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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. Althoug
h 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.
Suzette’s reading glasses had fallen into the space between the two chaises. Pandy picked them up, put them on, and read Henry’s texts.
“Call me.”
“Where are you?”
“We need to talk.”
And finally, “Where and when can I meet you?”
Pandy shot up. She was suddenly wide awake and stone-cold sober. Henry had had word. That was why he wanted to see her.
