Chasing Harry Winston

education-as they did with her older brother-but the new political situation made it impossible. That’s where I came in.”

“You married her so she could get a visa?” Leigh asked, shocked. Didn’t that only happen in the movies?

“I did.”

Leigh could only shake her head in disbelief.

“Do you really find it that appalling?” Jesse asked. “This is why I didn’t want to get into it before now.”

“I don’t think appalling is the word I’d use, but it’s definitely…weird.” Leigh peered at him, examined his face. “Didn’t you ever want to get married one day to someone you actually love? Or was that not even a consideration?”

“I know this probably sounds strange to you, but to be perfectly honest, no, that was not a consideration. I’d recently come off this massively successful first book, and I was all caught up in the traveling and partying and women; marriage was the last thing on my mind. What was I really sacrificing by marrying Tuti in name only? She lives with three roommates in a walk-up on the Lower East Side. Goes to school at night, has a new boyfriend who seems like a nice kid. I take her out for lunch twice a month, and she loves bringing her laundry to my apartment because my cleaning lady does it for her. It’s like having a niece, or a little sister. And it’s never had any kind of negative impact on my life…until now.”

Even now, three months later, Leigh could remember every word of what Jesse said next. How he’d been intrigued with Leigh from the moment they met in Henry’s office; how much he grew to adore and respect her during the working Hamptons trips they’d shared; how he hadn’t thought himself capable of caring about someone so much. He told her that he knew it was all happening so fast, but that he didn’t want to waste any more of his life playing games or screwing around. She could take all the time she needed, especially in light of what had happened with Russell (Henry had told him everything), but he was committed to her and her only. Just tell him now if she felt the same way; if there was even the smallest chance she did, he would wait for her. Was there the smallest chance? She smiled now just remembering all of it.

The flight to Los Angeles was uneventful. As promised, Adriana was waiting for them at the baggage claim, chattering a mile a minute, filled with excitement and ideas about how the girls would spend their weekend.

“First and foremost, we shop,” Adriana announced as she clicked open the doors to her brand-new, candy apple red BMW M3 convertible.

“Sweet car!” Emmy breathed, running her hand across its trunk.

Adriana smiled happily. “Isn’t she hot? How can you live in California and not drive a convertible? It’s a sacrilege. She’s my ‘independence gift’ from my parents.”

“You’re joking,” Leigh said, delighted that the three of them could fall right back into their familiar patterns.

“Not at all,” Adriana sang. “They wanted to ‘encourage’ my decision to support myself-I’m paying entirely for my own apartment, by the way-so here she is. I mean, I could’ve rejected it on principle, but that just seems silly, doesn’t it?”

The girls piled into the convertible and proceeded to work their way through lunch at the Ivy, store-hopping on Robertson so Emmy could pick up a pair of baby Uggs for her nephew, and a driving tour of Venice Beach, Adriana’s new neighborhood. Her studio was bright and modern, a clean, uncluttered space just two blocks to both the ocean and all the stores and restaurants on Main Street. Leigh couldn’t remember feeling this happy, this content, for a long time, and as the girls sipped wine and dressed for dinner, the thought occurred to her that the anxiety-related heart palpitations and clammy hands and fingernails-in-the-palm digging were things of the past. The Nicorette was gone. She even slept most nights. It was almost impossible to imagine, but if she had to select a single word to describe her current emotional state, she might have even chosen relaxed.

Singing Shakira the entire car ride to West Hollywood, the girls were prepped and ready for a big night out. It only helped when Adriana pulled up to the valet at Koi and was given a rock star-worthy greeting, followed by a worshipful double cheek kiss and a “fucking gorgeous, Adriana!” by the otherwise obnoxious maitre d’. They were immediately ushered past teeming heaps of sushi-seekers and sake-swiggers and deposited at one of the restaurant’s best tables, a prime swatch of real estate that offered 360-degree views of the dining area and bar, and glimpses of the cocktail garden cum paparazzi frenzy out front. A round of lychee martinis simply materialized, and within minutes the friends were in prime form.

“So, what’s the plan?” Leigh asked Adriana, who had been approached and greeted by no fewer than three people in the last ten minutes.

“You’re like a local celebrity,” Emmy said to Adriana, shaking her head. “Not that I’m remotely surprised, but still…”

Adriana flashed her perfect teeth and performed her sexy hair-flick move to what Leigh would swear were audible groans from nearby tables. “Querida, please, I’m blushing!”

“Yeah, right,” Emmy said. “Our shy, fragile flower, just waiting to bloom.”

“Okay, so maybe not so shy,” Adriana concurred. “And as for our plan, well, we aren’t committed to anything. We could meet up with Toby later, or”-Adriana smiled devilishly again, clearly indicating which choice would be her preference-“we could head to Vine and meet up with some of those guys from Endeavor. One of them has a sick house and always throws great pool parties…”

“What’s this I hear? A new love interest, perhaps? What about Toby?” Leigh asked, popping a piece of salmon sashimi in her mouth.

“What about Toby?” Adriana said, the up-to-no-good smile back again. “He’s lovely, as always. But that’s not to say there aren’t many more lovelies out there…”

“Does he know?” Emmy asked.

Adriana nodded. “He’s wonderful, sweet, even fun sometimes. I told him I’d love to keep seeing him on a nonexclusive basis if he was okay with that, and he was. Can you really expect a girl in a brand-new city with so many delicious treats to choose only one? It’s inhumane!”

“So, as far as our pact goes…,” Emmy said, letting her words trail off.

“Yes, that is why we’re out here, isn’t it? It’s been exactly one year since the agreement, and we’re supposed to evaluate this weekend. Declare a winner,” Leigh said.

Adriana waved her hand dismissively. “The pact? Please. I’m so over it.”

Emmy laughed. “So are you admitting defeat?”

“Absolutely, one hundred percent, not for a single second,” Adriana said, sipping her martini and delicately licking her lips. “Admittedly, there’s no ring”-she wagged her left hand, fingers spread-“but there could have been. And still can be, from Toby or anyone else. I might be thirty in a sea of gorgeous twentysomethings, but the more time I spend here, the more obvious it becomes: They’re amateurs. They’re little girls. They don’t know the first thing about seducing or keeping a man. We’re women…in every sense of the word.”

The waiter appeared at their table and began to uncork a bottle of Dom Perignon. “We didn’t order that,” Leigh said, looking to her friends for confirmation.

“It’s from the gentlemen sitting at the end of the bar,” he replied, the festive pop of the cork punctuating his words.

All three girls swiveled immediately to look.

“They’re cute!” Leigh said in the way committed girls do the world over. They’re totally fine…for you. I won’t be partaking because I’m madly in love with someone so much better…

“Way too preppy,” Adriana said automatically, her eagle eyes taking in the four men.

“We don’t have to sleep with them, but we do have to invite them over for a drink,” Leigh said in her most reasonable voice.

“Please, we don’t owe them anything but a thank-you smile and a little wave,” Adriana said, performing both with a flourish as she spoke.

Neither girl noticed that Emmy’s face was beet red, that she was fidgeting with her hands and refusing to look back at the bar.

“You okay?” Leigh asked, wondering if Emmy was having a Duncan-related regret, or worse, if they were his friends. They looked like East Coast prep-school guys, not at all like native Californians, and as Leigh watched Emmy grow more and more uncomfortable, she was sure she had hit on something. “Are those friends of Duncan’s?” she asked.