phone. "My, ah, parents don't like me talking on the phone on school nights."
He sounded as surprised to hear what I'd said as I was to have said it. "Wow. They're, like, really strict, aren't they?"
"You don't know the half of it." I shook my head to show how crazy they were, but then I remembered
108
he couldn't see me. I tried a long-suffering sigh instead.
Tom was clearly unmoved by my Academy Award-winning depiction of a misunderstood teen.
"So, is it, like, a religious thing?"
"Um, not exactly." I don't know too much about Judaism, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't have a rule that forbids talking on the phone on school nights.
"Okay, I'd better talk fast, then. I was thinking that, you know, maybe you'd, like, want to go out sometime."
There was silence.
I knew Tom was waiting for me to respond, but all I could think to say was, This is what you get for not saying no, this is what you get for not saying no, this is what you get for not saying no. After the first couple of repetitions, the sentence began to have an almost hypnotic quality. I could feel myself being lulled into a trance.
Meanwhile, the silence grew. "Jan?" Tom said finally. "You still there?"
"The thing is, Tom, I wish I could, but I can't."
"You can't?" He sounded annoyed and embarrassed, like someone had just told him his fly was undone.
"I just can't."
More silence.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore.
"It's not that I don't want to," I lied.
"Oh?" he said in his regular voice.
"It's just...my parents .... "
"Your...oh, right. Oh. Sure. Wow." He laughed.
109
"Yeah, I mean, if they won't let you talk on the phone, they're not gonna let you ..."
"Right." We were both laughing now. I was so relieved that my laugh wasn't even fake.
"That's a bummer," Tom said. "You're so cool about it. Don't you get pissed off?"
"Yeah, well...what can I do? They're my parents." I sounded saintly as a March sister.
"Sure," said Tom, sounding bored. "Well, I guess you'd better get going, then."
"Yeah," I said.
"Well, bye." He hung up.
"Bye," I cooed.
I hung up the phone feeling the kind of happiness you only experience after dodging a bullet. I was so relieved I even made up a little dance and named it the "Tom Richmond Will Never Bother Me Again Jig."
Whoever said honesty is the best policy obviously didn't have much experience with dating.
110
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rebecca and I had prepared for Josh and Sarah's coming over as if we were the FBI and dinner was the War on Terrorism. Sometimes it is an excellent thing to have an It Girl for a best friend because she knows a lot of things about entertaining that I would never have guessed. For example, the rules and regulations of hostessing:
1. A good hostess always devotes herself to the least-popular guest. (That meant, since Sarah would be talking to my mom about how much fun life had been back in the seventies, and Josh's cousin would be talking to my dad about Columbia, it was clearly my job to entertain Josh.)
2. A good hostess never overdresses, yet always manages to look comfortable and sexy. (That was why I was going to wear my see-through shirt with a lacy tank top under it.)
3. A good hostess is relaxed; she does not spend the evening jumping up and down to bring things in from the kitchen and clear the table. (That explained why it was my mom's job to serve and clean up.)
In addition to educating me about being a perfect
111
hostess, Rebecca lent me her new lipstick, lip liner, and eyelash curler. Even when she has a big date at The Madison, a friend knows when you need MAC help way more than she does.
The problem is, there's only so much the right outfit and makeup can do when you're in the world's least-seductive setting. I mean, the bar at The Madison Hotel is a classy Midtown institution. It's got modular furniture covered in crisp white cotton, and the only people there (besides underage drinkers like me and Rebecca) are models and power brokers, who sip ice-cold martinis as
He sounded as surprised to hear what I'd said as I was to have said it. "Wow. They're, like, really strict, aren't they?"
"You don't know the half of it." I shook my head to show how crazy they were, but then I remembered
108
he couldn't see me. I tried a long-suffering sigh instead.
Tom was clearly unmoved by my Academy Award-winning depiction of a misunderstood teen.
"So, is it, like, a religious thing?"
"Um, not exactly." I don't know too much about Judaism, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't have a rule that forbids talking on the phone on school nights.
"Okay, I'd better talk fast, then. I was thinking that, you know, maybe you'd, like, want to go out sometime."
There was silence.
I knew Tom was waiting for me to respond, but all I could think to say was, This is what you get for not saying no, this is what you get for not saying no, this is what you get for not saying no. After the first couple of repetitions, the sentence began to have an almost hypnotic quality. I could feel myself being lulled into a trance.
Meanwhile, the silence grew. "Jan?" Tom said finally. "You still there?"
"The thing is, Tom, I wish I could, but I can't."
"You can't?" He sounded annoyed and embarrassed, like someone had just told him his fly was undone.
"I just can't."
More silence.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore.
"It's not that I don't want to," I lied.
"Oh?" he said in his regular voice.
"It's just...my parents .... "
"Your...oh, right. Oh. Sure. Wow." He laughed.
109
"Yeah, I mean, if they won't let you talk on the phone, they're not gonna let you ..."
"Right." We were both laughing now. I was so relieved that my laugh wasn't even fake.
"That's a bummer," Tom said. "You're so cool about it. Don't you get pissed off?"
"Yeah, well...what can I do? They're my parents." I sounded saintly as a March sister.
"Sure," said Tom, sounding bored. "Well, I guess you'd better get going, then."
"Yeah," I said.
"Well, bye." He hung up.
"Bye," I cooed.
I hung up the phone feeling the kind of happiness you only experience after dodging a bullet. I was so relieved I even made up a little dance and named it the "Tom Richmond Will Never Bother Me Again Jig."
Whoever said honesty is the best policy obviously didn't have much experience with dating.
110
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rebecca and I had prepared for Josh and Sarah's coming over as if we were the FBI and dinner was the War on Terrorism. Sometimes it is an excellent thing to have an It Girl for a best friend because she knows a lot of things about entertaining that I would never have guessed. For example, the rules and regulations of hostessing:
1. A good hostess always devotes herself to the least-popular guest. (That meant, since Sarah would be talking to my mom about how much fun life had been back in the seventies, and Josh's cousin would be talking to my dad about Columbia, it was clearly my job to entertain Josh.)
2. A good hostess never overdresses, yet always manages to look comfortable and sexy. (That was why I was going to wear my see-through shirt with a lacy tank top under it.)
3. A good hostess is relaxed; she does not spend the evening jumping up and down to bring things in from the kitchen and clear the table. (That explained why it was my mom's job to serve and clean up.)
In addition to educating me about being a perfect
111
hostess, Rebecca lent me her new lipstick, lip liner, and eyelash curler. Even when she has a big date at The Madison, a friend knows when you need MAC help way more than she does.
The problem is, there's only so much the right outfit and makeup can do when you're in the world's least-seductive setting. I mean, the bar at The Madison Hotel is a classy Midtown institution. It's got modular furniture covered in crisp white cotton, and the only people there (besides underage drinkers like me and Rebecca) are models and power brokers, who sip ice-cold martinis as
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