The Celebutantes (5 page)

“A brush?” she repeated.

He pointed to the top of her head, where a remnant of leaf was sticking out of her hair.

Embarrassed, Lex quickly batted it away and smiled self-consciously.
The one time I run into a totally hot guy and my hair looks like it was styled by a florist,
she thought angrily. “I was finishing a spa treatment,” she said quickly. She patted her cheeks. “Big plant leaves are good for exfoliating, and they help smooth out split ends.”

“That's cool. You sure you don't need anything?”

And then she realized that he was dressed in the black pants and light blue shirt of hotel employees. The uniform wasn't particularly cool, but it looked great on him.

“I work here,” he said, responding to the look on her face.

“You look so young to be working here,” Lex commented. “You look, like, my age.”

He nodded. “I'm seventeen. My dad is the assistant director of security here, and I work in his office during the summer and on weekends throughout the year. Nothing important. Just stupid paperwork and stuff like that.”

Lex found herself smiling again. She liked the way he talked—a sexy mix of preppy and native New York. “What's your name?”

“Brooklyn.”

“Seriously?”

He sighed and made a sour face. Then a smile broke over his lips. “Yeah. Brooklyn DiMarco. But everybody calls me Brock for short.”

She felt like she'd been hit in the butt by one of Cupid's diamond-studded arrows. Brooklyn? How cool was that? How
coincidental
was it? His name wasn't Bob or Mike or Steve. It wasn't even Dakota or Tennessee. It was Brooklyn. You couldn't exactly take Lexington Avenue to the Brooklyn Bridge, but it was close enough. “That has to be the cutest name I've ever heard,” she said. “It totally fits you.” She gave his shoulder a playful and hopelessly girlish tap.

“Well, thanks,” he replied sheepishly. “But sometimes it can be pretty embarrassing. You can't imagine what I went through as a kid.”

“I totally get you,” Lex told him. “But you should be proud of your name now. After Manhattan, Brooklyn happens to be my favorite borough. It's so
hot
there this time of year. Way hotter than Manhattan, anyway.”

That totally did it. Brooklyn DiMarco blushed brighter than a jar of tomato sauce. But before he could say anything else, his cell beeped. He wrenched it from his pocket and stared at it. “Oh, damn,” he snapped, clearly disappointed. “That's my dad looking for me.”

“I hope I haven't gotten you into trouble,” Lex said flirtatiously. “Not that a guy as big and strong as you should be scared of anything.”

He smiled an incandescent smile. “Well, I have to get going. It was really nice meeting you, Lex Hamilton.”

“You too, Brooklyn DiMarco. Maybe I'll see you again sometime.”

“Maybe. But I don't walk in your circles. I'm just a plain old Brooklyn boy.”

“My circles can be overrated.” Lex felt a whole freakin' school of butterflies scurry through her stomach. She
so
didn't want this moment to end.

“I'm always here on the weekends,” he said. “If you're ever around, ask for me.” Then he gave her a quick wink and turned to go.

“Will do.” Lex fanned herself with her purse as she watched Brooklyn DiMarco jog across the lobby and disappear through a door behind the front desk. Talk about hot. She was a Manhattan girl, but she totally knew which borough she wanted to visit next.

It was official: Madison had found a new BFF in Tallula Kayson.

They had been inseparable for the better part of an hour. The moment Tallula walked into the room, Madison approached her, put out her hand, and started tossing out compliments. Flattery always worked. But it was more than just that. Tallula had seemingly warmed up to Madison quickly, because within a matter of minutes, they were sitting down at the Michelangelo table and chatting up a storm.

Park observed the new little friendship from a distance. She was happy for Madison, and not altogether surprised: Madison and Tallula shared a voracious passion for art. But that, in Park's opinion, was where the similarities ended. Tallula was elegant and beautiful and radiated a certain kind of mystery. She wasn't the type of girl who just smiled and nodded and made small talk; she was the type of girl who studied you with her eyes and took mental notes on your character, your demeanor, your choice of dress. Park liked that—it showed a certain level of depth and intelligence—but there was also another, less flattering side to Tallula. The famous pop artist was hopelessly dramatic and downright bitchy. Park had spoken to her for a few minutes, and in that short span of time, Tallula had snapped at her assistant twice and blatantly stared down three of the waiters. She had also given a rather chubby female guest one of those cold you-don't-belong-here stares. What was that all about? Park didn't like it at all, which was why she had extricated herself from the conversation quickly.

Now Park leaned against the bar and listened as Beethoven played on the air. She observed Madison and Tallula, taking note of how touchy-feely Tallula was—tapping Madison's shoulder, holding on to Madison's hand, launching into a quick and giddy hug. They looked like long-lost sorority sisters. The spectacle disturbed Park as much as it intrigued her. Why was Madison so blinded by art fame? Couldn't she see past the façade? All in all, Park pretty much felt like Tallula Kayson was full of shit, the kind of girl who chose to be your friend only after she calculated the diameter of your spotlight. Totally disappointing.

She was about to reach for her cell when she saw Lex walk into the room and head her way. “Well,” Park said, “that took you long enough. Did you find Coco?”

“No, I didn't.” Lex shrugged. “I looked everywhere—the bathroom up here, the bathroom downstairs, the lobby, the gift shop. And her phone is turned off. She must've gone home.”

Home? That idea didn't sit well with Park, and she knew Lex wasn't buying it either. Coco had never ditched them. “That's really weird,” she said quietly. “Why the hell would she turn off her cell?”

“Beats me.” Lex frowned. “But I know Madison won't be happy about this failed mission.”

“Madison's as happy as a fifty-year-old woman at a Botox party.” Park pointed to the Michelangelo table. “She and Tallula are now BFFs. And that girl sitting beside them, the one who isn't talking to anyone—”

“Is Tallula's assistant,” Lex guessed.

“Right. Her name is Ina. Very professional.”

“And very invisible. I don't know how these personal assistants do it.” Lex shuddered. She had witnessed too many times the abuse that befell personal assistants. They got screamed at and things thrown at them; they were bullied and threatened on a regular basis. And then, after being fired, they usually violated their confidentiality agreements and sold ugly stories about their former bosses to the tabloids. That was precisely why she, Park, and Madison had opted not to have personal assistants: the cycle was just too vicious. She scanned the room, looking past Ina. “Where's Elijah?” she asked.

“Not here.”

“Figures. How's Tallula?”

“Eh.” Park made a sour face.

Lex knew what that meant. “Bad, huh?”

“You know the type,” Park said. “All girly and happy as long as she's around other famous people. I know I just met her, but I think she's kind of fake.”

Lex crinkled her nose. “Eeeww. But Madison doesn't see it, right?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Being blinded by art fame is totally rank,” Lex said quietly. “And can I just ask an important question? What's with that ugly thing around Tallula's head? She completely ruined that dress.”

“You know these modern-art types,” Park answered, her tone sarcastic. “They have to look a little crazy in order to be happy. But don't tell that to Madison—she thinks Tallula's a goddess.”

“In that getup?” Lex sighed. “Maybe Madison'll snap out of it once I tell her I didn't find Coco.”

“Did you try looking for her in the bar off the lobby?”

“Of course. All I saw were a bunch of businesspeople drinking, which completely amazes me. How do these older men get drunk so early in the afternoon?”

“They probably work in advertising,” Park said offhandedly. “Anyway, let's get over to the table. They're about to unveil the painting, and Madison will have our heads if we aren't there.”

After the introductions—Lex complimented Tallula on her dress, Tallula complimented Lex on her shoes—Madison pranced happily across the room and to the podium. She clapped twice to get everyone's attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “it's the time we've all been waiting for. In just a few moments, we will feast our eyes on Tallula Kayson's newest masterwork.”

There was a round of applause as two men walked to the front of the room; one was holding a steel-framed easel, which he set down next to the podium, and the other carefully lowered a large draped canvas onto the easel's edge.

The lights dimmed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Madison announced proudly. “I give you Tallula Kayson's newest work,
Blue Love.
” She struck a pose, thrusting both her arms out like a hostess on
The Price Is Right.

One of the men whisked the white drape off the canvas.

A flurry of gasps echoed through the room, followed by a round of spontaneous, sustained applause.

“Oh!” Madison cried. “Oh, how
spectacular.
”

“It's extraoooooordinary,” a well-dressed elderly woman said.

“Truly remarkable!”

“Oh—look at the colors!”

Blue Love
was, indeed, an interesting work. Brilliant, vivid colors. Wide strokes of black that blended into the edges of the canvas. A flurry of small dots that looked like blue snowflakes. But that was all. Typically abstract, the painting was a true example of pop art: there wasn't anything visibly obvious about it, no landscape or figures or faces. No scene. But the painting had all the trademarks of a genuine Tallula Kayson: the pointillism, the shadowing, and the two oval-shaped orbs hidden strategically in the background that represented God's eyes staring down at the majesty of it all. The somewhat eerie supernatural element was a staple of Tallula's. “God's eyes” could be found in every one of her paintings, but you had to study the canvas for several minutes to spot them. And once you did, there was no escaping their originality.

The second round of applause thundered through the air. Tallula nodded and smiled and waved as she walked to the podium. She hugged Madison. Then she assumed a graceful posture and let the photographers do their thing. The barrage of flashes lasted for nearly two minutes.

Lex leaned into Park. “Is it me, or does that painting look like a big, stained dish towel?”

Park bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “It's called
abstract
art.”

“Well, then call me an abstract artist,” Lex whispered. “Because I could totally splash a bunch of things on a canvas and give it a silly name.”

Another round of flashes followed.

“Please,” Madison said over the din of voices and applause, “give us a speech.”

Tallula positioned herself in front of the podium. “Thank you all very much,” she began. “It's a pleasure to be here, and an honor to unveil
Blue Love
in the presence of the Royal Crown Society of the Americas. Thank you, truly, for your support.” She stepped away from the microphone. “Ina, would you be a mouse and help me down?”

Ina Debrovitch scrambled toward Tallula, both arms outstretched.

Tallula followed Madison back to the table. Another wave of clapping broke across the room. People crowded around the painting and began chattering amongst themselves.

“Looks like you're a hit again, Tallula,” Lex said, trying to sound genuinely interested. “I'm sure that beauty of a painting will create a frenzy at auction.”

“All the money will be going to an orphanage in Connecticut,” Tallula explained. “The society will be handling everything, and now that you girls have been appointed ambassadors, you'll be involved in that.”

“I can hardly wait.” Madison was still beaming. She looked as though she were about to move the tables and do a series of cartwheels.

Ina Debrovitch came to Tallula's side. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but you told me to tell you when it hit two-thirty. You have lots of phone calls and e-mails to attend to.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tallula sighed and turned back to the girls. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back upstairs. See you later, okay? Call me and let's have lunch soon.” She turned around, locked her arm inside Ina's, and together they strode out of the room.

“Isn't she amazing?” Madison breathed happily. “She's even cooler and more interesting than I thought she'd be.”