Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ albums and assorted desk supplies (even though I lacked a desk), some makeup and toiletries, and a whole bunch of garment bags filled with un-Runway-esque clothes. Hardly enough to warrant labels; I guess it was the assistant in me kicking in.

      ‘Let’s get moving,’ my dad called from the living room.

      ‘Shhh! You’ll wake Kendra,’ I loudly whispered back. ‘It is only nine in the morning on a Saturday, you know.’

      Alex was shaking his head. ‘Didn’t you see her leave with Shanti before? At least, I think that was her. There were definitely two of them, and they were both wearing suits and looking unhappy. Check their bedroom.’

      The door to the room they managed to share by bunking their beds was ajar, and I pushed it open slightly. Both beds were made meticulously, pillows fluffed and matching stuffed Gund dogs propped up on each. I didn’t realize until then that I’d never so much as stepped foot in their room – in the few months I’d lived with these girls, we hadn’t had a conversation of longer than thirty seconds – I didn’t know exactly what they did, where they went, or if they had any friends besides each other. I was glad to be leaving.

      Alex and my dad had cleaned up the leftover food and were trying to map out a game plan. ‘You’re right, they’re both gone. I don’t even think they know I’m leaving today.’

      ‘Maybe leave them a note?’ my mom suggested. ‘Maybe on your Scrabble board.’ I’d inherited my father’s addiction to Scrabble, and he had a theory that each new home required a new board so I was leaving the old one behind.

      I took the last five minutes in the apartment to make the tiles read, ‘Thanks for everything and good luck XO Andy.’ Fifty-nine points. Not bad.

      It took an hour to pack both of the cars up, with me not doing much more than propping open the door to the street and guarding the vehicles while they went back upstairs. The bed movers – who were charging more than the actual cost of the damn thing – were running late, so my dad and Alex each started downtown. Lily had found our new apartment through an ad in the Village Voice, and I hadn’t even seen it yet. She’d called me at work from her cell phone in the middle of the day, screaming, ‘I found it! I found it! It’s perfect! There’s a bathroom with running water, a wooden floor that only has minimal warping, and I’ve been here four full minutes and haven’t seen a single mouse or even a roach. Can you come see it immediately?’

      ‘Are you high right now?’ I whispered. ‘She’s here, which means I’m not going anywhere.’

      ‘You have to come now. You know what it’s like. I have my folder and everything.’

      ‘Lily, be reasonable. I couldn’t leave the office right now for an emergency heart transplant if I needed one, without getting fired. How can I come look at an apartment?’

      ‘Well, it’s not going to be here in thirty more seconds. There are at least twenty-five other people at this open house, and they’re all filling out applications. I need to do this now.’

      In the obscene world of Manhattan real estate, semilivable apartments were rarer – and more desirable – than seminormal straight guys. When you added semiaffordable into the mix, they became harder to rent than your private island somewhere off the southern coast of Africa. Or probably harder. No matter that most boasted fewer than three hundred square feet of dirt and rotted wood, pockmarked walls, and prehistoric appliances. No roaches? No mice? This one was a keeper!

      ‘Lily, I trust you, just do it. Can you e-mail me a description?’ I was trying to get off the phone as quickly as possible since Miranda was due back from the art department any second. If she saw me on a personal call, I was finished.

      ‘Well, I have copies of your paychecks – which, by the way, really suck … and I’ve got both our bank statements and printouts of our credit histories and your employment letter. The only problem is our guarantor. It has to be a tristate resident who makes more than forty times our monthly rent, and my grandmother sure as hell doesn’t make a hundred grand. Can your parents sign for us?’

      ‘Jesus, Lil, I don’t know. I haven’t asked them, and I can’t very well call them right now. You call.’

      ‘Fine. They do make enough, don’t they?’

      I wasn’t really sure, but who else could we ask? ‘Just call them,’ I told her. ‘Explain about Miranda. Tell them I’m sorry for not calling myself.’

      ‘Will do,’ she said. ‘But let me make sure we can get the place. I’ll call you back,’ she said and clicked off the phone. The phone rang again twenty seconds later, and I saw her cell phone number on the office phone caller ID. Emily raised her eyes in that special way she did when she heard me once again talking to a friend. I grabbed the phone but spoke to Emily.

      ‘It’s important,’ I hissed in her direction. ‘My best friend is trying to rent me an apartment over the phone because I can’t leave here for a goddamn—’

      Three voices attacked me at once. Emily’s was measured and calm and carried with it a warning tone. ‘Andrea, please,’ she’d started, at the exact same time that Lily was shrieking, ‘They’ll do it, Andy, they’ll do it! Are you listening to me?’ But even though both of them were clearly addressing me, I couldn’t really hear either one of them. The only voice that came through loud and clear was Miranda’s.

      ‘Do we have a problem here, Ahn-dre-ah?’ Shocker – she got my name right this time. She was hovering over me, appearing ready to strike.

      I immediately hung up on Lily, hoping she’d understand, and braced myself for the onslaught. ‘No, Miranda, no problem at all.’

      ‘Good. Now, I’d like a sundae and I’d like to actually eat it before the entire thing melts. Vanilla ice cream – not yogurt, mind you, not ice milk, and nothing sugar-free or low-fat – with chocolate syrup and real whipped cream. Not canned, you understand? Genuine whipped cream. That’s all.’ She walked purposefully back toward the art department, and I was left with the distinct impression that she’d come in just to check on me. Emily smirked. The phone rang. Lily again. Dammit – couldn’t she just e-mail me? I picked it up and pressed it to my ear but said nothing.

      ‘OK, I know you can’t talk, so I will. Your parents will be our guarantors, which is great. The apartment is a big one-bedroom, and once we put the wall up in the living room, there will still be room for a two-person couch and a chair. The bathroom doesn’t have a bath, but the shower looks OK. No dishwasher, natch, and no AC, but we can get window units. Laundry in the basement, part-time doorman, one block from the six train. And get this. A balcony!’

      I must’ve breathed audibly, because she got even more excited at my excitement. ‘I know! Crazy, right? It looks like it might fall right off the side of the building, but it’s there! And we could both fit on it and have a place to smoke, and oh, it’s just perfect!’

      ‘How much?’ I croaked, determined that these would be the absolute last words I’d utter.

      ‘All ours for the grand total of twenty-two eighty a month. Do you believe that we’ll get a balcony for eleven hundred forty dollars apiece? This place is the find of the century. So, can I do it?’

      I was silent. I wanted to talk, but Miranda was inching her way back to her office as she upbraided the public events coordinator in front of everyone. She was in a wicked mood, and I’d already had enough for one day. The girl СКАЧАТЬ