Call me, he mouthed, bringing his index finger and thumb up to his mouth in a pantomime of a telephone receiver. Phoebe shook her head from side to side, mouthing back no way, before she turned back to Sophie and walked out onto the darkening terrace, the stars peeking out of the sky in quick flashes of white light.
green-eyed
monster
Madison stepped into the front hall of the Van Allen apartment as one of the caterers assigned to door-duty took her lightweight, hot pink pashmina wrap from her shoulders. It was nine P.M., and she was officially one hour late—and that meant that it was just about time to make her grand entrance. If Edie had ever taught her anything even remotely useful, it was that being fashionably late was a must. And she had to admit that she absolutely loved it when the room stopped and all eyes turned to stare at her. So she was an attention whore, so what? There were worse things you could be—like totally, irredeemably unfashionable, which she most certainly was not. Madison looked down at her black satin Armani sheath dress, the rhinestone buckles on her new black Manolos glinting in the light. She paused ever-so-slightly, her heart fluttering in anticipation of the sea of eyes that would be trained on her when she looked up. She walked out through the foyer—a slight catwalk swing in her hips—but was greeted by nothing more than a low hum of voices and clicking crystal. Fuckers, Mad thought to herself, walking normally now, her shoulders slightly slouched, they better not have eaten all of the salmon pâté, too, or I’m really going to be pissed.
Every time Madison stepped into the Van Allens’ opulent prewar apartment, she felt almost dizzy. Huge, brightly colored paintings that resembled the drawings Bijoux made in art class shrieked at her from every available expanse of wall space. Maybe I really just don’t understand art, Madison thought as she stepped into the spacious but crowded living room, but these painting are beyond atrocious. And Madison was no stranger to atrocious lately, it seemed. Ever since Drew had left her standing there in front of The Bram like an idiot, she’d wondered what exactly she’d say when she saw him to night. She was furious, that went without saying, but more than anything, she was completely confused. How could he just walk away when she’d been so, umm…welcoming? Okay, so she really meant easy, but still. She’d been ready to give the whole physical side of their relationship a second chance, and he’d just shrugged and walked away! Not that she was totally surprised. Drew had been acting all kinds of weird since he got back from Europe (Okay, so he wasn’t exactly normal before he left either), and she couldn’t help wondering just how much of his strangeness was due to the presence of a certain curly-haired stranger…But to night she intended to find out. As soon as she saw Drew, she would definitely corner him and get some kind of an explanation out of him—one way or another. And if Casey got in her way, she was going down. It was really that simple. She’d had just about enough of the wide-eyed innocent act everyone else at Meadowlark, including Drew, seemed to fall for.
Madison squared her shoulders like she was preparing for battle, and scoped out the terrain. The vast room was filled to the max—women in Prada dresses and men in suits or tuxedos pushed up against the brightly colored walls. Mad hated the feeling of squeezing into a room—and the huge bouquets of field flowers and lilies that dominated every surface didn’t help her feel any less claustrophobic either. A few pretentious art snobs with total assitude prowled the room in their all-black ensembles, complete with paint smears (at least she hoped it was paint) on their tight, black pants. Eeew. Madison shuddered delicately. It looked like the entire population of Williamsburg had thrown up most of its inhabitants directly onto the turquoise-and-white op art carpets of the Van Allens’ living room. Maybe they’d all have an unprovoked art-attack en masse, and scurry back to their dingy studios like cockroaches. And why did artists always have to be so gross and unwashed?
She sighed with annoyance as she scanned the room looking for Drew, Phoebe, or Sophie, who were, of course, nowhere to be found. For lack of anything better to do, Madison walked over to a long, white-draped table filled with delicious-smelling appetizers, and popped a piece of bacon-wrapped shrimp in her mouth as she looked out the sliding glass windows to the Van Allens’ terrace—which was, unfortunately, just as crowded as the apartment. As she chewed the delicious, salty, bacony goodness, Madison caught sight of a mop of yellow hair at the far corner of the terrace, and pushed slowly through the crowd to get a better look. And what she saw made her swallow hard—then completely lose her appetite.
Drew and Casey stood close together on the terrace as the last streaks of light faded from the sky. She watched through the glass in horror as Drew reached up and tenderly pushed a stray curl from Casey’s face, stopping to caress her cheek with his index finger, smiling softly. Oh. No. She. Didn’t! Madison felt her blood begin to churn as the little green monster inside of her rapidly expanded to Incredible Hulklike proportions. In fact, her little green monster made the Jolly Green Giant look like a total pussy. And WTF? Why the hell was Casey wearing the dress she’d given Edie to donate to charity two months ago? She’d know that dress anywhere. It was a one-of-a-kind, for starters, and the hem in the back was coming down slightly from where she’d caught it on a chair at some stupid benefit Edie had dragged her to at the Met last spring. Not that anyone would ever notice the slight tear but her. Well, she thought smugly, she certainly is a charity case all right. And if the dress fits…
Madison opened the terrace door and walked out into the humid evening air, just as Drew put both hands on Casey’s shoulders, leaning in to whisper into her ear. That’s about enough of that, Madison thought, her sandals clicking confidently on the Italian marble tiles that Drew’s crazy mom had shipped over from Florence. She stopped right in front of their oblivious faces, staring at each other with lust-crazed eyes that made her want to hurl up her undigested shrimp at their feet in a fishy-smelling puddle.
“Well,” she said, her lips, painted with MAC Lacquer in Fanplastico, curling into a sneer. “Don’t you two look cozy.”
At the sound of her voice, Casey and Drew jumped apart like they’d been struck by lightning. In a minute, they’re going to wish they had been, Madison thought with no small degree of satisfaction as she took in the panicked expression on Casey’s face. Better to be feared than loved—that was for sure. It gave you so much more—what was the word? Ah, that’s right—leverage. Madison crossed her arms over the sleek fabric of her dress. It was weird how close crying and complete and utter rage really were at the end of the day. If she wasn’t so angry right now she knew that she’d probably start blubbering away like an idiot. It wasn’t fair. People in her life just kept disappearing—first her father and now Drew.
“Madison,” Casey’s voice shook slightly as she spoke. “We weren’t sure you were coming.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Madison said airily, looking Casey over with a practiced eye. “But tell me,” she said, moving closer, reaching out to grasp the material of the dress in her fingertips. “Wherever did you find my old dress? Have you been playing in the garbage?” Madison turned to Drew, her green eyes cool and impassive.
“You see, I gave that dress to my mother to donate to charity two months ago,” Madison sneered, relishing Casey’s obvious embarrassment as she turned bright red, then looked at the floor, unable to meet Madison’s gaze. “Come to think of it,” Madison went on, placing one perfectly manicured finger against her chin, “it seems like ever since you moved here you’ve been interested in everything that belongs to me, haven’t you?”
Madison watched with satisfaction as Casey looked up, opening her unglossed lips, and then rapidly closing them. She looks like a fucking guppy, Madison thought triumphantly. And what would Drew want with a loser fish who can’t dress and has incredibly unfortunate hair—when he could have me? She smiled smugly, her eyes like frozen jade chips as she reached over and twined her arms around Drew’s neck, pulling him close. Drew’s face was a mass of confusion as she wrapped her body
around his, pulling his face down for a kiss as her tongue snaked into his mouth. At first his lips were tense and hard as they touched hers, but as she held on she felt his body give way and melt into hers. And before she knew it, he was opening his mouth and kissing her back. Madison opened her eyes and stared at Casey, who had gone suddenly white, as if a vampire had swooped down onto the terrace while their eyes were closed and drained her of all her blood. Serves you right, Madison gloated as she closed her eyes again. You messed with the wrong girl…
“I’m so sorry I’m late, baby,” she purred when they broke apart, reaching up and smoothing Drew’s hair back with her fingers. “But I’m here now.”
“I should…” Casey stammered, her eyes darting wildly from Drew to Madison, then back again. “I should…”
“Go?” Madison deadpanned, one arched eyebrow raised, her lips curled into a smirk. “Good idea.”
“I’ll go,” Casey said, her voice shaking slightly, “but I want you to know something first. Ever since I moved here, I just wanted to be your friend—I didn’t plan…this.” She gestured at the space between herself and Drew with one hand. “It just happened.”
“Nothing ‘just happens,’” Madison answered back, her green eyes like slits. “Everyone here has an agenda—even you.”
“If that’s true,” Casey said, a tear spilling from her right eye and sliding down her cheek, “then I guess you do, too.” Before Madison could respond, Casey turned and walked quickly back toward the Van Allens’ apartment, tripping on Sophie’s wedge heels and the slickly tiled patio, twisting her ankle and falling to the ground. Madison giggled, rolling her eyes as she watched Casey pick herself back up, blood running down her leg from a skinned knee before she ran inside, fumbling with the huge sliding doors. Madison turned back to Drew, smiling expectantly. Thank God she’d come along and saved Drew from the hell of trying to date some uncoordinated, totally spastic freak who couldn’t even run away without falling. What ever, Madison thought as she reached over and took Drew’s hand, I’m sure he’ll think of a way to thank me later…
“Now,” she purred, her green eyes flashing. “Where were we?”
the
big
blowout
“What the hell are you doing, Mad?” Drew pushed Madison away, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. His face felt strange and tight with an uncomfortable mix of confusion and fury. The look on Casey’s open, freckled face as she ran away played itself out over and over in his brain until he thought he might lose it completely.
“What am I doing?” Madison snarled, tossing her silky platinum hair from her shoulders. “What are you doing, Drew? You ask me out the other night, and then you freak out at my door and run away, and the next thing I know you’re here with that girl.”
“Her name is Casey.” Drew ran his hands through his hair and began to pace the way he always did when he was mad or freaked-out—or both. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry, and if he’d ever been this completely furious at Madison specifically, he’d blocked it out. But deep inside he wondered if just maybe he was maddest at himself. There was no way he should’ve responded when Mad kissed him, but when it came to Madison, his body seemed to have a life—and mind—of its own.
“And you just treated her like crap, you know that, Mad? She didn’t deserve that!”
“Oh, poor baby.” Madison pursed her lips out into the full-lipped pout that usually drove him half-crazed with lust, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “My heart really bleeds for her.”
“We were just talking!” Drew shouted, throwing his arms in the air. All at once the crowded terrace fell silent, the party-goers staring at Drew and Madison surreptitiously over their half-full glasses. The Upper East Side was a very small world—a microcosm really, and Drew knew that by Monday, the fight he was currently having in front of practically everyone he knew would be all over polite society. As it was, Dominique Delmonico, the biggest gossip on the Upper East Side—if not all of Manhattan—was standing less than ten feet away, peering at Drew over her red, rectangular Chanel eyeglasses, her blue eyes widening.
“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing,” Madison said quietly, dropping her eyes to the floor. In that one dip of her head, Drew saw just how badly she was hurting, and something inside him softened a little bit. Shit, it was probably his fault anyway. Technically, he’d been leading her on, acting like he wanted to get back together, asking her out when deep inside he knew it would probably never really work between them. Drew stared at the way the soft light from the Japanese lanterns glinted off her shining hair, at her ridiculously lithe body underneath the tiny black dress she wore, at her perfect glowing skin and angular cheekbones—and he knew that he had to tell her that, if it had ever really started between them, it was now over. And he also knew that if he didn’t suck it up and spit it out, he’d only hurt her again, and, more than anything, Drew was tired of hurting her. He was so tired of being the bad guy that he could barely breathe.
“Mad,” he started, keeping his voice low so that the gawkers couldn’t hear, “I know you’re going to think I’m an asshole for doing this, and you’d be right—I probably am. But I’d be more of an asshole if I didn’t say what I’m about to say.” Madison raised her head, and when Drew saw the tears swimming around in her green eyes, he almost stopped himself. Drew took a deep breath and tried to find the right words, softening his voice to try to cushion the blow as best he could. “I think it was a mistake for us to try again. Maybe we’re just not meant to be.”
Madison flinched visibly, her face hardening like a mask, and for one split second, he wanted to take it all back and pull her to him—anything to stop her face from looking so totally disappointed and lifeless. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, blinking rapidly.
“If that’s how you feel, then fine,” she said, her voice wavering.
“It…is,” Drew said tentatively. “And I’m sorry.” Madison shook her head and turned around to face the street, her hair blowing gently in the breeze.
“Whatever,” she said coolly, her tone level and steady now, as if by magic. “I’m over it—and you.”
Drew flinched slightly at the ice coating her voice and reached out, his hand hovering above her shoulder for a few agonizing seconds before he came to his senses and pulled back. There was nothing he could do or say that would make her feel better right now—and Drew knew that if he touched her, or tried to give her a hug, she’d take it the wrong way. Hell, as pissed-off and hurt as she was, she might even punch him, and he knew from experience that Madison had a mean left hook. If she wanted to put him out, well, she could probably do it. Public humiliation was one thing, but he drew the line at getting slapped by a girl in front of two hundred of his closest friends. The only thing he could really do at this point was to walk away. He’d had enough practice at it, and this was one time where his skills would really come in handy. For the first time, he knew without a doubt, that there was really nothing left to say.
And with that, Drew turned to face the still-silent crowd, and walked slowly and deliberately inside to find Casey, turning his back on his past, and making his way, step by step, toward the future.
seven
minutes
in heaven
Casey sat on the edge of the Kohler freestanding white soaking tub in the middle of the Van Allens’ guest bathroom, staring down at her freckled, skinned knee, and wishing she could just disappear. Who had she been kidding to think that she could ever really fit in here? She looked around at the gleaming black-and-white tiles, at the Swarovski crystal chandelier overhead that sprayed across the ceiling in the shape of a branch dripping with crystal cherry blossoms, and sighed, brushing away the hot tears falling from her gray eyes with the back of her hand, not caring if she smeared her mascara everywhere. She’d only been in New York less than a month, and already she’d ruined everything. The only thing that made her feel even slightl
y better about the whole screwed-up situation was the fact that she’d managed to tell Madison exactly what she thought—even if it hadn’t made any real difference…
Casey looked down at the dress she’d loved so much a few hours ago, running her hands over the hopelessly wrinkled fabric, and sighed deeply as she grabbed a piece of toilet paper from the stainless steel dispenser and blew her nose, the sound echoing noisily off of the white walls. The dress that had made her feel like a princess a few short hours ago now hung loosely around her body like an old rag, like somebody’s cast-off—which, of course, it was. Casey sighed, wondering how she was ever going to find the courage to leave the bathroom or face Madison ever again. And speaking of Madison, Casey was beginning to wonder if her whole life in Manhattan—assuming she even still had one after tonight—was going to consist of scooping up Madison’s hand-me-downs. Would she always be second best, and in second place?
Casey jumped at the sound of a soft knock on the door. The knob began to turn, and the door opened, revealing Drew’s tense, worried face. Oh crap, she thought, running her fingers under her eyes to try to reduce the racoonlike effect of her undoubtedly smeared mascara that probably made her look a hot mess. Great. I’m in the bathroom crying, wearing his girlfriend’s goddamn dress, and now he’s probably going to tell me that he’s getting back together with her. She wondered just how much more humiliation she was going to have to endure this evening before she could sneak back to The Bram in shame and consume an entire pint of Häagen-Dazs chocolate-chocolate chip while watching bad reality TV until she passed out. Drew closed the door behind him with a sharp click, turning the lock. He walked over and sat down beside her on the side of the tub.
The Elite Page 18
