What do you know about 1969, anyway? It was after your time."
"I know everything." He gave me that sleepy-eyed smile of his. "Love or money, I'm afraid."
"Great," I sighed, unable not to think about Alex and trips to Europe and the Hannandas with their Prada bags. "The two things that show absolutely no hint of ever coming my way. Shoot me now."
"I can't, darling girl. No arms. Besides, even if I had the ability, I would never do such a thing. It would be dastardly.And..."
"And?"
"Ah,Ella.Fond of you as I am, there is no passion in my feelings."
"Love or money," I droned.
"Love or money," Edward agreed.
My sister taught me the best trick. When the salesclerk isn't looking, you make Sharpie marks on the front of all the others so no one else will buy them. I mean, how embarrassing would it be to have someone else show up at the dance wearing the same dress! This way, I know I'll be the only one."
"God,I wouldn't have the guts.What if you got caught!"
The Sharpie-wielding Phillite shrugged. "I would put them all on my dad's card. But then I wouldn't be able to buy the Manolos..."
She and her impressed friends headed down the hall.Frankie banged his locker closed with unnecessary force. "Mind-boggling," he muttered. "All that money, and they can't buy a clue.
This would be the third year that she would try halfheartedly to keep her mother unaware that there even was a Fall Ball,let alone the theme. But there was no question that Mrs. Winslow would get the info somehow, probably within six hours of the announcement. It didn't matter that she was presently in the Caribbean. She was connected. By morning,she would be on the phone to someone in New York or Paris or Milan, finding the perfect costume for her daughter.
The last one was a historically accurate replica of an eighteenth-century dress, appropraite to rural New York State gentility, no less. It had possessed a wig, corset, and padded butt. Sadie,itchy and unable to breathe, let alone eat or drink or shake her extended booty, had spent the four hours of the dance sitting in a dark corner.I,dressed in a high-necked, tattered, and "blood"-spattered white dress and veil (Bride of the Headless Horseman),sat with her.
With Thanksgiving approaching, I quietly hoped this would finally be the year I wouldn't find myself at the children's table.
Melissa JensenSadie looked like she'd just discovered the gym showers didn't have curtains.
Melissa JensenSienna's voice has been known to cut through solid steel.
Melissa JensenTina was hosting. She's a thirty-five-year-old version of Sienne, only bottle blonde.Same blind-you lipstick, same taste in clothes,same complete disregard for anyone else's opinion on anything.
They hate each other.
"You hate me!" Sienna wailed.
It wasn't Tina's voice that snapped back, but Dad's, "Oh,no. I am not playing that game with you. Do you have any idea what a hundred pounds of filet is gonna cost me? And now you want lobster?"
"But it's my wedding! Daddy-"
"Don't you Daddy me, princess! I'm already five grand in the hole for the damned hotel,not to mention two for the dress, and every time I turn around, you and your mother have added a new guest, bridesmaid,or crustacean!"
First of all,Dad was yelling.Almost. Second,he was swearing.Even damn is fighting talk for him.I set down my pizza and debated the best route for a sealthy escape.
I'd seen the dress.Pretty, in a Disney-princess, twenty-yards-of-tulle, boobs-shaped-into-missiles sort of way. Sienne looked deliriously happy in it. She looked beautiful.The less said about the bridesmaids' dressed, I'd decided, on seeing the purple sateen,the better.
"No lobster!" he yelled.
There was a dramatic howl, followed by the bang of the back door. When I peeked out,it was like a photo. Everything was frozen.Dad was standing over the massive pasta pot, red-faced and scowling, wooden spoon brandished like a sword. Leo and Ricky had retreated to the doorway of the freezer. Nonna had her eyes turned heavenward, and Tina was halfway through the dining room door, smirking a little.
When Marino's needs us, we chip in.I just hate when chipping involves waiting tables. I have to write down orders so I don't forget them, am scarily clumsy with hot plates, and, humiliatingly, have to get someone else to bring the wine or beer when customers order it, because I'm not eighteen, and it's illegal for underage me to seve alcohol.
Melissa JensenLeo!
Scusi, Nonna." But he still managed to get a good, quiet curse or two out as he backed his way gingerly through the swinging door.
"Here.I got it." Tina took the beer and glass from me. "Ya know them?"
I nodded.
"She looks like butter wouldn't melt.But her kid..." She pursed brilliantly pink lips. "All that and a bag of baked tofu chips?"
I had to smile a little at the image. "No.He's not...He doesn't act like..." I wasn't entirely sure why I was defending him.He hadn't exactly been the Prince Charming of Dinner Orders. Come to think of it, I couldn't completely vouch for Alex Bainbridge being Prince Charming of Anything. Except my own little Villink fantasy. "Maybe."
"Cute,though."
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" I have no idea what is was Tina saw in my face. Something. "Aw, sweetie." She sighed. "Want me to shake up Daddy's beer a little?"
"No," I answered. "but thanks for the offer.
Tina can be a B-,and she's high maintenance in every possible way. She's also prone to asking questions like whether vegetarians can eat animal crackers. She actually once asked Frankie what Asians throw at weddings, since Americans throw rice. He said shredded math tests.I think she believed him.
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