I go to my room and start getting dressed. I have to wear something comfortable, but something that’s not exactly work clothes. I hate how all of my clothes have suddenly become work clothes. It’s like they’ve been tainted. They remind me of work and I can’t wear them out anymore on any other occasion. I’m not a big fan of my work, if you can’t tell.
Caroline follows me into my room and plops down on my bed. I take off my pajamas and pull on a pair of leggings. Ever since these have become the trend, I find myself struggling to force myself into a pair of jeans. They’re just so comfortable!
“Okay, I’ve come to a decision,” Caroline says. “You have to come with me!”
“Oh, I have to come with you?” I ask, incredulously. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”
“Oh c’mon! Please! Pretty please! It will be so much fun!”
“Actually, you can’t make any of those promises. You have no idea what it will be,” I say, putting on a long sleeve shirt and a sweater with a zipper in the front.
Layers are important during this time of year. The leaves are changing colors, winds are picking up, and you never know if it’s going to be one of those gorgeous warm, crisp New York days they like to feature in all those romantic comedies or a soggy, overcast dreary day that only shows up in one scene at the end when the two main characters fight or break up (but before they get back together again).
“Okay, yes, I see your point,” Caroline says, sitting up and crossing her legs. “But here is what we do know. We do know that it’s going to be amazing. I mean, look at the invitation. It’s a freakin’ box with engravings and everything!”
Usually, Caroline is much more eloquent and better at expressing herself.
“Okay, yes, the invitation is impressive,” I admit.
“And as you know, the invitation is everything. I mean, it really sets the mood for the party. The event! And not just the mood. It establishes a certain expectation. And this box…”
“Yes, the invitation definitely sets up a certain expectation,” I agree.
“So?”
“So?” I ask her back.
“Don’t you want to find out what that expectation is?”
“No.” I shake my head categorically.
“Okay. So what else do we know?” Caroline asks rhetorically as I pack away my Mac into my bag.
“I have to go, Caroline,” I say.
“No, listen. The yacht. Of course, the yacht. How could I bury the lead like that?” She jumps up and down with excitement again.
“We also know that it’s going to be this super exclusive event on a yacht! And not just some small 100 footer, but a mega-yacht.”
I stare at her blankly, pretending to not be impressed. When Caroline first found out about this party, through her ex-boyfriend, we spent days trying to figure out what made this event so special. But given that neither of us have been on a yacht before, at least not a mega-yacht – we couldn’t quite get it.
“You know the yacht is going to be amazing!”
“Yes, of course,” I give in. “But that’s why I’m sure that you’re going to have a wonderful time by yourself. I have to go.”
I grab my keys and toss them into the bag.
“Ellie,” Caroline says. The tone of her voice suddenly gets very serious, to match the grave expression on her face. “Ellie, please. I don’t think I can go by myself.”
Chapter 2
When you have coffee with a guy you can’t have…
And that’s pretty much how I was roped into going. You don’t know Caroline, but if you did, the first thing you’d find out is that she is not one to take things seriously. Nothing fazes her. Nothing worries her. Sometimes she is the most enlightened person on earth, other times she’s the densest. Most of the time, I’m jealous of the fact that she simply lives life in the present.
“So, you’re going?” my friend Tom asks. He brought me my pumpkin spice latte, the first one of the season!
I close my eyes and inhale it’s sweet aroma before taking the first sip. But even before its wonderful taste of cinnamon and nutmeg runs down my throat, Tom is already criticizing my decision.
“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” he says.
“Oh my God, now I know it’s officially fall,” I change the subject. “Was there actually such a thing as autumn before the pumpkin spice latte? I mean, I remember that we had falling leaves, changing colors, all that jazz, but without this…it’s like Christmas without a Christmas tree.”
“Ellie, it’s a day after Labor Day,” Tom rolls his eyes. “It’s not fall yet.”
I take another sip. “Oh yes, I do believe it is.”
“Stop changing the subject,” Tom takes a sip of his plain black coffee. How he doesn’t get bored with that thing, I’ll never know. But that’s the thing about Tom. He’s reliable. Always on time, never late. It’s nice. That’s what I have always liked about him. He’s basically the opposite of Caroline in every way.
And that’s what makes seeing him like this, as only a friend, so hard.
“Why are you going there? Can’t Caroline go by herself?” Tom asks, looking straight into my eyes. His hair has this annoying tendency of falling into his face just as he’s making a point – as a way of accentuating it. It’s actually quite vexing especially given how irresistible it makes him look. His eyes twinkle under the low light in the back of the Starbucks.
“I’m going as her plus one,” I announce. I make my voice extra perky on purpose. So that it portrays excitement, rather than apprehensiveness, which is actually how I’m feeling over the whole thing.
“She’s making you go as her plus one,” Tom announces as a matter a fact. He knows me too well.
“I just don’t get it, Ellie. I mean, why bother? It’s a super yacht filled with filthy rich people. I mean, how fun can that party be?”
“Jealous much?” I ask.
“I’m not jealous at all!” He jumps back in his seat. “If that’s what you think…”
He lets his words trail off and suddenly the conversation takes on a more serious mood.
“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to miss your engagement party,” I say quietly. It’s the weekend after I get back.”
He shakes his head and insists that that’s not what he’s worried about.
“I just don’t get it Ellie,” he says.
You don’t get it? You don’t get why I’m going? I’ve had feelings for you for, what, two years now? But the time was never right. At first, I was with my boyfriend and the night of our breakup, you decided to kiss me. You totally caught me off guard. And after that long painful breakup, I wasn’t ready for a relationship. And you, my best friend, you weren’t really a rebound contender. And then, just as I was about to tell you how I felt, you spend the night with Carrie. Beautiful, wealthy, witty Carrie. Carrie Warrenhouse, the current editor of BuzzPost, the online magazine where we both work, and the daughter of Edward Warrenhouse, the owner of BuzzPost. Oh yeah, and on top of all that, you also started seeing her and then asked her to marry you. And now you two are getting married on Valentine’s Day. And I’m really happy for you. Really. Truly. The only problem is that I’m also in love with you. And now, I don’t know what the hell to do with all of this except get away from New York. Even if it’s just for a few days.
But of course, I can’t say any of these things. Especially the last part.
“This hasn’t been the best summer,” I say after a few moments. “And I just want to do something fun. Get out of town. Go to a party. Because that’s all this is, a party.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Tom says.
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since you told me you were going, I started looking into this event. And the rumor is that it’s not what it is.”
I shake my head, roll my eyes.
“What? You don’t believe me?” Tom asks incredulously.
I shake my head.
“Okay, wh
at? What did you hear?”
“It’s basically like a Playboy Mansion party on steroids. It’s totally out of control. Like one big orgy.”
“And you would know what a Playboy Mansion party is like,” I joke.
“I’m being serious, Ellie. I’m not sure this is a good place for you. I mean, you’re not Caroline.”
“And what the hell does that mean?” I ask. Now, I’m actually insulted. At first, I was just listening because I thought he was being protective. But now...
“What you don’t think I’m fun enough? You don’t think I like to have a good time?” I ask.
“That’s not what I meant,” Tom backtracks. I start to gather my stuff. “What are you doing?”
“No, you know what,” I stop packing up my stuff. “I’m not leaving. You’re leaving.”
“Why?”
“Because I came here to write. I have work to do. I staked out this table and I’m not leaving until I have something written. I thought you wanted to have coffee with me. I thought we were friends. I didn’t realize that you came here to chastise me about my decisions.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Tom says, without getting out of his chair.
“You have to leave Tom. I want you to leave.”
“I just don’t understand what happened to us,” he says getting up, reluctantly. I stare at him as if he has lost his mind.
“You have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do. You don’t even have the right to tell your fiancée. Unless you don’t want her to stay your fiancée for long.”
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Ellie. I’m just worried. This super exclusive party on some mega-yacht, that’s not you. That’s not us.”
“Not us? You’ve got to be kidding,” I shake my head. “You graduated from Princeton, Tom. Your father is an attorney at one of the most prestigious law-firms in Boston. He has argued cases before the Supreme Court. You’re going to marry the heir to the Warrenhouse fortune. I’m so sick and tired of your working class hero attitude, I can’t even tell you. Now, are you going to leave or should I?”
The disappointment that I saw in Tom’s eyes hurt me to my very soul. But he had hurt me. His engagement came completely out of left field. I had asked him to give me some time after my breakup and after waiting for only two months, he started dating Carrie. And then they moved in together. And then he asked her to marry him.
And throughout all that, he just sort of pretended that we were still friends. Just like none of this ever happened.
I open my computer and stare at the half written story before me. Earlier today, before Caroline, before Tom, I had all of these ideas. I just couldn’t wait to get started. But now…I doubted that I could even spell my name right. Staring at a non-moving blinker never fuels the writing juices. I close my computer and look around the place. All around me, people are laughing and talking. Leggings and Uggs are back in season – even though the days are still warm and crispy. It hasn’t rained in close to a week and everyone’s good mood seems to be energized by the bright rays of the afternoon sun.
Last spring, I was certain that Tom and I would get together over the summer and I would spend the fall falling in love with my best friend. And now? Now, he’s engaged to someone else. Not just someone else – my boss! And we just had a fight over some stupid party that I don’t even really want to go to. He’s right, of course. It’s not my style. My family might have money, but that’s not the world in which I’m comfortable. I’m always standing on the sidelines and it’s not going to be any different at this party. But if I don’t go now, after this, that means that I’m listening to him. And he has no right to tell me what to do. So, I have to go. How did everything get so messed up?
Chapter 3
When you go shopping for the party of a lifetime…
“What the hell are you still doing hanging out with that asshole?” Caroline asks dismissively. We are in Elle’s, a small boutique in Soho, where you can shop by appointment only. I didn’t even know these places existed until Caroline introduced me to the concept.
Caroline is not a fan of Tom. They never got along, not since he called her an East Side snob at our junior year Christmas party at Yale and she called him a middle class poseur. Neither insult was very creative, but their insults got better over the years as their hatred for each other grew. You know how in the movies, two characters who hate each other in the beginning always end up falling in love by the end? Well, for a while, I actually thought that would happen to them. If not fall in love, at least hook up. But no, they stayed steadfast in their hatred.
“That guy is such a tool. I mean, who the hell is he to tell you what to do anyway? It’s not like you’re his girlfriend,” Caroline says placing a silver beaded bandage dress to her body and extending her right leg in front. Caroline is definitely a knock out. She’s 5’10’’, 125 pounds with legs that go up to her chin. In fact, from far away, she seems to be all blonde hair and legs and nothing else.
“I think he was just concerned, given all the stuff that is out there about this party.”
“Okay, first of all, you have to stop calling it a party.”
“Why? What is it?”
“It’s not a party. It’s like calling a wedding a party. Is it a party? Yes. But is it bigger than that.”
“I had no idea that you were so sensitive to language. Fine. What do you want me to call it?’
“An experience,” she announces, completely seriously.
“Are you kidding me? No way. There’s no way I’m going to call it an experience.”
We browse in silence for a few moments. Some of the dresses and tops and shoes are pretty, some aren’t. I’m the first to admit that I do not have the vocabulary or knowledge to appreciate a place like this. Now, Caroline on the other hand…
“Oh my God, I’m just in love with all these one of a kind pieces you have here,” she says to the woman upfront who immediately starts to beam with pride.
“That’s what we’re going for.”
“These statement bags and the detailing on these booties – agh! To die for, right?” Caroline says and they both turn to me.
“Yeah, totally,” I agree blindly.
“And these high-end core pieces, I could just wear this every day!” Caroline pulls up a rather structured cream colored short sleeve shirt with a tassel hem and a boxy fit. I’m not sure what makes that shirt a so-called core piece, but I go with the flow. I’m out of my element and I know it.
“Okay, so what are we supposed to wear to this experience if we don’t even know what’s going to be going on there.”
“I’m not exactly sure but definitely not jeans and t-shirts,” Caroline says referring to my staple outfit. “But the invitation also said not to worry. They have all the necessities if we forget something.”
As I continue to aimlessly browse, my mind starts to wander. And goes back to Tom. I met Tom at the Harvard-Yale game. He was my roommate’s boyfriend’s high school best friend and he came up for the weekend to visit him. We became friends immediately. One smile from him, even on Skype, made all of my worries disappear. He just sort of got me, the way no one really did.
After graduation, we applied to work a million different online magazines and news outlets, but BuzzPost was the one place that took both of us. We didn’t exactly plan to end up at the same place, but it was a nice coincidence. He even asked if I wanted to be his roommate – but I had already agreed to room with Caroline.
He ended up in this crappy fourth floor walkup in Hell’s Kitchen – one of the only buildings that they haven’t gentrified yet. So, the rent was still somewhat affordable. Like I said, Tom likes to think of himself as a working class hero even though his upbringing is far from it. Whenever he came over to our place, he always made fun of how expensive the place was, but it was always in good fun. At least, it felt like it at the time. Now? I’m not so sure anymore.
“Do you think that Tom is really going to get mar
ried?” I ask Caroline while we’re changing.
She swings my curtain open in front of the whole store. I’m topless, but luckily I’m facing away from her and the assistant is buried in her phone.
“What are you doing?” I shriek and pull the curtain closed.
“What are you thinking?” she demands.
I manage to grab a shirt and cover myself before Caroline pulls the curtain open again. She is standing before me in only a bra and a matching pair of panties – completely confident and unapologetic. I think she’s my spirit animal.
“Who cares about Tom?” Caroline demands.
“I do,” I say meekly.
“Well, you shouldn’t. He’s a dick. You are way too good for him. I don’t even understand what you see in him.”
“He’s my friend,” I say as if that explains everything. Caroline knows how long I’ve been in love with Tom. She knows everything. At times, I wish I hadn’t been so open. But other times, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Even if she isn’t exactly understanding.
“You can’t just go around pining for him, Ellie. You can do so much better than him. You were with your ex and he just hung around waiting and waiting. Never telling you how he felt. Never making any grand gestures.”
Caroline is big on gestures. The grander the better. She watches a lot of movies and she demands them of her dates. And the funny thing is that you often get exactly what you ask from the world.
“I don’t care about that,” I say. “We were in the wrong place for each other. I was with someone and then I wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship right away. And then…he and Carrie got together.”
“There’s no such thing as not the right time. Life is what you make it, Ellie. You’re in control of your life. And I hate the fact that you’re acting like you’re not the main character in your own movie.”
Auctioned to Him 5: Her Addiction Page 9
