Being Audrey Hepburn

ZK picked me up at Tabitha’s on his Ducati 1100 S, and before long we were eating and drinking the night away with Gianpaolo, Gabby, and Maurizio, the restaurant’s other owner and chef. Espresso martinis were the drink of choice. Gabby was more than generous in accepting my invitation to the forthcoming Designer X fashion show. She said she would be heading back to the city the next day and would love to attend.

As we closed the restaurant down, the men began to argue about the relative merits of their motorcycles. This turned into a bet, and they decided to race to Sagaponack.

I held on to ZK for my life as we zipped down the back roads of Sag Harbor to Sagaponack. ZK was wi

Here was an entire nine-bedroom villa fully lit up without a soul in sight. In the Hamptons the locals call these “zombie houses”—kept absolutely dustless, the refrigerator fully stocked, the wine cellar with three hundred bottles chilled exactly at fifty-five degrees, the air-conditioning full blast throughout the house, with not a leaf in the swimming pool in the middle of the summer. It was just one of the thousands of mansions expensively maintained throughout the Hamptons, with landscape lighting illuminating every tree on the property throughout the night as if it were Christmas.

ZK grabbed a twenty-year-old bottle of wine and some glasses as we all drifted through the rooms of the house.

“Here’s to being in the Limelight,” ZK said to me as we toasted. After a little while, Maurizio and Gianpaolo wandered off and ZK gave me a tour of the trove of modern art displayed throughout the house—artists that ZK knew well and sometimes personally. Artists I didn’t have a clue about. I nodded as if I had some awareness of art history, which I did not. Nervously spi

“We’re really just two drifters, you know,” ZK said to me. “We should escape! I could start over in L.A. We don’t have to stay here. We’d be better off leaving. It would be good for you, too, a new fashion world to conquer.” I wondered if he intended to leave everyone he knew and grew up with. More than that, I wondered if he really meant to take me to L.A. with him. The fantasy made my head spin.

We kissed by the pool and kissed in the living room. We kissed again in the kitchen and kissed in bedroom after bedroom after bedroom until we were more than kissing. We stripped off our clothes, letting them fall into puddles on the lacquered oak floors, and fell into the nearest bed.

Before, ZK’s kisses would sweep me away, seizing me, engulfing me. But that night we were unhurried and slow, deliberately drowning in each other’s arms, soothing each other and losing who we were.

“I’m not Holly. I’m not Lula Mae, either,” Audrey said in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. “I don’t know who I am. I’m like Cat here, a no-name slob.” Like Audrey pretending to be Lula Mae pretending to be Holly Golightly, I pretended to be somebody I wasn’t and ZK was my Fred. His i

We cuddled in the master bedroom beneath the weight of luxurious comforters overlooking an arbor that glowed in the dark sky. That night the lost lonely little boy inside ZK, not the flawless dashing Ke

Somewhere in the middle of the night I woke up with a start and realized ZK was watching me. We kissed again and I curled up into him, trying to hold every part of him close. Comparing this moment to any other moment in my life, I couldn’t recall being more content; words didn’t come close to truly describing how I felt.

“It’s a shame that you fell for someone like me,” he said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

I put my finger to his lips.

“Be quiet. Don’t say that,” I said and snuggled closer. Someday I would tell him the truth about where I came from, and he would realize how little his father’s stature and money mattered to me.

Our naked bodies fit in a tangle of arms and legs like complementary halves, like pieces of a puzzle. It felt so good to feel the texture of his skin and to have him right up against me. I wanted to stay that way forever, holding him until his worries faded and were forgotten.

The next morning I awoke and he was gone. Only a note was left.

My father called. Have business to finish. Meet me at Robert’s tonight.—ZK

57

I tore apart the bedsheets.

On my hands and knees, I crawled over every square inch of the bedroom floor. Methodically, I retraced the location of every kiss and embrace, rewinding the entire evening back to the wine cellar, scouring every corner of the villa over and over. Pacing the driveway where the motorcycles were parked, I was dumbfounded and heartbroken as I realized it was gone. Nan’s bracelet had disappeared.

ZK had left so mysteriously that it made my stomach churn. I was alone in this strange, empty house, trying to come up with rational reasons that made it okay. Everything about his sudden departure was wrong. I cast about for excuses and picked apart my own behavior. Was I too willing? Had my Jersey pedigree come through and put him off? Did his blue-blood instincts sniff me out? Or was this the reason he was a player and never stayed with anyone for long?

I called Zoya, Tabitha’s maid, and she sent Mocha, who arrived in no time. It was good to see his familiar face. As the villa faded from view in the rear window, I thought of Nan, wishing I could call her about the bracelet, but I feared she’d be too worried. My phone buzzed.

“Haven’t heard from u. Everything ok ??”

It was Jess.

“Good,” I thumbed halfheartedly.

“THEN GET YOUR ASS TO NYC !! WE HAVE A DATE !! FASH NITE OUT LIKE U SAID !! THERE STILL ENUF TIME ?!?”

I couldn’t deal with it.

I reread ZK’s note instead.

Meet me at Robert’s tonight.

The last place I wanted to go, although everyone else seemed perfectly comfortable hanging around him. Speaking to ZK was the only thing I could think about. I couldn’t leave for the city without seeing him first.

My thoughts spun like a dreadful merry-go-round, returning to last night, the rowdy di

Then, falling into confusion, I thought of Nan’s lost bracelet, the way ZK was awake watching me, his self-deprecating, almost self-pitying comment. I tried to put myself in his place—his family broken by his father’s recklessness. People whispering. The grand name that once opened doors dragged through the mud.

My father called. Have business to finish.

Why a sudden call from his father? When had that occurred?

It was still early morning and Tabitha’s house was asleep when I returned. The balmy sea breeze rippled through the lush trees, swaying the branches and exposing the underside of their leaves. It was soothingly quiet by the pool.

I kept checking my phone messages, my texts, hoping for something from ZK. I started to text ZK and stopped. I felt like there was a hole where my heart used to be and it was sucking everything inside.