Lauren Weisberger - Chasing Harry Winston

“Done!” Leigh said. “Let’s start looking right away. I’m ready to move as soon as my place sells.”

“Hellooooo? Do you two hear me? Hello!” Adriana said, a bit more peevishly than she intended. “I have something that might be of interest to you both.”

The girls turned and looked at her expectantly.

“So, nothing’s finalized yet-and I probably shouldn’t even be saying anything-but I will most likely be moving to Los Angeles.”

That silenced them. It was satisfying to watch Leigh gasp and Emmy’s mouth drop open. What’s a girl got to do to get a little attention around here? Adriana thought.

“What?”

“Why?”

“Is it Toby?”

“Are you moving in with him?”

“Do your parents know?”

“Is it definite?”

“Are you getting married?”

This was absolutely delicious, better even than she had hoped. She sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything. Just calm down.” By which she meant, of course, Keep firing questions at me, I love it! Happily, her friends obliged, and Adriana reveled in their curiosity until she got to utter the words she never thought she’d hear herself say, words that made her prouder and more excited than she could possibly have imagined.

“I have a job offer, and I plan to accept it,” she said and sat back to relish her friends’ reactions. It was so delicious springing exciting news on her unsuspecting friends. How else could you get them to pay attention?

“A what?” Leigh asked with a puzzled expression.

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘job’?” Emmy asked, looking equally confused.

“Oh, come on! What do you think I mean?” This was exasperating! Was it really so impossible to imagine her with a job just because she’d never kept one before? Puh-lease. The whole world worked; she was sure she could handle it, too.

“Okay, Adi, don’t make us beg for it. Give us the rundown,” Leigh said, leaning forward over the table.

Adriana took a deep, dramatic breath. So kill her for wanting to enjoy this! It wasn’t every day Adriana de Souza was taken seriously. “Let’s see, the CliffsNotes version is fairly straightforward. You already know about the Marie Claire column?”

Both girls nodded.

“Well, we were out to dinner the other night with some of Toby’s colleagues at Paramount. He was bragging about my columns getting picked up-you should’ve seen it, he was absolutely adorable-and one of the women, a producer of some sort, started acting all interested. She kept asking all these questions about me, the columns, how Marie Claire found me, when the first one was getting published…and like a million others. I sort of thought she was just being polite, but she called the next day and told me that she was interested in-are you ready for this?-developing my ideas into a movie!”

“Ohmigod,” Emmy breathed.

Leigh looked dumbstruck. “No way. No, no, no way!”

Adriana nodded happily. “Yes, yes, yes! I e-mailed her the samples I’d submitted to Marie Claire and she called back later that very same day. Said she wanted to preempt anyone else and start working on it before the first column actually gets published and, in her words, ‘inevitably becomes a phenomenon.’ She called me the next Candace Bushnell.”

“Shut up!” her friends called out simultaneously.

“I’m completely serious.”

Leigh leaned even closer; she was practically pressing her face against Adriana’s. “So what does that mean? What will you do for her?”

“I didn’t totally understand, either, but Toby said that the first step is to get an agent-he’s recommending someone good-and then they’ll negotiate a consulting contract on my behalf. The producer has a deal with Paramount and a trailer on their lot, and she’s going to pair me with a screenwriter to work on developing a script. If everything goes through, I’ll be moving in the next two months.”

What she hadn’t told her friends was that the producer was fine with her working from New York-had expected it, even-and that it was entirely her choice to move to LA. It was just time for a change. Adriana had been in New York since the day she’d graduated, and she knew she’d move back sooner than later. If she didn’t try living somewhere else now, it might never happen. Plus, the idea of getting even farther away from her parents and their meddling restrictions was immensely appealing.

“Adriana, that is so incredible. Incredible. Congratulations!” Leigh said as she pushed herself up from the table and went to hug her friend.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Adriana asked Emmy, who had begun tearing up.

“Sorry,” she sniffled. “I really am so happy for you. I just can’t believe you’re going to move.”

“ Querida ! You went first, remember? Culinary school in Cali? As if there aren’t perfectly good schools on the East Coast. But you came back, and I will, too. Besides, I have something that might make you feel better.”

“What?” Emmy asked. She said it petulantly, like a stubborn, curious child.

“I think you’re really, really going to like it.”

“What? Tell me! What?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t want to live in my apartment while I’m gone. And”-she paused dramatically and turned to Leigh, who was just staring at her-“you, too, querida . I didn’t realize you two were planning to live together, but what could be more perfect than my place? I spoke to my parents and they were thrilled about Emmy staying there, and I’m sure they’ll love it even more if you’d both be there. Three bedrooms, rent-free, of course, with only two caveats: You have to send them their mail wherever they are once a week, and you have to deal with their occasional visit to New York. Which should be significantly less frequent since I won’t be here. What do you both think?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Leigh said. “Sounds like a shitty deal to me.”

“Yeah, seriously. Fucking miserable. A free three-bedroom, its only responsibility a once-weekly trip to the post office. Christ, Adriana, how could you even suggest it?”

“Please, querida ! The post office? Uch! We have an arrangement with UPS; they come to the apartment, pick up the mail bundle, package it, and ship it. You’ll only need to collect it from the lobby mailbox,” Adriana said in her best isn’t-it-obvious voice.

Leigh slammed her hands against the table. “Holy shit, it just occurred to me. The penthouse means the top floor.”

“Stating the obvious, Leigh,” Adriana said.

“And the top floor means no one banging on the ceiling! Ohmigod!” she started to laugh and cry at the same time. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about anything in my entire life!”

Emmy made a dramatic show of raising her arms and staring at the ceiling. “Penthouse A, here we come!”

“And you, Adriana?” Leigh asked. “Where, my dear, are you going to live while Emmy and I sleep in blissful nonclomping silence? Do I sense some cohabitation in your immediate future?”

Adriana smiled. This might be the best part of all. “Well, Toby did ask me to move in with him,” she said as the girls clapped, “and while things are going really well with us-surprisingly well, actually-I think that’s even more reason not to jump into anything.” She stopped, sipped her tea, and pretended to ponder something. “So…I’m going to take the money I’ll earn from the consultant project and the columns and rent my very own little apartment in Venice Beach. Just a little studio, as close to the beach as possible. Near the farmers’ market, I think.”

Emmy turned to Leigh and sighed. “Leigh, do you believe it? Our little girl is growing up. Doing everything all on her own!”