Ripped at the Seams by Nancy Krulik Page B

scene there. Sami had read that Leonardo DiCaprio had been there every night for a month while he was shooting his last film, and that Liv Tyler had celebrated her birthday in the VIP room.
    Those celebs weren’t there tonight, butthere was certainly enough glitter and glam to go around. In the corner, Sami recognized the faces of several young models she’d seen in fashion magazines and on TV commercials. Some were exotic, with long dark hair and unique features, while others had blond hair and blue eyes. But they were all long legged, and dressed magnificently in casual chic dresses and simple accessories. They giggled loudly, knowing they were bringing attention to themselves as they happily shared a single flan dessert.
    Then Sami noticed a familiar face standing by the bar. “Oh, my goodness!” she squealed as she gripped Bruce’s arm. “Isn’t that Lucy Liu? It could be her, you know. I read somewhere that she was born in New York….” Sami’s eyes suddenly fell on another woman at the bar. She was a tall, beautiful African-American woman with long, dyed blond hair. Her clothes were obviously very expensive, if a little flashy. There was a crowd around her, and by the looks of her flamboyant hand motions, she enjoyed that immensely. She was the most exotic woman Sami’d ever seen.
    Or is she?
“Oh wow!” Sami exclaimed suddenly. “That’s a
man
!”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Sami, don’t stare,” Bruce hissed in her ear. “And don’t talk so loud.”
    Sami blushed. She hadn’t realized that she’d been staring or shouting. She’d just been so shocked by the realization.
    â€œThat’s not just any man,” Bruce whispered. “It’s RuPaul, a very famous entertainer.”
    â€œI’ve never heard of her … or should I say him … I mean, what do you call him or her?”
    Bruce rolled his eyes. “RuPaul.”
    Sami nodded. “Boy, wait until I tell Celia about this.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Sami, stop behaving like a tourist. Keep your cool. Just act like you’re one of them.”
    Sami looked at Bruce as though he had three heads. How could she—a girl from Elk Lake, Minnesota—ever pretend to be one of the beautiful New York people? It wasn’t possible.
    Bruce went up to the mâitre d’ and gave him his name. The man looked skeptical atfirst, but then checked his list. “Ah, here you are,
Señor
Jamison. Right this way.”
    They followed the man to a table far in the back, not far from the bathrooms. Still, Sami was thrilled just to be in the restaurant. Bruce, however, was not happy. “Don’t you have anything better?” he demanded.
    â€œI’m sorry,
señor,
but we’re totally booked for tonight. This is our last table.”
    Bruce sighed heavily.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Sami insisted. “I’ve got a great view of the restaurant from here.”
    â€œIt’ll have to do,” Bruce said finally.
    A few moments later, a waiter appeared, and Bruce ordered dinner for the both of them, since Sami seemed confused by the menu. “Just trust me,” Bruce told Sami before he told the waiter what to bring. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
    Sami nodded and sipped on her water. She was trying to look nonchalant and sophisticated, just as Bruce had urged her to do. But the truth was, she was nervous and excited, waiting for Bruce to bring up the topic of her designs.
    He didn’t. They exchanged small talk throughout the meal, chatting about NewYork things: how awful the subways were, whether the mayor’s ban on smoking would ruin the club scene, and the high cost of rent. Not once did either of them mention anything having to do with the office. Most of the time it was Bruce holding forth with his opinions. Sami had nothing to compare these situations to. So she just nodded a lot.
Like my dad