Of course Renzo was in the porter’s office as she passed through the porte cochere. She looked like she was heading out for a good time, and it put a lump of guilt in her belly.
He waved at her from the window, and she waved back without smiling. What business was it of his where she was going or what she looked like? Who was he to judge? The man was the super of a building in New York City, not a potential client or friend. The need to please him pissed her off, and the feeling didn’t go away until she was in a subway car hurtling downtown.
Tony stood and pulled out a chair for her as Bailey entered the restaurant. The room was loud and crowded, and a couple of men’s heads turned as she walked by. It was nice to know she wasn’t all washed up. The liquor bottles behind the bar glittered like jewels as Prince sang about raspberry berets from the speakers.
She ached for a drink. If she wanted to stay in New York, she’d have to learn to manage temptation, and tonight was her first real test. Her hand fluttered to her throat—it was all she could do not to claw at it—as she ordered a seltzer with lime, before thanking Tony for letting her be a third wheel.
“Not at all. We missed you terribly.”
His accent was so posh, the fact that most of what he said was gossip and self-congratulation tended to be forgotten by his listeners. Including Melinda, who doted on the man. The few times Bailey had asked Tony what exactly he did for a living, he’d brushed her off with tales of dashing around Ibiza with his university chums. He had an air of wealth, which meant the other details didn’t matter.
Although, to be fair, Tony had stuck by Melinda and was basically supporting her lavish lifestyle these days, at least until the trust fund kicked in. A good boyfriend to have. He had widely spaced eyes, sparse eyelashes, and a jet-black, gelled mane that shot out of his hairline like the edge of a well-manicured lawn. He’d gone to either Oxford or Cambridge, and Bailey knew better than to ask again and risk his derision for failing to remember the correct answer.
Tony ordered another round of drinks. Bailey got the steak frites and dove into the bread basket as soon as it arrived.
“Take it easy, tiger,” said Melinda. “It’s like you haven’t eaten in days.”
She put the piece of bread back on her plate and took a sip of seltzer. The place was buzzing with coke-fueled energy. Being here sober wasn’t much fun. Too loud, impossible to talk.
Tony said something and she leaned forward. “What did you say?”
“You’re looking awfully good these days. Rehab agrees with you.” He looked her up and down and she squirmed.
“He means you’ve got a figure, doll.” Melinda pointed to Bailey’s breasts. “Filled out.” She turned to Tony. “I blossomed before Bailey, even though she’s a year older than me.”
Bailey put her elbows on the table, eager to stop Tony from checking her out further. As if this could get any more uncomfortable.
“Remember the holiday visit when you tried on one of my bras and we stuffed it with socks?” Melinda threw back her head and laughed, exposing her neck. “My mother took one look and practically spit up her tea.”
Certain memories were made to be quashed, and that was one of them. The pressure of the bra around her chest had been unfamiliar and tight but made her feel grown up, and she’d draped one of Melinda’s soft cashmere sweaters over it. She thought she stepped into the room full of adults looking like one herself, but her father had turned beet red and her mother had gasped before insisting she change right away.
“I do remember.”
“We were silly kids.” Melinda linked arms with Tony. “In fact, Tony and I were just discussing the possibility of having kids of our own the other day, weren’t we?”
Tony patted her arm. “Right.”
Thank God the subject had changed.
Melinda put her face right next to Tony’s. “Can you imagine how cute our baby would be?” She kissed him on the cheek before wiping off the waxy smudge with her finger. “Or babies. You know, twins run in my family. They’d be the perfect mix of my brains and your good looks.”
Bailey almost choked on her seltzer, and she could have sworn Tony grimaced.
“Your brains?” he inquired.
Melinda leaned over the table and spoke in a mock whisper. “Tony never passed his exams at university, but don’t tell anyone that. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Tony bristled. “Only one exam, my dear. I’d like to see how you would have fared. Not well, is my guess. In any case, my family is known for its brilliant men. My cousin, in fact, is going to win a Nobel Prize for science sometime in the near future, I am quite sure of that, so you might want to rethink your judgmental attitude.”
“Sorry, Tony.” Melinda batted her eyelids at him. He sniffed and seemed to calm down.
Bailey took another piece of bread. “What’s your cousin done that’s so amazing?”
“He’s invented a way to match DNA to the person it belongs to.”
“I don’t understand. Of course DNA belongs to the person it came from.”
“It’ll be used in criminal cases. Like if someone leaves a drop of blood or hair at a crime scene, they can tell exactly who did it. So, say they get a suspect in custody, they do this test and know for certain that they’ve got the right bloke.”
“Gross. Can we not talk about hair and blood right now?” Melinda made a gagging sound.
Bailey ignored her. “He certainly deserves the Nobel for that; it almost sounds like magic more than science. Did he go to Cambridge as well?”
Tony gave a quick shake of his head, annoyed. She’d got it wrong. “Oxford. Our family always matriculates at Oxford.”
“Right. Sorry.”
The food arrived, her steak glistening with juice, but she barely had a few bites before Tony insisted they leave. Bailey didn’t want to go clubbing; she preferred to stay there and finish her dinner, but sitting alone at the table would be humiliating. She grabbed a few more fries before following them out the door and into a cab.
They pulled up to the former church, where a line of impatient partygoers wrapped around the block. Bailey had every intention of continuing on uptown, but Melinda yanked her out of the taxi. From there, it was as if a magnetic force took over, pulling her past the bouncers and over the gaping maw of the threshold. She vowed to spend only ten minutes or so at the club, as a test of her willpower, until Tony and Melinda were distracted by new friends and new drugs. She checked her watch. She’d be home before midnight and would wake up early, in time to attend the eight thirty AA meeting.
The theme for the night was “Bare as You Dare.” Long, skinny limbs erupted every so often from the mash of bodies on the packed dance floor. The lights flashed to the beat of a Tom Tom Club song, and at times the dancers seemed like they made up one organism, a pleasure-seeking, pulsating beast.
Once inside, Tony and Melinda had peeled off to the right. They were probably in search of more coke, which usually could be found in one of the tiny rooms downstairs, the private areas where club goers could writhe around one another or drop acid or do whatever else they’d regret in the morning.
She climbed the stairs for a better view and leaned over the balcony, scanning the crowd. No familiar faces. Four months ago, she would have been treated like royalty from the minute she passed the bouncer. As part of Tristan’s entourage, doors opened and people sucked up.
“Well, if it isn’t the backstabbing bitch Bailey.”
Speak of the devil. Tristan.
And not only Tristan but Wanda and a couple of assistants from the firm, who hovered in the background, trying to look bored and cool.
“What are you talking about?” She knew it was better to go on the offensive with him but couldn’t think of any other response.
He glowered at her. “You took over Melinda’s job, did you? How’s that going? Everyone knows your cousin can’t pay up. And how do they know that? I told them myself.”