Lauren Weisberger - The Wives

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

First published in the USA as ‘When Life Gives You Lululemons’ by Simon and Schuster 2018

Copyright © Lauren Weisberger 2018

Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © plainpicture/Blend Images/Roberto Westbrook (women)

Lauren Weisberger asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007569281

Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008299514

Version: 2019-03-15

To my entire family, with love

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Part One

1. Again with the Nazi Getup?

2. Living the Dream

3. Like a Common Criminal

4. Some of My Best Friends Are Jewish

5. Just Give Up. I Have.

6. Just a Cottage in the Country

7. Vodka and Tampax: A Match Made in Greenwich

8. Happy to Sip and Not to See

9. My Romantic Relationship

10. The Suburbs Make You Fat

11. Mom’s Night Out

12. No Good Deed

13. Celebrities Are Fickle and Oftentimes Stupid

Part Two

14. Viewing of the New German Au Pair

15. Exactly Like Rehab, Only Different

16. Just a Friend and a Blue Glitter Condom

17. Pinterest’s Mom of the Year

18. Road Trip

19. America Wants to Forgive You

20. Make It Stop

21. Munching Xanax Like Gumballs

22. Not the Only One Who Can Google

23. Home to the Custom-Fit Vagina

24. The Tides Are Turning and the Tears Are Terrific

25. The Cocaine of the Kindergarten Set

26. The Thousand-Dollar Throw

27. The Dalai Lama of Blackmail

28. One Little Ambien

29. Willing to Do Whatever It Takes

30. The Girl Has Balls

31. Goodbye Wheatgrass, Hello Sarcasm

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Lauren Weisberger

About the Publisher

Emily racked her brain. There had to be something to complain about. This was New Year’s Eve in Los Angeles, one of the most annoying nights of the year in arguably the most annoying city known to humanity. So why couldn’t she think of a thing?

She sipped her skinny margarita from her chaise and watched her husband’s beautiful body cut through the water like a moving art installation. When Miles emerged, he propped himself on the back of the lit infinity pool, where the turquoise water appeared to spill over the side and straight down the mountain. Behind him, the lights from the valley twinkled for miles, making the city look alluring, even sexy. Night was the only time Los Angeles really shone. Gone were the smog and the junkies and the soul-crushing traffic, all replaced by an idyllic vista of night sky and silently twinkling lights – as if God Himself had descended into the Hollywood Hills and selected the most perfect Snapchat filter for His least favorite city on earth.

Miles smiled at her and she waved, but when he motioned for her to join him, she shook her head. It was unseasonably warm, and all around her, people were partying in that intensely determined way that happened only on New Year’s Eve after midnight: This will be the most fun we’ve ever had; we will do and say outrageous things; we are loving our lives and everyone around us . The massive hot tub was packed with a dozen revelers, all with drinks in hand, and another group sat around the perimeter, content to dangle their feet while they waited for a few inches of space to free up. On the deck above the pool a DJ blasted remixed hip-hop, and dancers everywhere – on the patio, in the pool, on the pool deck, streaming in and out of the house – all moved happily to his playlist. On the chair to Emily’s left, a young girl wearing only bikini bottoms straddled a guy and massaged his shoulders while her bare breasts dangled freely. She worked her way down his back and began a rather aggressive handling of his glutes. She was twenty-three, twenty-five at most, and while her body was far from perfect – slightly rounded belly and overly curvy thighs – her arms didn’t jiggle and her neck didn’t sag. No crepey anything. Just youth. None of the small indignities of Emily’s own body at thirty-six: light stretch marks on her hips; cleavage with just the smallest hint of sag; some errant dark hairs along her bikini line that just seemed to sprout now willy-nilly, indifferent to Emily’s indefatigable waxing schedule. It wasn’t a horror show, exactly – she still looked thin and tan, maybe even downright hot in her elegant Eres two-piece – but it was getting harder with every passing year.

An unfamiliar 917 number flashed on her phone.

‘Emily? This is Helene. I’m not sure if you remember, but we met a couple years ago at the Met Ball.’

Emily looked skyward in concentration. Though the name was familiar, she was having a hard time placing it. Silence filled the air.

‘I’m Rizzo’s manager.’

Rizzo. Interesting . He was the new Bieber: the hottest new pop star whose fame had skyrocketed when, two years earlier at age sixteen, he’d become the youngest male to win a Grammy for Album of the Year. Helene had moved to Hollywood to join an agency – either ICM or Endeavor, Emily couldn’t remember – but she’d somehow missed the news that Helene now represented Rizzo.

‘Of course. How are you?’ Emily asked. She glanced at her watch. This was no ordinary call.

‘I’m sorry I’m calling so late,’ Helene said. ‘It’s already four a.m. here in New York, but you’re probably in L.A. I feel terrible interrupting …’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m at Gigi Hadid’s childhood mansion and not nearly as drunk as I should be. What’s up?’

A shriek came from the pool. Two girls had jumped in together, holding hands, and were splashing Miles and a couple of his friends. Emily rolled her eyes.

‘Well, I, uh …’ Helene cleared her throat. ‘We’re off the record, right?’

‘Of course.’ This sounded promising.

‘I’m not sure I understand the whole story myself, but Riz appeared on Seacrest’s Times Square show earlier tonight – everything was fine, it went off without a hitch. Afterward, I went to meet up with some old college friends, and Rizzo was headed to some party at 1 OAK. Sober, at least when he left me. Happy about his performance.’