Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger

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СКАЧАТЬ I couldn’t even consider the possibility that I’d been forcefully removed from Penelope’s dinner to tend to clients who didn’t need tending.

      He shrugged. ‘That’s what she said. Come on, love, you can call from the car.’

      I wedged myself between Caleb and Philip and tried not to touch any of the exposed body parts of the girl who was lying across all our laps.

      I dialed Elisa and nearly screamed with frustration when it went to voice mail. Kelly answered on the third ring, sounding vaguely surprised to hear from me.

      ‘Bette? I can barely hear you. Anyway, the meeting’s off for the night. We had a lovely dinner at Soho House and then had drinks by the pool, but I don’t think they’re quite used to New York partying. They went back to the hotel already, so you’re off the hook. But they’re very excited about this week!’ She was screaming above music somewhere and didn’t realize that even though she couldn’t hear herself, I could hear her perfectly.

      ‘Oh, well, okay. Um, that’s fine. As long as you’re sure—’

      ‘Are you with Philip?’ she shouted.

      At the sound of his name coming through the phone, he squeezed my knee and started moving his hand upward.

      ‘I am. He’s right here. Do you want to talk to him?’

      ‘No, no, I want you to talk to him. I hope you guys are at Bungalow. It’s going to be a huge night – everyone will be there for Caleb’s birthday.’

      ‘Huh?’

      ‘Lots of photogs, lots of opportunity …’

      Despite the weirdness of Kelly’s obvious pimping tactics, I liked my job – and Kelly – at that point. I knew I didn’t ever want to go back to mutual funds. I wanted this BlackBerry party to be the best event of the year and I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take a few pictures with Philip before sneaking out and meeting Penelope and Michael at the Black Door. Besides, we were already heading there anyway, right? Despite my outrage at being yanked from Penelope’s dinner, I tried to tell myself it wasn’t that bad. …

      ‘Sure thing, I hear you,’ I said with faux cheeriness while removing Philip’s hand from where it currently resided – my inner thigh – and tapping it the way a grandmother might. ‘Thanks, Kell. See you Monday.’

      The cars pulled up single file along Twenty-seventh Street and I saw that the line was almost a hundred people, all of whom stared, slack-jawed, as we exited the fleet of cars in our outrageous costumes. Sammy was standing off to one side while a man from the party wearing a long blond wig and very high heels yelled at him. I tried to get his attention as we cut in front of the entire line, but another bouncer approached us first.

      ‘How many are you?’ he asked Philip pleasantly, giving no indication that he knew who anyone was.

      ‘Oh, I don’t know, man, forty? Sixty? Who bloody knows?’

      ‘Sorry, dude – not tonight,’ the doorman replied, turning his back. ‘Private party.’

      ‘My man, I don’t think you understand. …’ Philip clapped him on the back and the bouncer looked like he might deck him, but then he noticed the credit card Philip was brandishing – the one and only Black Card. The negotiations began.

      ‘I only have three tables right now. I’ll let in six per table and an additional ten people, but that’s the best I can do,’ he said. ‘Any other night, no problem, but tonight it’s really out of my hands.’

      This guy was clearly new and had no idea who he was dealing with, and Philip looked like he was ready to let him know. His voice tight and controlled, he got within three inches of the bouncer’s face and said, ‘Look, man, I don’t give a toss what your problem is. Caleb is one of my closest mates and it’s his party. Three tables is bullshit. I want six tables, starting with two bottles apiece, and everyone admitted. Now.’

      I noticed Sammy finishing his conversation and tried to slink away from the front as quietly as possible so I could lose myself in the crowd; I was desperate not to let him see me with Philip. All around me, guys were working their cell phones, calling anyone and everyone they knew who might get the bouncer to release the velvet rope; girls approached the doormen with puppy eyes, stroking their arms and quietly making their pleas for admittance. Sammy walked toward Philip and caught my eye as I moved closer again to hear what was happening. I fervently hoped he would tell them all to fuck off, to take their money and party elsewhere, but he just looked quickly at me again and addressed the other bouncer.

      ‘Anthony, let them in.’

      Anthony, who’d already been surprisingly accommodating and nonconfrontational, appeared dismayed at this development and began to argue. ‘Dude, they have like eighty fucking people. I don’t care how much cash they got, it’s my ass on the line if—’

      ‘I said let them in. Clear out whatever tables you need to and give them whatever they want. Do it now.’ And with that, Sammy glanced at me one last time and stepped inside the door, leaving Anthony to handle us.

      ‘See there, mate?’ Philip gloated, unable to help himself, assuming it was his fame that had secured our entrance. ‘Do what the good man said. Take this card here and get us our goddamn tables. You can handle that, can’t you?’

      Anthony took the Black Card, his hands shaking with rage, and held the door open for the forty or so of us who had already arrived. The line quieted as we filed inside, and everyone tried to see the famous among us.

      ‘There’s Johnny Depp!’ I heard one girl stage-whisper.

      ‘Ohmigod! Is that Philip Weston?’ asked another.

      ‘He dated Gwyneth, didn’t he?’ one of the guys said.

      Philip swelled with noticeable pride and directed me to the table that the mâitre d’ had just emptied for us. The evicted party stood a few feet away, holding their drinks, their faces flush with shame as we took our seats around the banquette.

      Philip pulled me onto his lap and rubbed my leg, kneading it in that way that tickles uncomfortably and hurts at the same time. He mixed me a vodka tonic using the $400 bottle of Grey Goose that was immediately deposited at our table, and greeted every single person who walked past by name, occasionally burying his face in my neck.

      During one of these burrowings, he rested his chin on my shoulder and gazed at the model sitting next to me, legs crossed seductively, face in her hands, elbows on her knees, nipple tassels slipping slightly off-center.

      ‘Just look at her,’ he whispered, his voice husky, his eyes fixed on the youngest-looking girl of all. ‘Look how she imitates the older models, watching how they move their hips, their eyes, their mouths, and doing exactly that because she knows it’s sexy. She’s just growing into that body of hers, doesn’t quite realize what she possesses, and she’s learning like a newly hatched chick. Isn’t it smashing to watch?’

      Mmm, absolutely smashing. Downright gripping, actually, I thought, but I just shook him off and announced I’d be right back. He nearly fell on her as I untangled myself from him, and I heard him complimenting her directly as I walked toward the front of the club.

      Elisa was draped across an attractive man at a banquette near the door, СКАЧАТЬ