Everyone Worth Knowing by Lauren Weisberger Page A

vibrated across my coffee table like a wind-up toy. I debated
    whether or not to answer it. The cell phone was companyissued
    and, much like my new colleagues, didn't ever seem to rest.
    I'd been out the last three nights, attending events the company
    had put on, following Kelly as she did everything from consulting
    with clients to firing slow bartenders, hosting VIPs, and arranging
    for press passes. The hours were even more grueling than at the
    bank—a whole day of office work followed by a full night out—
    but the office buzzed with young, pretty people, and if one has to
    spend fifteen hours a day at work, I thought I might prefer DJs or
    champagne cocktails to diversified portfolios.
    TXT MESSAGE! appeared on my color screen. Text message? I'd
    never before received a message or sent one. After a moment's
    hesitation, I looked at the screen and hit Read.
    din 2nite @ 9? cip dwntn on w.broad, c u there.
    What was that? Some sort of cryptic dinner invitation, for sure,
    but where and with whom? The only clue to its origin was a 917
    number I didn't recognize. I dialed it and a breathless girl answered
    immediately.
    "Hey, Bette! What's up? You in for tonight?" the voice said, crushing
    my hope that the person had simply dialed the wrong number.
    "Uh, hi. Urn, who is this?"
     
    "Bette! It's Elisa. We've only worked together twenty-four/seven
    for the past week! We're all going out tonight to celebrate being done
    with the Candace party. It'll be the usual crew. See you at nine?"
    I'd planned to meet Penelope at the Black Door since I'd
    barely seen her during my unemployment hibernation, but I didn't
    see how I could turn down my first social invitation from my new
    colleagues.
    "Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds great. What was the name of that
    restaurant again?"
    "Cipriani Downtown?" she asked, sounding a bit incredulous
    that I wasn't able to deduce as much from her earlier shorthand.
    "You've been, right?"
    "Of course. I love it there. Do you mind if I bring a friend? I
    had plans already and—"
    "Fab! See you both in a couple hours!" she screeched and
    hung up.
    I snapped my phone shut and did what every New Yorker
    does instinctively upon hearing the name of a restaurant: I checked
    Zagat. Twenty-one for food, twenty for decor, and a still respectable
    eighteen for service. And it wasn't a one-word name like
    Koi or Butter or Lotus, which might seem innocuous but almost always
    guaranteed an exceptionally horrid time. So far, everything
    looked promising.
    "To see or be seen is never the question" at this SoHo Northern
    Italian where watching Eurobabes "air kissing" and "pretending to
    eat their salads" is more to the point than the surprisingly good
    "creative" fare; natives may "feel like foreigners in their own
    country," but the high ratings speak for themselves.
    Ah, so it was going to be another Eurobabe night. Whatever
    that meant. And more to the point, what was I supposed to wear?
    Elisa and crew seemed to rotate between black pants, black skirts,
    and black dresses at work, so it was probably safe to stick with the
    formula. I dialed Penelope at the bank.
     
    "Hey, it's me. What's up?"
    "Ugh. You are so unbelievably lucky that you left this wretched
    sweatshop. Is Kelly looking to hire anyone else?"
    "Yeah, I wish. But listen—what do you think about meeting
    everyone tonight?"
    "Everyone?"
    "Well, not everyone, just my immediate work group. I know
    we had plans, but since we always go to the Black Door, 1 thought
    it might be fun to go to dinner with them. Are you up for it?"
    "Sure," she said, sounding too tired to move. "Avery's going out
    with a bunch of friends from high school tonight and I was just so
    not interested. Dinner sounds fun. Where is it?"
    "Cipriani Downtown. Have you been?"
    "No, but my mother talks about it obsessively. She's been dying
    for me to become a regular."
    "Should I be upset that your mother and my uncle seem to
    know every cool place in the city, and we're completely