Everyone Worth Knowing (26 page)

that, we moved on to one of Kelly's specialty brainstorming sessions.

"Okay, everyone, start talking. We've got the premiere for

Shrek 3
next month. Invites need to be out within two weeks.

Skye's in charge of this one. What's the enticement?"

"I still don't understand why we agreed to do a premiere for a

kids' movie," Skye whined, which I noticed she did a lot at meetings.

"Why can't the studio handle their own premiere for that

one?"

"That was a rhetorical question, right? We do premieres because

they're easy and pay well. You know DreamWorks has their

own internal PR, but as you also know, they're tied up with all the

awards shows and bigger pictures' publicity, and besides, virtually

all of the important press is in New York. We have relationships

with people they don't."

"I know, I know." Skye sighed in a very unteamlike way. I saw

Elisa shoot her a look, and she sat up a little bit straighten "It's just

that kids' movies are so boring."

"Well, Skye, if you're not interested in overseeing this, I'm sure

Elisa or Leo or Bette or even Brandon wouldn't mind stepping in. I

don't think I need to point out just how many celebs are having

kids these days . . . Liv, Courteney, Gwyneth, Sarah Jessica, just

to name a few. I hope you're not saying that their children are

boring."

"No, of course not. You can count on me—I'm up for it. We've

done a dozen of these. Okay. Does anyone have the report on the

Harry Potter
premiere we did over the summer?"

"Yep, right here," Leo said, pulling a stapled packet from a

folder. "Sunday afternoon in August, at Christie Brinkley's estate in

Bridgehampton. Party started at eleven A.M., with the screening

from twelve to one-thirty to allow everyone enough time to get

back to the city. Children's entertainment included wading pools

filled with ice and juice packs, horseback riding, a small petting

zoo, a cotton-candy machine, a sno-cone maker, a few roving

clowns. Adults were kept amused by highly attentive and attractive

cocktail waitresses serving socially acceptable day drinks from a

hidden bar inside—mostly mimosas, Bloody Marys, screwdrivers,

champagne, margaritas, sangria, and the occasional frozen daiquiri

or pina colada if requested. Matt Lauer, Susan Sarandon, Katie

Couric, Aerin Lauder, Kate Hudson, Russell Simmons, and

Courteney Cox all had children in attendance, in addition to hundreds

of others who were slightly less recognizable but just as photogenic.

Pics appeared in
People, US Weekly, Star,
Sunday Styles,

Gotham, W,
and a dozen online social pages, including but not

limited to the New York Social Diary and Patrick McMullen's website.

Warner Brothers was thrilled."

"Okay, kids, so we've got the template, and we obviously

know what works. Clearly we won't be in the Hamptons, but we

should stick with the same format. I like the Clearview in Chelsea

because they're pretty relaxed about having lots of action in their

lobby," Kelly said, efficiently checking things off a list. "What else?"

"Well, for food, the usual kid favorites," Elisa said. "Pigs in

blankets, quarter-sized burgers, candy hunts."

"Make your own sundae," Leo added without pause.

"Balloons, magicians, design your own cupcake, bubble machines,"

Skye said without the least bit of enthusiasm.

"Guy in a monster Shrek outfit."

"Face-painting the kids green."

"Parents hate face-painting. Plenty of other stuff you can do.

Maybe those mini-trampolines?"

"Are you kidding? Total liability. Might as well just have 'Sue

Me' in lights. Speaking of which, how about 'Shrek' spelled out in

a massive wall of green lightbulbs?"

Everyone nodded. I started to get slightly self-conscious about

not having contributed anything, but I'd never been to a movie

premiere and didn't know anything about them besides stars walking

down the red carpet.

"What if we have a green carpet instead of a red one?" I offered

before considering how stupid it sounded. I braced myself,

but the faces at the table looked fairly happy.

"Fab idea, Bette! We'll have a green carpet and a giant green

walk-and-repeat at the end where everyone can get photographed.

Green carpet should definitely mean more pictures. Things sound

like they're going smoothly there, so let's move on to what really

matters. Where are we with the
Playboy
party?"

The color had returned to Elisa's face, and she appeared more

composed. She stood with perfect posture in her Diane von

Furstenberg wrap dress and pointed to the bulletin board with her

Mason Pearson brush.

"As you can all see, we are just a few months away. After much

scouting and debating, we have selected Sanctuary as our location.

Leo, can you update us on the logistics?"

Leo looked at Elisa as if to say "Since when am I answering to

you?" but then cleared his throat and told the room he was interviewing

production companies (who would handle everything

from furniture to lighting) and should have the shortlist by the end

of the week. "I'm sure we'll end up with Bureau Betak," he said.

"We always do."

The meeting continued for another hour and a half (we covered

gift bags, potential sponsors, and invitations) before we were

released for lunch with the encouragement to go somewhere we'd

"see or be seen." I begged out of going to Pastis with the group

and roamed a few blocks east to a divey pizza joint where I surely

wouldn't run into anyone from the office. As soon as 1 had wedged

my body into a tiny booth near the restroom, I called Will at work

and was surprised to find him at his desk.

"Why are you there?" I asked. "It's not even deadline day." Will

only went to his office at the paper once or twice a week, less if

he could help it.

"Hello, darling. I'm struggling a bit with this week's column."

He was quiet for a split second before adding, "Lately, it seems I'm

struggling a bit with
every
week's column."

He sounded frustrated and resigned at the same time, two sentiments

I wasn't accustomed to hearing from Will.

•
"Are you okay, Will? What's going on there?" I asked, forcing

myself to forget my own problems for just a few seconds.

He sighed heavily. "Nothing interesting, darling, that's for sure.

Readership of 'Will of the People' is way down this year. Another

few papers dropped it from syndication. My new thirty-one-yearold

editor has no sense of humor—keeps telling me that 'today's

readers' are more 'socially sensitive' and that therefore 1 should

strive to be more 'politically correct.' Naturally, I told him to fuck

off, but he won't stay quiet for long. Then again, why would anyone

want to read my column when they can read about pretty

young party planners gallivanting about with rich, famous pretty

boys?"

I felt like I'd been punched. "You saw."

"Naturally. Am I to assume there was any truth to that tawdiy

little write-up?" he asked.

"Of course not!" I wailed loud enough to cause the cashier to

turn and glare at me. "I saw- Philip at Sanctuary this weekend,

when I was there for work. We shared a cab home because it was

less complicated. The other girl was his family friend. Childhood

family friend. The whole thing could not have been less scandalous."

"Well, then, it seems this lillie Insider character is doing her job

splendidly. Take comfort in the fact that they didn't use your name,

darling. But don't think for a minute that it won't come soon."

"Do you know who she is, Will? I mean, you must have met

her somewhere along the line, don't you think?"

I heard Will chuckle and imagined the worst. "Well, I've certainly

heard lots of names bandied about, but there are no solid

leads. Some people insist it's some socialite ratting out all her

friends. Others seem to think it's an unknown with a few wellplaced

sources. For all we know, it could be that ex-fashion editor—

oh, what was her name? The one who keeps busy penning

nasty book reviews? I could see her writing trash like this."

"It's just creepy. I'm about ready for whomever it is to start focusing

on someone else, you know? Someone a little more interesting,

who might actually be living a scandalous life? I definitely

don't qualify." I bit into a piece of pizza, possibly the most perfect

slice in the world.

"I understand, darling, truly I do. But Philip qualifies, don't forget!

I hate to go rushing off, but my column doesn't seem to want

to write itself this week. Talk soon? Will we see you at dinner this

Thursday?"

"Of course," I said automatically before realizing that I was expected

to attend the launch of a new Gucci fragrance that night. I

knew I'd have to call back and cancel, but I just couldn't bring myself

to do it now. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Talk to you later."

I finished my little slice of heaven and ordered a second, which

I also knocked off in record time. I was listlessly staring at a tattered

copy of the
Post
someone had left on the table when my

phone rang.
HOME
flashed on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answered, wondering whether it was my mother or

father—or both, since they often enjoyed the tag-team calling of

first one, then the other, then all three of us talking from different

extensions.

"Bette, is that you?" my mother practically shouted. "Can you

hear me?" Her voice was, as usual, louder than necessary. She was

convinced that cell phones required above-average volume from

all involved parties and therefore screamed whenever she called

mine.

"I can hear you, Mom. Perfectly. How are you?"

"I can't really talk since I'm running into a scheduling meeting,

but one of the girls at the clinic today said she saw your picture on

some website. A picture of you and a famous boy and another girl?

Or something to that effect."

Impossible! My mother, who had only recently registered for

her own email address, was now receiving information about the

content of online gossip columns? I was quick to deny it. "It was

nothing, Mom, just a little photo of me at a work event."

"Bette, that's wonderful! Congratulations! I can't wait to see it. I

asked Dad to get online and print it out, but he couldn't seem to

open the page or something. Save us a copy?"

"Of course," I said meekly. "Will do. But seriously, it's nothing

important, just work stuff. I have to get back to the office, so can I

call you later?"

"Sure, dear. Congrats again. Not at the job long, and already

you're making headlines!"

If only she knew, I thought as I clicked off the phone. Thankfully,