"Ah yes." Garrett grinned. "Rich and Stupid in the Hamptons."
Mara blinked. She'd thought Sugar and Poppy were Garrett's friends--that was the impression she'd gotten from the twins just now--but here he was making fun of them. Maybe he was smarter than he let on.
"Champagne?" he asked, taking a bottle from a cleverly concealed refrigeration unit in the armrest. The May bach was a cocoon of luxury, with two plasma television screens, wireless headsets, and bucket seats outfitted with full-body massagers.
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"They recline all the way down," Garrett smiled naughtily. "But maybe we'll save that for later."
Mara pretended not to hear. She was beginning to worry she'd made a mistake in saying yes to the date, when all she'd wanted to do was find a way to make Ryan see that they were meant to be together. She didn't want to lead Garrett on, especially since he was going to all this trouble.
"You are absolutely gorgeous," Garrett said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. He looked at her admiringly, complimenting her on her dress, her hair, her smile, her perfume, her legs, her shoes. It was nice to feel appreciated, especially since in Sturbridge, she always felt average, and yesterday, in front of Allison and Ryan, she'd felt practically invisible.
The restaurant was a hushed, formal establishment with tuxedoed waiters and silver candelabras. Mara felt clumsy and out of place, even though she didn't look it. As the haughty maitre d'led them to their table, Garrett whispered, "I bet he's wearing women's underwear." Mara stifled a guffaw and stopped feeling intimidated, even if they were by far the youngest people there.
At dinner, Garrett ordered for her, which would have annoyed her if the dishes he'd chosen hadn't been perfectly delicious. Mara never had "torchons of foie gras" or "gently poached langoustines smothered in caviar" before. The most exotic restaurant in Sturbridge was the Baja Fresh. This was by far the best and most interesting meal she'd ever had. Between the fish course and the meat course, the waiter brought out a martini glass filled with
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cold cucumber sorbet. "A palate cleanser," Garrett explained. Mara gulped it down, relishing the juicy tartness.
She had to admit she was having fun. For sure, Garrett was a tiny bit self-centered--Mara got a little tired of hearing about his opinion on everything from the electoral process, to stem-cell research, to the new Wes Anderson film, to his idea for a great movie (a remake of Casablanca in space!)--but since he was so passionate about it, she didn't hold it against him. Aside from his suggestive asides, he was a riot. He had a childish enthusiasm and irreverence that was catching, and against her better instincts, Mara found herself warming to him.
"I'm never eating again," she declared, after putting away a luscious dessert and patting her full stomach. "That was amazing."
Garrett poured the last of the Sauternes into her dessert wine glass. "Cheers," he said. They polished off the bottle of wine-- he'd palmed a hundred-dollar bill so the sommelier wouldn't check IDs, and Mara was definitely feeling tipsy. She staggered out of her chair, and Garrett offered her his arm. He steered her gently back to the sedan.
"Where to?" the chauffeur asked, tipping his cap.
Mara shrugged, smiling impishly at Garrett. He really was hot. She could understand why Poppy and Sugar were jealous. Sugar's boyfriend Charlie was attractive, but Eliza said it was thanks to major plastic surgery, and Poppy had recently been dumped by her on-again, off-again boyfriend Leo, who was slightly cross-eyed.
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"Seventh Circle?" Garrett suggested.
Mara nodded. Dinner had been so pleasant. It seemed rude to cut the evening short, especially since Garrett was being conscientious.
"My friend works there," she said, smiling as the Maybach accelerated into the night.
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celebrities are like two-year-olds: demanding and prone to tantrums
ELIZA HAD FOLLOWED KARTIK AND ALAN'S INSTRUCTIONS to the letter and was dressed in a silver-sequined Sass & Bide minidress that brushed the tops of her thighs--Jessica Simpson owned the only other one that had ever been made--and a pair of four-inch metallic Pierre Hardy heels.
The club glittered under the strobe lights, and the double-height glass liquor cabinet that ran the length of the club along the back wall was an architectural marvel. The bartenders were hooked to mountain-climbing lines, and when a customer ordered a certain drink, they scaled the shelves like trapeze artists and deftly retrieved the requested bottle. It was an entertaining diversion and a cool gimmick. Already, customers were angling for the most-out-of-reach liquor choices, just to look up the sexy bartenders' skirts. Eliza still couldn't believe the transformation from construction site to hot club that had happened practically overnight. She had to hand it to those guys--they knew what they were doing.
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But she hadn't figured that working at a nightclub would be quite so demanding. She'd barely had time to hang out with Mara or even ask her what she was doing with Garrett Reynolds, since it had been total chaos at the velvet rope when they'd arrived. Eliza had put them at the best table in the house; Mara was her best friend, and Garrett was a big deal because of his name alone, so it made sense. She only wished that, like them, she could sit down. Between making sure the celebrities were entertained and indulged, keeping the no-names at bay, feeding the press juicy tidbits, and ducking the airborne bartenders scaling the liquor cabinet, Eliza was exhausted. Her nerves were frazzled, and if one more bodyguard demanded that another photographer be tossed out of the club, she would scream.
Already, she was agitated because Ondine Sylvester, a sitcom star who had once dated pop singer Chauncey Raven's husband, was reportedly on her way. This was bad news, because Chauncey and her hubby, Daryl Wolf, a failed backup singer, were front and center in the VIP room. Chauncey's handler demanded that they not let Ondine inside, lest her client become upset. Ondine had two children by Daryl and had been pregnant with a third when Chauncey had come on the scene. Eliza patiently explained to Chauncey's pompous publicist that they couldn't deny Ondine entrance but that she could promise to seat Ondine on the opposite side of the room. It was important to keep Chauncey happy, since she was the bigger celebrity at the club, but Eliza also understood that they couldn't afford
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to alienate Ondine either, since they needed as many famous people in the house as possible.
"Eliza--someone at the front for you--says he knows you," Eliza's headset crackled.