Candace Bushnell - Killing Monica

“And besides, she’s not going to date her agent,” Suzette added dismissively. “No one dates their agent. It isn’t done.”

“I thought SondraBeth Schnowzer dated her agent. The guy with the funny name. PP?”

Pandy sat up. “He wasn’t her agent,” she muttered. “He was the head of the studio.” Determined to get off the topic, Pandy turned to Portia. “How are you here in the middle of the day? I thought you had a job.”

“I was let go.” Portia shrugged.

Pandy gasped. “Again?”

“Again.” Portia smiled.

“How much time off do you have this time?”

“A year. At full salary. I’ll start looking for another job in nine months. In the meantime, I’m going to travel.”

“So far she’s only made it to the Pool Club, though,” Suzette said.

“Hey, guys. If it weren’t for you, I’d be in Rio right now.” Portia giggled.

“Oh, please.” Suzette rolled her eyes. “The South of France.”

“Saint-Tropez is totally boring in June,” Portia said dismissively.

“How about Switzerland?” Pandy asked.

Suzette stared at Pandy. “Who goes to Switzerland in the summer?”

“I do,” Pandy replied, rubbing suntan lotion on her arms. “Or I want to, anyway. I went there once in July. For a wedding. We stayed in one of those castle hotels. And the beds—triple down pillows and comforters. Like sleeping on a cloud. And the mountains! I kept thinking I was in The Sound of Music . There was this piano player, and I started singing Burt Bacharach songs. Johnny Depp was there, and supposedly he was so horrified by my singing that he left.”

“The room?” Portia asked.

“The hotel ,” Pandy said. “Supposedly he checked out that evening.”

“What about your house in the country? Why don’t you go there?” Suzette asked.

“ That place?” Portia said with a grimace.

“Come on, Portia,” Suzette said. “It’s Pandy’s family house. She grew up there.”

“I don’t mean to insult anyone’s family, but that place is creepy. No cell service, no Wi-Fi, not even cable. And nothing to do. And all those spooky portraits of your ancestors…”

“Portia. Please ,” Suzette said sharply. She leaned back and closed her eyes. “In any case, I had a great time there. We dressed up in old clothes and played charades. And croquet. Remember?”

“Old-lady games.” Portia sneered.

“What’s the name of the town again?” Suzette asked in a polite tone intended to silence Portia.

“Wallis,” Pandy said. “But it’s not really a town. It’s a hamlet.”

“And isn’t it someplace historic, like your family seat?” Suzette asked encouragingly.

“Hello? Her last name is Wallis, and she comes from Wallis. What do you think?” Portia yawned, bored with the discussion.

“ I’ve got a family seat,” Suzette cackled. “It’s called my big fat juicy ass .”

“Another bottle of champagne, ladies?” A harried young man in a white shirt and crisp khakis lifted the bottle and poured the last few drops into Pandy’s glass.

“Thank you,” Pandy said with excessive gratitude. She finished the glass and got up to change into her new bathing suit.

When she returned, Suzette and Portia were tearing through the pile of magazines. “Here,” Portia said, handing Pandy the magazine Connected . SondraBeth Schnowzer was on the cover, dressed in sharp white jeans and towering platform shoes, her hand held up to her face as if to block the paparazzi.

“Trash. All trash,” Portia added. She held up another magazine and shook it for emphasis. “I have to say, I do love reading my trash in an actual magazine, though, because then I can throw it out after I’ve read it. I can literally throw the trash into the trash, and that makes me feel good.”

“Maybe you should get a job with the city. Picking up trash,” Pandy murmured.

“What is up with this poor woman?” Suzette demanded, snatching up the tabloid with SondraBeth on the cover. “Why does everyone call her romantic poison? She’s gorgeous. Why can’t she find a man?”

“Doug Stone, remember?” Portia said. “I read that he dumped her right before the wedding. And when you’ve been rejected by one of the biggest movie stars in the world, there’s nowhere to go but down.” She chortled and turned to Pandy. “Didn’t you date Doug Stone once?”

Pandy flushed. “Not really.”

Suzette waved at the waiter. “That’s right, you and SondraBeth used to be friends.”

Pandy’s hand shook slightly as she poured herself more champagne. “Sort of,” she said vaguely.

“Doug Stone.” Portia sighed. “And what about his third leg?” she asked wickedly.

“ What? ” Pandy laughed.

Suzette sighed. “She wants to know how big his cock was.”

“You know, I honestly can’t remember.”

“Good girl.” Suzette lifted the hand with the yellow diamond and patted Pandy’s shoulder. “Don’t kiss and tell. It’s true for men and it’s true for ladies, too.” She looked sharply at Portia.

“I’m not the one who claims to be a lady.” Portia laughed. Pawing through the pile of magazines, she shook her head. “Christ. SondraBeth Schnowzer is everywhere. Everyone knows she’s Monica. You’d think she’d have enough with the endless publicity.”

“ Pandy is Monica. SondraBeth is a pale imitation. Although I have to say, she does look good,” Suzette added, flipping through Vogue . She stopped at a photograph of SondraBeth and held up the magazine so they could all get a look.

SondraBeth was in a seemingly impossible position, half kneeling, her head ducked alluringly as her green-gold eyes twinkled at the camera. She was wearing a crystal-bejeweled catsuit, and there were sparkles in her hair. She looked like a gorgeous piece of jewelry.

Pandy couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Portia snatched the magazine out of Suzette’s hand. She looked from the image back to Pandy. “Well,” she said triumphantly. “You were right. You’re definitely not Monica anymore.” A beat, then she added: “You need airbrushing!”

“Can I get you ladies something else?” the waiter asked.

“How about some airbrushing?” Pandy asked, as Suzette and Portia screamed with laughter.

It was past two when Pandy picked up her phone and saw that she had three texts from Henry. She held up her phone so that it glinted annoyingly in the sun. “My goddamned agent,” she said loudly. “Why won’t he leave me alone? Doesn’t he know I’m busy ?” Without bothering to read his texts, she wrote, “Yes?”

Henry immediately replied: “Have you read my texts?”

“No,” Pandy sent back. She put the phone down and lay on her stomach, resting her chin over the edge of the chaise. She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to wander. The mechanical bleeps of other people’s devices turned into the sound of crickets; the hum of conversation became the lazy buzz of bees. As she was drifting off, a vision came to her of a smattering of reddish freckles marching like ants across the bridge of a turned-up nose.

She lifted her head with a start. The freckles belonged to SondraBeth Schnowzer.

She tried to push the image away, but it was too late. SondraBeth was lifting her gold aviator sunglasses, lowering her gaze to focus on Pandy. And there it was: the smile.

Monica’s smile.

Pandy shook it off and sat up sharply, her sudden movement causing the world to spin ever so slightly.

She glanced around. The pool was quieter now, the heat having driven away all but the die-hard sunbathers. Suzette was sleeping. Portia was at the bar, in the middle of an animated conversation with someone Pandy couldn’t see.