Being Audrey Hepburn by Mitchell Kriegman Page A

for,” she cracked.
    “Short’s good, right?”
    “Yeah, more contemporary,” Jess said. I spun around in the gorgeous emerald-green cocktail dress before the floor-length mirror, and even though we were standing in a concrete closet, I might as well have been in the grand ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria. I felt like I’d traveled back in time to a world where all the rules were different, where I was no longer bound by my mom, my hometown, and my limited prospects.
    I couldn’t wait to see the rest and reached for the bins containing shoes and jewelry, pulling out everything I could get my hands on. The shoes, I confess, were sort of a letdown. There were a couple of cute pairs of flats, but most of the heels were pretty boring and very dusty.
    One smallish box left.
    Inside—the jewelry, oh, the jewelry—a jaded Juliana rhinestone necklace, jeweled drop earrings, enameled bracelets, and sparkling flower brooches. I felt giddy when I spotted the last item at the bottom of the box—a velvet sack with a drawstring. I opened it and pulled out a tiny rhinestone tiara. So totally Audrey.
    It was like finding buried treasure.
    My mind raced, thinking what it would be like to be the kind of person who wore dresses like these; the people I’d know, the parties I’d attend, a life filled with glamorous possibilities.
    I would give anything to have Nan’s social abilities, her sly intelligence and humor. My own upbringing was so hopeless. Being raised by wolves would have been better than Mom and Courtney. I’d give anything to live the way Nan had, with enough elegance and poise to float through New York society as “one of them.”
    Jess placed the jade Juliana necklace around my neck, hooking it in the back, its breathtaking teardrop gemstones sparkling even in the dim light. That’s when it struck me.
    “Do you think you could, you know, update these?” I asked.
    “What? No way, they’re art!” Jess said, replacing the lid on the jewelry container. “They shouldn’t be altered; they should be preserved. Nan should donate these to a museum. Maybe the Met, maybe the Smithsonian. Most of them are pristine. It would be criminal to alter them.”
    “But they’re fashion. They’re meant to be worn,” I said firmly. “Their destiny is to be worn. Preferably, some place fabulous. Like, say, a recording-industry party.”
    Jess was silent; her jaw hardened and her eyes glowered.
    “Dude, are you insane? We are lucky, LUCKY, that we got away with the whole Audrey thing without getting caught. You know what happens if somebody figures that out? I’m still waiting to see if Joe reviews the security camera footage. I’m hoping they record over them every night, or I get fired. Fired! And both of us get hauled off to jail. End of story.”
    “Nan doesn’t think we’d actually do any jail time,” I offered.
    “Oh. My. God!!!! Seriously? You told Nan? What part of ‘we can’t tell anybody about this, ever ’ was unclear?”
    “Calm down. The police were at my house—not for me—for Ryan, and I freaked. Nan asked, and you know I can’t lie to Nan. She won’t tell anyone. She thought it was funny.”
    Jess shook her head and exhaled sharply with disappointment. “You’ve got to be effin’ kidding me. I can’t believe you’re planning to risk my job just to go to another cocktail round with the trust-fund crowd. To be Tabitha Eden’s groupie .”
    “It’s not about Tabitha. And we’re not talking about the Audrey dress. It won’t have anything to do with the museum.”
    “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You don’t think that when this whole charade blows up in your face and they start asking questions, they won’t trace it right back to Page Six, the Met, and that gala?” I hadn’t thought about that.
    “Don’t be mad at me,” I said. “You’re the one who’s always saying I should find something to be excited about.”
    “I meant a career! Shit, even a hobby. Not risking public