Leigh did what any sane female faced with such an e-mail would do: deleted it to resist the temptation of replying, cleared her trash to resist the temptation of recalling it, and then called tech support to restore all her recently deleted e-mails. She briefly toyed with the idea of forwarding it to Adriana and Emmy for input and analysis, but then ultimately decided it would be a total waste of time; obviously, she would go.
By the time she arrived at Starbucks that night—a Monday, no less!—she was a wreck. Second-guessing herself like crazy, reminding herself what an absolute moron she was for even entertaining the idea of talking to Jesse, ex-lover and ex-author extraordinaire. What was the point? So she liked him—so what? There, she’d admitted it to herself. What did she want for that, some sort of prize? It only made it stupider and more masochistic to subject herself to such a meeting, one that would surely bring even more disappointment in an already less-than-stellar month. The fact that Jesse finally arrived, ten minutes late, flanked by an Asian girl so young she could be his daughter did not improve Leigh’s outlook.
“Leigh,” he said with a huge smile, holding his hand out to her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Mmm,” she replied, not standing up to greet either of them. Not that there was any need to stand—the smiling girl was pulling up a chair, and soon she and Jesse were both seated across from Leigh.
“Tuti, I’d like you to meet Leigh. Leigh, this is Tuti…my wife.”
Leigh’s eyes shot first to Jesse, who appeared not the least bit uncomfortable, and then back to the girl, who upon further inspection Leigh decided was probably even younger than she’d first thought, although not as pretty. Tuti had beautiful thick black hair, but it was cut in an awkward shape for her full face. “Oh dear god,” Leigh said aloud before she could stop herself.
Tuti giggled sweetly, and Leigh saw that she had a significant overbite. Had this happened under any other circumstances, Leigh thought she would have found this girl adorable. Charming, even. But tonight? Like this? It was more than she could bear.
“Tuti, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve, uh—” She was automatically going to say “heard a lot about you,” but it was too fraught with meaning. Instead, she said, “I hate to run, but I was just stopping by.”
With this announcement, Tuti’s face fell. “So soon?” she asked with a frown. “Okay, then I am going to get something to drink and leave you two alone. Leigh, Jesse? Something?”
Jesse patted her shoulder and shook his head no, and Tuti scampered off toward the counter.
“What were you thinking, bringing her here?” Leigh heard herself ask, as though her brain and mouth were no longer in contact. She popped three Nicorettes into her mouth and waited for the calm to wash over her. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t care what you were thinking. I just want to go.” She began to gather her things, but Jesse clamped his hand down over her arm.
“She’s twenty-three and from Indonesia. Island of Bali, village of Ubud. I ended up there about a year after Disenchantment was published, went with a group of super-rich Europeans for a month-long party at someone’s daddy’s house. That was all well and good until one of them overdosed, and then the next day al Qaeda blew up that nightclub in Bali.”
Leigh nodded. She remembered that.
“Needless to say, the party moved on, but something kept me there. I left Kuta, the city of the bombing, and headed inland, toward the mountains and the rice-paddy villages, where I’d read all of the artists and craftsmen and writers of Bali live. And sure enough, Ubud was just overflowing with them. The place was incredible! Every day was a festival of some sort, a huge, brightly colored celebration of the seasons or a holiday or a life event. And the people! My god, they were gorgeous. So welcoming, so open. Tuti’s father and I became friends. He’s only four years older than me, and he has her…” At this, Jesse shook his head. “He’s a talented woodworker, more of an artisan really. We met one day when I went to his shop, and he invited me home for dinner. Beautiful family. To make a long story much, much shorter, I owe Tuti’s father a great deal. He got me back on track with my life—in a lot of ways he saved it, I think—so I didn’t really have a second thought when he asked me to marry Tuti.”
Leigh wasn’t sure where this story was headed, but she was fascinated—not to mention it now made perfect sense why the tabloids hadn’t gotten hold of the story. Damned if she was going to show him that, though; instead, she took a sip of her coffee, tried to appear aloof, and said, “She’s very sweet, Jesse. I can see why you married her.” What she didn’t say was Why are you telling me this?
Jesse laughed. “Leigh, I was being quite literal when I said I married Tuti because her father is very dear to me, and he asked me to. She was a child—still is—and I’m unspeakably fond of her, but we’ve never had a romantic relationship, and certainly never will.”
“Ah, yes, well, that makes perfect sense.” She didn’t want to go the sarcastic route, but this whole situation was so confusing.
“After nine-eleven, the U.S. placed Indonesia on its short list of terrorist countries. So even though the island of Bali is ninety-eight percent Hindu—as opposed to the rest of the country, which is the same percentage Muslim—Tuti was denied a visa to so much as visit America. Her parents worked their entire lives to send her to the States for an education—as they did with her older brother—but the new political situation made it impossible. That’s where I came in.”
“You married her so she could get a visa?” Leigh asked, shocked. Didn’t that only happen in the movies?
“I did.”
Leigh could only shake her head in disbelief.
“Do you really find it that appalling?” Jesse asked. “This is why I didn’t want to get into it before now.”
“I don’t think appalling is the word I’d use, but it’s definitely…weird.” Leigh peered at him, examined his face. “Didn’t you ever want to get married one day to someone you actually love? Or was that not even a consideration?”
“I know this probably sounds strange to you, but to be perfectly honest, no, that was not a consideration. I’d recently come off this massively successful first book, and I was all caught up in the traveling and partying and women; marriage was the last thing on my mind. What was I really sacrificing by marrying Tuti in name only? She lives with three roommates in a walk-up on the Lower East Side. Goes to school at night, has a new boyfriend who seems like a nice kid. I take her out for lunch twice a month, and she loves bringing her laundry to my apartment because my cleaning lady does it for her. It’s like having a niece, or a little sister. And it’s never had any kind of negative impact on my life…until now.”
Even now, three months later, Leigh could remember every word of what Jesse said next. How he’d been intrigued with Leigh from the moment they met in Henry’s office; how much he grew to adore and respect her during the working Hamptons trips they’d shared; how he hadn’t thought himself capable of caring about someone so much. He told her that he knew it was all happening so fast, but that he didn’t want to waste any more of his life playing games or screwing around. She could take all the time she needed, especially in light of what had happened with Russell (Henry had told him everything), but he was committed to her and her only. Just tell him now if she felt the same way; if there was even the smallest chance she did, he would wait for her. Was there the smallest chance? She smiled now just remembering all of it.
The flight to Los Angeles was uneventful. As promised, Adriana was waiting for them at the baggage claim, chattering a mile a minute, filled with excitement and ideas about how the girls would spend their weekend.
“First and foremost, we shop,” Adriana announced as she clicked open the doors to her brand-new, candy apple red BMW M3 convertible.
“Sweet car!” Emmy breathed, running her hand across its trunk.
Adriana smiled happily. “Isn’t she hot? How can you live in California and not drive a convertible? It’s a sacrilege. S
he’s my ‘independence gift’ from my parents.”
“You’re joking,” Leigh said, delighted that the three of them could fall right back into their familiar patterns.
“Not at all,” Adriana sang. “They wanted to ‘encourage’ my decision to support myself—I’m paying entirely for my own apartment, by the way—so here she is. I mean, I could’ve rejected it on principle, but that just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
The girls piled into the convertible and proceeded to work their way through lunch at the Ivy, store-hopping on Robertson so Emmy could pick up a pair of baby Uggs for her nephew, and a driving tour of Venice Beach, Adriana’s new neighborhood. Her studio was bright and modern, a clean, uncluttered space just two blocks to both the ocean and all the stores and restaurants on Main Street. Leigh couldn’t remember feeling this happy, this content, for a long time, and as the girls sipped wine and dressed for dinner, the thought occurred to her that the anxiety-related heart palpitations and clammy hands and fingernails-in-the-palm digging were things of the past. The Nicorette was gone. She even slept most nights. It was almost impossible to imagine, but if she had to select a single word to describe her current emotional state, she might have even chosen relaxed.
Singing Shakira the entire car ride to West Hollywood, the girls were prepped and ready for a big night out. It only helped when Adriana pulled up to the valet at Koi and was given a rock star–worthy greeting, followed by a worshipful double cheek kiss and a “fucking gorgeous, Adriana!” by the otherwise obnoxious maître d’. They were immediately ushered past teeming heaps of sushi-seekers and sake-swiggers and deposited at one of the restaurant’s best tables, a prime swatch of real estate that offered 360-degree views of the dining area and bar, and glimpses of the cocktail garden cum paparazzi frenzy out front. A round of lychee martinis simply materialized, and within minutes the friends were in prime form.
“So, what’s the plan?” Leigh asked Adriana, who had been approached and greeted by no fewer than three people in the last ten minutes.
“You’re like a local celebrity,” Emmy said to Adriana, shaking her head. “Not that I’m remotely surprised, but still…”
Adriana flashed her perfect teeth and performed her sexy hair-flick move to what Leigh would swear were audible groans from nearby tables. “Querida, please, I’m blushing!”
“Yeah, right,” Emmy said. “Our shy, fragile flower, just waiting to bloom.”
“Okay, so maybe not so shy,” Adriana concurred. “And as for our plan, well, we aren’t committed to anything. We could meet up with Toby later, or”—Adriana smiled devilishly again, clearly indicating which choice would be her preference—“we could head to Vine and meet up with some of those guys from Endeavor. One of them has a sick house and always throws great pool parties….”
“What’s this I hear? A new love interest, perhaps? What about Toby?” Leigh asked, popping a piece of salmon sashimi in her mouth.
“What about Toby?” Adriana said, the up-to-no-good smile back again. “He’s lovely, as always. But that’s not to say there aren’t many more lovelies out there….”
“Does he know?” Emmy asked.
Adriana nodded. “He’s wonderful, sweet, even fun sometimes. I told him I’d love to keep seeing him on a nonexclusive basis if he was okay with that, and he was. Can you really expect a girl in a brand-new city with so many delicious treats to choose only one? It’s inhumane!”
“So, as far as our pact goes…,” Emmy said, letting her words trail off.
“Yes, that is why we’re out here, isn’t it? It’s been exactly one year since the agreement, and we’re supposed to evaluate this weekend. Declare a winner,” Leigh said.
Adriana waved her hand dismissively. “The pact? Please. I’m so over it.”
Emmy laughed. “So are you admitting defeat?”
“Absolutely, one hundred percent, not for a single second,” Adriana said, sipping her martini and delicately licking her lips. “Admittedly, there’s no ring”—she wagged her left hand, fingers spread—“but there could have been. And still can be, from Toby or anyone else. I might be thirty in a sea of gorgeous twentysomethings, but the more time I spend here, the more obvious it becomes: They’re amateurs. They’re little girls. They don’t know the first thing about seducing or keeping a man. We’re women…in every sense of the word.”
The waiter appeared at their table and began to uncork a bottle of Dom Pérignon. “We didn’t order that,” Leigh said, looking to her friends for confirmation.
“It’s from the gentlemen sitting at the end of the bar,” he replied, the festive pop of the cork punctuating his words.
All three girls swiveled immediately to look.
“They’re cute!” Leigh said in the way committed girls do the world over. They’re totally fine…for you. I won’t be partaking because I’m madly in love with someone so much better….
“Way too preppy,” Adriana said automatically, her eagle eyes taking in the four men.
“We don’t have to sleep with them, but we do have to invite them over for a drink,” Leigh said in her most reasonable voice.
“Please, we don’t owe them anything but a thank-you smile and a little wave,” Adriana said, performing both with a flourish as she spoke.
Neither girl noticed that Emmy’s face was beet red, that she was fidgeting with her hands and refusing to look back at the bar.
“You okay?” Leigh asked, wondering if Emmy was having a Duncan-related regret, or worse, if they were his friends. They looked like East Coast prep-school guys, not at all like native Californians, and as Leigh watched Emmy grow more and more uncomfortable, she was sure she had hit on something. “Are those friends of Duncan’s?” she asked.
Emmy shook her head no. “I’m so humiliated. My god, I never thought I’d see him again. What happens abroad stays abroad, right? Or what doesn’t happen…”
“What is she talking about?” Adriana asked Leigh.
Leigh shrugged; damned if she knew.
“Is one of them a card-carrying member of the Tour de Whore? Or perhaps more than one?” Adriana asked with a wicked smile.
“God, I wish,” Emmy sighed. “One of them—the guy in the striped collared shirt—is Paul. I can’t believe he recognizes me. This is so embarrassing. What am I supposed to do?”
“Who’s Paul?” Leigh asked, scanning her brain to recall the names of Emmy’s conquests from the past year. “The Israeli?”
“Croc Dundee?” Adriana asked.
“The guy on the beach in Bonaire?”
“Someone else entirely we haven’t heard of and are therefore going to torture you for?”
“No!” Emmy hissed, looking very distressed. “I met Paul at the Costes in Paris, the first trip I took after the tour began. He’s the one I threw myself at, who completely rejected me. Had to go to his ex-girlfriend’s party. Any of this ringing a bell?”
Both girls nodded. “That was a year ago,” Leah said. “I’m sure he doesn’t even remember you inviting him to your room, just the great conversation you had.”
“Uh-huh, keep telling her your lies,” Adriana said.
“It doesn’t look like you have much choice,” Leigh whispered. “He’s coming over here. Three o’clock. Two. One…”
“Emmy?” he said, sounding endearingly nervous. “I’m not sure if you remember, but we met in Paris, at the worst hotel on earth. Paul? Paul Wyckoff?”
“Hi!” Emmy said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm. “Thanks for the champagne. These are my friends Leigh and Adriana. This is Paul.”
Everyone shook hands and smiled and made a minute or two of small talk before Paul dropped two back-to-back conversational bombs. It turned out that although Paul was in LA for the week to visit his newly born niece, he’d actually moved to New York six months earlier and was living in a great apartment on the Upper East Side. As if that wasn’t enough to digest, he managed to mention how upset he’d been when Emmy never responded to the note he’d
left for her, how he was sorry for just ditching her like that, but he’d been hoping to hear from her so he could make it up to her.
“Note? What note?” Emmy asked, all pretense of playing it cool totally gone.
“How easily we forget!” Paul laughed, and Emmy thought she might have to stand up and nibble on his lips then and there. “The one where I wrote this whole apology for leaving so abruptly, and I gave you all my contact information and basically begged you to get in touch. I left it with the front desk at the Costes when I checked out the next…” His voice drifted off and he smiled as he realized what had happened. “You never got that, did you?”
Emmy shook her head. “Sure didn’t,” she said cheerfully. This was, quite possibly, the best news she’d heard in an entire year.
Paul sighed. “I should’ve known better.” He turned to the girls and, addressing Leigh and Adriana, asked if he might interrupt their dinner and steal their friend for a drink outside in the garden.
“She’s all yours,” Leigh said, waving her friend off, thrilled to see Emmy so happy.
“Only for a few minutes!” Adriana called after them. “We have plans after dinner.” Adriana turned to Leigh and shook her finger admonishingly. “Don’t make it so easy for him,” she reprimanded.
When Emmy returned twenty minutes later, she was flushed with excitement.
“So, how was it?” Leigh asked. “Judging by your face right now, I’m guessing it wasn’t utterly humiliating.”
Emmy laughed. “Not for me, at least. He said he had to work up the nerve to send over the champagne tonight because he was still embarrassed that I never called him. Can you believe it?”
“Unbelievable,” Leigh said, shaking her head. “And he lives in New York now? Are you kidding me?”