Better get started.” She picked the obvious alpha female and extended her hand. “Candace Biggly.”
“Martha Edison.”
“Well, Martha, would you care to take a seat for your makeover?” Candace indicated the silver-and-pink vinyl stool. “You other ladies will just have to wait.”
“Makeover?” Mrs. Edison sounded aghast. “But I only use soap and water on my skin.”
Confused, Candace looked at an Edison sister, then at another one, then at the sister-in-law, and seemed to notice that they were all clones of Martha.
“Soap and water,” they parroted, shrinking away. “Yes, soap and water. Bye, Brooke, see you at the Save the Moose picnic.”
“Mackenzie,” I said brightly. “How about you?”
“Hey, why not?” Obligingly she got up on the stool and introduced herself to Candace as “Mackenzie McIntyre Hamilton.”
George said to Candace, “Okay, babes, seeing as you’re all set, I’ll just take a stroll.”
Teenie and I made steady eye contact, silently saying, “He’s off to suck Donna Karan’s butt.” Brooke intercepted the look and got a massive fit of the giggles. “You guys!”
“Shaddup,” Lauryn hissed. “And start rounding up a crowd.”
But it proved impossible: a high proportion of passersby were planning to attend the Save the Moose picnic and didn’t want to look overly made up for it. They were happy to accept a Candy Grrrl beach bag and free samples but not to “take the chair.”
Candace strung out Mackenzie’s makeover for as long as possible, but finally Mackenzie descended from the stool and I cornered her.
“Will I see you soon?” I asked, without actually moving my lips.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said very, very quietly. “I’m trying something different.”
“The rich husband route?”
“Yeah. But I miss you guys. How’s Nicholas?”
“Um, good.”
“What did his T-shirt say last week?”
“‘Jimmy Carter for President.’”
She laughed out loud. “Vintage. God, he’s just adorable. A little cutie. Is it just me or is he kinda…hot?”
“I’m not really the person to ask.”
“Sure. Sorry.” She sighed, quite sadly. “Well, tell Nicholas I said hey. Tell everyone I said hey.”
She left and I resumed my badgering of the crowd. Still no takers, which was bad enough, but then someone said, “I totally broke out when I tried Candy Grrrl’s day cream,” and—horror of horrors—Candace heard.
She dashed down her pony-skin blusher brush and said, “I’ve got better fucking things to do with my time than try the hard sell on these assholes. I’ve got an annual turnover of thirty-four million dollars.”
I feared client meltdown. Anxiously, I looked around for George, but he was off sucking up to any half-famous fool he could find. Lauryn, naturally, had also disappeared.
“I want ice cream,” Candace said petulantly.
“Er…okay. I’ll go and get you some. Teenie and Brooke will stay with you.”
“I’m sorry but I have to leave now,” Brooke said. “I’ve pledged to sell raffle tickets at the moose benefit.”
“Okay. Well, thanks, Brooke, you’ve been a total star today. See you Monday.”
“Wednesday,” she reminded me. “I’m not back until then.”
“Right, Wednesday.” I dived into the throng, desperately seeking ice cream.
Fifteen frustrating minutes later I returned, triumphantly bearing an Eskimo Pie, a Dove Bar, and three other assorted ice creams. Covering all bases.
Grumpily Candace accepted the Eskimo Pie and sat slumped on the high stool, her chin on her chest, tucking in. She looked like an orangutan who’d been left out in the rain.
This was the moment, of course, that Ariella, visiting friends in East Hampton for the weekend, did a drop-by. It didn’t look good. Mercifully, Ariella couldn’t linger. She was on her way to the Save the Caribou cookout.
“Is that different from the Save the Moose picnic?” Teenie asked.
“Totally,” she snapped.
Then they were all gone and it was just me and Teenie.
“So what’s up with the moose anyway?” Teenie asked. “I didn’t even know it was endangered. Or the caribou.”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe they’ve just run out of stuff to save.”
67
Anna, it’s me, your mother, it’s urgent—”
I grabbed the phone. Something was wrong with someone. Dad? JJ?
“What?” I asked. “What’s urgent?”
“What’s the story with Jacqui and Joey?”
I had to wait for my racing heart to slow down. “That’s why you’re ringing? Because of Jacqui and Joey?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“You know. He fancies her. And she fancies him.”
“No! She’s slept with him. Over the weekend, while you were in those Hamptons.”
She hadn’t told me. In a little voice I said, “I didn’t know.”
Fake cheerily, Mum said hastily, “Sure it’s only Monday morning, she’ll tell you soon. And, God knows, who hasn’t slept with Joey?”
“I haven’t.”
“And neither”—she sighed heavily—“have I. But just about everyone else has. Was it a one-night stand?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“No, it’s a joke. A whole night? Does Joey do that kind of commitment?” Mum said.
Mackenzie’s eyes flashed a desperate signal. Don’t tell them, please don’t tell them.
Don’t worry, I flashed back. I’m saying nothing.
We were saved from a mortifying “How do we know each other Anna?” “I don’t know, Mackenzie, how do we know each other?” shtick by the arrival of Queen Candace and King George.
Candace—dressed in downbeat black—thought the Edison women and Mackenzie were the crowd waiting to be made over by her.
“Well, hey.” She almost smiled. “Better get started.” She picked the obvious alpha female and extended her hand. “Candace Biggly.”
“Martha Edison.”
“Well, Martha, would you care to take a seat for your makeover?” Candace indicated the silver-and-pink vinyl stool. “You other ladies will just have to wait.”
“Makeover?” Mrs. Edison sounded aghast. “But I only use soap and water on my skin.”
Confused, Candace looked at an Edison sister, then at another one, then at the sister-in-law, and seemed to notice that they were all clones of Martha.
“Soap and water,” they parroted, shrinking away. “Yes, soap and water. Bye, Brooke, see you at the Save the Moose picnic.”
“Mackenzie,” I said brightly. “How about you?”
“Hey, why not?” Obligingly she got up on the stool and introduced herself to Candace as “Mackenzie McIntyre Hamilton.”
George said to Candace, “Okay, babes, seeing as you’re all set, I’ll just take a stroll.”
Teenie and I made steady eye contact, silently saying, “He’s off to suck Donna Karan’s butt.” Brooke intercepted the look and got a massive fit of the giggles. “You guys!”
“Shaddup,” Lauryn hissed. “And start rounding up a crowd.”
But it proved impossible: a high proportion of passersby were planning to attend the Save the Moose picnic and didn’t want to look overly made up for it. They were happy to accept a Candy Grrrl beach bag and free samples but not to “take the chair.”
Candace strung out Mackenzie’s makeover for as long as possible, but finally Mackenzie descended from the stool and I cornered her.
“Will I see you soon?” I asked, without actually moving my lips.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said very, very quietly. “I’m trying something different.”
“The rich husband route?”
“Yeah. But I miss you guys. How’s Nicholas?”
“Um, good.”
“What did his T-shirt say last week?”
“‘Jimmy Carter for President.’”
She laughed out loud. “Vintage. God, he’s just adorable. A little cutie. Is it just me or is he kinda…hot?”
“I’m not really the person to ask.”
“Sure. Sorry.” She sighed, quite sadly. “Well, tell Nicholas I said hey. Tell everyone I said hey.”
She left and I resumed my badgering of the crowd. Still no takers, which was bad enough, but then someone said, “I totally broke out when I tried Candy Grrrl’s day cream,” and—horror of horrors—Candace heard.
She dashed down her pony-skin blusher brush and said, “I’ve got better fucking things to do with my time than try the hard sell on these assholes. I’ve got an annual turnover of thirty-four million dollars.”
I feared client meltdown. Anxiously, I looked around for George, but he was off sucking up to any half-famous fool he could find. Lauryn, naturally, had also disappeared.
“I want ice cream,” Candace said petulantly.
“Er…okay. I’ll go and get you some. Teenie and Brooke will stay with you.”
“I’m sorry but I have to leave now,” Brooke said. “I’ve pledged to sell raffle tickets at the moose benefit.”
“Okay. Well, thanks, Brooke, you’ve been a total star today. See you Monday.”
“Wednesday,” she reminded me. “I’m not back until then.”
“Right, Wednesday.” I dived into the throng, desperately seeking ice cream.
Fifteen frustrating minutes later I returned, triumphantly bearing an Eskimo Pie, a Dove Bar, and three other assorted ice creams. Covering all bases.
Grumpily Candace accepted the Eskimo Pie and sat slumped on the high stool, her chin on her chest, tucking in. She looked like an orangutan who’d been left out in the rain.
This was the moment, of course, that Ariella, visiting friends in East Hampton for the weekend, did a drop-by. It didn’t look good. Mercifully, Ariella couldn’t linger. She was on her way to the Save the Caribou cookout.
“Is that different from the Save the Moose picnic?” Teenie asked.
“Totally,” she snapped.
Then they were all gone and it was just me and Teenie.
“So what’s up with the moose anyway?” Teenie asked. “I didn’t even know it was endangered. Or the caribou.”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe they’ve just run out of stuff to save.”
67
Anna, it’s me, your mother, it’s urgent—”
I grabbed the phone. Something was wrong with someone. Dad? JJ?
“What?” I asked. “What’s urgent?”
“What’s the story with Jacqui and Joey?”
I had to wait for my racing heart to slow down. “That’s why you’re ringing? Because of Jacqui and Joey?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“You know. He fancies her. And she fancies him.”
“No! She’s slept with him. Over the weekend, while you were in those Hamptons.”
She hadn’t told me. In a little voice I said, “I didn’t know.”
Fake cheerily, Mum said hastily, “Sure it’s only Monday morning, she’ll tell you soon. And, God knows, who hasn’t slept with Joey?”
“I haven’t.”
“And neither”—she sighed heavily—“have I. But just about everyone else has. Was it a one-night stand?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“No, it’s a joke. A whole night? Does Joey do that kind of commitment?” Mum said.
