Girls We Love (10 page)

“I'm not even sure we're dating yet!” Liesel said loudly, so that they would get her point.

“Oh, don't be modest, my dear,” her mother said. She was wearing a white St. John knit suit with navy piping. “He's a good little acquisition.”

“Mmmm… the Wildenburgers represent several newer artists we've been thinking about investing in,” her father continued.

“Yes, even Hermann says our collection is beginning to look too uptown,” said her mother, referring to their current art dealer. Hermann was seventy-six years old and always smelled like gin and toothpaste, even in the morning. “He allowed that we might want to consult some outside sources.”

“Oh, I agwee with Hermann,” Liesel said. “I'm sure DeeDee would, too.”

“There you go,” Liesel's mother said. “You can see what a good thing this is for us, that you're dating the Wildenburger boy.”

Before Liesel could be exposed to more of this icky conversation, the doorbell rang. “I'll get it!” she yelled, so that the maid wouldn't even think about leaving the kitchen to let the guest in.

As she hurried to the foyer, she tried to banish the foreboding creepy feeling her parents were giving her by being so into her latest hookup. Because that was just gross.

“Awno!” she yelled, throwing the door open and pulling him to her by the shirt.

“Hey, Liesel,” he said gloomily. He was wearing a threadbare button-down shirt with faint wildflowers on it, rolled to the elbows, and dark stained jeans with flip-flops. He brushed some hair out of his eyes, exposing his gorgeously angular features, bent his head, and attached his face to hers. She dragged him into the hall closet and they kept making out. Her hands went all over him, his hands went all over her.

When he pulled away, Arno said, “I don't know about this.”

“Oh, please,” Liesel laughed. She always laughed at things she didn't understand, and right now, she definitely had no idea why Arno was acting so un-Arno-like. “Awno,” she said impatiently, “why do you think we're doing this?”

“Doing what?” Arno sounded genuinely confused.

“What we always do! Look, you can't even keep your hands off me!”

Arno pulled his hand out of Liesel's bra and sighed. “Don't you ever worry that our relationship doesn't have enough depth?”

“No,” Liesel said, rearranging her DVF shirtdress. She wondered briefly if the brash, flirty Arno Wildenburger she had always known and heard about had been replaced by some morose, existential double. “I don't.”

“I do,” Arno said. “I'm trying to get more depth in my life, and I'm not sure that what we've got is up to that standard.”

This time Liesel couldn't stop laughing. This was too rich. She held up a long, French-manicured finger and managed to get out “Hold on!” ' between guffaws.

“No, seriously,” Arno said. “Like, I was just talking to my friend Patch about his ex-girlfriend Greta, who lives in California, and how crazy-intense their relationship is. They fight all the time about whether they should be together and how. It's really, you know, heavy, and he's just torn up about whether or not he can even be in a long-distance thing.”

Liesel had gone from laughing to a simple smirk. “You guys sit around and talk about relationships all the time, don't you? If only all those girls out there obsessing over you knew—you're just like them!”

Arno straightened. “Am not.”

“Okay, fine.
You're
not,” Liesel said, turning from Arno indifferently and fussing with her hair.

“This is serious,” Arno said. “If I don't stop my shallowness now, it could grow and grow and never stop. I
mean, look how bad I looked after that whole Hottest Private-School Boy thing.”

Liesel groaned. “Oh, dahling, you're not shallow. You just need better PR.”

Arno looked unsure of his footing for a minute, and then he put his hand on Liesel's mini-butt and pulled her in for one last kiss.

“Come on,” she said, pushing him away, but just enough to make her point. “Let me do this for you. Like rehab your image for you. All this worrying over being shallow really is not worth your time.”

Arno shrugged. “I don't know … ”

“Yes, you do,” Liesel said, fixing him in her gaze. She knew that when their eyes met it had all the weight of fate, so she wasn't surprised at all when Arno gave her a little shrug of acquiescence.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's see what you can do.”

Liesel was laughing when she finally pulled him out of the closet and back toward her parents, who by now were probably sitting in the formal dining room and onto glasses of red wine. She didn't even care if she and Arno did have to go on a triple date with their parents, she was just glad she didn't have to hear Arno throwing around words like “shallow” and “deep” anymore.

“My parents are all excited to meet yours,” Liesel said as they headed down the hall, hand in hand. “You know, they want to talk art deals.”

“That's so shallow,” Arno said.

“Okay, you know what?” Liesel said, clutching Arno's hand and wheeling him back to face her. “If I am going to represent you, then I insist that you not use that word anymore.”

“But—”

Liesel leaned in, rested her forehead on Arno's, and gave him the look again.

“Okay,” he said. “You're the boss. Now, can we just get this whole dinner thing over with?”

“Yes,” Liesel said. “But one more thing? Those clothes. I'm going to have some samples sent to your place tomorrow, see if we can't get you back to that stylish stud I used to know … ”

from:
[email protected]
to:
[email protected]
subject:
RE: RE: Leland Brinker

Vink, you're amazing. We love Leland, and I just think it's perfect that he's going to be at the Candy sweet sixteen. But now that I've seen how much you can deliver for me, I'm going to need to call in a favor. You remember Arno Wildenburger, who
New York
magazine named Hottest Private-School Boy this year? He ended up looking sort of callow in that whole thing, and I'm going to be doing a little work on him image-wise. So I know you represent Eddie Turro of the Glories, and that they're playing shows at the Bowery Ballroom this week. Any chance we could get a nice little photo-op, with Arno and Eddie hanging backstage? It should look like they're
talking about poetry or song lyrics. Tell me you're going to make it happen. Ciao, Lies

from:
[email protected]
to:
[email protected]
subject:
you got it

… but this time you owe me big-time, Liesel. Turns out Eddie's last album got panned by
New York
, so he's down to help Arno in any way he can. He wants Arno to come hang pre-show, and perform a song with him onstage. Do you love me OR WHAT? Be prepared to reciprocate, and make sure this Arno guy knows the words to Eddie's hit “Sally Seeking Solace.” He absolutely has to be there by eight, and make sure he looks good, all right? I'll have the backstage pass delivered to DDR tomorrow. And tell DeeDee that she owes me lunch.
sent wirelessly via Blackberry

from:
[email protected]
to:
undisclosed recipients
subject:
Friday night at Candy

So by now you have all surely heard the buzz about this new hot club Candy, which is by and for people just like you—wild and crazy people who can't and don't care about getting into those tired old 21-and-over clubs!!! But you lucky people are on the list, because your friend Flan Flood is the big special sweet sixteen birthday girl of Candy's opening night, and she insisted you be on it. So take advantage of it, bunnies! And tell all your friends. They can come for a mere $30. Well worth it, in my opinion, considering the star power (Leland Brinker! Shhhhh!). So spread the word, and be there in your finest.

Your friend, the princess of buzz,
Liesel Reid

SBB came home from a long day of shopping in which she had been photographed twice—that she knew of—and threw herself down on the Grobarts' worn black leather couch. “I'm finished!” she screamed, and waited for David's parents, Hilary and Sam, to come running into the living room from their respective offices.

It didn't take them long. Hilary came rushing in and put her arms around SBB and said, “What's wrong, dear heart?”

She was wearing a long belted cardigan and slacks, and she felt all sweatery and soft, just like SBB had always imagined a real mom would. “I couldn't stop myself,” she said between sobs. “I had to go to Saks. And then as I was leaving I saw a paparazzi up on the mezzanine and he was shooting pictures of me.”

“No,”
Hilary said. “No wonder you're in such a state. That must have felt like a very real violation.”

“It did.” Sara-Beth hiccuped. She saw Sam Grobart appear in the doorway with a look of deep concern on his face. He took a step onto the old Persian rug and crossed his arms. She noticed that he was wearing one pair of glasses on his head and one on a chain around his neck. “But now Ric is going to fire me! Because I signed a piece of paper promising that I wouldn't be photographed going out until after the movie was shot and now they're going to tell me I can't do the movie and then my career will be over and … and… they
tricked
me!”

“That's absurd,” Sam said. “You're going to be a big star. You're not disposable. There's only one of you in the whole world. I'm sure they will understand.”

“That's right,” Hilary said.

“But how do you know that?” SBB wailed.

“Because I know you,” Hilary said, taking SBB's small face between her hands and giving her a serious look.

SBB sniffled, and then she batted her eyes and let a smile break out on her face. “You really think they're still going to let me be a star?”

“Of course they are,” Sam said. “I'll put in a call myself, and explain that you were merely researching the role.”

“That's true,” SBB said, realizing that, in fact, she
had
been researching a role. Several times she had
imagined stealing things from the racks at Saks, and her character in the new movie was a former Soviet assassin. SBB looked around the living room, which felt very green and peaceful because of all the house plants the Grobarts kept, and realized that going to Saks and thinking about shoplifting had been crucial to her developing understanding of the criminal mind.

“You have to start thinking of this as a positive change in your life,” Hilary said, nodding along with herself. “Although we know that change is always painful.”

“Yes, this is a serious role, and your ability to land a serious role should give you incredible confidence,” Sam put in. “Though it also means giving up the comfort of your old role, your old… persona, if you will.”

“And what this is really about is you, learning about yourself, what you're capable of…,” Hilary said, gesturing, her voice rolling as gentle as honey. SBB could feel her spirits rising along with Hilary's and Sam's tones.

“About you
shining.
Because, believe it or not, being a star and having a healthy psyche are not mutually exclusive.”

“That's right. So all this anxiety about what it means to be in New York before you go on this trip of artistic realization, we just need to banish it. Tell it poof, be gone.” Hilary's eyes glistened as she gave SBB a long, hopeful look. SBB had seen that look before,
and she basically walked around craving it all the time. “Whatever needs to happen for you to be okay before Gda
ń
sk, we'll make sure that happens.”

SBB beamed up at the Grobarts, who were like her adoptive parents and personal gurus rolled into one person. Two people, whatever. She felt like the whole apartment, with its comfortable chairs and exotic wall hangings, was giving her a hug. “Thank you, guys,” SBB said, wiping the last bit of moisture from her left eye.

That was when David walked through the door. He was holding a basketball under one arm, and his face was all exercised looking, and he had that adorable look of doofy confusion on his face that he always got when he came home to the happy surprise of the whole family together. His full lips hung open. SBB rushed over, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, and kissed him on the chest. “Guess what?”

“What?” David said.

“We're going to Europe early!”

“Wait—huh?” Hilary said.

SBB turned and smiled at Hilary. “I just think that's the best way to do away with the anxiety of being in New York—to leave New York this instant. Just drive to the airport right now and take off! Besides, they just
get
me in Europe.” Sara-Beth turned to David and clapped excitedly. “Isn't this great?”

David looked like he had been hypnotized. He
stood there, in his sweat-stained T-shirt and basketball shorts, and said nothing for a long moment. Then the basketball fell to the floor. He didn't seem to notice it, and after another long silence, he said, very slowly, “I… don't… know… if… I… want to.”

“What?!”
Hilary and SBB said at once.

“Kiddo, what are you talking about?” Sam said.

“David, this is a tremendous opportunity,” Hilary said. “For you, too. How many kids can put ‘role in Ric Rodrickson flick' on their college apps?”

“Do you mean you don't want to go to Europe tonight?” SBB said, her voice rising to an anxious pitch. She really couldn't even deal with this right now. “Or do you mean you don't want to go… at all?”