Chapter 6
I don’t need a man in my life.
—Enya
Afew days after the party, the ladies made plans to meet again. Cassandra had been attempting to corner Gabriel long enough to speak to him about Tiffany, but he was too tied up in both his company and his pack’s business to discuss it. She’d put off getting together as long as she could; Tiffany had started questioning Heather about whether she’d upset Cassandra.
As they didn’t want to have her snatched up by another pack or to take the lack of time spent together as a slight, Cassandra was bound and determined to make this their last social call before she put a contract in front of Tiffany.
By way of apology, Cassandra had offered to pick up the tab for dinner at a new restaurant that had just opened a few blocks from Times Square, some fanciful place with a theme of diamonds and crystals. It was all the rage, garnering rave reviews in the local papers and an excellent ZAGAT rating. Anybody who was anybody had been spotted there. It was, rather inevitably, called Star Dust.
Tiffany had gladly accepted, and the women met outside the restaurant, decked out in shining Gucci as only it had the requisite number of rhinestones to match their need to outshine the restaurant’s décor.
“Good to see you all again,” Tiffany said. She smiled at Alexis and Cassandra when they joined her at the fringes of the line waiting to get in. Her expression quickly turned neutral when she saw Vera bringing up the rear, trailing a few yards behind the others.
“You, too! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get away. My husband has been an absolute beast these past few days, and I simply haven’t had the time.”
Heather, Vera, and Alexis nearly choked on their laughter at Cassandra’s statement, though they quickly got it under control. Tiffany smiled, shaking her head. “Men can be such a pain, I know.”
Alexis, curious, broke in. “Speaking of which, how did things go with Travis?”
Heather and Cassandra both shot her a warning look, while Tiffany simply shrugged. “Not as well as I had hoped it would. Let’s discuss it over drinks, shall we?”
Cassandra took the lead, the other girls falling into step behind her as they headed to the front of the line. Security took one look at the designer clothes, the painted faces, the svelte bodies, and the killer heels, and let them pass without hesitation, drawing aside the white velvet rope to allow them inside.
There was not a single voice of complaint from the people waiting in line, as not a one would dare—until they were out of earshot, that is.
Once he spotted her, the maître d’ came around his lacquered white podium to extend a welcoming hand to Cassandra, beaming. Like much of the furniture, his tuxedo was white, his tie, cuff links, and pocket kerchief of a fine silver material. Columns of white and silver marble flanked the doors. Crystal vases filled with crystal flowers sat on low silver tables, and the white couches for waiting guests were full. Against the alabaster white walls, it was much like stepping into an icy cavern, too perfect, too austere, to be welcoming.
They fit right in.
“Mademoiselle, lovely to see you again. Your table is ready. Right this way.”
The rest of the restaurant was done in similar style. The music drifting from hidden speakers was soft, melodic, with chimes resonating with the crystal and silver statues that gleamed and glittered from recessed alcoves around the room. The raised ceiling was painted such a deep, dark blue that the tiny lights set into it made it feel as though one were outdoors, staring up at a velvet night sky filled with stars. Even the hum of conversation was muted, giving the place an intimate feel, as though one were lost in the icy tundra of the frozen north.
Once they were seated, Tiffany lounged back, examining the menu. “Well, this all looks very good. What do you recommend?”
“Maybe you should try the grilled salmon salad with orange-basil vinaigrette. I hear salmon is good if you need to lose weight.”
Tiffany lowered her menu to give Vera a flat stare, clearly not amused at the insinuation. Vera gave nothing back, her expression bland and innocent. Heather, exasperated, gestured at the menu.
“Whatever you like. Everything I’ve had here is excellent. Try their house drink, though, the Starlight is amazing.”
Some of the tension at the table eased, and before long the waiter came and went with their order. Tiffany surprised them all by offering to cover the drinks, looking very deliberately at Vera when she said it. No one argued, and everyone was fairly quiet until the waiter returned with their cocktails. Once they had their drinks in hand, everyone relaxed a bit more. Tiffany exclaimed over the sweet liquor, thanking Heather for the recommendation before sighing dramatically and pressing a hand to her brow.
“I need some help.”
Alexis frowned, glancing at Cassandra. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“It’s Travis,” Tiffany said, cradling her drink as she leaned forward. “Can one of you please get him to stop calling me? I swear, that man hasn’t given me a moment of peace since the party.”
The other women shared confused and mildly alarmed looks, and Heather sputtered something unintelligible before Cassandra held up her hand for silence. “What happened at the party? I thought you two were getting along so well.”
“So did I. Until he started telling me how much I reminded him of his sister.”
The other girls couldn’t help it. They all cracked up.
“Oh,” gasped Alexis, carefully wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes so as not to smudge her mascara, “oh, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry!”
Heather, once she got her sniggering under control, put a sympathetic hand on Tiffany’s arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll find you someone better. There are plenty of men in the pa—from the party who are single. There’s Damon or Michael or, oh, I’ll bet you’d get along great with—”
“Enough, darling, she probably doesn’t remember the names of half the men she was introduced to at the party,” Alexis said with saccharine sweetness, the underlying warning completely going over Heather’s head as she pouted at being interrupted. Tiffany didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not so sure I’m interested anymore,” she replied.
Vera smirked. “How terrible for you. No one to take care of you ... All alone in the world.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I do just fine on my own.”
“You say that now. I wonder why you tried so hard to pretend not to be interested at the party? Phillip and Travis certainly didn’t seem to mind your attention—and no matter what you say, I’ll bet the entire time you were thinking about what you could get out of it.”
Tiffany’s jaw clenched and spots of color rose high on her cheekbones. Vera idly traced her index finger through the condensation on her glass before pushing it away and rising.
Alexis and Heather gave Vera exasperated looks. Cassandra ignored Vera as she walked toward the ladies’ room, hips swaying.
“Don’t mind her,” Cassandra said. “She’s just PMSing because she isn’t the center of attention.”
Tiffany pouted after Vera’s retreating form, though her icy blue eyes gleamed with calculation under the mask of hurt. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I knew why she took such a dislike to me. Does she think I’m competition? I thought she was married.”
“Vera’s always had a thing for Travis,” Alexis mused, stirring her drink as she leaned back in her chair and gave one of the waiters watching her from across the room an excellent view of her crossed legs as she adjusted her skirt just so. “Maybe she’s peeved that he’s given up on her and taken an interest in you.”
“No, no, it isn’t that. She’s had a problem with her from the start. I think she’s pissed because you’re single and successful enough to live in our neighborhood without the benefit of a man to pay your way,” Heather declared.
The others regarded Heather with new respect for her astute observation.
“But,” she added, ruining the moment, “we still need to set you up with someone nice. I’ll bet you an experienced man like Phillip would last longer than the playboys like Travis, anyway.”
Tiffany nearly spewed her drink, covering her mouth with one hand while the other reached for a napkin to blot her lips. Cassandra and Alexis were too busy giggling over the thought to be of any help, all of them gasping and laughing. Talk turned to simpler, less dangerous topics—what was coming up on tomorrow’s daytime soaps, the scandalously awful shoes one of the women wore to the party, and whether they should go shopping or barhopping after they ate. Even Vera was civil when she returned, keeping most of her snarky comments limited to her observations about the fashion faux pas several of Alexis’s guests made at the party.
Cassandra came very close to pulling the contract out of her purse to slide across the table to put in Tiffany’s hands. All that stopped her were Vera or Tiffany’s occasional comments that cut through the air of camaraderie. Just when things would settle down, one of them would slip, and they would bristle at each other until Heather or Alexis changed the subject.
Finally, exasperated, Cassandra turned to Tiffany and bluntly invited her on a coffee date—alone—the next day so they could have a private chat.
“Oh,” Tiffany said, looking uncertainly between Heather and Cassandra, “we were going to go to one of those Botox parties tomorrow afternoon.”
“We’ll reschedule,” Heather said quickly upon catching Cassandra’s look.
“Oh. Oh, all right, then.”
“Excellent,” Cassandra said, a sly smile curving her lips.