Annihilate Me (Vol. 3) (The Annihilate Me Series) (8 page)

“I have a feeling we’d have something to
talk about anyway.”

This guy is totally scoring
points.
 
I need to ask Alex about
him.
 
Blackwell loves him, so
that’s a plus.
 
She’d castrate him
if she didn’t like him.
 
“Do I
really need to call you Tank?” I asked.

“Not if you don’t want to, but it works in
our situation.
 
If you should ever
need me and I’m not near you, call for me and say ‘Tank’ and I’ll know to bust
my ass to get to you.
 
It’s a kind
of code between us.
 
In a crowd,
anyone could be called Mitch, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be the only Tank in the
vicinity.
 
That’s how I look at
it.”

And that, I understood.
 

When we arrived at Wenn, I asked Tank to
come up with me.
 

“I need a man’s opinion.”

“You have Bernie.”

“And I love him.
 
But he’ll be less likely to criticize his own work.
 
I need to know from a straight guy
whether Bernie has hit the mark or not.”

“I don’t think Mr. Wenn would appreciate
me looking at you that way.”

“Mr. Wenn is a businessman.
 
I’m going into a serious business deal,
one potentially filled with sharks.
 
Blackwell isn’t here.
 
I
need a second opinion—your opinion.
 
Will you help?
 
It’s just an
opinion.”

“Who said I’m straight, anyway?” he said.

I felt my heart sink for Lisa, but then he
laughed.
 
I met his eyes in the
rearview and saw them crinkle.

“You’re too easy,” he said.
 
“I’ll go up and give you my opinion so
long as it doesn’t get back to Mr. Wenn.
 
We all know how he feels about you, ma’am.”

“Please.
 
Jennifer.”

“Jennifer.”

“And it won’t get back to him.
 
But even if it somehow does, Alex is
smart and confident enough to understand why I need your opinion.
 
I’m meeting Henri Dufort tonight.
 
I need to turn it out however I
can.
 
Hopefully my brain will be
enough, but you never know.
 
The
right dress never hurts.
 
Just be
brutally honest with me, OK?”

“OK.”

*
 
*
 
*

Before I got out of the car, Tank made
sure the sidewalk on Fifth was safe.
 
He then swiftly ushered me inside while my heart pounded in my
throat.
 
Soon we were on the
seventy-first floor, where Bernie was waiting for us and where I could
relax.
 

Bernie was nothing if not a
professional.
 
He gave me a kiss on
each cheek and shook hands with Tank.
 
He told me that he and Blackwell had discussed what kind of event I was
about to attend, and then he took me to our mock dressing room, where he showed
me the dress Blackwell had suggested I wear.

It was bright red, plunging neckline,
sleeveless, a wide band beneath the breast, pleated from the waist to the
floor.
 
It was beautiful, but I had
obvious reservations.

“I cut my arm the other night.
 
It’s kind of ugly.
 
I don’t think anybody wants to look at
that.”

Bernie removed from a hanger a dramatic
red cape that seemed almost weightless.
 
It was longer than the dress and it clasped at the throat.
 
Together with the dress, the lot of it
was stunning, by far my favorite since the
Gatsby
dress.
 
I was tall enough to pull it off, but
could
I
pull it off?
 
It was
almost like a stage costume.

“My dear, with that cape, they won’t being
seeing anything other than a red exclamation point in the room.
 
This will make you the star of the
evening.
 
I can promise you
that.
 
It’s Giambattista Valli
Couture.
 
Nobody will be in
anything like it tonight because this is next year’s collection.
 
It is on the cover of the fall edition
of
Vogue
—the one on newsstands now—but no one can get it yet
because it’s not available to the public.
 
Well, most can’t get it.
 
Tonight, you’re the prized exception.
 
You’re going to be wearing the dress every woman of fashion
has lusted over since that magazine hit the stands two weeks ago.
 
The right women—which will be
most of the women Peachy invited—will recognize it on sight.
 
You’ll be fashion forward in ways that
will strike envy and likely ire, but only with the women.
 
The men will trip over themselves to
get a look at you.”

“No pressure there.
 
How did you get it?”

“Ms. Blackwell got it.”

“How did she get it?”

“Spells.
 
Voodoo.”

“Seriously.”

“Does it matter?
 
Now, get dressed.
 
Undergarments are on the table.
 
Shoes are over here.
 
Tank
and I will be out there.
 
And then
we’ll see how it all comes together when you’re ready for your hair and
makeup.
 
I’m thinking of doing
something loose with your hair tonight.
 
Smokey eye.
 
Lips the exact
color of the dress.
 
Very simple
jewelry—just a diamond bracelet and studs at your ears.
 
Nothing should detract from the
dress.
 
Henri Dufort is no
fool—he’ll see straight through this.
 
But a confident, beautiful woman who has the sort of
intelligence that can stand up to this kind of a dress also isn’t a fool.
 
That would be you.
 
You’ll impress him on all levels.
 
And in doing so, you’ll smooth the way
for Alex to seal the deal between Dufort and him.”

*
 
*
 
*

Later, after Bernie finished blowing out
my hair and putting the final touches on my makeup, I stared at a person I
didn’t recognize in the mirror.
 
I
stood up with an effort because my hip was so sore from sitting, let Bernie put
the cape around my neck, and then turned to him and Tank.

“Well?”

“Well, indeed,” Bernie said.
 
“I hope a doctor’s in the house.”

“Tank?”

He was looking at me as if I was
otherworldly.
 
“Keep your phone on
the ready to dial 911.
 
Bernie’s
not joking.
 
No one is going to
come close to this, Ms. Kent.”

“I might trip over the cape,” I said.
 
“It’s so long.”

“Here’s what you do,” Bernie said.
 
“You use your arms to lift it up and
pull it close to you when you walk.
 
See.
 
Try that.
 
Right?
 
Not difficult at all.
 
If you want to be dramatic, and only if you have the room to do so, let
your arms out a bit and the cape will flutter—
flutter!
—behind you.
 
But here’s a warning—beware of other people who might
‘accidentally’ step on it.
 
Try not
to move around too much, or it could lead to disaster.
 
As much as you can, just stay put.
 
Remember, you’re the exclamation point.
 
There’s no need to mingle—people
will come to you.
 
When you’re
standing still, make sure the cape puddles at your feet.
 
Keep it tucked in so no one trips and
damages the fabric.
 
OK?”

“All right.”

“It’s fucking couture after all.”

I smiled and shook my head at him.
 
“I’ll be very careful.”

I turned and looked at myself again in the
mirror.
 
I didn’t even look like
myself.
 
What Bernie did was
beautiful and outrageous, but was it too much?
 
“This is pure sex, Bernie, mixed with a pretty big dose of
‘80s glam.
 
Is that going to go
over well at this sort of event?
 
I
don’t know her from Adam, but Peachy Van Prout sounds to me as if she’s in the
book.”

“Oh, she’s in the book,” Bernie said.
 

“I don’t mean to doubt you, but this isn’t
a look for the book.”

“You’re right—it isn’t.
 
It’s a look that will cause a
stir.
 
People will talk about
it.
 
Since this is a charitable event
and Peachy is nothing if not a media whore, expect to have your photograph
taken.
 
Some will say it’s
inappropriate.
 
Others will champion
you for wearing it.
 
Who cares what
they think?
 
Because
that
kind of look, Jennifer?
 
And with
that
coveted dress?
 
That’s priceless.
 
This is
your coming out party.
 
This is you
making a statement without Alexander Wenn on your arm.
 
This is proving you don’t necessarily
need him to represent Wenn.
 
This
is when people come to see
you
.
 
Trust me on this.
 
Blackwell and I put a lot of thought
into it, and we considered all angles of what will happen.
 
We decided on this look for a
reason.
  
Henri will be
captivated.
 
The rest will be
talking about you—good and bad.
 
But just wait until tomorrow.
 
We’ll see who’s on Page Six then.
 
And then we’ll see who Manhattan’s latest trendsetter is.”

CHAPTER
TEN

Peachy Van Prout lived in one of the few
remaining mansions on Park Avenue.
 
It was on Sixty-Eighth Street, and was much wider than those townhouses
on either side of it.
 
And in the
way it was lit with lights shining up along its lower facade, it was
gorgeous.
 
It was a brownstone,
eight windows across and five stories high with a black iron gate in front and
two topiaries on either side of a mahogany door.
 
It seemed at once elegant and understated, which is exactly
what I expected given Peachy’s lineage and the expectations that came with that
lineage.

“This is it,” the driver said.

Tank looked at me.
 
“Ready?”

“Ready.”

With Tank at my side, we stepped out of the car.
 
A breeze caught my cape and whipped it
to my right in a brilliant, billowing flash of crimson that rippled for several
moments before I was able to sweep it down with my arm and get it under
control.
 
Turns out, that was my
unexpected, yet dramatic entrance, as the few well-dressed people on the
sidewalk who were waiting to get inside took immediate note and the buzz
began.
 
Tank came up beside me, put
his hand on the center of my back, and soon we were inside with no further
incident.
 

“That’s Peachy straight ahead of you and to your right,
welcoming people,” Tank said.
 
“Her
husband’s name is Robert.”

“Why does he look familiar to me?”

“Former CEO of Citibank.”

“That’s right.
 
I
recognize him now.”
 
I looked ahead
through the crowds of people, who were moving through the amber lighting and
climbing the grand mahogany staircase to the next floor.
 
I assumed they were going to the second
floor for cocktails, but I wasn’t sure.
 
Who knew with this set?
 
Not
this girl from Maine.

In no time, I was beyond Robert, who was cordial yet boring,
and upon Peachy, a tall, thin blonde who was likely pushing seventy, but whose
plastic surgeon had skillfully lifted her face back to where it was at
fifty.
 
She was wearing a golden
dress that winked in the light and complemented her skin.
 
Despite all of the ugly things I’d
heard about her, I thought that she looked beautiful.
 

But is
she beautiful inside?

“Hello,” she said to me with an extended hand.
 
It wasn’t exactly a handshake.
 
Instead, it was a proffered hand, with
fingers sloped gently downward.
 
I
took it and released it while she studied me.
 

“I’m Jennifer Kent,” I said.
 
“I’m Henri Dufort’s guest tonight.”

“Of course,” she said.
 
“I’ve heard so much about you, Jennifer.
 
It’s a pleasure.
 
Peachy Van Prout.
 
You’re
Alex’s companion, yes?”

“I am.”

“How is he?
 
Robert
and I read about what happened to both of you in the
Times
.
 
It sounded horrible and we’ve been
worried.
 
You look healthy and, I
have to say, very beautiful.
 
How
is Alex?”

“On the mend, thank goodness.”

“Then I’m glad you were well enough to come.
 
And after what you’ve been through, the
fact that you
look
well is an understatement.
 
My dear, you look gorgeous.
 
And I know that dress.
 
I don’t want to know how you got it, but I have an idea it has something
to do with a certain Ms. Blackwell.
 
Everyone knows that woman can work miracles.
 
And the cape—so dramatic.
 
So pretty.
 
So now.
 
So perfect.”
 
She leaned toward my ear.
 
“This crowd is so old.
 
We need young women like you to keep things hip among all the titanium
hips.
 
I’m delighted that you’re
here.”

She actually was funny and nice.

She turned to Tank.
 
“Is this your...?”
 
She
wasn’t sure what to say.

“After what happened the other night—”

Recognition flashed in her eyes and she shook her head as if to
stop me.
 
“Say no more.
 
I understand and I’m relieved.
 
I’m Peachy,” she said to Tank.
 
“You are?”

He took her hand, which was dwarfed by his.
 
“Mitchell.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mitchell.
 
You’ll keep this one safe?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“You look very handsome in your tux.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cocktails on the second floor.
 
Dinner in two hours on the third floor.
 
Just fifty of us.”
 
She shot a look of concern at
Tank.
 
“Oh, dear.
 
But I haven’t planned for you.”

“No need to, ma’am.
 
I’ll just remain on the second floor if that’s fine with you.”

“Of course it is.
 
And you won’t go hungry.
 
At
the very least, dinner will be served to you there.
 
I’ll make certain of it.
 
And I feel guilty about it.
 
I’m so sorry there isn’t another space at the table.”

Alex couldn’t stand her, and Bernie called her a media whore,
but my first impressions of her were that she was genuine and kind.
 
She didn’t need to be anything more
than pleasant with me and with Tank, but she went well beyond that.
 
I felt welcomed.

“Is Henri here yet?” I asked her before we left.

“He’s upstairs somewhere.
 
Arrived about twenty minutes ago.
 
We’re expecting two hundred for cocktails, so you’ll find it crowded
upstairs, but you’ll see him eventually.
 
He’s a roamer.
 
My best
advice is to stand in one spot, and wait for him to appear.”
 

“Thank you.”

She unexpectedly reached for my hand and admired my dress
again.
 
“No one is going to know
what to do with you, Jennifer.
 
Be
prepared for that.
 
By wearing
this, you took a risk.
 
Thank God
you did.
 
I’m so tired of people of
our set not getting what’s new and on trend now.
 
I’m so tired of old and safe and boring.”
 
She lifted her chin at me.
 
“And
you’re
not boring.
 
We’ll be having you back soon.
 
Hopefully with Alex, though we’d like
it if Mitchell also would join us.
 
I promise there will be a seat for you,” she said to him.
 
“I’m embarrassed that I don’t have one
now.
 
Do you have a wife or are you
seeing anyone whom you might bring,” she asked.

“Negative on the wife, ma’am.
 
The other is promising but as yet to be determined.”

“Goodness,” Peachy said.
 
“It all sounds so military.”

“I’m former military, ma’am.”

She placed her hand on his arm.
 
“Well, then.
 
Here’s hoping it’s soon determined because we’d love to have all of you
to dinner.”

 
*
 
*
 
*

“OK, so she’s totally nice,” I said.

“Agreed.”

“I don’t care what Alex thinks of her.
 
I could care less if Bernie thinks
she’s a media whore.
 
She was kind
to us.
 
You might not know a lot
about me, Tank, but I come from nothing.
 
Zip.
 
I’m wary of people
with her kind of money, and yet I liked her immediately.
 
She’s a class act.”

“She’s had some good work done, too.”

I glanced at him as we followed the crowd toward the
impressively carved mahogany staircase.
 
“Who are you, Tank?”

“Not your typical Tank.”

“Are you sure that you’re straight?
 
Because that was really bitchy.”

“Straight as a straight guy can be.
 
But I’ve been around this crowd for six years.
 
For three years, I was Diana’s security
detail.
 
We became friends.
 
Sometimes, she could be really
catty.
 
Some of that probably
rubbed off on me, for better or worse.”

“What was she like?”

“You would have liked her.
 
I think you two could have been friends.
 
She was kind of like you, but
different.”

I had almost no knowledge of who Diana was.
 
If Tank was willing to share, I was
willing to listen.
 
“How
different?”

“She wasn’t as confident as you.
 
She didn’t have your business sense, and she had no interest
in Wenn.
 
She was kind of a free
spirit.
 
She did her own thing.”

“What was her thing?”

“That’s the thing,” he said.
 
“I don’t think she knew what it was.
 
I think she got absorbed by Wenn,
especially when Alex had to take it over when his parents died.”

“In a murder-suicide?”

He glanced at me.
 
“That’s right.
 
She always
seemed kind of lost to me.
 
Kind of
sad, but she hid it well.
 
I don’t
know how to describe it—she was complicated.
 
But she also was smart and when she was up for it, she could
be mischievous.
 
She used to say
things at certain events that made me laugh.
 
I liked her wit.”

“I’m sorry Alex lost her.
 
And his parents.”

Tank didn’t respond.
 
As stoic as he was, I could tell he was thinking of Diana now and likely
missing her.
 
I didn’t want to
upset him, so we approached the staircase together in silence.
 
He looked up at it as if he hadn’t
heard me.
 
Maybe he had been close
to Diana.
 
Maybe being reminded of
her was too much for him.

“Tank, I’m sorry.
 
I shouldn’t have brought her up.
 
I didn’t know you were so close.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at me.
 
“You’re not Diana, Jennifer.
 
You’re different.
 
You’re wonderful in your own way.
 
Alex didn’t go for the same woman.
 
OK?
 
I know what you’re thinking, so put that to rest.
 
You’re more intense than she was.
 
You’re not afraid to ask people their
opinions, as she often was.
 
You’re
obviously here to do Alex proud.
 
That wasn’t always the case with Diana.
 
Sometimes, I think she felt she was in a competition with
him and his work.
 
She wasn’t happy
about that.
 
Sometimes she railed
against that and caused him problems.”

“How?”

“By misbehaving.
 
By acting out.
 
Not everyone
can stand this sort of scrutiny and pressure.
 
But then the unexpected happened and she died.
 
I think Alex knew that she was unhappy
when she died.
 
I think it affected
him deeply and that’s why he stayed away from a relationship for so long.
 
But that’s all speculation on my part
and I hope it will remain between us.”

“Everything remains between us.
 
My mouth is a vault.”
 
And I meant it.
 
Whenever
someone confided in me and then asked me to say nothing, I kept my
silence.
 
“Let me ask you.
 
Would she ever wear anything like
this?”

“Not a chance.”

“So I went too far.”

“Not at all.
 
You
went just far enough.
 
Bernie was
right.
 
You’ll see.
 
I saw him and Blackwell try to dress
Diana many times.
 
They wanted her
to take risks and really go for it with fashion because they knew that she
could pull it off and they knew the exposure it would bring to her.
 
But she was too conservative and
refused to be part of any of it.
 
She felt that people should be interested in her, not because of what
she wore, but because of who she was as a person.
 
I appreciated where she was coming from.
 
But in this crowd, she was naïve in
that respect.
 
Sometimes, she
wondered aloud why the press ignored her.
 
She didn’t understand that she needed to surprise everyone by taking a
risk and making a statement.
 
She
didn’t get that who she wore and who she was often met in the middle.
 
Blackwell and Bernie knew that, but
Diana didn’t.
 
She didn’t
understand how to work the media the way they did.
 
She didn’t care that Wenn needed the press she could have
brought them.
 
Diana was beautiful
and, if she’d only let herself go, she could have gotten them that press.
 
You’re going to please the entire board
tomorrow, not to mention Alex, because you will be photographed tonight.
 
Probably more than you realize.
 
I think you’re brave.”