Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont

‘This isn’t the latest?’ I felt the familiar dread begin to build.

‘Oh, no, darling, I’m afraid to say it isn’t. My assistant faxed it here an hour ago.’

‘Is it awful?’ I asked, not really wanting an answer.

‘It’s less than complimentary. For both of us.’

I felt my stomach flip. ‘Oh, Christ. I can understand Philip, but for whatever reason they’ve made me their project, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Now they’re including you?’

‘I can hold my own, darling. I’m not thrilled, but I can handle it. As far as you’re concerned, you’re right. There’s not much you can do, but I would certainly advise you not to do anything exceptionally stupid in public, or at least while you’re in the company of this certain gentleman. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.’

I nodded. ‘I just don’t think my life is interesting enough to chronicle, you know? I mean, I’m no one. I go to work, I go out because I have to, and all of a sudden, my activities are fair game for public consumption.’

‘Not yours – his,’ Will pointed out, absentmindedly fingering the platinum ring that Simon called a wedding band and Will referred to as ‘Simon’s security blanket.’

‘You’re right. I just can’t seem to extricate myself. He’s omnipresent. And it’s such a weird situation.’

‘How so?’ We both smiled when Simon swooshed by in an angry huff of ivory linen, and Will mouthed the word snit.

‘Well … I don’t actually like Philip as a person, but—’

‘Darling! Don’t let that stop you from dating someone! If liking the person was a requirement for having sex with them, well then, we’d all be in trouble.’

‘See, that’s the other thing. I’m not actually sleeping with him. Or rather, he’s not sleeping with me.’

Will raised an eyebrow. ‘I have to admit, that one puzzles me.’

‘Well, at first it was because I didn’t want to. Or at least that’s what I thought. I just thought he was kind of a jerk, and even though I’m sure of it now, there’s something that attracts me to him. Not in any kind of redeeming-quality way whatsoever, but he’s certainly different from everyone else I know. And he’s just not interested.’

Will was about to say something but stopped himself just as his mouth opened. He appeared to regroup for a minute and then said, ‘I see. Well, ah, I have to say, I’m not actually surprised.’

‘Will! Am I that much of a cow?’

‘Darling, I have neither the time nor the inclination to spoon-feed you compliments right now. You know that’s precisely not how I meant it. I just find it unsurprising since it’s the men who talk about sex the most, the ones who make it such a crucial element of their identities, who actually define themselves by it, are usually the ones not performing up to par. With most people, when they’re happy with that area of their lives, they’re also happy to keep it private. All of this is by way of saying that I think you have the best situation possible right now.’

‘Oh, really? Why’s that?’

‘Because from what you’ve mentioned before, it’s important to your boss and colleagues that the Brit stay in the picture, right?’

‘Correct. Your niece is a glorified prostitute, and it’s all your fault.’

He ignored that comment. ‘Well, it seems that it’s an easy out, no? You can continue spending time with him as you – or your company – see fit, but you don’t actually have to, ah, participate in anything unsavory. You’re getting credit for minimal work, darling.’

That was an interesting way of looking at it. I wanted to tell him about Sammy, maybe even ask his advice, but I realized it was ridiculous to talk about my unrequited crush. Before I could broach the subject either way, my cell phone rang.

‘Philip,’ I announced, wondering, as usual, whether to answer it. ‘He seems to instinctively call at the most inopportune times.’

‘Answer it, darling. I’m going to find Simon and soothe his jangled nerves. That man is a walking basket case, and I’m afraid it’s due in no small part to yours truly.’ With that, he strolled out.

‘Hello?’ I said, pretending, as everyone does, that I had no idea who was calling.

‘Please hold for Philip Weston,’ a hollow voice replied. A moment later, Philip came on. ‘Bette! Where are you? The driver said you’re not home, and I can’t imagine where else you’d be.’

There were a few things to process here, not the least of which was how I’d just been blatantly accused of having no life outside of him.

‘I’m sorry, who’s speaking?’ I asked formally.

‘Oh, stop banging on like that, Bette. It’s Philip. I sent a car to your flat, but you’re not there. Bungalow is blowing up tonight and I want to see you. Get over here,’ he commanded.

‘While I appreciate the sentiment, I have plans tonight, Philip. I can’t make it,’ I said for emphasis.

I could hear Eminem in the background and then muffled words from another male voice.

‘Hey, some guy wants me to say hello for him. The fucking bouncer. Jesus, Bette, you must patronize this establishment more than I had originally thought. Man, what’s your name?’

If I’d been given the choice at that moment, I would’ve chosen death over talking to Sammy through Philip. But before I could change the subject or ask him to move away so I could hear him better, Philip said, ‘Are you listening to my conversation? Sod off, man.’

I cringed.

‘Philip, thank you so much for the gorgeous flowers,’ I blurted out, trying desperately to divert his attention. ‘They were the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’m so happy you’ll be doing the BlackBerry party.’

‘What?’ More mumbled talking. ‘The bouncer’s called Sammy and he says he’s working with you on a party or something. What’s he talking about, Bette?’

‘Yes, that’s what I was just saying. The BlackBerry party.’ I was screaming into the phone now, trying to be heard over the background noise. ‘The one you agreed to do … the flowers … the note … any recollection?’

‘Flowers?’ He sounded genuinely confused.

‘The ones you sent me just earlier today? Remember?’

‘Oh, right on, love. I suppose Marta sent them. She’s quite attentive to the details, sending shit at all the right times. She’s my best girl.’

It was my turn to be confused. ‘Marta?’

‘My assistant. She runs my life, makes me look good. Works well, doesn’t it?’ I could almost hear him grinning through the phone.

‘So did she tell you that she agreed on your behalf to host this party?’ I kept my voice as steady and measured as was humanly possible.

‘Not for a second, love, but that’s all right. If she’s keen on it, then so am I. She’ll just tell me where to be and when. What?’ he asked, sounding distracted.

‘What?’ I asked back.

‘Hold on a moment, the bouncer wants to talk to you. He said it’s about work.’

This was unacceptable. I’d almost – almost – forgotten that Sammy had been standing there listening to this entire exchange. He’d heard the bit about the flowers, and certainly how patronizing Philip had been during his charming pronouncement that the bouncer wanted to talk to me. ‘Wait! Philip, don’t just go and—’

‘Hello, Bette?’ It was Sammy. I couldn’t even speak. ‘You still there?’

‘I’m here,’ I said meekly. The flutter feeling described so vividly in all my books began immediately, and with great forcefulness.