Southern Charm (13 page)

“You're from, like, Richmond, right?” she asked, her eyes circling around me and landing on my feet.

“Charleston, actually,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, sipping from her glass. “Is that in Virginia too?”

Perry laughed a very knowing, hearty laugh and said, “You bitch.”

“What?” May turned to her, eyes wider than before. “How the hell am I supposed to know? I had a layover in Atlanta once on the way to Harbour Island, but it's not like I set foot outside of the airport.”

Everyone giggled at this comment.

I glanced around the room and located Tripp, who was sitting next to Baron, engrossed in an animated conversation. I wasn't about to ask for his help but couldn't he at least support me for the first five minutes
or so? I felt like I was the new kid at school who had just stolen the most popular girl's boyfriend.

“Minty, would you like a drink?” Baron was suddenly standing to my right. He put his arm on my shoulder.

I must have looked bewildered and, well, terrified, but I was grateful he took notice. I politely excused myself from the Mean Girls and followed Baron to the bar.

“Listen,” he said, once we were out of earshot of May and her posse, “May is a little territorial at first, but she's not so bad, you'll see.” He motioned to the bartender. “Dewar's on the rocks and a . . .” He turned to me, eyebrow raised.

I was going to need at least a little alcohol in my system to get me through the night.

“Ketel One, soda, extra lime, with a splash of cranberry,” I said.

“She does that with every newcomer,” Baron continued. “She's also friendly with Tabitha. So it might not be the smoothest transition. Give it some time.”

As Baron and I waited for our drinks, May made her way over to the “boy section.” She glanced at me briefly, then draped herself over a lanky guy perched at the end of the sofa. He had a mop of light brown hair and soupy, distant eyes. They actually looked like they could be brother and sister, save for the hair color, but it was pretty apparent that they were quite the opposite as he started stroking her leg and playing with her hair.

“Did May grow up with Tripp?” I asked Baron.

Baron handed me my drink and glanced over at May. She and her boyfriend were now talking to Tripp and two other guys.

“Ahhh, May,” Baron began. “No, she didn't grow up here. She's American but grew up in Switzerland, went to school there, and spent the last couple of years in Europe traveling. She's dating Harry Van der Waahl.”

I nodded.

“Like I said, she's a bit aloof at first, but she's a fun girl. I think you two would actually really get along.”

May and I made eye contact again and she smiled this time. Okay, I thought. That's a little bit of progress.

“Anyway, let's go find your boyfriend, shall we?”

Baron took my hand and walked me over to Tripp, who was talking with Harry as May looked on, bored.

“I found something over by the bar,” Baron said, winking at Tripp.

Tripp turned to me and smiled. “Babe,” he said. “Have I introduced you to Harry yet?”

I was annoyed by this question because clearly he hadn't. Instead, he had deposited me in the shark tank and left me to be devoured.

“No.” I smiled sweetly, extending my hand in Harry's direction. “It's so nice to finally meet you.”

Harry took my hand and bowed slightly, like we were standing on a porch somewhere in Virginia in the 1860s.

“If it isn't the famous Sassy Southern Deb,” he said.

“Behave yourself, Van der Waahl,” Tripp warned him.

I was about to change the subject by asking May a question, maybe something about where she lived, or even complimenting her on her outfit, and then Emily appeared out of nowhere. “Hello, stranger,” she said, smiling.

I had never been so relieved to see a person in my entire life. Having Emily to lean on centered me again.

“May.” She leaned toward May and kissed her on the cheek, then did the same to Harry. “Harry. Good to see you. How is everyone?”

Once again, Emily was dressed in an outfit only Emily could pull off. She was wearing a pale beige sheath dress that clung to every tiny curve on her body, a structured gray jacket, and little suede booties. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, somewhat messy bun. She would have blended seamlessly into a Calvin Klein ad.

“Emily, how are you?” May said.

I couldn't help but notice that her demeanor was entirely different in front of Emily.

“Fine,” Emily said. “Busy. How is everything with you?”

“Harry and I just got back from Majorca, incredible but exhausting.”

Emily nodded knowingly.

I perked up. I'd actually traveled to Majorca the summer before freshman year of college. I had something to contribute! As I was opening my mouth to comment, Baron came over and asked us to start making our way into the dining room.

“
Bazaar
needs a photograph of us seated,” he explained.

Tripp and I found our seats near the center of the table. We were seated opposite May, Harry, and Emily, a few places down from Baron. Catherine Dorson took the seat to my left. She actually smiled when she sat down—phew!

Catherine had heard that Ruth was one of the top events people in the industry and had a friend who'd worked for her a few years prior. She laughed when I admitted Ruth wasn't the easiest boss in the world.

“The fact that you've lasted two months is a huge accomplishment, actually,” she said.

Tripp was discussing a recent Giants game with Harry when the energy in the room changed slightly. I wasn't sure exactly why, but I felt a chill, like everyone's eyes were on me, and then Tripp stiffened. Richard, who had just been in the corner packing up his camera equipment, suddenly started unpacking. Then I saw Julie get up from her seat. She tapped Richard on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

“Oh, yikes,” May said. She looked past me, her eyes settling somewhere over my shoulder.

I saw Emily's mouth drop open. In fact, everyone seemed to be either looking over my shoulder or gaping at something or both. Except Tripp, who was suddenly enthralled with his filet mignon.

I turned around and watched as Tabitha made her way down the hallway and into the dining room. She was wearing what can only be described as a crotch-length Herve Leger bandage dress that barely covered her bony hips. Her shoes were sky-high, crystal-encrusted platform stilettos. She wobbled in them like she could tip over at any moment, her eyes so hazy she had to be either drunk or high or both.

“Oh my God,” I said.

Tripp looked at me and tilted his head. “What?”

“Tripp, look,” I said, my cheeks flushing. Did he know she was coming?

Tripp turned around. “Oh,” he said indifferently, glancing over his shoulder.

I was shocked to see a seat had actually been reserved for Tabitha. She sat down, all the while pretending she wasn't being blatantly gawked at, and placed her napkin in her lap.

Tripp turned back. “Whatever.”

I faced forward and took a deep breath.

Across the table, Emily was avoiding eye contact while May looked directly at me. I just took a sip of my water and smiled back at her. Kill them with kindness. That was really all I
could
do.

“She's obsessed with me,” Tripp hissed in my ear. “I have no idea why she showed up.”

“Was she invited?”

Tripp was silent.

“Baron knows her,” he finally said.

“I see.”

Within seconds, conversation began to flow again. Baron was fawning over Tabitha now, pouring wine in her glass and laughing like she was the most interesting person in the room. May and Harry started nuzzling each other and the rest of the guests seemed to lose interest in the fact that Tripp, Tabitha, and I, the love triangle of “Page Six” proportions, had found ourselves sitting at the same dinner table together.

When dessert was served, Emily excused herself from the table and quietly came around to my seat.

“Ladies' room?” she said in my ear.

It was the best idea I'd heard in a long time. I placed my napkin next to my plate and pecked Tripp on the lips.

We walked out, but Emily didn't take me to the ladies' room. We grabbed our coats from the coatrack and she led me up a flight of stairs and onto a roof terrace overlooking the city. It was one of the
most beautiful places I'd ever seen, covered in vines and tiny white lights and populated by rows of sculpted evergreens.

“You don't mind if I smoke, do you?” she asked, pulling out a pack of Marlboro Lights. I had only seen Emily smoke on a handful of occasions, typically when she was stressed out about something.

“Of course not,” I said. “Actually, this is one of those times I kind of wish I were a smoker!”

Emily grinned. “I'm going to tell you something,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I wasn't even going to say anything, but then she showed up and, well, I think you have the right to know.”

“Okay,” I said.

“You know how Tripp told you that he and Tabitha were kind of a brief fling, that it was really casual?”

“Yes . . .”

“Well,” Emily sighed. “The fact of the matter is, they've been on and off for years now. It's not like they were ever fully committed, but Tabitha is very territorial about Tripp. Before you came along, they were pretty hot and heavy.”

“I see.”

“I didn't tell you the whole story at first”—she paused, searching for the right words—“because I thought maybe Tabitha would just let it go. And it's clear that Tripp cares about you. He definitely seems to have fallen for you pretty quickly. But I just want to make sure he's being totally honest with you.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “Like, he couldn't mention the fact that she might be here? He acted like it was an afterthought!”

Emily pursed her lips. “I think he might be trying to . . . downplay the relationship. Maybe it's because he's ready to move on . . . to move forward with you. But, it just concerns me that he's not laying all of his cards on the table. Especially since you two seem to be moving so quickly.”

“Ugh.” I buried my face in my hands. “You've got to be kidding me!” I was just starting to confide in and trust him. It was the déjà vu I'd feared all along.

I forced myself to pause for a moment. This information could
very well have been hearsay—if I'd learned one thing, it was that there was a lot of gossip in New York, maybe even more than in a small town in the South! Which is saying a lot.

“Tell me about Tabitha,” I said, taking a deep breath. “If I'm going to have to duke it out with this lady to get to the truth, I need to know what makes her tick. So far all I've got is . . . she's a socialite, she knows pretty much everyone, and she's out to steal my boyfriend.”

Emily shrugged.

“Well, Tabitha is actually more of a businesswoman these days,” Emily said. “She goes to a lot of parties, yes, but she often gets paid to go to them. Any time you see Tabitha walk a red carpet with a bunch of sponsors or show up at the launch of some product, you can bet she's getting paid. Even if she attends a fashion show, odds are they're paying her somehow, even if it's in free clothes. Tabitha is New York aristocracy. And in some circles, that counts for something. She adds a certain cachet.”

I nodded.

“And there's her jewelry line of course.”

“Jewelry?”

“Jewelry, accessories. I think there may be an evening clutch here and there. It's not really known that well in the States. I think it's sold at a little boutique on Madison. But supposedly it's huge in Asia and Germany. The last time I spoke to her, she was creating a less expensive version of the line for QVC.”

I was impressed, and it must have shown.

“I know,” Emily said. “Do you know how much money those direct-sell channels make? Oh my God, it's ridiculous.”

“Interesting,” I said. Apparently in New York, being a socialite—essentially getting dressed up and going to parties five nights a week—could be a job, one that could even be parlayed into a career in design. As ridiculous as it seemed at first, I couldn't help but admit that becoming a boldface name like Tabitha—being photographed at parties and building an image and a brand through that exposure—sounded like a great way to realize my dream.

“Listen, Minty,” Emily continued. “I've known most of these people since I was born. I've seen them with runny noses and peanut
butter and jelly stains on their school uniforms. And I still feel intimidated sometimes. I can only imagine what it feels like to experience it for the first time at twenty-two.”

She waved her hand in the air and I looked around at the tiny white lights and vine-covered trellises. I took in the collection of topiaries, covered in protective burlap for the colder winter months. I imagined that not many people have been on the rooftop of 812 Park Avenue. The air was so rarified it could almost have been bottled and sold, like a souvenir of the good life.

“I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've seen a lot of girls let this lifestyle get the best of them. They go out until all hours of the night and develop eating disorders just trying to keep up. The only way you're going to survive, the only way you're going to succeed, is if you stay true to yourself.”

“So I should break up with Tripp?”

Emily laughed and took a drag of her cigarette.

“No! No, I'm not saying that at all, not yet at least,” she laughed. “I'm saying . . .” She paused for a moment. “I'm saying, keep curling your hair.” She pulled at one of my ringlets and smiled. “Keep wearing dresses and smiling and being polite. It might take a bit longer for people to warm up to you, but they'll remember you as a result. They'll remember you because you're different, because you stand out from the crowd of skinny girls in earth tones and no makeup, such as myself.” She grinned. “And don't let women like Tabitha get in the way of anything you have your sights set on, be it Tripp or anything else.”