I Like It Like That Page 11

  “Are all the girls in New York as beautiful as you and your friends?” he asked with his charming Dutch accent.

  Serena giggled. She was a sucker for charm. “You guys are so lucky—getting to do this every day.”

  Jan laughed and took a swig of dark amber beer. “We are not always snowboarding. I go to university in Minsk. I'm studying to be a dentist.”

  “Oh.” Serena had imagined that the whole team lived together in a cabin on top of a mountain in the Alps somewhere, snowboarding all day and getting drunk together every night. She'd thought it would be cozy, being the only girl in the group. She could cut their hair for them and make French toast for breakfast. At night they'd curl up by the fire and tell ghost stories. “What about the others?” she asked, wondering if she'd just chosen the wrong guy.

  “Conrad is married to an Italian girl—they live in Bologna. Franz is my roommate at university. Josef, Sven, Ulrich, and Gan all live in Amsterdam.”

  Amsterdam was supposed to be a really cool city. Serena looked across the table at the four boys. They were all equally hot, blond, and athletic.

  “In the gay student housing,” Jan added.

  “Oh,” Serena replied, forcing herself to smile.

  Better luck next time.

  “Would y'all like anything else?”

  “I'll just have another Coke, please,” Nate told the cute, Ugg-wearing cocktail waitress after Chuck had ordered another three pitchers of Sun Valley ale for the table. Georgie had already drunk an entire pitcher on her own. He would probably have to carry her home.

  “I can't believe I made it all the way down a double black diamond without falling,” Blair gushed for the forty-fifth time. She sipped her beer delicately and grinned at Erik. “You're a much better teacher than any of those ski instructor guys.”

  The truth was, she'd slid sideways down almost the entire run, screaming the whole way, but at least she'd managed to keep her bare cleavage free of snow. That was the important part.

  “You just kept getting better and better,” Erik replied. She had buttoned her cashmere cardigan over her bikini top but her jeans were low slung, and with the way she was sitting up straight and sort of leaning into the table, he could see the top of her ass. It was nice.

  “I'll bet you a hundred bucks I can chug my beer faster than you can chug yours,” Georgie dared Serena.

  Now that there was no one to flirt with, Serena was happy to have something to do. She pulled her long, ski-wild blond hair back behind her and tied it in a knot. Then she picked up her glass. The rest of the table watched in gleeful anticipation.

  Well, most of the rest of the table.

  Nate crunched an ice cube between his teeth. He could just imagine where this was going. Both girls were going to get completely wasted, throwing up all over everybody, and then they'd be out of commission with hangovers for the next couple of days. His sexy lips drooped forlornly over the rim of his Coke glass. No more skiing. No more fun.

  “Show her how it's done, Georgie!” Chuck goaded them on.

  “Oh yeah?” Serena lifted her glass to her lips. Then she noticed Nate shaking his head, and she moved it away again. “What am I doing? You're, like, bred for this. Your whole family is full of famous alcoholics.”

  “Thanks a lot!” Georgie cried. She nudged Serena with a bony elbow. “Go on, drink!”

  Serena set the glass down. “It's not worth it. If I chugged this I'd puke all over the table. And you'd totally beat me, anyway.”

  Georgie shrugged, then threw her head back and downed the whole pint of beer in one go. “Fuck you, I won,” she burped when she was done.

  “Good for you,” Nate breathed. Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Natie's just mad because we haven't had a chance to do it yet,” Georgie crowed. “I'm always too fucked up!”

  There was an awkward silence. It was hard to know how to respond to that.

  Blair looked at her watch. “Maybe we should get back to the lodge so we can have a sauna before dinner.” She wasn't sure if the sauna in the lodge was coed or not, but the idea of being in a hot, steamy room with Erik, dressed only in towels, was very appealing. He could rub her back with lavender-scented oil and—

  “Yeah, my quads are in pretty rough shape,” Nate agreed, rubbing his thighs. He glanced miserably at Georgie. “I could really use a soak in the tub.”

  Georgie clapped her hands together, her eyes shining giddily. “Let's all go back to my place and get in the tub!” She was so hyper all the time, Nate wondered if the rehab clinic had her on some kind of antidepressant or something he didn't know about. All he knew was that the beer didn't seem to slow her down.

  Chuck was already zipping up his coat in preparation to leave. “I'll make everyone my famous peach schnapps cocktail!” He lifted up his shirt and batted his eyelashes. “Chucky's Fuzzy Navel.”

  Sounds delicious.

  Nate still hadn't figured out why Chuck seemed to be living at Georgie's house when he had a perfectly good hotel suite at the Christiana, the luxury hotel in town where his parents were staying.

  The piano player began to play an old Billy Joel song, and the lights dimmed. Happy hour was over. Serena could kind of tell by the look on Nate's face—and Georgie's comment—that he and his girlfriend needed some time alone. She pushed her chair back and pulled her sweater on over her head. “It sounds tempting, but we actually have to get back. I told Mom we'd meet her and Dad for dinner at the lodge at seven-thirty. We need to take showers and stuff.”

  Georgie's face fell. “Oh, come on. Can't you just call your parents and tell them you're busy?”

  Easy for her to say. She basically didn't have any parents.

  Serena glanced at Erik, and they did that wordless communication thing that only close siblings can do. “Sorry,” she said firmly.

  Nate didn't know how he'd wound up with a senseless girl like Georgie when his former girlfriend and best friend-who-happened-to-be-a-girl seemed like the most sensible girls alive.

  Georgie got up and then sat down in Nate's lap, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. Her dark silky hair smelled like beer and cloves. “We'll just have to party without you, then.”

  Blair smirked. “Too bad.” Her smirk morphed into a winning smile. “Should we go then?” she asked Erik. “I'm starving!”

  Chuck sat down primly on Georgie's knees, wriggling his bottom back and forth. Then six of the Dutch snowboarders got up and piled into Chuck's lap, squashing Nate completely. All except Jan, who was watching Serena get ready to go with a droopy, abandoned-puppy look on his handsome face.

  “Enjoy your dinner,” Chuck called out. “We'll just have a manwich!”

  Blair and Erik hastily collected their gloves and sunglasses and headed for the door. Serena tucked her hat under her arm, following close behind. Then she heard Georgie let out a shriek, and she turned around. The entire group had fallen off the chair and collapsed in a giggling heap on the floor. Jan had jumped on top of them, and even Nate seemed to be smiling despite himself.

  Serena looked on longingly. She had always been right there at the center of all the fun, but now she was stuck with Blair and Erik, who were so entranced by each other, they barely acknowledged her existence. Still, her parents would be waiting. She couldn't exactly blow them off and sabotage the rest of her vacation. She turned for the exit again. There were five more days of vacation left, and she was resolved to have a good time no matter what. Wasn't that what she'd always been known for?

  Well, yes, among other things.

  Just when you think you know someone …

  Leo dried the last bowl and set it on the dish rack to dry. “I have to go.”

  Jenny put down the brownie she'd been munching on. They'd baked twenty, and there were only twelve left. She licked the crumbs off her fingers and gazed up at Leo with her long-lashed brown eyes. She was tired of guessing. She wanted to know the truth. “Where?”

  Leo leaned against the cr
acked yellow linoleum kitchen counter and fiddled with the buttons on the dishwasher. Marx, the Humphreys' fat black cat, was splayed out on the grubby kitchen floor, asleep. Leo cleared his throat, and Marx flapped his tail up and down in annoyance.

  “I have errands to do,” he told her vaguely.

  “Well, can I come?”

  He kicked his feet around and blew out of the side of his mouth. “It's really not very interesting.”

  Jenny wasn't convinced. “You're not, like, hiding something from me, are you?”

  He laughed. “Like what? I'm really Spider-Man?”

  Jenny's face turned red. She walked over to the fridge, opened the door, then let it slam shut again. “I don't know.

  I just think it's weird, the way you're always busy doing stuff and you never talk about it.”

  Leo put his hands in his pockets. His light blond hair looked transparent under the glare of the harsh kitchen light. “If you really want to come, you can come.”

  Jenny tried to keep her face calm. This was it. She was going to find out all the secrets that lay behind Leo, mystery boy and megazillionaire. “Okay.”

  They took the Ninety-sixth Street bus across town and then walked down Park toward the building on Seventieth Street. The avenue felt deserted in the dark, with everyone away on vacation.

  “It's just a couple more blocks,” Leo told her. Jenny's whole body tingled with anticipation.

  When they reached the building with the green awning, the door man tipped his hat to Leo. Then they rode the elevator straight up to the penthouse.

  “Whoa,” Jenny gasped, when the elevator doors opened up onto the parlor. The room was done in black and white and gold. A round gilt table stood in the middle of the black-and-white marble floor, with a giant white vase in the shape of a swan on it, filled with black roses. To the left was a sort of gold-painted railing and stairs down to a room so big, it could only be a ballroom.

  “I know. It's kind of insane,” Leo agreed. “Here, Daphne!” he called

  Immediately Jenny heard the scratch of nails on the floor. The giant white mastiff she'd seen Leo walking before trotted into the parlor, wagging her tail elegantly. She went over and licked Leo's hand. “Good girl.”

  Jenny watched in dumb amazement as Leo opened the coat closet door and retrieved Daphne's Burberry coat and matching collar. The dog waited carefully while he buckled them on. Then he knelt and Velcroed those horrible pink leather booties over her paws. “There. We're all set to go.”

  Jenny still couldn't figure out why Leo's parents didn't just get one of their maids to walk the dog, but she wasn't about to say anything, especially not when Leo obviously loved Daphne so much.

  “We'll just take her for a little spin around the neighborhood. I have to pick up some hairspray for Madame at the drugstore. Maybe you could hold her while I go in?”

  “Okay.” Jenny kept her eyes on Daphne's boots. He called his mom Madame?

  They stopped in front of Zitomer on Madison. Jenny took the plaid canvas leash while Leo went in to get the hairspray. She bent down, and Daphne offered her a pink-booted paw. “I bet he lets you sleep in his bed,” she said. “I bet you're allowed on all the furniture.”

  Leo came out of the store carrying a huge shopping bag full of lots of bottles of the same kind of Redken hairspray. He chuckled. “Madame uses this stuff a lot.” He took Daphne's leash, and they walked briskly back to the building with the green awning. “I still have to feed her and water the plants and stuff. It's really not very exciting. Do you want to get a cab home, or can we walk you to your bus stop?”

  Jenny didn't know what to say. It was almost as though he didn't want her in his house. “I guess I'll just take a cab,” she answered stiffly.

  “Okay. Walter will help,” Leo said, nodding at the doorman. He kissed Jenny's cheek. “Don't eat any more brownies today or you'll get sick. I'll call you later, okay?”

  Jenny smiled grimly at him and walked over to the curb to catch a cab. It was a while before Walter could snag one, and as soon as he closed the door behind her and she gave the driver her address, Jenny collapsed in the backseat, sobbing.

  The cab got stuck waiting for the light at the corner next to Leo's building, and she glared at it miserably through her tears. Just as the light changed and the driver turned the corner, Leo walked out of the building and headed uptown.

  “Wait,” Jenny ordered the driver. “I changed my mind. I'm getting out.” She paid him quickly and leaped out, hurrying up Park Avenue after Leo.

  He kept walking uptown until he reached Eighty-first Street. Then he turned right, crossing Park and then Lexington. She jumped behind a pile of garbage bags as Leo turned in at a three-story brownstone and walked down two steps to the below-ground entrance. He got out his keys and unlocked a black metal gate. When he pushed it open Jenny could see two metal garbage cans with a racing bicycle leaning against them. Then he closed the gate and disappeared inside.

  She remained crouched behind the garbage for half an hour, half expecting him to come out again with another dog in tow. But he stayed inside, and she thought she could see a TV flickering behind the thick gray curtains in the windows. Finally, she gave up and went home.

  Just when you think you know someone, you find you don't know them at all.

  D sends more mail downriver

  On his second day of work, Dan didn't even try to find the post office. Instead, he stood on the end of the pier and one by one dropped the six letters from Sig Castle's out box into the Hudson River. One of the letters was addressed to Mystery Craze, care of Rusty Klein, which gave Dan a smug sense of satisfaction. For all he knew, Mystery was so friggin' internationally famous, she might even get the letter, washed up on a beach in Sardinia, where she would be giving a reading to a bunch of drunken fishermen.

  He stared into the brown, swirling water, thinking about all the girls he'd ever had anything to do with. Serena and Vanessa and Mystery and Elise. Not all of them had gone so well, especially that last little episode with Elise. But next year he'd be off to Brown or U. Mass or whatever college would take him, and he'd have four very different experiences with four bizarrely different girls to carry with him always. Wasn't that what being a writer was all about—having experiences and translating them into meaning with words? Something like that, anyway. He was a published writer. He knew what he wanted to do with his life. That was a hell of a lot more than most people his age could say. So what kept him feeling so … unhinged? It was like he was constantly looking for something, just looking and looking.

  Sig Castle had asked him to buy some kind of special rice paper in a store down in Chinatown once he was finished with the mail, so after finishing his fifth Camel, Dan walked over to West Fourth Street and took the subway downtown.

  It was raining lightly and the street vendors on Canal were hawking fake Burberry umbrellas and those disposable plastic rain ponchos only desperate tourists wore in sudden downpours. Dan meandered down the wide, crowded street, taking his time. The air smelled of wet newspaper and fish from the Chinatown fish markets. It made him think of Vanessa. She was quintessentially perverse, a lover of bad smells and ugliness. It was what he most loved about her.

  Liked, Dan reminded himself. How could you claim to love something about a person you weren't even talking to anymore?

  He stopped and watched a vendor demonstrate a battery-operated pink plastic toy shaped like a UFO with three little Japanese girls sitting on top of it, spinning and revolving to a Japanese pop song that sounded sort of like SugarDaddy—Vanessa's sister's band—on speed. The toy was just the sort of device Vanessa would use to open one of her films. She'd zoom in on the toy and then cut to a girl dancing by herself in a club. Vanessa created meaning with images the same way Dan did with words.

  He walked down Broadway to Pearl River Mart, a huge store that carried just about everything, from plastic Buddhas to rubber boots. He found the nearest thing to Siegfried Castle's favorite ultrathin, ultr
asoft, impossible-to-get-a-paper-cut-from rice paper and then headed back over to Canal to the vendor with the pink UFO.

  “I'd like to buy that, please.”

  “I have a new one here,” the guy said, ducking down to pull a mint green UFO toy out from under the table the pink one was spinning on.

  “No. That one,” Dan insisted, pointing at the pink toy. Pink was such an un-Vanessa color, she'd have to see the humor in it, and at least he knew it worked.

  “Two dollars,” the man said, even though the cardboard sign taped to the side of the table said, “$3!!” “It's on sale.”

  Dan handed over some of Sig Castle's change from the rice paper. His boss was such an asshole, he got a certain satisfaction from fucking him over every chance he got.

  “Have a good day.” The guy handed him a bright blue plastic bag with the pink toy in it. Dan was pretty sure there was a post office over on Bowery Street only a few blocks away. He could mail the package to Vanessa from there before taking the subway back up to work.

  Funny, he'd never thought to mail the Red Letter mail from there!

  Sig Castle had made it sound crucial that he get his rice paper before lunch, but it was even more crucial that Vanessa get her UFO, Dan decided. It was imperative.

  “Send it next-day,” he told the postal worker behind the counter after he'd bought a box and taped it up. “It's important.”

  gossipgirl.net

  Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

  hey people!

  Those people we meet on vacation

  Face it, you wouldn't be caught dead with them at home. Their shoes are bad, their jeans are sad, their hair needs help, and they say “wow” a lot, but you eat breakfast with them every day and invite them out with you at night. Don't feel guilty if the above scenario sounds weirdly familiar. Even I've been guilty of palling around with someone for the duration of my vacation and then ditching them the minute I return home. It's got something to do with the herd instinct, although I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll learn about it next year in Psych 101.