“I don’t know what you said to RF, but it certainly worked,” she said.
“Really?” I asked.
Tabitha popped back out in her underwear.
“Robert said he’s willing to start the process. And my mom is coming, so we’re going to meet in the Hamptons. You have to join us. We’ll celebrate!”
The Hamptons? For me, the Hamptons were a bigger fantasy than I dared ever dream of, even bigger than New York City. After all, in Jersey we have the Jersey Shore, the McMansions of Brigantine and the old historical houses of Cape May, but nothing compared to what I had heard about the Hamptons. I hadn’t fully comprehended that summering in the Hamptons was a likely requirement for a Park Avenue Princess or a SoHo Darling.
“We desperately need a little getaway, and I want you to meet my mother.”
“I have a few obligations,” I said. “So I can’t say for sure.” My mother for one. Then there was the fact that I still had no means of supporting myself and Jess’s show. Although Jess didn’t have an exact date, we wanted to time her show at FIT to Fashion Week at the end of the summer. How much she would need me before, we hadn’t discussed. We both knew she could stage the show herself. Getting people there was the problem. She would kill me if I didn’t make that happen for her.
“Well you’ll have to let me know. You should definitely come,” she said.
“Thank you for asking. That’s quite nice of you.”
“I hear you’ve contacted Flo. She’s coming to stay with me, too,” Tabitha said as she pulled on a skirt. “You certainly know how to get around.”
“I’m just not quite sure if there’s anything she can do,” I said. “But she’s so lovely, and it’s just a small hobby of mine.” Tabitha made a half smile as if she didn’t believe me, and I thought it better to change the subject.
“So Robert is giving you what you want? Are you surprised?”
“Not really. You talked to him, right?” she said, hidden from view.
“But Tabitha, we didn’t really talk about very much.”
Tabitha popped back out again. “Oh really? It didn’t seem that way to Robert,” she said. She was half-dressed in a sheer black-and-white dress and tights. The kind of thing Lindsay Lohan might wear at her tackiest. Tabitha noted my expression.
“I don’t really like this, do you?” I didn’t even have to answer.
“Damn, I just don’t have anything to wear.” She ducked behind the mirror. “I just bought these.” She thrust out a pair of black and nude heels. “What do you think I should wear with them?”
Clearly she wasn’t in the mood for a serious talk. I scanned the closet. I plucked a black silk shirt with spiky beaded sleeves and sorted through the hangers and endless dresses until I found a short black mini.
“Try this,” I said. She took the two hangers, ducking behind the armoire again.
“By the way, RF said you were absolutely stellar and impressive,” she said as she dressed. “He said he admires you.” She reappeared, her strawberry-blonde hair falling in luxurious waves over the black silk shirt.
“What do you think?”
“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Good. We’re all ready to go,” she said and noticed for the first time what I was wearing. “Wait, aren’t you getting dressed? What’s in the bag?”
44
Robert greeted us at the door, and you’d think I was his long lost daughter. He was holding Morris, a tiny shih tzu that all the girls cooed over as they passed by. The apartment was magnificent with floor-to-ceiling windows and enormous unobstructed views of the Hudson. There was a huge skylight over the oversize dining room, and if it ever got dark enough in New York City, I’d bet you could see the stars from there.
“Allow me to give you the tour,” Robert offered as Tabitha and I followed him from room to room. It was jarring how quickly Tabitha’s mood had shifted again. She and Robert seemed fine with each other. I didn’t know what to make of it.
Partygoers were everywhere, young girls lounging on the couches picking at hors d’oeuvres and sipping sugary pink martinis, men smoking cigars and playing billiards.
On the rooftop garden, guests reveled beneath the towering Empire State Building, which loomed overhead and seemed close enough to be next door, its upper stories glowing red, white, and blue. But everyone seemed so used to it they didn’t notice. Ho hum, another dazzling skyline, another gorgeous view. I found myself in awe of it all.
There were huge paintings in all the rooms like the ones I’d seen at Palazzo Chupi and in the Mary Boone Gallery, and the place was packed. Music blasted from invisible speakers in each room, young girls danced and writhed to the beat, and bars were set up at every corner. Though it was only 9:30, the crowd already seemed to have imbibed significantly more than usual.
Scattered throughout the apartment were attractive, refined, slightly woozy young women. Interspersed were noticeably older men, some of them Robert’s age and even older, chatting and flirting.
I turned to Tabitha to remark on the intense number of young girls, but she was gone. Only Robert was there, holding Morris and surveying the scene like Dracula presiding over his subjects. I almost expected to see his fangs come out.
Back inside, I wondered if ZK was actually here or if Tabitha simply said so to lure me.
“May I offer you something to drink?” a waiter summoned by Robert asked, carrying a tray of the sugary pink cocktails. I sipped one, wondering how I let myself be convinced to come to Robert Francis’s penthouse. An antique clock sitting on the fireplace mantel reminded me that I’d forgotten again to call in sick to work that night. Work. Jake. It all seemed so far away. I flashed on Mom, Courtney, and Ryan.
“I’m flattered that you actually came to my little gathering,” Robert said, waking me from my trance. “I didn’t think you would, considering our last meeting.” I felt curiously silent, and he seemed not to mind that I wasn’t responding. I remember trying to come up with something witty to say.
“You look absolutely stunning. Wearing a new Designer X creation, I see. I wouldn’t expect anything less. I hope you’ll introduce me to your designer at some point. I’d love to invest. Perhaps a show this fall? We should talk about that right away. Come, let me show you the rest of the penthouse.”
I sipped on the foaming pink confection, feeling oddly lightheaded and thinking how I might excuse myself to find Tabitha. I wanted to sit down. I wouldn’t put it past Sleazebag Mr. Armani to add something narcotic to these pink drinks. It took a moment to realize that the short tour had ended. We were in an enormous room with vaulted ceilings, a large mirrored armoire at one end, and a bed at the other.
Scooting across the floor, Morris jumped up on a footstool at the bottom of the bed and barked as if expecting something. Robert said a few words I couldn’t quite understand and offered me a flute of champagne, which I groggily accepted. As I tried to make sense of where I was, a light crossed the room and reflected in the mirror. I saw an immense tiled bathroom and Robert’s silhouette entering the light.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and I remembered wondering, Right back from where? To where? What was I doing here? Why was I in his bedroom? I thought about the St. Regis and the story of Jacob Astor and his schoolgirl wife. I felt like I was going to be sick.
I staggered, and Morris yelped at me. The incessant barking gave me an instant headache. I could see him yapping at himself in the mirror. I wanted to just fall on the bed and go to sleep, but in my reflection I saw myself in Jess’s new dress and felt the urge to get out of there.
I burst out of the bedroom and ran past the partygoers, who barely noticed me, until I reached the terrace and the summer night air, breathing in and out as deeply as I could, until I felt a little better. I found a bar and drank two glasses of water to clear my head.