Being Audrey Hepburn (15 page)

We pulled away in Jake’s slightly beat-up 1976 BMW 2000, which was no ordinary rock and roller’s ride. Jake was a car freak; he always had five cars parked in front of his house in various stages of repair. There was the band van—the whole thing painted like the American flag, of course; an old military jeep that was always on cinder blocks; a ’61 Impala with holes in the floor where your feet were supposed to be, like a Fred Flintstone car; and his brother’s Saturn, which was always breaking down.

The BMW, a hipster mobile, was the only thing he loved as much as music. He rebuilt it from scratch, and I knew for a fact he never took it out unless he was trying to impress. I was impressed and nervous.

The streetlights were still on, even though the sun had come up, as Jake drove us through the still-empty streets of South End Montclair.

“Okay, so you were up all night doing what? Or should I ask?” I said.

“I told you,” he said with that sideways smile of his, “thinking of you.” Jake was wearing one of his vintage flannels. He seemed pleased with himself but a little tired. His right hand dropped down from the steering wheel and slid close to mine.

“Okay, so what
else
were you doing?” I asked, trying to keep up the conversation and abruptly moved my hand into my lap. After a moment, he put his hand back on the steering wheel. This was really strange. I wasn’t used to anyone paying this much attention to me, let alone a heartbreaker like Jake.

I’ve always had trouble even sitting next to a guy who liked me. Usually I’ve felt like I’m about six years old and that I’m going to throw up any second or say something stupid I’ll regret. I’m pathetic that way, which didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. I just never got past that unbearable feeling of terror when boys flirted with me, unless you counted that creep Maxwell Duryea, who was really more of a stalker, though I did go out with him once.

“The Rockets had a private gig in Tuxedo Park until three a.m., which we totally rocked. It was swank—you shoulda been there. Tons of managers, celebs, music folks. We just got back about an hour ago. Can you believe the effin’ van broke down twice!”

Jake drove up to Cupcakes Galore and More, the local pastry dive. We ordered two regulars and a bagel, and then Jake insisted on ordering an “everything cupcake” like it was his birthday or something, which was about the last thing I wanted to see this early in the morning. But he seemed pretty hungry.

“Didn’t eat much? Or is the rock ’n’ roll Romeo a little hungover?” I asked. His head shook slowly side to side as a wide grin came across his face. There was one thick strand of black hair that fell across his face that I adored.

“Naw, just hungry.” I took a napkin and wiped a little of the icing away from his cheek. “Okay, and a little hungover,” he said, laughing. “So what have you and Jess been up to? I haven’t seen you guys at work for days. Plotting to take over the world?”

I hoped so, but there was no way I could talk to Jake about it.

“No, our shift got changed.”

“That true?” he asked. No, but I wanted to change the subject. “And what was the deal with you hanging up on me last night?” he asked.

“Oh that was you?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer was, worried he’d get mad.

“And how come you didn’t call me back?”

“I’m sorry. Weren’t you playing last night?” I asked.

“Yeah, exactly…” Shit. I was supposed to be there, wasn’t I? He paused for a second. There was a serious expression on his face, and I started to worry what was coming next.

“Listen, Lisbeth, this is about the fifth time since we started, you know, hanging out … that I’ve asked you to come see my band, and you always seem to be busy. And see, I thought there was, you know, something good happening between us. But I guess … I could be wrong?”

There probably wasn’t another female in the entire Garden State who wouldn’t jump at a chance to go out with Jake Berns and see his band play. I’ll admit I was clueless the first couple of times—not playing hard to get—I just couldn’t believe it was true and knew I’d probably make a fool of myself. Nobody like Jake Berns ever noticed me before.

“I just … got tied up in this fashion project I’m doing with Jess.” God, I’d probably be screwing up my courage, dragging Jess to the front of the stage of every one of Jake’s gigs, if this conversation had happened before my week of Dior and Givenchy and Page Six. I just had to see how Being Audrey would go first.

“You know, I wanted to have coffee because I didn’t want you to think I was just some guy at the diner who kissed you next to the frozen peas.”

“They were french fries,” I said.

“So you remember?”

“The french fries? Yeah, they were freezing my butt.”

Jake smiled, and I wanted to kiss him right then and there in the middle of Cupcakes Galore with all the sleepy coffee drinkers sitting around. His eyes met mine, and I wondered if maybe he was thinking the same thing, too.

“So…” He slid his hand across the table to hold mine. His fingers intertwined with my fingers. I took a breath, struggling to handle the attention, trying not to run away. His hand was strong and a little calloused, probably because of the guitar playing. I locked my fingers around his. It would be so easy to get swept away.

“Lizzy, I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff happening to you. I’m sure everyone thinks you’re cool. I mean, you’re one of those girls who secretly keep the world from falling apart. Everybody knows that.”

“Oh really…” I said, rolling my eyes but thinking,
Who could say lines like that?
I knew he was a songwriter, but really? He said it in a way that was so understated, so Jake.

“You’re laying low now, but you’re gonna break out and be awesome. I can tell,” he continued. “I was there once. I’m a good judge of that kind of thing. I want to be there with you.”

“Yeah, like you were once the shy retiring type?”

“Totally.”

“As if.” I couldn’t help laughing. I wondered if I sounded goofy.

“I know you won’t believe this, but I was shy in high school. I played the tuba in the Paterson High band. I was a total dork. Cool kids do
not
play the tuba. The closest I came to rock and roll was when I did Elvis imitations for my mom and dad, shaking my hips at cocktail parties. Totally embarrassing.”

I could imagine that—he must have been so cute.

“I tried to join the choir.” He continued, “But they said I was too introverted and tone-deaf.”

“So when did you become Jake Berns, rock and roll god?” I asked.

“My older brother was the cool guy. Everyone hung out at his place, and he used to be a pretty good guitarist. The girls were all over him. He worked at a car-repair place and let me help out, although it was kind of illegal. But little hands can get into all sorts of good places when you’re repairing a car. I was working on a front-end brake replacement when Zeke, an old drunk guy who worked there, tripped the jack and the whole four-by-four came crashing down on me and totally fucked up my leg. I was lucky to be alive. And that’s what did it.”

“A broken leg?”

“Yeah, it bent at a forty-five-degree angle to the rest of my body.”

“Yuck.”

“I had nothing to do but lie there in a body cast for God knows how long and teach myself how to play my brother’s guitar. Thinking back on it, I needed that break from the usual routine. What seems like a bad accident turns out pretty well when it’s your moment. It’s happening to you, Lizzy. I can feel it.”

“Are you saying you’re clairvoyant and there’s a broken leg in my future?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, I’m just trying to say be ready. You’re going to make something great happen. I know it. I have a special sense for these things.”

“Lisbeth Anne Wachowicz saves the world!”

“Come on, smart-ass, let’s get out of here.” Jake grabbed my hand as we got up and then paid at the register. As we walked to the car holding hands, my heart beat faster and faster.

“You’re not recruiting for groupies are you?” I joked nervously, leaning against my side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the door. I happened to know perfectly well that Jake’s band already had all the groupies they’d ever need. What is it about guitars that instantly made a guy five times hotter?

“Groupies? Not really my thing,” he said as he opened my door. I moved to get inside, but his body blocked me. He leaned in to kiss me, his arm sliding behind my back, pulling me close, pressing his lips into mine, soft and slow. I closed my eyes and just gave in, kissing him, too. He turned his hip bones against mine, the car hard behind my back, and I felt like I was melting from the inside.

I pulled away to catch my breath.

“We’re in public, Jake Berns,” I said, still breathing hard. He dropped his head, staring at the ground, a little embarrassed yet unbelievably sexy.

We climbed into the car. I took a few deep breaths, and it occurred to me that maybe I was afraid to see his band, because if I did, I might totally lose myself and fall hopelessly in love with Jake Berns.

“So, I stole Dalton’s drummer and he’s playing with us tonight. A ton of A and R guys are coming. It’s gonna be huge. I don’t care about the last gig you missed, but you’ve
got
to come to this one.”

Okay, here’s what I was thinking. First of all, Tabitha Eden hadn’t texted me in two days. Maybe she was a flake or maybe she thought I was off jet-setting with Nan. I had absolutely no idea where her party was going to be or if I was actually invited. And it was supposed to be tonight. I’d promised myself I’d do this Being Audrey thing, but in that moment, sitting with Jake, it felt pretty ridiculous. I kept thinking of Jess saying how foolish the whole idea was. It would definitely be stupid to put Jake off for something that might never happen. Maybe, I figured, I should try to get over being all nervous and shy around him. Not that I acted that way really. I didn’t want to end up sitting at home with Mom and Ryan. Why did Jake’s big gig and Tabitha’s party have to happen on the same night anyway?

“So? Tonight—you coming?” he asked, playfully looking at me with his smoky-blue eyes. “I’ve got something special I’ve been working on that I want you to hear. First time the band’s going to play it. I think it’s going to be our first single.”

How could I say no?

23

I’d gotten the text three hours earlier and called Jess right away—only it wasn’t from Tabitha. It was from ZK Northcott, Mr. Underwear-Man himself.

“LET’S MAKE IT A SURPRISE!” ZK texted. It was the only line I could focus on.

Well, that and “record release event.”

What was the big secret? A surprise for Tabitha? I couldn’t imagine why ZK Northcott wanted to have drinks with me. I did know that I was practically giddy about the idea of walking into Tabitha Eden’s record party on ZK’s arm. And he had my phone number. Interesting.

I wondered if he’d wear a tuxedo. My mind wandered, picturing him greeting me, giving me a corsage. That was stupid—of course he wouldn’t. It wasn’t prom.

“WOULD LOVE TO.” I texted back.

Oh my God. Was this actually going to happen? Grabbing my bag out of the Beast, I headed inside for my shift at the Hole, the most un-Audrey place I knew.

A wall of smell hit me the second I walked through the door—used grease, Pine-Sol, and liquid cheese. It occurred to me that the venues favored by New York’s rich and alluring were always lightly scented with lipstick and orchids. Or maybe it was hundred-dollar bills.

It wasn’t liquid cheese, that’s for sure.

After my two fabulous photobombing fashion appearances, the dreariness of the Hole had never been so acute. Every second I was there leached a little of the light from my soul. Like sequins sucked into a DustBuster.

Shoving my stuff into my locker, I grabbed my pink apron and tied it on. For once, Jess was late instead of me. Ten minutes after our shift had started, she came bounding through the door, dragging an oversize garment bag behind her.

“You finished it!” I exclaimed as I dropped table 14’s order off at the window.

Jess motioned for me to keep a lid on it.

“This dress is freaking spectacular,” she whispered. “The best one yet.”

My skin tingled as I followed her into the kitchen; I was dying to see it. “Should be smashing my de-ah,” Jess said, limp wristed. “The junior railroad baron will
adore
you in this dress.”

“Junior oil baron,” I corrected.

“Wikipedia much?” she laughed.

“I knew that, but I did look up a few of the people I may happen to run into at these things. You know, so I have some idea who I’m dealing with. I don’t want to sound like a total moron.”

“Good thinking.” She hung the garment bag on the coatrack next to the employee lockers and grabbed her apron and tied it on. I yanked the zipper down to get a peek.

“We got customers out here!” Beula yelled from the cash register.

“Come on, let’s not piss her off,” Jess said.

I zipped it back up and walked to the front, glancing back at the garment bag longingly.

As I took an order from table 12, it dawned on me. Jake wasn’t there. Fuck. I had no idea what I was going to say. I should have explained the whole thing to him that morning over coffee. Would he have laughed at me? Why was I trying to hide it from him?

Jess and I were superefficient on the floor, hoping to get ahead and go back and check out the dress. But business was slow and slow nights sucked because you ended up watching every tick of the clock and making happy talk with Buela. I offhandedly asked her about Jake, and she said that he had asked for a later shift because he had stuff to do for the gig tonight.

Maybe I won’t have to tell him before I leave,
I thought
. I am so totally chicken.
As soon as my last table settled up, Jess and I went to the back.

Grabbing the garment bag, I followed Jess to the ladies’ room and hung it on one of the bathroom stalls. Tugging down the zipper, I lifted the dress from the bag and squealed with excitement.

Jess was right. This dress was the best one yet, a jade-green homage to Valentino. She had taken all the scraps left over from working on Nan’s other gowns and pieced them into a diamond-shaped matrix of color and texture, recalling not only the hues but also the opulence of peacock feathers. The inset had been fitted into the center of the bodice like a bib, drawing the eye to the heart of the dress. A slip of sheer silk in matching jade had been cut on the bias and stitched over the shortened skirt to create movement. It was breathtaking, the perfect balance of delicacy and strength.