that it was time to
really
get into character. Two days into her twenty-eight, Ella finally had a last name: Medeiros. Unfortunately, she also was allegedly Brazilian with an English-French-Swedish accent, and had impulsively tacked on the title of ‘baroness,’ which, she suspected, created even more uncertainty about her origins. So Jane had decided to take a few minutes in the lobby bar to figure out who Ella really was, and had realized almost right away that even this presented problems: Jane drank chardonnay whenever she had the option, but what did Ella drink?
After an uncomfortably long hesitation in front of the patiently impassive bartender, she had remembered Maeve’s sweet-bitter-dark drink from the night of the disastrous cocktail party at MoMA. It had been stronger than Jane had really wanted, but she also remembered the way a borrowed sip of it had steadied her nerves, and she decided that Ella would probably love them. She also loved bright colours (the pastels and even some of the neutrals in Jane’s closet had made her look dull and lifeless), high heels even though she was already tall, dogs more than cats, and the partly unbuttoned shirt of the unfairly tall, dark, and handsome man in the corner armchair. Jane had never really gone for the brooding, dangerous type, but to Ella it was hot as hell.
I can totally do this,
Jane decided, letting the heat of the whiskey spread outward from the pit of her perfectly flat stomach. Dee, still giddy from her promising job interview the day before, had convinced Jane that she needed to go all in to shore up her disguise. After all, she couldn’t risk the Dorans knowing where she actually lived, but if she wanted to hang with them, she couldn’t very well pretend to be homeless, either. She might need a place to let Laura see; an address to hand out on the calling cards that the printer swore would be delivered by four o’clock at the very latest.
There was the sound of footsteps on the pale marble tile, and Jane turned instinctively to see if it might be the printer, finished ahead of schedule. But it was just a bellhop, studiously working not to struggle under the weight of about thirty shopping bags. Most were from Barney’s, which was conveniently nearby, but Jane also spotted a few from Fresh, Teuscher, and Jo Malone.
I think Ella prefers Annick Goutal,
Jane decided as the young man passed behind her chair,
but the rest is good.
Every sip of her cocktail made it easier to feel decisive, and she took another to celebrate the latest conclusion she had drawn about her temporary persona.
‘“Garden” apparently means something different to you from what it does to me,’ an icy-cold voice announced, and Jane swivelled again on her black leather chair to see what the disturbance was. She tracked the voice across the shiny marble floor and past the polished brass of the revolving doors to the deep cherry finish of the reception desk. ‘I will be happy with your complimentary upgrade once I have been able to inspect the new suite,’ the woman standing at the desk continued in a tone that made Jane feel absolutely positive the ‘upgrade’ in question had not been intentionally complimentary. Jane took in the complaining guest’s close-cropped black hair and her sinewy, deeply tanned calves, and guessed that she was the source of the mountain of shopping bags that had just disappeared with the bellhop behind the doors of the service elevator.
The conciliatory-looking desk agent handed the unhappy woman a new key card, mouthing what looked distinctly like profuse apologies. Jane rolled her eyes and fished the cherry out of her drink. Was Ella the type of person who made a scene to get stuff for free? It would distinguish her from Jane, but hopefully there were enough other differences between them that such desperate measures wouldn’t be necessary. She bit into the cherry, letting the soft burn of the liqueur spread to every corner of her mouth.
The
really
get into character. Two days into her twenty-eight, Ella finally had a last name: Medeiros. Unfortunately, she also was allegedly Brazilian with an English-French-Swedish accent, and had impulsively tacked on the title of ‘baroness,’ which, she suspected, created even more uncertainty about her origins. So Jane had decided to take a few minutes in the lobby bar to figure out who Ella really was, and had realized almost right away that even this presented problems: Jane drank chardonnay whenever she had the option, but what did Ella drink?
After an uncomfortably long hesitation in front of the patiently impassive bartender, she had remembered Maeve’s sweet-bitter-dark drink from the night of the disastrous cocktail party at MoMA. It had been stronger than Jane had really wanted, but she also remembered the way a borrowed sip of it had steadied her nerves, and she decided that Ella would probably love them. She also loved bright colours (the pastels and even some of the neutrals in Jane’s closet had made her look dull and lifeless), high heels even though she was already tall, dogs more than cats, and the partly unbuttoned shirt of the unfairly tall, dark, and handsome man in the corner armchair. Jane had never really gone for the brooding, dangerous type, but to Ella it was hot as hell.
I can totally do this,
Jane decided, letting the heat of the whiskey spread outward from the pit of her perfectly flat stomach. Dee, still giddy from her promising job interview the day before, had convinced Jane that she needed to go all in to shore up her disguise. After all, she couldn’t risk the Dorans knowing where she actually lived, but if she wanted to hang with them, she couldn’t very well pretend to be homeless, either. She might need a place to let Laura see; an address to hand out on the calling cards that the printer swore would be delivered by four o’clock at the very latest.
There was the sound of footsteps on the pale marble tile, and Jane turned instinctively to see if it might be the printer, finished ahead of schedule. But it was just a bellhop, studiously working not to struggle under the weight of about thirty shopping bags. Most were from Barney’s, which was conveniently nearby, but Jane also spotted a few from Fresh, Teuscher, and Jo Malone.
I think Ella prefers Annick Goutal,
Jane decided as the young man passed behind her chair,
but the rest is good.
Every sip of her cocktail made it easier to feel decisive, and she took another to celebrate the latest conclusion she had drawn about her temporary persona.
‘“Garden” apparently means something different to you from what it does to me,’ an icy-cold voice announced, and Jane swivelled again on her black leather chair to see what the disturbance was. She tracked the voice across the shiny marble floor and past the polished brass of the revolving doors to the deep cherry finish of the reception desk. ‘I will be happy with your complimentary upgrade once I have been able to inspect the new suite,’ the woman standing at the desk continued in a tone that made Jane feel absolutely positive the ‘upgrade’ in question had not been intentionally complimentary. Jane took in the complaining guest’s close-cropped black hair and her sinewy, deeply tanned calves, and guessed that she was the source of the mountain of shopping bags that had just disappeared with the bellhop behind the doors of the service elevator.
The conciliatory-looking desk agent handed the unhappy woman a new key card, mouthing what looked distinctly like profuse apologies. Jane rolled her eyes and fished the cherry out of her drink. Was Ella the type of person who made a scene to get stuff for free? It would distinguish her from Jane, but hopefully there were enough other differences between them that such desperate measures wouldn’t be necessary. She bit into the cherry, letting the soft burn of the liqueur spread to every corner of her mouth.
The
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