Being Audrey Hepburn

“Really?” Up-and-coming rock and rollers and gay karaoke nights, who knew?

“Please sit back and relax. I’ll take care of everything,” Rudy said as the car accelerated onto the Westside Highway.

“Thanks Rudy.” I couldn’t believe my luck.

“B there soon. Don’t be mad :( I really wa

“MUST TALK NOW.” Mom? Texting?

There were two more texts in rapid succession.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I NEED YOU HOME.”

Mothers should not be allowed to text, I thought, especially mine. But I wondered what the urgency was. Maybe she was just pissed that I’d barely been home in the last week and that, when I had been, it was only to change my clothes and get some sleep.

The other possibility was that she had figured out that I wasn’t going to college. Either way, it was a whole lot better not to respond right away. As a kid, it had taken me a long time to learn that it was safer to let the storm blow over a bit rather than rushing right into a hurricane.

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE,” she texted.

Oh God. I closed my eyes and tried not to think.

*   *   *

“Lisbeth, we’re here,” Rudy said in a quiet voice. I opened my eyes and noticed we had stopped. I wondered how long I had been sleeping.

“We arrived a moment ago,” he said as if reading my mind.

“Oh. Thanks Rudy, is it…?”

“Still open?” Rudy answered before I could ask. “Yes, but I do think the band is leaving. There’s a van backing up near the service entrance.”

“Red, white, and blue?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’d better go,” I said, wondering if Jake had already left ahead of the band.

“Would you prefer I wait?”

“No, no. You’ve been too kind already. I’ll find my way from here,” I said as Rudy hopped out of the car and opened my door.

“You’re certain?” Rudy asked. “The neighborhood is okay, but…”

“Yes, thank you. And by the way, you can tell Isak he’s wrong. You absolutely do not talk too much. In fact, you’re perfect.” Rudy smiled, made a little bow, stepped back into the car, and drove away.

“Nice limo. Is that from your ‘friend’?”

I turned to see Jake standing a few feet away near the entrance to Reilly’s. Stragglers were leaving, happily boozed and laughing it up. He looked washed out.

“Yes, Isak. But he’s just a—”

“That’s okay. Don’t explain.” Jake was pissed off, but I could see he was trying to keep his cool. Maybe the gig didn’t go well. Maybe he was tired of my excuses. I searched my mind for something to say.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, good timing. The band finished playing an hour and a half ago.” Jake closed his eyes, and it seemed like he was trying to make a decision. He stared down at his boots.

“Well, how’d it go?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good actually.” He warmed up a little, begrudgingly. “An A and R rep showed up. Offered us a deal.”

“Really?” I asked, inching closer. “That’s so great!” I was going to run up to him and smother him in hugs and kisses and say I really did want to wear this dress for him and I would next time, but this woman came out of the bar and walked up behind him.

Lingering with her well-manicured hand hanging on his shoulder, she didn’t see me at first. “Hey Jake, should we have one more for the road?” she asked. I noted the plural pronoun. She wasn’t your ordinary garden-variety groupie, either. From her top-of-the-line True Religions to her red high-heeled cowboy boots and blond tresses, everything about her screamed big bucks.

“Sure, Monica, I’ll be right there. Give me a minute,” he said. That’s when she noticed me, gave me a quizzical look like she felt sorry for me, and went inside.

Shit. I guess I was later than I’d thought.

“So it went really well,” I said and tried not to get emotional. “I’ll be going. See you at the Hole.”

“Wait.”

I stopped and turned.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“Yeah? It’s okay, Jake. I wasn’t here. I can’t blame you. I really should go.”

“Lizzy, listen, I’m trying to tell you…” But I kept walking and he stopped talking.

I pictured him ru

But he didn’t.

27

“Still up ?!”

I texted Jess and waited.

The wind was blowing down North Pine Street. I was trying not to get all weepy, wishing I had done something differently. Anything. Wishing Jake understood or I had told him to begin with. Now it was too late. I had no right to be jealous. I hoped it was the wind that was making my eyes tear up. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, seeing that cowgirl lingering behind him. The sad way she looked at me.

When I heard footsteps behind me, I panicked and picked up my pace. On the uneven sidewalk, I felt my ankle twist. Shit, Jess was right about the Louboutin heel not lasting. I kept walking anyway, not wanting to stop for a snapped heel. I turned on my phone light to make sure whoever was behind me knew I was ready.

The footsteps came closer and then faded. I glanced back. No one was there.

The wind whistled around me, giving me the creeps. Why hadn’t Jess texted me back already? I absolutely could not go home in this dress.

“Knock knock :)” I texted and waited.

I tried to think about what ZK and Tabitha were doing now. Not walking on a dead-end street in the dark, I bet. This fantasy project of mine felt pretty pathetic at one o’clock in the morning. The evening had been miraculous and all. But here I was, all alone with nowhere to go.

My phone buzzed.

“Of course I’m up! It’s only 1 AM 0.o” Jess texted.

“Ok if I crash ?! :)” I asked.

“Duh !! I’ve bn waitin ! Come to my house & tell all !! ☺”

I dialed Hometown Call-a-Cab, figuring there was enough money in my little peacock-feathered clutch to get to Jess’s house. Once inside the cab, I slipped off my shoes. The taxi cost exactly fifteen dollars. I hoped he wasn’t expecting a tip. I figured eighty-six cents wouldn’t be interpreted as a compliment.

I let myself in Jess’s back door. I’d had her key since the seventh grade in case of … well, emergencies. Climbing the creaky stairs to her room, I tried to make sure I didn’t wake her mom.

Jess was sitting cross-legged on her bed with the orange Cassini in pieces across the bedspread. I gasped.

“No worries. If I can take ’em apart, I can put ’em back together again,” she said, smiling. “I never stop being amazed at what goes on inside the clothes. Breaking down these dresses is better than all the courses at FIT. I just had to open one up completely to see how it was structured. They sure knew how to rock a cocktail.” She put down her seam ripper and looked up at me with expectation.

“So? Spill it! From the begi

I propped myself up against some pillows and began replaying everything in detail, from the clipboard Nazi who loved my blog to meeting ZK, from the gorgeous clothes everywhere, the jewelry, and the rooftop pool to Tabitha’s crazy, erratic behavior and every single word that Isak Guerrere said about Jess’s dress. Telling it all to Jess, I realized how unreal and remarkable it was.

“Do you think Isak Guerrere actually liked the dress? You sure he isn’t just being nice?” she asked.

“He is nice, very nice. And yes, I think he really loves all the dresses. I’m pretty sure he used the word ‘genius,’” I said. “He’s even envious I don’t wear his designs.” Jess beamed with satisfaction, and she seemed totally excited about the possibilities. This was the first time I could ever remember Jess actually caring about what anybody else thought of her or what she’d done.

“They know you as Designer X from my blog.”

“Oh, I like that,” Jess said. “Lisbeth, you must be pretty incredible in action,” she said. Although she’d seen me at charity events before, it definitely seemed so much more remarkable that I had hung out with the whole famous gang at the Soho House.