All You Desire (22 page)

“And that's why every lady needs a gay best friend to set her straight.”

 

HAVEN WOKE WITH a start when someone screamed. Daylight streamed through the windows, and a woman with a vacuum cleaner was standing in the door. At first Haven imagined that the maid was horrified by the mess she'd left. Then she realized she was lying on the floor of a room that looked like the scene of a violent crime.

“It's okay! I'm not dead!” Haven said, just as the woman fainted in the hallway.

ALEX HARBRIDGE TOOK off her sunglasses and began chewing on one of the tips. “I wasn't expecting to hear from you for a few days. You made
that
in one night?” she asked skeptically. “The whole thing?”

“I have the calluses to prove it,” Haven said.

“It isn't the dress we discussed.” Alex stepped forward and spun the dummy around slowly. The disappointment on her face was clear. “A little skimpy, isn't it?”

“You're nineteen years old. You don't have anything that you need to keep hidden. I know the dress doesn't look like much on a mannequin, but it was designed by someone who's been dying to dress you for the last six years.”

“You've been dying to dress me since we were in the eighth grade?”

“No, not me,” Haven admitted as she carefully removed the dress from the dummy. “I borrowed a friend's design. He always thought you should flaunt your curves—not hide them. Do you think you could give it a shot?”

“I suppose,” Alex said with a forced smile. Then she took a deep breath. “Oh, why the hell not?”

Haven handed her the dress, and Alex carried it into the bathroom and locked herself inside. The door remained closed for ten full minutes before Haven worked up the courage to knock.

One of Alex's eyes appeared in the crack. “How did you do this?”

“Do what?”

Alex opened the door. The gown hid nothing, and it couldn't have been more flattering. Without her flesh zipped, crammed, and tucked into a prison of fabric, Alex appeared larger than life, like a goddess or a mythical being. “How did you make me look like this? I've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on doctors and trainers, and all it took was a dress.”

“It's you,” Haven said. “Not the dress.”

“No, it's not. I've worn a million gowns, and none of them made me look this good.”

“Well, I'm glad you like it,” Haven said, her spirits higher than they'd been in days.

“Like it? After I take this off, we're going to celebrate the fact that I'm no longer on a diet. I'm meeting a friend downtown for lunch at Amrita. Why don't you come with? You'll love him—he's amazing.”

“I should probably take a nap. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

“Are you kidding? Have some coffee if you're tired! You're going to need to get out of the house as much as you can before Oscars night. After that, you're going to be very busy—and very famous.”

 

EVEN A GIRL from Snope City, Tennessee, knew that you didn't just stroll into a place like Amrita and expect to be fed. At brunch time on a Saturday, the bar of the restaurant was already crammed with people who'd been waiting for more than an hour to be seated. And it wasn't the food that had drawn them to Amrita. It was the chance to be seated near the rich, famous, and beautiful and pretend for a while they were one of them. The crowd parted with an excited murmur as Alex sashayed up to the maître d's stand. Haven trailed behind in her wake, wishing Beau were there to enjoy the spectacle.

“Miss Harbridge,” the man gushed. “Such a pleasure to see you. Right this way, please. Your party has already arrived.”

Past the bar were two dozen tables covered in modest white tablecloths. The white walls bore black-and-white photos of ancient ruins. The restaurant itself could have passed for almost any other if not for its patrons. Every single guest was familiar, even if Haven couldn't quite remember their names. But she could see in an instant that they were different from the crowd waiting by the bar. No one looked up as Alex Harbridge passed, and they didn't need to pretend that they belonged. It was as if Haven had stumbled across the hidden nest of the
hoi oligoi
.

Haven spotted a sandy-haired young man waving furiously to Alex from the best table in the house. Slim and impeccably groomed, he wore a shirt tailored to display his sculpted chest. She recognized Calum Daniel's face from a top-rated teen drama that she'd never bothered to watch more than once or twice. He played the billionaire bad boy who'd seduced every character on the show. Rumor had it that the role didn't require Calum to do much acting.

Calum's companion smiled but didn't wave. He was darker, burlier, and even better looking than his friend. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, but Haven sensed a serious soul hidden behind the boy's youthful features.

“Calum!” Alex exclaimed. “I didn't know you were coming. Did you invite yourself as usual?”

“Hello to you too, sweetie!” the first boy greeted the actress. As they hugged, he shot Haven a wink over Alex's shoulder. “Who
is
this remarkable creature you have with you today?”

“Haven Moore, this is Calum Daniels. And the strong silent type is Owen Bell.”

“Hello,” Haven said.

“My God! Look at this hair! I've never seen anything like it,” Calum raved. Haven had assumed Calum Daniels was gay, but now, with his fingers in her hair and his eyes roaming all over her body, she figured omnisexual was much closer to the mark. “Where did you find this little goddess, Alex?”

“Let Haven sit down,” Owen said. “You're embarrassing her.”

“‘You're embarrassing her.'” Calum's impersonation of Owen's baritone was pitch-perfect.

“Come on, Calum,” Alex agreed. “She hasn't had a chance to build up immunity to your bullshit yet.”

“Oh, please. With hair like that she must be accustomed to having people ogle her,” Calum argued, but he still pulled out a chair for Haven and allowed her to sit unmolested. “So, how
do
you two know each other?”

“Haven just designed an Oscars dress for me. It's so amazing I can't even begin to describe it.”

“An Oscars dress?” Calum asked. “I thought you'd decided to go with Chanel this year. I wasted three hours of this life watching you try on dresses the other day!”

“I changed my mind. You'd know why if you saw Haven's gown.”

“Well, I hope you charge a truckload of points, Haven,” Calum said. “Don't let Alex cheap out on you just because you're a newbie.”

“Actually, I'll be paying in cash,” Alex said. “Not that it's any of your business.”

“Cash?” Calum looked confused. “But
why
?” It was as if Haven had asked to be paid in manure.

“Apparently Haven's not a member of the Society,” Owen explained.

“Oh
really
?” Calum's nose wrinkled as he prissily refolded the napkin on his lap. “That's too bad.”

“She's not in the OS, but she
is
one of us,” Alex hurried to add. “How else could a girl our age do the things she does?”

Calum shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

“And she's friends with Adam too.”

“
Good
friends?” Calum asked, his interest piqued once more. “You're not the new lady in his life, are you? Where does a girl go to meet someone like Adam, anyway?”

“It's a long story,” Haven said.

“Perfect. I've got plenty of time,” Calum said.

“Leave her alone,” Owen insisted.

“Fine. But if you're one of us and you're friends with Adam, why aren't you a member of our club?”

“I couldn't say.” Haven hoped Calum would move on to another subject, yet it was still flattering to have someone famous making a fuss over her. She could tell he wasn't the sort to waste his time on just anyone.

“Don't bother,” Alex told Calum. “I've already tried to tempt her. I said I'd be happy to introduce her to some of our esteemed colleagues. But the only person she wanted to meet was Mia Michalski.”

Haven grimaced with embarrassment.

“
Who
?” Calum asked.

“
Exactly
,” Alex said.

“Oh, come
on
, Haven,” Calum groaned. “You
have
to join! All the cool kids are members. And I can prove it too.” He appealed to his companions. “How about a game of ‘Spot the Snake'?”

“I'm hungry,” Alex moaned. “Can't we just order some food?”

“I'm trying to make an important point, darling! Okay, I see one. Haven, in a moment I want you to turn around and take a good look at the very serious gentleman sitting two tables behind you. And I want you to pay close attention to his cuff links.”

Haven slowly turned and peeked over her shoulder. A distinguished-looking man was signing his bill. She caught a quick look at one of his cuff links before it vanished beneath his suit sleeve. It was a platinum snake swallowing its own tail.

“Did you see it?” Calum asked, and Haven nodded mutely. “That man runs the biggest bank in New York. And you know what's funny? They say he hasn't touched cash in forty years. He only deals in Society points. The woman with him is a member too. She's responsible for all those hideous celebrity portraits you see in the magazines. I have it on good authority that she hides her snake tattoo somewhere the sun should refuse to shine. Ooh,” he interrupted himself. “There's another. To your right, against the wall. Take a look at his tie clip.”

Haven snuck a peek at the patron in question and swiveled back around in an instant. “That's the
mayor
,” she whispered.

“It is indeed,” said Calum, acknowledging the man with a nod.

“Why does everyone have a snake somewhere? I thought Society membership was supposed to be secret?”

“It
is
secret. Nobody knows to look for the snakes but us. And you. Besides, the mayor needs to advertise a little right now. Word has it that he used up most of his points during the last election. Anyone here need a favor? There's a bar two doors down from my apartment. The customers have been getting rowdy while I'm trying to get my beauty sleep. And all their nasty cigarette smoke must be terrible for my skin. Maybe I'll have him shut it down for me.”

“You're just upset because their bouncer carded you last week,” Owen said. “Let the other young people have their fun. You'll be twenty-one soon enough.”

“Are you kidding? I can't wait two whole years. I depend on that bar for all my fresh meat. I'll just have that bouncer fired. The owner needs me to keep the place classy. But do you see my point, Haven? Haven?”

“Sorry. Hold on a sec,” Haven said. Her phone was ringing. She'd just fished it out of her bag when Calum snatched it out of her hands.

“No, no, no,” he admonished her, switching the phone off and dropping it back into her bag. “Not at the dinner table, darling.
Anyway
, as I was saying, the members in this room alone could make sure you have everything your little heart desires. And for a pretty girl like you? Who knows? You might even get a few freebies.”

“I don't need their help,” Haven sniffed, annoyed by Calum's etiquette lesson. She hadn't recognized the number on the caller ID. But it must have been Iain, and she was dying to speak to him. “I prefer to get by on my own hard work and talent.”

“That's sweet,” said Calum. “But you're awfully naive for an Eternal One.
Nobody
gets by in New York without a little help. It doesn't matter if you sew the most beautiful dresses the world has ever seen if there's no one to spread the word about you. Or give you a loan to open your first shop. Or convince the department stores to carry your line. Or get you in the pages of
Vogue
. You can't do it alone, my dear. Either you accept your friends' help or you get used to obscurity. It's really as simple as that.”

“Calum.” Owen tried to stop him. “That's enough. We both know there are plenty of people who've managed to succeed without the Society's help.”

“Maybe,” Calum said. “But if they're lucky enough to come back, they'll certainly join us the next time around. Who would be stupid enough to turn down an invitation?”

“I might,” Haven ventured. “I've heard some things about the OS that aren't very flattering.”

“Like what?” It was Owen this time. He seemed so genuinely concerned that Haven half expected him to whip out a pen and start taking notes.