"We went out for two years in high school and after college for a bit. He's a sweet guy. He's doing his own landscaping now; good for him. How do you know him?"
Eliza didn't answer. She was mentally calculating the dates-- high school and college, which meant . . . Paige was Jeremy's ex-girlfriend. The one he never talked about. The one who'd supposedly broken his heart when they'd broken up. She felt cold suddenly, as if someone had poured a pitcher of margaritas down her back.
Paige and Jeremy had been together. Paige--she was the girl Jeremy had lost his virginity to. It was almost too much to stomach. Jeremy had told her that he'd only fallen in love once befor
e but that it hadn't worked out. Eliza had gotten the impression that it had taken a long time for Jeremy to get over Paige. Maybe he still wasn't over her. Maybe he still loved her. Maybe he thought of Eliza as some consolation prize when all he wanted, really, was Paige.
Eliza noticed something white by the open shoe boxes. It was another piece of paper that had fallen out of Paige's handbag. Eliza picked it up, thinking she'd return it, when she saw what it was. The receipt for the special-order McQueen. Acting quickly, Eliza crumpled it into the toe of one of the shoes she wasn't going
234
to buy and closed the lid tightly. They would never find it now. She knew that by doing so she would cause the order to be delayed and once Sydney got his hands on the dress, it would be too late to manufacture the knockoffs.
But sabotaging Sydney's plan and knowing that Paige would have to face the designer's wrath later didn't do anything to make her feel better.
Paige had been with Jeremy. Jeremy had slept with Paige. The news was even worse than realizing once she'd made her selections that she couldn't even begin to pay for the shoes. It was only then that she remembered her mother had taken away her credit cards and she wasn't getting a paycheck from Lunch until next week.
235
the girls string up cupid's
arrow and aim it at the perrys
MARA AND JACQUI ARRIVED AT PASTIS AT THE SAME TIME to find Eliza glumly sitting by herself in a corner of the bustling restaurant.
"What's wrong?" Mara asked, pulling out a chair.
The three of them quickly ordered mussels, frisee salads, french fries, and a bottle of wine to share. They dug into the food, sopping up the garlicky sauce that came with the seafood with the crusty bread and toasting each other with glasses of wine.
Eliza told them about Paige and Jeremy and how she was worried that he hadn't called her since the night they'd quarreled at Mount Fuji.
"And the worst part of it is, I'm eighteen and I'm still a virgin!" Eliza wailed, trying to make a joke out of the situation.
"It'll happen," Mara assured her. "I'm sure he'll call when you get back."
"Querida, so what if you're a virgin? It's better to wait for the right time," Jacqui said wisely.
236
"I guess." Eliza shrugged. She sighed and tried to cheer up. She didn't want to be such a bummer on their weekend in New York. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does," Mara said, reaching over to squeeze her arm.
It was so nice to have friends who actually cared about her feelings. "I know. But we don't need to talk about it right now. Do you guys want to get another bottle? I parked my car at my garage, so I don't need to drive. And let's move out to a sidewalk table so we can smoke."
Many cigarettes and several bottles of wine later, they caught a cab back up to the Upper East Side, where they were spending the night at Jacqui's apartment. Eliza had invited them all to stay at her place, but they'd decided it would be fun to see where Jacqui lived instead. Besides, Eliza's parents were kind of odd about guests--her mother had almost had a heart attack after finding a greasy handprint on the Regency sofa after a dinner party, and since then they entertained very rarely. Besides, at Jacqui's they could do whatever they wanted.
Jacqui felt the pride of ownership as she unlocked the door. "It's really tiny--but it's all mine." She stopped. Voices were coming from the alcove. People were inside.
"Excuse me?" she called.
A dark-suited Corcoran real estate broker stood in the middle
237
of the living room. She was talking to an earnest young couple in their twenties.
"Oh, hello, are you the current tenant? Sorry. Kevin said this afternoon that we could show the place," the broker explained. "We'll get out of your way."