Doug sounded unaccountably bitter. “The other day she asked me to meet her in a shop in Soho, and I walk in and find out she’s in the middle of another fucking photo shoot.”
“It’s part of her job,” Pandy said, narrowing her eyes.
“No, it’s not. Not when you say yes to everything because you’re afraid it’s all going to go away.”
“So she’s scared.” Pandy shrugged. “Maybe you need to reassure her.”
“All I do is reassure her!” Doug snorted. “Every day, it’s ‘Am I pretty enough? Thin enough? What about my hair?’ It’s, like, twenty-four hours a day.”
Pandy smiled coldly. “She’s an actress, remember?” This whole conversation, she realized, was merely another scene to him. “I’m sorry. But your relationship isn’t really my concern.”
“But SondraBeth is.”
“I never even see SondraBeth anymore. Except at the occasional Monica event.” Where, Pandy now recalled, SondraBeth always cleverly managed to avoid being photographed next to Pandy. Pandy had suspected it was deliberate, but she had dismissed the thought as her own paranoia.
“I don’t think you get what I’m saying,” Doug said, looking meaningfully into her eyes. For a moment, Pandy wondered if he was actually flirting with her, thinking he might get her into bed for another meaningless fling. Even if she weren’t with Jonny, Pandy would never have stooped so low.
“What are you trying to say?” she demanded curtly.
“Only that you need to watch out. Look.” Doug brought his face close to hers. “I live with the woman, okay? She hates you.”
Pandy drew back in surprise. And then, recalling her last moment with SondraBeth, she became angry. “She has no reason to hate me. I’ve never done anything to her. Never said a bad word about her. Raved about her in the press. What could she possibly have against me?”
“Don’t you understand?” Doug asked. “Without Monica, who is she? Who is SondraBeth Schnowzer? Nobody cares about SondraBeth Schnowzer. They care about Monica. Without Monica, she’d have no life. She doesn’t exist. That’s why she hates you.”
Pandy looked around the room and suddenly realized that maybe SondraBeth had been right—she didn’t understand actors. And she didn’t belong here.
“You know what, Doug?” she said, gathering her things. “SondraBeth can have her. She can have Monica all to herself if she needs her that badly.”
And for a moment, as she stormed off, she felt good. But as each block clicked by on the taxi meter, the metronome of sadness in her heart also gave another tick.
Pandy looked out the window at the still-bright storefronts and sighed. Ever since she’d met Jonny, she’d been secretly hoping that she and SondraBeth could get over their stupid rift and become friends again. Maybe even revive PandaBeth.
Doug, however, had made it patently clear this was never going to happen.
And two weeks later, when Pandy ran into SondraBeth in the bathroom at that black-tie event, SondraBeth did as well.
The incident occurred at a benefit hosted by Peter Pepper—PP, she thought in disgust, remembering what SondraBeth had said about how he didn’t approve of their friendship. He needn’t have worried, she thought ironically when she spotted four bodyguards holding back a crowd that threatened to engulf the head table. The focus of all the attention was, naturally, SondraBeth Schnowzer, who, thanks to the success of Monica, couldn’t go anywhere without being mobbed by fans.
With a sharp ache that nearly made her cry out in pain, Pandy remembered how much she’d loved SondraBeth, and how much she missed her. But then she recalled what Doug had said about SondraBeth hating her. Was it really true? For a second, Pandy considered approaching her, but the prospect of being turned away by the bodyguards was too embarrassing to consider, especially since she was with Jonny.
Halfway through the evening, Pandy snuck off to the ladies’ room. She was touching up her lipstick when there was a knock on the door; in the next second, a bodyguard pushed open the door.
“Excuse me?” Pandy demanded.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I need you to vacate this space.”
“Why? Has something happened? Is there a fire?”
And then she heard SondraBeth’s voice coming from behind him. “Really, Julio. This isn’t necessary.”
The bodyguard stepped back to let her pass. Before Pandy had time to figure out how to react, there was Monica herself, less than five feet away.
Her hair was teased up into a gorgeous golden puff with the shine of a glazed donut. A scattering of rhinestones were arranged like stars across the dark navy mesh of her bodice. The shock of seeing SondraBeth—Monica—a mere three feet away was so intense, it was like being in a car accident. It took Pandy a couple of seconds to comprehend that the situation was real; the subsequent rush of adrenaline caused her hands to shake as she tried to nonchalantly replace the cap on her lipstick and drop it into her bag. For a moment she was sure SondraBeth was equally distressed, but then her face relaxed into that impenetrable mask of eternal happiness.
“How are you?” SondraBeth asked pleasantly, as if she and Pandy were casual acquaintances who had run into each other at a party.
“I’m doing great,” Pandy said firmly, with a touch too much enthusiasm to sound convincing. Not knowing how to proceed, she added quickly, “I’m finally seeing a guy I really, really like.”
SondraBeth’s smile stiffened. “I heard. Jonny Balaga, right?”
“That’s right.” Pandy nodded awkwardly.
“Are you…” SondraBeth unexpectedly faltered. “Is it serious?”
Pandy raised her eyebrows and tried to laugh. “I certainly hope so.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” Pandy stared at SondraBeth in confusion. Then she thought she understood. “Don’t tell me you want him, too?” she snapped.
SondraBeth suddenly looked stricken. By guilt, Pandy guessed. As if Pandy had actually hurt her, she cried out, “Why on earth would you say that?”
Pandy stared at her in confusion as all of her complicated feelings toward SondraBeth swirled around her brain like detritus in a hurricane. She wanted to scream, “Squeege, it’s me, remember? We’re best friends!” but she was overwhelmed by the fear of SondraBeth’s rejecting her; the mermaid fishtail of her tulle and sequined gown trailing over Pandy’s shoes as she swished by…
“Pandy?” she heard SondraBeth say. “Are you all right?”
The guard rapped on the door. “SondraBeth?”
SondraBeth’s eyes shot from the door back to Pandy in panic. “You’ve got to listen to me,” she said urgently. “Jonny Balaga is a bad guy. I know some people who were going to do business with him, and—”
“SondraBeth!” The voice was more impatient and threatening this time. SondraBeth quickly gathered up her skirts. “Hate me as much as you like,” she hissed, “but don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.”
A thick arm in a black suit jacket swung the door open, and in the next second she was gone, leaving Pandy staring at the door. “SondraBitch,” she swore.
Of course she didn’t listen. Why would she? And besides, it was already too late. One month later, she and Jonny were married.
CHAPTER NINE
JONNY BELUGA, Pandy originally dubbed him.
Her first encounter with Jonny Balaga took place at the newsstand, where Jonny was staring out smugly from the cover of New York magazine, above a headline that read: “Is This Man the Messiah of French Food?”