Lauren Weisberger - Chasing Harry Winston

Adriana whistled. “ Querida ! You’re making me blush!”

“What about Antarctica?” Leigh asked. “I don’t think Adi has managed to sleep with a guy from Antarctica.”

“I thought of that. Antarctica does seem a little unrealistic. Which is why I think Alaska can count for Antarctica.” Emmy pulled a crumpled paper from her messenger bag and smoothed it flat on the table.

“Is that a chart? Please don’t tell me you made a chart.” Adriana laughed.

“I made a chart.”

Leigh looked toward the ceiling. “She made a chart.”

“I’ve got it all figured out. Obviously, I already have North America, so that leaves six more. And, technically speaking, Mark-Otis’s daddy-was born in Moscow, so he really could count for Europe.”

“I call bullshit on that,” Leigh said. “It has to be within this year.” The waitress frowned when she laid down their check.

“Seconded,” Adriana said. “We’ll give you America-North only-but Mark is a no-go. Why would you even want him to count for Europe? You’re going to Paris in a few weeks!”

Emmy nodded. “Fair enough. One down, six to go.”

“What if you meet a Japanese guy in Greece, or an Australian in Thailand?” Adriana asked, looking perplexed. “Do they count as Asia and Australia, or does the sex have to take place on the actual continent?”

Emmy’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Let’s give the girl a break,” Leigh said, looking to Adriana. “I think nationality or location should count. My god, it’s amazing enough that she’s even going to attempt this.”

“I’m fine with that,” Adriana agreed. “And in a demonstration of goodwill, I think you should have a free pass as well.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you should get to skip one continent. Otherwise, I think you’re just setting yourself up for failure.”

“Which one?” Emmy asked, appearing slightly relieved.

“What if Swiss guys counted as a wild card?” Leigh asked. “It’s a neutral country. I think if you sleep with a Swiss guy he can count for anywhere.”

The girls laughed and laughed, the kind of laughter that happens all too rarely after college.

Adriana pulled a blue tin tub from the front pocket of her yoga bag and rubbed a bit of clear salve on her lips, aware that both her friends and nearly every patron at every surrounding table appeared transfixed by her little ritual. It made her feel a little bit better. She’d had trouble ridding herself of the thoughts that had been plaguing her lately, namely that her looks wouldn’t last forever. She had known this intellectually, of course-the way a teenager knows death is inevitable-but she was completely unable to comprehend the reality. Her mother had been reminding her of this very fact since the day Adriana had, at the age of fourteen, agreed to two dates with two different boys on the same night. When asked which one she would choose to see that night, Adriana gazed at her still-beautiful mother with uncomprehending eyes.

“Why would I break plans with either one, Mama?” Adriana had asked. “There’s time enough for both of them.”

Her mother had smiled and cupped Adriana’s cheek in a cool, open palm. “Enjoy it now, querida . It will not be like this always.”

Of course she was right, but Adriana hadn’t counted on “always” coming so soon. It was time to utilize her beauty for something more important than attracting a steady stream of lovers. Her pledge to find a boyfriend was a step in the right direction, but it wasn’t far-reaching enough.

With great flourish, Adriana held her left hand up and sighed dramatically. “Do you see this hand, girls?” Both nodded. “By this time next year, there will be a diamond on it. An extraordinarily large diamond. I hereby declare that I will be engaged to the perfect man within twelve months.”

“Adriana!” Emmy shrieked. “You’re just trying to outdo me.”

Leigh choked on a piece of cantaloupe. “Engaged? To whom? Are you seeing someone?”

“No, not currently. But Emmy’s commitment to making a change has inspired me. Plus, it’s time to face facts, girls. We are not getting any younger, and I think we can all acknowledge that there are only a limited number of rich, handsome, successful men between the ages of thirty and forty. If we don’t claim ours now”-she cupped both hands around her firm breasts and pushed them upward-“then we may as well forget it.”

“Well, thank god you figured it out,” Emmy said with amusement. “I’ll just point to one of the dozens-no, hundreds-of successful, handsome, single men in their thirties I know and just make him mine. Yes, that’s the plan.”

Adriana smiled and tapped Emmy’s hand patronizingly. “Don’t forget rich, querida . Now, I’m not saying that’s what we all should be doing. Clearly, you need to play a bit first, and I think your little upcoming foray into promiscuity is just what the doctor ordered. But being that I’ve, well, forayed there already-”

“If by forayed you mean ‘completely conquered,’ then I guess I’d agree,” Leigh added.

“Laugh if you must,” Adriana said, feeling slightly irritated that, as usual, she wasn’t being taken seriously. “But there’s nothing funny about a five-plus-carat round stone in a micropave setting from Harry Winston. Nothing funny at all.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty funny now,” Emmy said while Leigh dissolved into laughter. “Adriana engaged? It’s impossible to imagine.”

“No more impossible to imagine than the serial monogamist putting out for every foreign stranger who crosses her path,” Adriana shot back.

Leigh wiped away a tear, taking care not to pull the delicate skin beneath her eye, skin that was probably already doomed anyway from her smoking days. She wasn’t sure if it was the endorphins from a particularly strenuous yoga class or the semi-dread of having dinner with Russell’s parents later that night, or just the desire to share in her friends’ fun, but before she could stop it-almost before she even knew it was happening-Leigh started to talk without any forethought or awareness.

“In honor of your acts of bravery,” she was saying, the words feeling as though they emerged entirely of their own volition, “I, too, would like to propose a goal. By the end of this year, I will…” Her words faded. She’d begun speaking without knowing what to say, assuming something would come, but she had nothing to offer. She found her job mostly rewarding, if a tad boring at times; she was perfectly comfortable with the number of men she’d slept with so far; she’d already snagged herself a boyfriend fitting all of Adriana’s criteria-not just any man but a famous one, a man half of the country and the entire female population of Manhattan clamored to date; and she had finally saved enough to buy her own apartment. She was doing exactly what was expected of her. What was she supposed to change?

“Get knocked up?” Emmy offered helpfully.

“Have plastic surgery?” Adriana countered.

“Make your first million?”

“Have a threesome?”

“Get hooked on booze or drugs?”

“Learn to love the subway?” asked Adriana with a wicked smile.

Leigh shuddered. “God, no. Not that .” She grinned.

Emmy patted her hand. “We know, honey. The dirt, the noise, the unpredictable schedule…”

“All those people!” Adriana added. After twelve years of friendship, she felt like she knew Leigh better than she knew herself. If there was one thing that drove the poor girl mad-even more than mess or loud, repetitive sounds or surprise-it was crowds. The girl was an anxious wreck these days, and Adriana and Emmy discussed it every chance they got.