“Help,” Claire mouthed to Alicia when Layne wasn’t looking.
Alicia winked at Claire and held up her index finger to let her know she’d be a minute. She disappeared inside the limo and came out dragging her lime green snakeskin Prada bag. She opened the side zipper and pulled out one of her signature knockoff Louis Vuitton scarves.
“Layne,” Alicia said. She sounded like a kindergarten teacher about to discipline a bad student. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Yeah,” Layne said. She looked bright and cheery, like she had no idea she was embarrassing herself.
“If you take that antenna off, right now, and promise never to wear it to school again,” Alicia said, waving the scarf in front of her eyes, “I’ll give you my very last Louis.”
Layne tapped her index finger against the bar of her headgear as if she were carefully mulling over the offer.
“It’s totally worth it,” Alicia said, sounding like a desperate salesgirl working on commission. “It allows you to hang out with us whenever you want.”
Claire knew Layne was wondering how she could be friends with such a conceited girl and felt slightly embarrassed for having bought into Alicia’s rap.
“Whenever I want?” Layne cracked her knuckles.
“Whenever,” Alicia said, anxious to close the sale.
“Fine.” Layne took off her headgear and clipped it around the handle of her Sunshine Tours bag. Alicia placed the scarf in Layne’s open palm.
“Thanks, I totally needed this.” Layne stuffed the scarf into her bag. It was covered in gooey pink liquid when she lifted it out.
Alicia gasped.
“Oops, my Popsicle melted and I ran out of tissue,” Layne said. She tossed the sopping wet Louis at Alicia. “Have fun on your shoot, Claire,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. “Call me when you get back.
” “I will,” Claire promised with a huge grin on her face.
Claire avoided Alicia’s eyes when she slipped into the limo.
“How can you be friends with her?” Alicia asked when she sat down.
“How could I not?” Claire giggled.
“Let’s go, Dean,” Alicia called into the front seat. “We want to get there before dark.”
Claire sighed, relieved that Alicia had changed the subject.
“Aren’t we waiting for Massie?” Dean asked into the rearview mirror.
“She’s not coming.” Alicia raised the glass divider between them.
Claire was tempted to ask how Massie was going to get there but decided not to. Why should she care? They were no longer friends.
Alicia clapped once they started moving and bounced up and down in her seat. “We’re off!”
“Yippeee!” Strawberry, Kori, and Faux-livia bounced and cheered. Kristen and Dylan said nothing. They didn’t even bother looking up from the pages of US Weekly to see what all the excitement was about.
Eventually the yelling got to them. Dylan turned to Alicia. “Why are they here?”
“Yeah, they’re not even modeling,” Kristen added.
“Uh, we can hear you.” Strawberry clenched her fist.
“Good, so maybe you can tell me why you’re coming to New York,” Kristen said.
“Because they are my friends,” Alicia said firmly.
“Whatevs,” Dylan said, returning to her US Weekly.
Claire watched Strawberry and Kori examine the contents of the fridge, play with the stereo, and fiddle with the sunroof. She felt like she was watching herself three months ago.
“Where are your scarves?” Alicia asked the girls. They looked up at her with the startled expression of someone who just realized she left her homework assignment on the school bus. “I thought you were going to wear them around your necks.”
“I did.” Faux-livia beamed, pulling her turtleneck sweater to one side.
“I have mine around my ankle,” Strawberry said, lifting up her winter white cords. “How cute is it there?”
“Mine is around my wrist,” Kori said. “I thought it looked good with my beaded bracelet.” She slouched down and shook her wrist so the beads knocked up against the scarf.
“And yours?” Alicia turned to Kristen and Dylan.
They both tapped their bags and grinned, making it very clear to Alicia that they refused to play by her rules.
“Fine,” she said, immediately turning her attention to Claire.
“I forgot about the neck thing.” Claire pulled the scarf out of her back pocket and began to tie it. “Sorry.” She felt a little stupid following an order from Alicia but knew she wasn’t on the same level as Kristen and Dylan. She was still relatively new and had to play along.
“That’s better,” Alicia said with a satisfied smile. “Now, who has gossip?”
No one said a word.
Dylan and Strawberry took turns digging into a big bag of Utz pretzels while Kori and Kristen twirled their blond braids around their fingers. Claire couldn’t believe how much Dylan and Strawberry were alike. They both had the same bright hair and loved eating, while Kori and Kristen had identical hairstyles and were both great athletes. For a split second Claire wondered if Alicia had tried to re-create Massie’s Pretty Committee by finding Dylan and Kristen look-alikes but decided that would be way too psychotic, even for Alicia.
“No one has any scoop?” Alicia said. “I’ll give ten gossip points to the first good piece.”
“Yeah, who has some juice?” Faux-livia echoed.
“What are gossip points?” Kori asked.
“You get points for good gossip,” Kristen explained, sounding over it. “The better the gossip, the higher the points.”
“What do you get with the points?” Strawberry asked. “Stereos and stuff?”
“This isn’t the American Express Membership Rewards program,” Dylan snapped. “At the end of the week the person with the most points wins.”
“There’s no reason to yell,” Strawberry said.
“There is if you’re going to ask stupid questions.” Dylan opened her mouth and showed Strawberry her pretzel-covered tongue.
Claire and Kristen laughed.
“Gross,” Strawberry said, whipping the pretzel bag at Dylan’s face.
“Stop it!” Alicia snapped.
Everyone was quiet until Kori broke the silence. “So what do we win?”
“Five-letter word for satisfaction,” Kristen said. “Can also be a pack of lions.”
“Huh?” Faux-livia asked.
“Pride,” Claire said with a degree of modesty in her voice. She was tired of all the fighting.
“But wait.” Alicia shot her index finger in the air. “Maybe I should start giving out prizes. You know, change it up a little.”
“Love it!” Faux-livia shouted.
“That’s stupid,” said Dylan. “Do you really want to buy a new gift every single week? And what if you win? Do you buy yourself a gift? Then what?”
“Yeah, it worked perfectly the old way,” Kristen said.
“Just like everything else,” Dylan said under her breath.
“So how many gossip points did Todd Lyons get?” Faux-livia asked.
Alicia kicked Faux-livia in the shin.
“OUCH!”
“Sorry,” Alicia said, her eyes wide and pleading.
“It’s okay.” Faux flashed a forgiving smile.
“Todd who?” Claire asked.
“Your brother, stupid.” Faux obviously didn’t clue in to Alicia’s warning.
“What did Todd do?” Kristen asked.
“Oh, is Todd that kid who eavesdropped on Massie’s sleepover and then told—” Kori stopped talking after Strawberry’s fist jabbed her ribs.
“Ehmagawd, you got our secrets from Todd?” Dylan said.
“Not Massie?” Kristen asked.
All Alicia could do was shrug.
“He’s so dead,” Claire said, just to make sure she wouldn’t get blamed for her brother’s crime.
“We thoug
ht Massie told you,” Dylan said.
“It may have been Massie,” Alicia said. “I can’t remember. That was so last week.”
Dylan and Kristen stared out the window in silence for the next ten minutes. Dylan scraped salt chunks off the pretzels with her thumbnail while Kristen re-braided her hair. Claire could tell they were thinking about all the terrible things they had said about Massie. She would have felt guilty too, but she wasn’t mad at Massie for spilling her secrets, she was mad at her for stealing Cam. And that was never going to change.
“Wait, I have some gossip,” Faux announced.
Claire couldn’t believe anyone could be so oblivious to tension.
“What?” Alicia asked, obviously over it.
“Shay Goldhar peed in her pants after lunch yesterday,” Faux said. “She had a big wet spot on the back of her jeans.”
“That wasn’t pee,” Strawberry said. “She fell in a puddle during lunch. There were at least ten witnesses.”
“Well, I heard it was pee.”
“I heard that too,” said Kori.
“Sorry, no points,” Alicia said.
Faux crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to sulk.
While they were arguing, Claire saw Kristen and Dylan text messaging. She knew exactly who they were speaking to and what they were saying.
“I can’t believe we left without her,” Claire heard Kristen whisper to Dylan.
Dylan squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She felt terrible about it.
Their thumbs moved at high speeds as they sent messages to Massie. Claire watched them bite their nails and exchange worried glances while they waited to see if Massie could ever forgive them. Suddenly they both smiled and sighed. They were back IN.
“Yes!” Dylan said softly. She reached for the bag of pretzels and dug in. “She’s on her way into the city.”
Claire mouthed, “How?”
“Harris,” Dylan mouthed back.
“Who else?” Claire asked.
Dylan shrugged.
Claire felt her stomach drop. Was Cam there too?
Kristen and Dylan looked relieved when they slipped their cell phones back into their bags. They sat up in their seats and touched up their lip gloss. They finally seemed excited for the weekend to get started. And Claire couldn’t wait for it to end.
SUSHI SAMBA 7TH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
6:37 PM
December 5th
Massie felt her frozen cheeks begin to thaw the minute she stepped into the crowded restaurant. She had cursed the broken heater in Harris’s Mustang almost as many times as she’d cursed his earsplitting boy music. But from what Kristen and Dylan said, it was still better than being in Alicia’s limo, although Massie wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Are you sure it’s okay if we crash your big models-only dinner?” Derrington was bouncing up and down, trying to get the circulation back in his bare legs. They were waiting for one of Sushi Samba’s lanky hostesses to show them to their table.
“I told you.” Massie dragged a tube of light pink gloss across her lips. “Lucinda said it was okay because Harris drove me here.”
“But what about us tagalongs?” Cam put his arm around Derrington.
“I took care of it, okay?” Massie dabbed her mouth on a book of matches she grabbed off the tall oak hostess stand and put them back in the stack.
“Very sexy.” Derrington giggled. Massie laughed too.
A beautiful Asian woman with a blond afro held a stack of menus under her arm like a Fendi clutch. “May I help you?” she asked Derrington’s purple knees.
Massie stepped forward, blocking Derrington and his baggy blue shorts from the hostess’s view. “Yes, I’m here to meet Lucinda Hill. She’s a fashion editor for Teen Vogue.” Massie watched to see if the hostess’s face lit up when she heard that a real fashion editor was there. But it didn’t. She still looked bored and hungry.
“Ms. Hill has been seated on the roof,” the exotic hostess said.
“Of course she has,” Harris said, mocking her snobby tone.
Massie swung her black Barneys shopping bag into his knee.
“Ouch,” Harris said playfully. “What’s in there?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Massie hit him again.
“Don’t hit my brother.” Cam slapped Massie’s butt.
Massie laughed, then made a fist. She was winding up for a punch when the hostess grabbed her arm.
“You KIDS can follow me,” she said.
Massie, Cam, Harris, and Derrington giggled as she led them through a thick crowd of glamorous people drinking colorful cocktails at the bar and shouting over the loud samba music. Massie thought everyone looked like models, even the men. And she hoped they could tell that she was a model too.
“I think I’m overdressed,” Derrington said.
Cam, Harris, and Massie busted out laughing.
Waitresses dressed in silver microminis, white-fur-trimmed wife beaters, and Santa hats scurried from table to table balancing wood trays of elaborately decorated sushi rolls on their frail palms. Derrington pushed Cam into a blond, big-chested waitress, but Cam managed to catch his balance before he went slamming into her boobs.
The two boys burst into a fit of hysteria.
The hostess rolled her eyes and pointed to a spiral staircase that had been sprinkled with small metallic snowflakes. Red and green tinsel hung off the banister and made Massie think of fake eyelashes.
“Your party is up there. I’m sure you’ll find them,” the hostess said.
Then in a flash she was gone.
The closer Massie got to the top, the quicker she moved. She couldn’t wait to see Kristen, Dylan, and Claire now that they were friends again.
When she stepped onto the roof, Massie gasped. It was covered by a puffy white canvas dome that reminded her of the indoor tennis courts at her country club. Flickering light from the candles on the tables reflected off the tented ceiling and made the whole place look like it was surrounded by flames. A Jamaican steel drum band playing a reggae version of “Winter Wonderland” gave Massie the urge to jump up on the nearest table and start dancing. If she hadn’t been wearing her two-inch turquoise platform clogs and a satin navy minidress, she might have.
“This place is awesome,” Harris said when he got to the top.
Massie made a mental note to consider Sushi Samba for her sweet sixteen party.
“Heeeyyy,” shouted two familiar voices. “Over here.” Kristen and Dylan were waving frantically.
“Heyyy,” Massie called. She zigzagged her way through the maze of chairs and tables until she got to the long rectangular booth in the back of the room.
A tall girl wearing a skintight denim pantsuit and a tangle of gold chain belts and necklaces jumped up from her seat and held out her arms. “You must be Massie,” she said, pulling her into a hug. Her big blue eyes added a welcome splash of color to her porcelain white skin. “I heart that I’m finally meeting you.” She looked down at Alicia, who was in the seat beside her and smiled proudly.
“Don’t you just heart that I say heart now?” she asked Alicia.
“I totally heart it,” Alicia said, avoiding Massie’s eyes.
“You must be Lucinda,” Massie said, putting the woman’s attention back on her.
“In the flesh.” She ran her long red fingernails through her short black hair and turned to the tall thin man standing beside her. “This is Paolo, our photographer,” Lucinda said, lifting her arm and resting it on his shoulder. Massie noticed he had an August tan in December and assumed he had just returned from some exotic beach location. His shark tooth necklaces and the unruly stubble on his face were dead giveaways. Massie lifted her hand and tilted her head slightly to the right so he could see her best side.
“’Allo, Mahzzie,” he said, sounding French or Italian or something.
“Hey,” Massie said. Then she quickly turned her attention to the table, afraid she was about to get stuck with a bad
seat. Cam and Harris sat on the loser side of the table, near Alicia and the EWs, and Derrington had taken the empty seat beside Kristen. There was only one left—between him and Claire. Massie sighed as she sat down, wishing she were closer to Kristen and Dylan. She kicked her big Barneys bag under the table and put the brown cloth napkin on her lap. A waiter immediately swooped in and placed four bowls of edamame on the table. Paolo snapped a picture of everyone reaching for them at once.
“Finish your story about the secret celebrity couple,” Alicia urged Lucinda.
“Right,” Lucinda said, sliding the peas into her mouth, then tossing the empty green pod in a bowl. Massie noticed that the pod was covered in her red lipstick and reached behind her chair, hoping to tap Kristen on the shoulder and show her.
“Massie, I never knew,” Derrington said when he felt her arm on the back of his chair.
“Puh-lease,” Massie said, feeling herself blush.
“So my sources tell me”—Lucinda leaned in to the table and said in a hushed tone—“this actress is only dating him to help her brother get a part in his next movie.”
“Oh my God, that’s worth like a thousand gossip points,” Strawberry said.
“More like a million,” Kori said, clapping.
“It’s not worth anything,” Dylan announced. “That rumor is not true.”
“’Scuse me?” Lucinda’s mouth hung open and her eyes bulged.
Massie leaned forward in her chair and tapped her chopsticks on the table. She loved that Dylan knew everything about celebrity gossip.
“You’re challenging me?” Lucinda said.
“I’m not challenging you; I’m correcting you,” Dylan said. Kristen let out a phlegmy laugh. Lucinda flared her nostrils.
Dylan turned to face the camera to let Paolo know he should get a shot of her. He clicked away.
“She isn’t dating him so her brother can get a part in his movie. They’ve been married for two years. In fact, they’re about to have a baby. They just don’t like the press, so they keep their personal lives a secret.” Dylan cocked her head and took a sip of her virgin cosmopolitan. “But there’s no way you could have ever known that, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“And how would you know?” Lucinda squinted suspiciously.
Revenge of the Wannabes Page 19
