Being Audrey Hepburn

“Are you talking to someone?” Chase asked.

I turned back to ZK and saw he was hiding in the shadows.

“No, but I’ll catch up with you soon,” I said.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded and he left.

“Follow me,” ZK said, half his face in shadow. And I did.

64

The stretch limo pulled away almost as soon as the door closed. In the darkness I hadn’t realized anyone else was there.

“Nice of you to join us, Lisbeth,” Dahlia said, neatly tucked away in the back corner of her limo. Wearing a silver metallic Cavalli minidress with a plunging neckline and a broad silver cuff, she was provocative and intimidating at the same time. “ZK is lovely as always, isn’t he?”

ZK watched impassively.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I think men are so much more attractive when they’re depressed, don’t you?” She examined ZK’s profile as if he were a curiosity in a store that she might buy. “They have this deep, brooding, desperate look when they’re disheartened, like trapped creatures. I think it’s sexy. What do you think, Lisbeth?”

“I think you’re a monster.”

“Oh now I’m a monster. That’s flattering,” she said as if it was the fu

“We enjoyed your little fashion show, didn’t we, ZK?” A glaze had settled in ZK’s eyes, which locked in a long-suffering expression of his that was familiar to me. “Join me in a toast to Designer X,” she said, holding up her glass, “and an end to the little pretend life you’ve been living.” Her laser-focused eyes bored into mine so intensely I felt like I would evaporate into nothing.

“ZK, if you had any decency you’d stop this,” I pleaded.

Dahlia threw back her head and laughed.

“Decency?” she said, barely glancing at ZK. “I think that word left the family crest ages ago. Besides, ZK showed me this exquisite bracelet of yours.” She pulled Nan’s inscribed platinum band out of her silver clutch and waved it in front of me.

“Give it back.”

“That wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” She slipped the bracelet on and off her slender wrist. “That’s the problem with you, Lisbeth. You’re not much fun, and I like my friends to be more fun.”

“I can see that I have deeply offended you, and I am sorry. But, please, I will never bother you again, please give me the bracelet and I will go away.”

It was hard to describe the expression on her face. It was like the look of a cat pi

“You don’t bother me, Lisbeth. You’re not fun, but you’re entertaining.” Dahlia placed the bracelet back in her clutch and snapped it shut. “So tell us about your Nan? She sounds like a fascinating person,” Dahlia began, gazing into my eyes with mock seriousness. “Dulac—that’s her last name, isn’t it? Just like yours.” She laughed again, more of a cackle, really.

“You couldn’t possibly understand anything about my grandmother. Nan is a wonderful person, with more grace and style than you or anyone you know,” I answered.

“Oh really? Then I assume you are aware she’s also a tad notorious. Not to mention your grandfather—Sammy G—‘hardened criminals,’ I think, is the term they use.”

“You’ve got it wrong. His name wasn’t Sammy. My grandfather’s name was Frank and he was just a construction worker.”

Dahlia could hardly contain her pleasure.

“So you grew up thinking he was a construction worker? What’s that expression they have where you come from? Fuhgeddahbouddit!”

“Okay, stop it now, Dahlia,” ZK spoke up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Take it easy, lover boy,” she replied. “We’ll be done soon enough.” She ran her hands through his hair like he was a pet. His eyes haunted, he looked horribly humiliated.

“Poor ZK,” Dahlia said, studying his profile. “Even though the whole affair was my idea, I think he actually fell in love with you.”

ZK shoved Dahlia’s hand away.

“Stop the car!” he yelled, and the limo pulled to the curb. ZK opened the door and stormed out. The steam from a manhole cover rose up in the street. We had driven uptown, but I couldn’t see where.

“Lisbeth, please get out of the car,” he said. Dahlia didn’t seem to care, so I slipped from the limo, relieved to be outside but concerned about the platinum band in Dahlia’s clutch. She watched the scene unfold as if she were viewing a play.

“Lisbeth, this is the truth, and you might as well know because Dahlia is going to expose it,” ZK said. “Dahlia put a private detective on your case as soon as she met you. She pushed me to invite you to Soho House that night. The man who you thought was your grandfather is the Sammy G who gave that bracelet to your grandmother. He was a Mafia boss who had been in hiding for almost forty years until he died. He married a society girl named Simon Fleurice Dulac—your grandmother—who vanished mysteriously decades ago.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “None of this makes any sense. How can you be part of this with her? Why should I believe any of what you are saying?”

“I know,” ZK said, as his whole body seemed to slump like a marionette whose strings had been cut. “You’re so different, Lisbeth. Wherever you came from, whoever you are. Everything is new to you, filled with possibilities. I have none, never have had any. In my world I don’t stand a chance,” he answered. “I had hoped you wouldn’t take me seriously, but you did. And the more I grew to appreciate you, the more I knew I would be bad for you. I made another shameful Northcott bargain in a history of bad bargains. My family was at stake. It was the only way.”

I turned to Dahlia, who was enjoying the drama.

“Dahlia, your private detective has simply mixed my Nan up with someone else,” I said. “Please just give me back the bracelet. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll disappear. Just leave Nan alone.”

She paused, seeming to savor the situation. I thought for a moment that she might be gratified by how utterly devastated I was, how broken ZK seemed, and return Nan’s bracelet.

“I can’t dear, sweet girl; it’s federal evidence. When we discovered the truth, I was obliged to consult the district attorney, an old friend of my father’s. There’s nothing I can do now. Oh, I forgot, I’ve been talking to a delightful New York Post reporter about you; he’s done quite a bit of digging, which was very helpful, including a certain Page Six photo.”

Page Six. Those words felt like a punch in the stomach.

“You’ve had your moment, ZK. I must admit, it was a moving performance, almost seemed like you meant it,” she said with a smirk. “It’s time to go.”

His feet seemed glued to the street. Dahlia’s eyes hardened. “If you’d like me to hold up my end of the deal, do come along,” she said, and the limo driver closed her door.

ZK walked around the limo almost as if his body had no choice. He barely glanced up as he ducked inside. But I saw in that mere instant his pleading eyes, the lost boy in all his agony.

Dahlia lowered her window.

“My dear, I think you can assume your life is ruined. I wish I knew how to make one of those evil supervillain laughs. This would be the time for it, don’t you think?”

65

With every step it felt like I was leaving behind some part of myself. I compulsively moved forward, staring down at the sidewalk in that determined way people walk in the city where no one dares talk to you. I found myself at Central Park by Columbus Circle and realized I was only a few blocks from Tiffany’s.

Even though the evening was winding down, the carriages and their sad horses were still escorting tourists through the park. Turning down Fifth, I saw the seamless glass box that was the Apple store glistening in the moonlight.