Ms. Glos dabbed at her nose with a tissue again and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Porsha.”
Porsha pulled the college advisor’s office door shut behind her and dropped her disease-tainted essay into the metal wastebasket in the hallway with an irritated sigh. So much for fun on the beach in St. Barts. Chanel would have to fend for herself because Porsha was going to have to spend the entire fucking vacation indoors, rewriting her Yale essay. She felt like writing, Just let me the fuck in! on a piece of paper and sending it off to the Yale admissions office, but considering the fact that she’d told her interviewer her whole life story and then kissed him, that probably wasn’t such a great idea.
She started up the stairs to the fourth floor to retrieve her Marc Jacobs coat from her locker, bumping into Alexis and Imani on their way downstairs.
“How was your French exam?” asked Imani. It had rained that morning as she was walking to school, and her hair was frizzing out all over the place.
Porsha thought Imani looked like a poodle that had been struck by lightning. She shrugged. “Stupid.” She shook her hair away from her face impatiently. She was so sick of talking about grades and school and AP exams, she thought she might puke.
Imani smoothed her hair down and lifted her chin. Porsha always got so annoyingly superior when she talked about grades. “I know it sounds sort of geeky, but I actually went to Mr. Noble’s history review session yesterday, and I think it really helped. I mean, I thought the exam was rather easy.”
And you are rather annoying, Porsha noted. Imani’s father was a TV actor who mostly did voice-overs and had a fake British accent. Imani tended to imitate him, which was why she said things like “rather easy” instead of “really stupid,” making her sound, well, really stupid.
Alexis nodded, combing her fingers through her 24-inch Malaysian bundles. “It was short, too. But did you see Chanel? She didn’t even finish. She was still sitting there, like, staring at her hair when we left.” Of course she left out the part about Chanel signing autographs. No way was she going to admit to Porsha that she’d actually asked Chanel for one.
“I’m sure she did fine,” Porsha said loyally. Chanel never studied and wasn’t in any AP classes, but she always managed to scrape by well enough by participating in class and writing semi-decent papers. She was smart—all the girls at Emma Willard were—but her teachers had been complaining about her not working up to her potential since she was in second grade. Deep down, Porsha relished the fact that Chanel was so unacademic. It would be totally impossible to be friends with her if she were that gorgeous and got straight A’s.
“So what happened with you and that guy Miles?” Imani asked.
Porsha couldn’t believe these two. The last time she’d seen Alexis and Imani, they’d been passed out drunk in the back of a limo and she had totally ditched them. Now they were acting like they wanted to be her best friends again. Porsha really didn’t feel like chitchatting with them about some guy she was probably never going to see again so they could spread gossip about her all over the school.
“Nothing, really,” she replied nonchalantly.
“Oooh,” Imani cooed. “She’s being all secretive. That means something must have happened.”
Porsha rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“So what did Ms. Glos say about your Yale essay?” Alexis asked nosily.
That was the thing about going to a small girls’ school: Everyone knew everything about everyone. It drove Porsha insane.
“She liked it,” Porsha lied. She started up the stairs again, her little ruby ring tapping the metal banister noisily as she walked. “See you guys later. I have to start studying for English.”
“Wait!” Imani called.
Porsha turned around and waited. “What?”
“Is it true Chanel and Flow are engaged?”
Porsha could barely contain her laughter. She knew she should tell them the truth, but it would be so much more interesting not to.
“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile. “Isn’t it crazy?”
The two girls glanced at each other, clearly thrilled that they’d gotten confirmation on this groundbreaking gossip from a very reliable source. “So is she still going to St. Barts with you?” Alexis demanded.
Porsha nodded and spun her ruby ring around on her little finger. “We’re going to plan the wedding while we’re there.”
“Oh, that sounds like such fun!” Imani declared in her most obnoxious English accent. She glanced at Alexis and then back at Porsha. “Do you think she’ll ask us to be bridesmaids?”
Porsha turned and glided effortlessly up the stairs like Audrey Hepburn in her gorgeous Givenchy gown during the fashion show scene in Funny Face. “Maybe,” she called. “If you’re really, really nice to her.”
Just because she had to spend her entire break rewriting her Yale essay didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun at the same time.
11
On the Thursday before Christmas, Emma Willard finally released its girls for twelve luxurious days of midterm break. After school, Bree met Kaliq in front of Barneys. She was wearing her black parka with the faux fur collar, her super-short school uniform, a little red mohair hat with her heap of curls poking out from underneath, and matching red gloves. She looked adorable and the minute Kaliq saw her, he took her gloved hand and kissed it on the palm. He had just scored an enormous Christmas surplus of weed from his supplier at the pizza place on 80th and Madison, and he was in a very good mood.
“I missed you,” he said, his green eyes sparkling in the winter twilight.
Bree’s heart turned immediately to goo. “I missed you, too,” she replied. She pulled the Christmas card she’d made for him out of her parka pocket. “Here.”
Kaliq tore open the handmade envelope. He stared at the picture she’d drawn on it in charcoal, watercolors, and gold pen, trying to figure out what it was exactly.
“It’s a snowman hugging a reindeer,” Bree explained. “I sort of combined the styles of Matisse and Picasso, but I don’t know if it works.”
Kaliq didn’t know anything about Matisse or Picasso. He opened the card. MERRY CHRISTMAS KALIQ! it said in glittery gold capital letters. Love, Brianna. Kaliq smiled and stuffed the card into his coat pocket. “Thanks.”
Bree slipped her arm through his and led him inside the store. “So what do you want for Christmas? I’m buying your present first.” She’d borrowed another fifty dollars from her dad, which was really nothing on top of all the money she already owed him. Bree had spent more money since she’d been going out with Kaliq than she had in her whole lifetime.
As any girl will tell you, looking good is expensive, but so, so worth it.
Inside the men’s department, Kaliq handed her a pair of gray wool socks. “What about these?”
“Socks? But I want to get you something special. Something with...spirit.”
Kaliq put the socks back and glanced around the store. “I just don’t want you to spend too much money on me, Brianna.”
She beamed back at him, loving him more than ever now. She loved the way he called her Brianna. She loved the cute little text messages he sent to her cell phone. She loved his wavy hair and his perfect caramel skin. She loved how he did things like kiss her hand. And best of all, she loved how with only a few words in his sexy voice he could make her feel like the luckiest girl in all of Barneys, and that was really saying something.
“It can’t just be socks though. It has to be special.”
“Fine,” Kaliq replied with an amused shrug. It was kind of cute that Bree wanted to buy him something more meaningful than just socks or cologne. She was so genuinely generous and never expected anything in return.
“These?” Bree held up a pair of red, paisley-printed flannel shorts with a drawstring. “I think they’re supposed to be pajamas.”
Kaliq frowned. “They’re a little gay.”
Bree put the shorts back on the rack. “You’re
right. Sorry.” Then she saw a table with stacks of boxers with photo images silk-screened across the butt. There was a bright blue pair with a red sailboat silk-screened on them. How perfect. Sailing was Kaliq’s thing. He even built sailboats up in Maine. The boxers cost sixty dollars, which was more than she’d anticipated spending and kind of a lot for underwear, but Bree was willing to forgo an extra ten dollars for the boy she loved more than anyone or anything else in the world.
“Those are pretty cool,” said Kaliq, holding up the boxers and examining the sailboat. “It’s not like anyone will be able to see them, though.”
A flush crept up Bree’s neck at the thought of seeing Kaliq in his underwear. “No, but you have to have them,” she insisted. “They’re so you.” She folded up the boxers and brought them to the counter. “Can you gift wrap these, please?” She turned to Kaliq. “It’s more fun if you get to open them like a real present.” Her big brown eyes gleamed with excitement. She had a gorgeous boyfriend, she’d bought him a very cool present, and he was smiling at her in that way that made her feel like screaming, I am SO HAPPY!
She handed Kaliq the little black Barneys bag. “Happy Hanukkah,” she said playfully, even though she was only half Jewish and Kaliq wasn’t Jewish at all.
“Thanks.” Kaliq hadn’t expected to find something he really liked, but he thought the boxers were actually kind of cool. He took her hand. “Now I get to buy you something,” he said. “Come on.”
He whisked her into the elevator and up to the sixth floor. Bree didn’t know where they were going until the doors opened and they stepped out into the women’s lingerie department. She hesitated. She’d imagined Kaliq would buy her something Christmassy and cute, like a scarf with a goofy reindeer on it or something. Not lingerie.
“Pick out anything you want,” Kaliq said.
Bree looked around at the racks of flimsy handmade imported lingerie, her face hot with embarrassment. She always bought Bali bras at Macy’s because they had extra support and extra-thick straps to keep the weight of her stupendous boobs from making welts in her shoulders. The bras in Barneys looked like they would shred if she put only one boob into them, let alone two. There was no way she was going to pick out a bra or a bustier or even a nightie. First of all, she would absolutely die if Kaliq found out her actual cup size. Second of all, they probably didn’t even make pretty, lacy things like these in her actual cup size.
Bree wished she could tell Kaliq she didn’t really want any lingerie, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead, she reached for a simple pair of white silk panties with pretty pink stitching at the hem and a pink satin bow on the elastic. “These are nice.”
“Would you like the matching bra for that?” a salesclerk in her seventies croaked, tottering over to help.
“No,” Bree practically shouted. She yanked the panties off the hanger and hurried up to the counter so Kaliq could pay for them and they could get the hell out of there.
The clerk at the register took the panties and began to wrap them in tissue paper. “Just the thong, miss?” she said.
Bree stared at the piece of white silk hanging from the woman’s hands. She could see now that the butt area was basically missing. She couldn’t bear to look at Kaliq. “Yes,” she squeaked. “That’s all.”
“And we’d like it gift wrapped, please,” Kaliq added. Porsha had worn thongs all the time. He didn’t see why Bree was blushing so much. When the bag was ready, he handed it to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
Bree raised her eyes from where she’d been staring fixedly at a piece of fuzz on the cream-colored carpet and took the shopping bag. Here was another thing she loved about Kaliq—he didn’t freak out over things like thongs. He was always calm and cool.
Well, it’s kind of hard not to be calm when you’re high most of the time.
As they rode down in the elevator, Bree wondered what they were supposed to do now. Go home and model their gifts for each other? Just the thought of walking around in front of Kaliq with her butt cheeks exposed made her want to die.
The elevator door opened. “I was thinking we could walk over to the St. Regis,” Kaliq said as they walked through the cosmetics department on the way out of the store.
Bree’s heart thumped erratically in her chest. The St. Regis was a hotel. Oh God.
“There’s a good little bar there. We could have a hot chocolate or something,” Kaliq added.
It sounded like he genuinely wanted hot chocolate, not a peep show in a hotel room. Bree let out a relieved sigh. “That sounds really good.”
But before they reached the exit door, Kaliq saw two familiar girls. One with long silky hair pulled up in a ponytail and one with thick hair that hung past her shoulders. It was Chanel and Porsha, standing at the Estée Lauder counter directly in their path.
Kaliq put his arm around Bree and started to steer her in the opposite direction, back into the men’s store and out a different exit. It wasn’t that he minded being seen with her. It was just easier if they didn’t have to talk to anyone, especially Porsha
Bree hesitated and frowned up at him. “Wait. Where are we going?” she asked, confused.
“Um, I thought maybe I should get a new belt on the way out,” Kaliq said, hoping Porsha and Chanel hadn’t spotted them yet.
Too late.
“Kaliq?” he heard Chanel’s voice behind him. “Hey!” He turned around slowly. Chanel’s earthy-sweet sandalwood and lily scent was already filling his nostrils as she threw her arms around him. She released him and kissed Bree on the cheek. “What’d you guys get?”
Bree blushed again. “Um, nothing really.”
Porsha was standing a little bit away from them, silently critiquing Bree’s ugly black parka and fuzzy red hat. Kaliq smiled at her. “Hey, Porsh.”
Porsha hitched her Birkin tote bag up on her shoulder and shook her hair away from her face. “Hey,” she said to no one in particular. She glanced briefly at Bree. “Hi. Merry Christmas.”
Bree held her little Barneys bag behind her back, as if she were afraid Porsha might grab it from her and demand to see what was inside. “Merry Christmas,” she responded weakly.
Porsha was so irritated by the sight of them Christmas shopping together like such a boring happy couple that she couldn’t resist fucking with them. “Maybe you guys can help us,” she said, sounding suddenly perky. “We’re buying presents for Flow and Miles—you know, the guys we were with the other night? But we aren’t sure what to get.” She nudged Chanel’s elbow. “Chanel was thinking maybe cologne. Kaliq, do you mind if we test some on you?”
Kaliq didn’t wear cologne and he really just wanted to get the hell out of there, but he didn’t have enough brainpower to extract himself from the situation. “Yeah,” he replied unenthusiastically.
Porsha led them over to a counter and, before he could protest, grabbed Kaliq’s right hand and sprayed it with Dolce & Gabbana cologne that she knew smelled like moldy blue cheese and ass.
“What do you think?” she asked, shoving Kaliq’s hand under Bree’s nose. She started to sneeze.
“Bless you,” Chanel said.
Bree sneezed and sneezed. She couldn’t stop. Kaliq winced. “It’s a little strong.”
“Really? What about this, then?” Porsha grabbed his left hand and sprayed it with Hermès Eau D’Orange Verte. It was a clean, classic scent that she loved so much, she wore it sometimes herself, even though it was for men.
Kaliq sniffed his hand and was instantly overcome with nostalgia, thinking back to the days when he would lie on Porsha’s bed, kissing her bare stomach and making her laugh.
“Nice,” he said, taking another whiff.
Bree’s nose was running. She wiped it on her glove.
Chanel picked up Kaliq’s left hand and held it under her nose. “Oh, that’s so you.” She smiled sincerely at Bree. “You should buy him some of this for Christmas. It’s great.”
Bree wiped her nose again. She
didn’t have any money left and besides, she’d already bought Kaliq a much better present. She glanced at him, hoping he would say as much and then they could go, but Kaliq just stood there staring at Porsha with his hands outstretched like some kind of dumb cologne model.
Doubt nudged its way back into Bree’s heart. How come Kaliq was so wonderful when she was alone with him, but when they were around other people he acted so...stupid?
Porsha wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know,” she mused. “I think maybe we should give them something more personal.”
“Like what, though?” Chanel asked, getting in on the petty game.
“I just bought Kaliq a really nice pair of boxers with a sailboat silk-screened on them,” Bree suggested helpfully. “They’ve got all different ones. You should go and see.”
Kaliq grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. They’re pretty cool.”
Porsha gripped the green sample bottle of Hermès cologne, ready to hurl it at Bree’s curly head. Boxers? The little whore.
Chanel could see that Porsha’s little prank seemed to be backfiring on her. “Come on, Porsh.” She tugged gently on her elbow before she ended up scratching little Bree's eyes out. “Let’s go upstairs. There’s a bikini I want to try on. You can tell me what you think.”
Porsha put the cologne bottle back down on the counter. “Fine,” she retorted coolly.
“We’re going to St. Barts tomorrow.” Chanel planted a kiss on Kaliq’s cheek. Then she bent down and kissed Bree. “But we’ll see you on New Year’s, okay?”
Kaliq watched Porsha fiddle with the ruby ring on her finger. He took a step forward, put his hand on her coat sleeve, and kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Porsha.”
The best actresses always remain composed in the face of insult. “Merry Christmas,” she replied, keeping her chin raised as high as was physically possible without falling over backward. Then, with as much poise as she could muster, she turned toward the bank of elevators in the back of the store, pulling Chanel along after her.
Upper East Side #3 Page 6
