Being Audrey Hepburn (40 page)

One girl had the words
BROKEN DREAMS
tattooed across her chest in goth lettering. And of course the most ravishing, purest one of all was Jannush, a tranny friend of Sarrah’s who strutted down the stage in mile-high stilettos. Truthfully, the models were the perfect contrast to the dresses themselves, and the tattoos were a counterpoint to Jess’s lyrical inscriptions.

Sarrah had contributed in other ways as well. She had taken some of Jess’s journal entries, the ones stitched into the hems of the dresses, put them on a loop on her computer, and projected them across the ceiling above the models. The audience ahhh’d and oooh’d at each one, loving it.

VIP spotting turned up some surprising people. I waved to Flo, who had brought Rachel Zoe with her. Flo gave me the proudest smile and a thumbs-up. I scanned the crowd and thought I spotted Gabby but wasn’t sure. There was a lady in a strange lavender outfit who seemed important. And then Betsey Johnson and Isak! Where had he been? Thank God he was here. He threw me a kiss.

The lighting was austere and dramatic. The music was shamelessly danceable. It was an instant pop-up fashion event for Designer X beyond our fondest hopes, but the dresses and looks warranted all the attention.

As Jess told me before, a dress had only one chance to make an impression, and after that it had to deliver on the cut, the style, and fabric. The first opportunity was the only opportunity, and this was it.

Sarrah’s model friends were a big hit, too, and I’d never thought girls that tough would blush and giggle, but they did. And Jess … what can I say about the best friend a girl could ever have? She had already made me seem to be someone way more sophisticated than I could ever have seemed myself. At the same time, she was the kind of friend who never stopped laying it on the line. While never wavering in her support of my crazy ideas, she kept me centered and honest even when I was telling the biggest lies of my life.

And me? I was just glad that I didn’t let her down.

The girls did three passes, switching dresses furiously in the back. After Jess and I had finished the last turnaround, we held hands as the models made their walks for the finale.

After the last model had made her turn, a chant went up: “X, X, X!” Soon everyone was chanting, “X, X, X!” It was time for Designer X to take a bow, only Jess was seized with stage fright.

“You’ve got to go, and you know it,” I said. “Come on, step out in front for once.”

“No. It’s your moment. You created Designer X. You drove me to do this crazy thing, and you invented a name for it, dragging me into it until I had to do the best work I could possibly do.”

“It’s the designer that ends the show,” I said, but I could see the wheels turning in her head before I finished speaking.

“Not when you’re wearing my best dress.”

All the models had taken the stage and joined the audience in clapping and chanting. Bennie dropped a totally ecstatic pop beat that sounded like little musical bubbles colliding. As everyone chanted “X, X, X,” Designer X and I held hands and took the runway triumphant. I did a spin in Jess’s finest dress, and we both took a bow.

It was over almost as soon as it started. Apparently the cops had been there for the last ten minutes but were nice enough not to shut us down. Chase was tearing the whole thing apart as fast as he put it up.

Bloggers, tweeters, and the like swamped us from all sides with cameras, microphone and smart phones.

When I introduced Isak to Jess, they bonded immediately, instant best friends and colleagues. As more and more people gathered around Jess, I slipped away. I found a bottle of water and a quiet corner and tried to bring my heartbeat down to a normal level. Finally I could catch my breath.

“That’s quite a show you pulled off, Lisbeth,” a voice said from the shadows.

“Who is that?” I said and turned to see ZK emerging into the light.

“No. You can’t just show up like this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding out his open hand. “More sorry than you will ever believe. Can we talk?”

“I don’t know,” I said, stepping away from him.

Dressed in a tux, his dark wavy hair was slicked back the way it was when we first met. The gold flecks in his green eyes reflected the last of the lights from the fashion show.

“I know it’s hard but there are things you need to know,” he said.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Me? I’m fine. It’s about the bracelet.”

“Why did you take it?”

“I can’t talk here. Will you come with me?”

“Hey Lisbeth!” Chase called. I turned. “We’re going out to celebrate. You’re joining us, right?”

“Yes. Text me where. I need to do something first,” I said, trying not to look behind me.

“Are you talking to someone?” Chase asked.

I turned back to ZK and saw he was hiding in the shadows.

“No, but I’ll catch up with you soon,” I said.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded and he left.

“Follow me,” ZK said, half his face in shadow. And I did.

64

The stretch limo pulled away almost as soon as the door closed. In the darkness I hadn’t realized anyone else was there.

“Nice of you to join us, Lisbeth,” Dahlia said, neatly tucked away in the back corner of her limo. Wearing a silver metallic Cavalli minidress with a plunging neckline and a broad silver cuff, she was provocative and intimidating at the same time. “ZK is lovely as always, isn’t he?”

ZK watched impassively.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I think men are so much more attractive when they’re depressed, don’t you?” She examined ZK’s profile as if he were a curiosity in a store that she might buy. “They have this deep, brooding, desperate look when they’re disheartened, like trapped creatures. I think it’s sexy. What do you think, Lisbeth?”

“I think you’re a monster.”

“Oh now I’m a monster. That’s flattering,” she said as if it was the funniest joke in the world. Holding out her champagne glass, she waited for ZK to get the message. He filled her glass from a nearby bottle.

“We enjoyed your little fashion show, didn’t we, ZK?” A glaze had settled in ZK’s eyes, which locked in a long-suffering expression of his that was familiar to me. “Join me in a toast to Designer X,” she said, holding up her glass, “and an end to the little pretend life you’ve been living.” Her laser-focused eyes bored into mine so intensely I felt like I would evaporate into nothing.

“ZK, if you had any decency you’d stop this,” I pleaded.

Dahlia threw back her head and laughed.

“Decency?” she said, barely glancing at ZK. “I think that word left the family crest ages ago. Besides, ZK showed me this exquisite bracelet of yours.” She pulled Nan’s inscribed platinum band out of her silver clutch and waved it in front of me.

“Give it back.”

“That wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” She slipped the bracelet on and off her slender wrist. “That’s the problem with you, Lisbeth. You’re not much fun, and I like my friends to be more fun.”

“I can see that I have deeply offended you, and I am sorry. But, please, I will never bother you again, please give me the bracelet and I will go away.”

It was hard to describe the expression on her face. It was like the look of a cat pinning its claw down on a mouse’s tail. My begging delighted her.

“You don’t
bother
me, Lisbeth. You’re not fun, but you’re entertaining.” Dahlia placed the bracelet back in her clutch and snapped it shut. “So tell us about your Nan? She sounds like a fascinating person,” Dahlia began, gazing into my eyes with mock seriousness. “Dulac—that’s her last name, isn’t it? Just like yours.” She laughed again, more of a cackle, really.

“You couldn’t possibly understand anything about my grandmother. Nan is a wonderful person, with more grace and style than you or anyone you know,” I answered.

“Oh really? Then I assume you are aware she’s also a tad notorious. Not to mention your grandfather—Sammy G—is hardened criminals,’ I think, is the term they use.”

“You’ve got it wrong. His name wasn’t Sammy. My grandfather’s name was Frank and he was just a construction worker.”

Dahlia could hardly contain her pleasure.

“So you grew up thinking he was a construction worker? What’s that expression they have where you come from? Fuhgeddahbouddit!”

“Okay, stop it now, Dahlia,” ZK spoke up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Take it easy, lover boy,” she replied. “We’ll be done soon enough.” She ran her hands through his hair like he was a pet. His eyes haunted, he looked horribly humiliated.

“Poor ZK,” Dahlia said, studying his profile. “Even though the whole affair was my idea, I think he actually fell in love with you.”

ZK shoved Dahlia’s hand away.

“Stop the car!” he yelled, and the limo pulled to the curb. ZK opened the door and stormed out. The steam from a manhole cover rose up in the street. We had driven uptown, but I couldn’t see where.

“Lisbeth, please get out of the car,” he said. Dahlia didn’t seem to care, so I slipped from the limo, relieved to be outside but concerned about the platinum band in Dahlia’s clutch. She watched the scene unfold as if she were viewing a play.

“Lisbeth, this is the truth, and you might as well know because Dahlia is going to expose it,” ZK said. “Dahlia put a private detective on your case as soon as she met you. She pushed me to meet you at Soho House that night. The man who you thought was your grandfather is the Sammy G who gave that bracelet to your grandmother. He was a Mafia boss who had been in hiding for almost forty years until he died. He married a society girl named Simon Fleurice Dulac—your grandmother—who vanished mysteriously decades ago.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “None of this makes any sense. How can you talk this way? How can
you
be part of this with
her
? Why should I believe any of what you are saying?”

“I know,” ZK said, his arms dropping to his sides. His whole body seemed to slump like a marionette whose strings had been cut. “You’re so different, Lisbeth. Wherever you came from, whoever you are. Everything is new to you, filled with possibilities. I have none, never have had any. In my world I don’t stand a chance,” he answered. “I had hoped you wouldn’t take me seriously, but you did. And the more I grew to appreciate you, the more I knew I would be bad for you. I made another shameful Northcott bargain in a history of bad bargains. My family was at stake. It was the only way.”

I turned to Dahlia, who was enjoying the drama.

“Dahlia, your private detective has simply mixed my Nan up with someone else,” I said. “Please just give me back the bracelet. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll disappear. Just leave Nan alone.”

She paused, seeming to savor the situation. I thought for a moment that she might be gratified by how utterly devastated I was, how broken ZK seemed, and return Nan’s bracelet.

“I can’t dear, sweet girl; it’s federal evidence. When we discovered the truth, I was obliged to consult the district attorney, an old friend of my father’s. There’s nothing I can do now. Oh, I forgot, I’ve been talking to a delightful
New York Post
reporter about you; he’s done quite a bit of digging, which was very helpful, including a certain Page Six photo.”

Page Six. Those words felt like a punch in the stomach.

“You’ve had your moment, ZK. I must admit, it was a moving performance, almost seemed like you meant it,” she said with a smirk. “It’s time to go.”

His feet seemed glued to the street. Dahlia’s eyes hardened. “If you’d like me to hold up my end of the deal, do come along,” she said, and the limo driver closed her door.

ZK walked around the limo almost as if his body had no choice. He barely glanced up as he ducked inside. But I saw in that mere instant his pleading eyes, the lost boy in all his agony.

Dahlia lowered her window.

“My dear, I think you can assume your life is ruined. I wish I knew how to make one of those evil supervillain laughs. This would be the time for it, don’t you think?”

65

With every step it felt like I was leaving behind some part of myself. I compulsively moved forward, staring down at the sidewalk in that determined way people walk in the city where no one dares talk to you. I found myself at Central Park by Columbus Circle and realized I was only a few blocks from Tiffany’s.

Even though the evening was winding down, the carriages and their sad horses were still escorting tourists through the park. Turning down Fifth, I saw the seamless glass box that was the Apple store glistening in the moonlight.

Yellow taxis sped by as I approached the street corner at 57th. For the first time, it felt sad to peer up and see the familiar chiseled logo. Not at all like the times Jess and I, as so many girls, would bring our breakfast to eat in front of Tiffany’s windows.

I gazed down Fifth Avenue.

In a few hours, at dawn, the streetlights would still be on when Holly would arrive by taxi. Gazing up at the Tiffanys’ logo, she’ll release an almost imperceptible sigh from her shoulders. Wearing her sunglasses in the morning twilight, she’ll float on tiny steps to the jewelry-showcase window and delicately take a cruller from a white bag with her long black gloves. She’ll gingerly remove the plastic top of her deli coffee cup and let it tumble into the paper bag, not spilling a drop.

Without a soul in sight, she’ll examine the stunning display of diamond bracelets and miniature chandeliers, tilting her head ever so slightly, contemplating their elegance and beauty.

I could see her standing before me in her fragile splendor. I had always assumed she was an early-bird window-shopper with an intimate knowledge of diamonds and pearls returning from some fabulous party.

Now I realized she was outside staring in. She came to Tiffany’s because she needed to make herself feel better. She was endlessly searching for what she never had, sad for whatever she was missing. Just like me.

She went to Tiffany’s that morning to feel safe. She must have been somewhere unsafe that night.

Although it’s hard to find anything bad about Audrey there must have been a dark side in her life that people don’t talk about. After all, she was a heavy smoker who liked a glass of bourbon. Rumors of affairs with married men and anorexia have been around forever—Audrey’s own version of the mean reds—but she kept her problems discretely hidden in a Givenchy dress where no one would see. I wished we could talk, Audrey and I, and she could tell me if she ever made it feel all right.