Adrienne caught Liz’s eye from across the room and smiled.
Why not?
It had happened so fast. An instant party. Cameron, Graydon, and Parker had pulled out their cell phones and, in about a half an hour, a group of ten kids had arrived.
“Hey, welcome!” Cameron called to a beautiful girl coming through the elevator. Liz knew who she was immediately: Mimi von Fallschirm. Princess Mimi von Fallschirm. It seemed as if all the coolest girls from P-B were there, girls she had barely spoken to last year. And Parker—gorgeous Parker. Liz decided, right then and there, to be a lot bolder this year. Starting now.
“Cameron,” Liz said, approaching the two girls, “this party is so cool!”
“I’m glad your friend thought of it!” Cameron said, her eyes sparkling. “And her cute boyfriend over there is a maniac behind the bar—he can make anything. You must get a drink, Meems.”
Mimi headed to the bar, and Cameron draped one arm over Liz’s shoulder. “Liz,” she said, using her name for the first time, “you have to promise me something.”
“Sure,” Liz said. “What?”
“You have to drink this Cosmo—you look tense.” Cameron giggled and handed her the glass.
“Cheers!” Liz took a big sip.
“All right!” Cameron said. “Now, Liz, we go to school together, and I don’t know a thing about you. Tell me everything, and then I’ll tell you about my friends—especially Parker. Am I right?”
Liz blushed and glanced across the room at Parker, who was talking to a guy she didn’t know. He caught her eye and grinned. “You’re right!” Liz said, taking another swig of her drink.
CHAPTER SEVEN
deep breath. keep your cool.
Liz left the hour-long music history class feeling as if a train had run into her head. Drums, drums, and more drums…followed by math, spanish, and history. By lunchtime, all she wanted to do was take two Advil, drink a gallon of water, and crawl into a hole in Central Park. This was, without doubt, the last time she would ever party mid-week. It was a miracle that her mother hadn’t smelled her bad breath at breakfast.
Stepping outside of the school building, Liz put on her sunglasses and inhaled deeply the crisp fall air. She started to walk down East Ninety-third Street to the Salad Patch, the restaurant where she and her friends Jane Tremont and Belinda Martin went for lunch every day.
Belinda and Jane were Liz’s best friends at P-B. They were both smart, funny, and well-off, but nothing like Cameron and Mimi von Fallschirm. Cameron’s and Mimi’s parents were multimillionaires many times over. Jane and Belinda’s families were, well, just regular rich, not crazy rich.
Liz was looking forward to telling Jane and Belinda about the evening when, suddenly, she noticed a Maybach gliding alongside her in the street. Liz turned to look at it. At P-B, the girls learned (though not in class) which cars were worth looking at, and with a price tag of $300,000, a Maybach was worth a stare.
Suddenly, the window rolled down and a blond girl leaned forward.
It was Cameron.
Liz winced, prepared for a scene.
“Liz,” Cameron called. “It’s Cameron, Cameron Warner.”
Liz turned. She knew exactly who Cameron was.
“Hey,” she said uncertainly as the car stopped.
“Where are you going?” Cameron asked in a friendly voice.
“The Salad Patch,” Liz answered. “I was going to grab lunch with Jane and Belinda.”
“Ugh!” Cameron said, laughing and opening the car door. “Lunch at the Poison Patch? Come to lunch with us! We’re just zipping over to Park Avenue for lunch at Mimi’s.”
Liz stared. Was this really happening? Was Cameron inviting her to Princess Mimi von Fallschirm’s house for lunch?
“Are you coming?” Cameron asked. “Or do you really prefer those crappy salads?” She raised her perfectly tweezed eyebrows.
Liz stepped forward into the car, taking a seat next to Cameron. Jane and Belinda will understand, she thought.
“Mimi, this is Liz. She was at the party last night.” Cameron explained.
Mimi von Fallschirm looked at Liz with an approximation of a smile on her face.
“I’m so glad you guys called last night. I was at the opera with my parents,” Mimi said, extending her hand, which glittered with several tiny sapphire and diamond bands. “It was so boring, I thought I was going to die. Then I got Cam’s text about the party, told my mom I was sick, and came right over. So much more fun than Tannhäuser.” She smiled. Mimi had long, straight, ebony-colored hair and skin that was so white, it was almost unnerving. Her nose, which was a little crooked, wasn’t quite pretty, but it gave her face character. The imperfection didn’t matter when you were a princess.
“We’re just doing a quick lunch at Mimi’s. I’m glad you could join us. I wanted to dish about last night,” Cameron said, smiling.
“Do you always do this?” Liz asked, looking around the car, which was more amazing than anything she had ever seen. The seats were covered in beige suede, and the details were all paneled in walnut. There were several TV screens, a bar, and even bud vases filled with flowers. You couldn’t hear the motor, see the driver, or even figure out where the light came from. It was like sitting in a box at the opera. That is, if Liz had ever sat in a box at the opera.
“We try to do it once a week,” Mimi said. “My mother’s staff is the best in town. We get in and out of lunch in under an hour. Plenty of time to get back to school—though why we’d bother to go to gym after lunch is beyond me. So we generally skip it.” She leaned back in the seat. “This traffic sucks. Living on Park Avenue is such a pain with all these cars.”
“Try living on Fifth,” countered Cameron. “At least you don’t get all the parades. Honestly, all those Irish and Greeks and whoever marching past your house beating drums.”
“I still have a hangover from last night,” Liz said, holding her head. “Don’t even mention drums, please.”
Cameron and Mimi burst out laughing.
“Oh, my God,” Cameron said. “Meems, didn’t I tell you she was great?” And with that bit of flattery, Liz began to relax.
Mimi von Fallschirm’s apartment was incredible.
“See?” Cameron said. “It makes ours look like a dump.”
“Stop it, Cam,” Mimi said, pouting, “you’re embarrassing me.”
The three girls entered the apartment. A sweeping staircase ran up three flights beneath an open skylight. Huge windows looked up and down Park Avenue. The black-and-white marble floor was so highly polished, Liz was worried they’d be able to see up her skirt. The whole place smelled sweetly of oranges—there were blooming miniature orange trees in white tubs up and down the halls. Every few feet there was a full suit of armor.
Liz tried to look blasé. Deep breath, she told herself. Keep your cool.
“The dining room is this way,” Mimi said, her heels clicking as she walked down the long hall ahead of them.
“Isn’t it excellent?” Cameron whispered to Liz. “You know, you’re really lucky I managed to get Mimi to invite you. No one from P-B besides me has ever been invited to Prince von Fallschirm’s. They’re very choosy.” She winked.
They entered the dining room. The walls were covered with forest green brocade and portraits of men and women in elaborate costumes surrounded by golden frames.
“Who are all these people?” Liz asked, taking in the huge chandelier and the mahogany table, which was surrounded by twenty-four chairs.
“Ancestors,” Mimi said dismissively. “We have even more in the house in Vienna.”
Liz looked at the paintings. Every person in them had the same slightly crooked nose as Mimi.
“They have a palace in Vienna,” Cameron whispered as the girls sat down at a small table, set for three, by a huge window.
A butler came out and placed three tiny cups of truffled bouillon on the table in front of them. Liz watched Mimi carefully.
Mimi p
icked up a silver spoon with a round shallow bowl, impossibly small, and then used it to spoon up tiny portions of the delicate broth. When they were finished, tiny feta cheese soufflés were served, each collapsing as the girls ate them with gilded fish forks. Soon, the butler came out with a bottle of wine.
“At lunch?” Liz asked.
Mimi looked at her quizzically. “In Europe, if you have a meal without a glass of wine, you are considered uncivilized.”
“Well, in America, if you’re a high school student who has a meal with a glass of wine, you’re considered a lush,” Liz joked, and then realized she had gone too far.
Fortunately, Mimi giggled. “Oh, Cameron, she is funny! Thank you for introducing us! Walter, Sie können nun den Weifswein servieren,” Mimi said to the butler, who nodded.
“Sehr wohl, Durchlaucht, wie sie wunschen,” he replied.
“What did you say?” Liz asked.
Mimi smiled. “I said, Walter, you may pour the white wine.”
Walter poured.
“What did he say to you?” Cameron asked.
“He said, ‘Of course, Your Highness, as you will.’ Now. Let’s talk all about the evening last night. Enough about me.”
Liz sipped her wine, and gradually her inhibitions loosened. Mimi is funny, she thought. Not stuck-up at all.
Cameron was telling a story from last night about being drunk and crawling under the furniture to look for a lost contact lens.
“Gosh, did you find the lens?” Liz asked.
“Of course not, darling,” Mimi said. “She was so blind drunk, she forgot—she doesn’t wear contact lenses!”
The girls shrieked with laughter, and when they settled down, Cameron finally focused her cool gaze on Liz.
“So…last night was a blast,” Cameron said. “Parker’s definitely hot for you.”
Liz blushed, suddenly feeling like a Miss America contestant having a crown placed on her head. “Really?” Liz asked. “You think so?” She tried to sound cool, as if the hottest guys in New York were always after her.
“Completely. If he asked you out, would you go?”
“Of course,” Liz said. “But what are the chances of that?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, darling,” Mimi said. “My mother was just an American. And she became a princess. Continue, Cam.”
“All I’m saying is, if he asked you, would you go?”
“You bet I would,” Liz replied too quickly.
“Then consider it done. I’ll ask him to ask you out,” Cameron said, leaning back into her gilded chair.
“You’re not serious, are you?” Liz said.
“He thought you were hot. Parker’s an old friend, you’re a new friend. I see no reason not to.”
“Cam, you’re the best!” Liz said.
Cameron smiled and glanced at Mimi.
“Liz,” she said, smiling slowly and pouring Liz another glass of wine, “you have to tell us all about your friend Adrienne. She’s not one of us, but she’s very cool. We really like her—don’t we, Mimi?”
“Yes,” Mimi said, leaning closer to Liz. “Such energy.”
“Have just a touch more wine,” Cameron said to Liz. “How do you know her?”
Liz began telling her new friends all about Adrienne. About how the two of them had grown up together, and how they were still best friends.
“Is Brian her boyfriend?” Mimi asked.
“Yes,” Liz said, sipping her wine. “They’ve been together for two years.”
“Two years!” Cameron cried, tossing back her head and laughing. “I can barely stand a guy for two weeks!”
The three girls laughed, and Cameron turned back to Liz. “Seriously,” she said, putting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. “You have to tell us how she does it. What is Brian really like?”
Cam and Mimi are so cool, Liz thought, and before she realized it, she was revealing the intimate details of her closest friend’s private life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
today we turn you into a goddess
The campus of Columbia University swarmed with students. All over the lawns and paths, grad students and undergraduate students talked, ran to class, and studied under the trees and on the flights of steps to the academic building, which rose like a Greek temple at the center of the university.
“You’ve got your notebooks?” Adrienne asked Emma.
“Yes,” Emma replied.
“You’ve got your pencils and calculator?”
“Yes, yes. You can go, Adrienne. I’m fine.”
“All right. Have fun.” Adrienne watched the little girl climb the steps to Lewisohn Hall for the Thursday afternoon “Gifted Teen Think Tank” of Columbia University, in which Emma was the only person who was not, in fact, a teen at all.
“Tania will pick you up at six,” she called.
“I know,” Emma said, irritated, and stomped up the rest of the steps without saying good-bye.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Adrienne was suddenly sad. She realized that today was actually the last day that she would see Emma. She had finished her two weeks. And what a two weeks this has been!
Hopping into a cab, Adrienne zipped from the bustling Morningside Heights location of Columbia University across the top of the park and over to Fifth Avenue. When Adrienne had started to work for the Warners in mid-October, it had still been warm. But now, only two weeks later, all the trees were turning brown. She looked up at the limestone curtain of apartment buildings and admired the Metropolitan Museum and the Frick Collection as she sped downtown. She had started to get used to this neighborhood and the crazy rich people who lived there.
I might actually miss them, Adrienne thought, pulling up to 841 Fifth Avenue and getting into the service elevator for the last time. All she had left to do was collect her money.
Entering the kitchen, Adrienne heard the familiar sound of Mrs. Warner having a meltdown at Tania in the front hall.
“Oh, Adriana, is that you? Thank God you’re here! Please come in,” Mrs. Warner called. Adrienne hurried into the front hall. “Could you be an angel and stay on for just another month? The nanny hasn’t come from London as expected, and I am just in a bind, bind, bind! Something about her work visa.” Mrs. Warner handed her an envelope. “This is what we owe you for the past week, and a little something to say thank you—also, forgive me, a little advance bribe, in the hope that you can stay on. Go ahead, look at it.”
Adrienne peeked inside the envelope. There was a sea of hundreds. More than a thousand dollars!
“If Emma wants me to, I’m happy to stay on,” Adrienne said, slipping the envelope into her jacket.
“Oh, thank God!” Mrs. Warner said. “You are an absolute TREASURE! I have to dash. Drinks at the Colony Club. Ciao!” Mrs. Warner left in a hurry, almost as if she expected Adrienne to change her mind.
“So you stay!” Tania said. “This nice. You come kitchen. I snack you.”
Adrienne smiled and was just about to follow Tania back into the kitchen, when the elevator doors opened and Cameron fell into the front hall, covered in bags from Chanel, Gucci, and D&G.
“Oh…my…God!” Cameron said, giggling. “I think I have to go to the hospital. I think I broke my arm shopping!”
Adrienne helped untangle Cameron from the bags.
“Ugh. Heavy,” Cameron said, smiling. “So, what are you up to?”
“Well,” Adrienne admitted. “This was supposed to be my last day, but your mom said that the nanny who was supposed to come couldn’t make it, and she asked me to stay on for a month longer.” She grinned. “Well, I was just about to have a snack and go.” Adrienne turned toward the kitchen. “See you.”
“Where are you going?” Cameron asked.
“Home, to finally do some homework. I’m totally behind.”
“Do you always work?” Cameron asked. “Don’t you ever have fun?”
“I think you saw me have too much fun last week, Cameron,” Adrienne sai
d, laughing.
“No. You’re not going home. You’re coming with me.”
“Where are you going?” Adrienne asked.
“Where are we going?” Cameron said pointedly. “We are going to heaven.”
“Is that a club?” Adrienne asked.
“Sort of,” Cameron said. “But so much better.”
“Where is it?” Adrienne asked.
“Fifty-seventh and Fifth. Some people call it Bergdorf Goodman, but I call it heaven.”
Stepping out of the limousine, Adrienne looked up at the facade of New York’s most exclusive department store. She had been inside with Liz a few times, but they had always left empty-handed—she had once seen a moisturizer for a thousand dollars there!
“Come on in,” Cameron purred, stepping out of the limousine. “The water’s fine. You have enough time for a makeover, right? Every girl does. You need some glamour, Miss Nanny, and a serious kick-ass dose of it. Follow me. Today, Cameron Warner is your fairy godmother.”
Cameron entered Bergdorf’s like a ship in full sail, with Adrienne trailing behind her like a dinghy.
Adrienne’s eyes widened. The salespeople literally tripped over themselves to get to Cameron.
“Miss Warner,” said one, “perfume today?”
“No thanks, Carlos,” she said, batting her eyes at him. “Today is a face-and-hair day. Ciao, sweetie.”
They stood in front of the elevator, and Cameron flipped open her cell phone. “Hi,” she cooed. “I’m here!”
Within seconds, two women met them at the elevator on the main floor. They were well-dressed and perfect-looking: perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect designer clothes, perfect smiles. In fact, Adrienne thought they looked like robots.
“Adrienne, this is Petra, my personal shopper here at Bergdorf’s. And this is Zoya,” she said, gesturing to the other woman. “Zoya will be yours.” Cameron blew a kiss to Adrienne as she turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Adrienne asked. She felt as if she were being abandoned in a foreign country where she couldn’t speak the language.
Confessions of a Teen Nanny Page 6
