I look at him in disbelief. Doesn’t he realize he’s one of them? “I’m not worried,” I retort.
A bowl of pasta comes our way. Capote grabs it and politely serves me, then himself. “Tell me you’re not really going to do your play at Bobby’s.”
“Why not?”
“Because Bobby is a joke.”
I give him a nasty smile. “Or is it because he hasn’t asked you to perform your great work?”
“I wouldn’t do it even if he did. It’s not the way to do things, Carrie. You’ll see.”
I shrug. “I guess that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t mind taking chances.”
“Do you want me to lie to you? Like everyone else in your life?”
I shake my head, mystified. “How do you know people lie to me? More likely they lie to you. But the biggest liar in your life?
“Fine,” he says, as if I’m hopeless.
He turns to the woman on his other side. I follow his cue and smile at the man on my left.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s Cholly. “Hello,” I say brightly, determined to forget about my encounter with Teensie and my hatred of Capote.
“Little one!” he exclaims. “My goodness. You certainly do get around. Is New York turning out to be everything you hoped?”
I glance around the table. Rainbow is slumped in her chair, eyes half closed, while Capote is pontificating about his favorite topic again-Proust. I spot Ryan, who has had the good luck to be seated next to Teensie. He’s making eyes at her, no doubt hoping she’ll take him on as a client. Meanwhile, Bobby is standing behind Barry Jessen, desperately trying to engage him while Barry, now sweating profusely, angrily wipes his face with a napkin.
I experience one of those bizarre moments where the universe telescopes and everything is magnified: the movement of Pican’s lipsticked mouth, the stream of red wine Bobby pours into his glass, the gold signet ring on Teensie’s right finger as she raises her hand to her temple.
I wonder if Maggie was right. Maybe we are all crazy.
And suddenly, everything goes back to normal. Teensie gets up. Barry makes room for Bobby next to him. Ryan leans over to Rainbow and whispers something in her ear.
I turn back to Cholly. “I think it’s fantastic.”
He seems interested, so I start telling him about my adventures. How I got kicked out of Peggy’s. And how I named Viktor Greene’s mustache Waldo. And how Bobby wants me to do a reading of my play when I haven’t even finished it yet. When I’m done, I have Cholly in stitches. There’s nothing better than a man who’s a good audience.
“You should come to a soiree at my house sometime,” he says. “I have this wonderful little publication called
I’m writing my phone number on a napkin for him when Teensie approaches. At first I think I’m her target, but it’s Cholly she’s after.
“Darling,” she says, aggressively inserting a chair between Cholly and me, therefore effectively cutting me off. “I’ve just met the most charming young writer. Ryan somebody. You ought to meet him.”
“Love to,” Cholly says. And with a wink, he leans around Teensie. “Have you met Carrie Bradshaw? She’s a writer too. She was just telling me-”
Teensie abruptly changes the subject. “Have you seen Bernard, lately?”
“Last week,” Cholly says dismissively, indicating he has no interest in talking about Bernard.
“I’m worried about him,” Teensie says.
“Why?” Cholly asks. Men are never concerned about each other the way women are.
“I heard he’s dating some young girl.”
My stomach clenches.
“Margie says Bernard’s a mess,” Teensie continues, with a sidelong glance my way. I try to keep my face disinterested, as if I hardly know who she’s talking about. “Margie said she met her. And frankly, she’s concerned. She thinks it’s a very bad sign that Bernard is seeing someone so young.”
I pour myself more wine while pretending to be fascinated by something at the other end of the table. But my hand is shaking.
“Why would Margie Shephard care? She’s the one who left him,” Cholly says.
“Is that what he told you?” Teensie asks slyly.
Cholly shrugs. “Everyone knows she cheated on him. With an actor in his play.”
Teensie snickers. “Sadly, the reverse is true. Bernard cheated on her.”
A wire wraps around my heart and squeezes tight.
“In fact, Bernard cheated on Margie several times. He’s a wonderful playwright, but a lousy husband.”
“Really, Teensie. What does it matter?” Cholly remarks.
Teensie puts a hand on his arm. “This party is giving me an awful headache. Could you ask Barry for some aspirin?”
I glare at her. Why can’t she ask Barry herself? Damn her and what she said about Bernard and me. “Colin has aspirin,” I interject helpfully. “Pican’s son?”
Teensie’s eyebrows rise in suspicion, but I give her an innocent smile.
“Well, thank you.” She gives me a sharp look and goes off to find Colin.
I hold my napkin to my face and laugh.
Cholly laughs along with me. “Teensie’s a very silly woman, isn’t she?”
I nod, speechless. The thought of the evil Teensie on one of Colin’s pills is just too funny.
Of course, I don’t really expect Teensie to take the pill. Even I, who know nothing about drugs, was smart enough to realize Colin’s big white pill wasn’t an aspirin. I don’t give it much thought until an hour later, when I’m dancing with Ryan.
Swaying precariously on bended knees, Teensie appears in the middle of the floor, clutching Bobby’s shoulder for support. She’s giggling madly while attempting to remain upright. Her legs are like rubber. “Bobby!” she screams. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”
“What the hell?” Ryan asks.
I’m overcome by hysteria. Apparently, Teensie took the pill after all, because she’s lying on her back on the floor, laughing. This goes on for several seconds until Cholly swoops in, pulls Teensie to her feet, and leads her away.
I keep on dancing.
Indeed, everyone keeps dancing until we’re interrupted by a loud scream followed by several shouts for help.
A crowd gathers by the elevator. The door is open, but the shaft appears to be empty.
Cries of “What happened?” “Someone fell!” “Call 911,” echo through the loft. I rush forward, fearing it’s Rainbow and that she’s dead. But out of the corner of my eye I see Rainbow hurrying to her room, followed by Colin. I push in closer. Two men have jumped into the shaft, so the elevator must be a mere foot or two below. A limp woman’s hand reaches out and Barry Jessen grabs it, hauling a disheveled and dazed Teensie out of the hole.
Before I can react, Capote elbows me. “Let’s go.”
“Huh?” I’m too startled to move.
He jerks my arm. “We need to get out of here.
“What about Teensie?”
“She’s fine. And Ryan can take care of himself.”
“I don’t understand,” I protest as Capote propels me to the exit.
“Don’t ask questions.” He flings open the door and starts down the stairs. I pause on the landing, baffled. “Carrie!” He turns around to make sure I’m following him. When he sees I’m not, he hops up the stairs and practically pushes me down in front of him. “Move!”
I do as he says, hearing the urgent thump of his feet after me. When we get to the lobby, he bangs through the
