looks like he’d be an awfully good fuck.”
Janey immediately rose to his defense. “I’ll bet he isn’t like that,” she said. “He looks like he has a soul .”
“If he does,” Mimi said, handing her back the binoculars, “it won’t last long in the East End.” She appeared to have lost interest in Zizi, because she began looking around. “I’m worried about Selden.”
I’m not, Janey wanted to say, but instead asked casually, “When was he supposed to get here?”
“Three o’clock,” Mimi said. “And it’s nearly a quarter to four. I hope he didn’t get lost again. You don’t see him anywhere, do you?” Reluctantly, Janey tore her eyes away from the polo field, making a pretense of scanning the crowd behind them through the binoculars. Mimi went on absentmindedly: “George is crazy about Selden. He thinks he’s going to be a huge deal . . .
not that Selden isn’t already, but George says he wouldn’t be surprised if Selden had a G5 in a couple of years.”
“Real-ly?” Janey said. “But you know I don’t care about money.”
“Janey Wilcox!” Mimi exclaimed. “I hardly know you, but if you tell me you don’t care about money, you’ll be lying. And I can’t be friends with a liar!” This was delivered in an eerily juvenile tone, and Janey suspected that it was the tone taken by rich teenage girls in boarding school. She couldn’t tell if Mimi was kidding or serious, and she felt the vast differences between them.
She wanted to be conciliatory, so she said, “I guess every woman cares about money . . .”
“They do,” Mimi said. “It’s no use pretending one doesn’t, because there’s nothing worse than having to support a man . . . And you can’t be put off by the way Selden looks. Really successful men don’t usually look like much of anything.”
“I actually thought he was . . . handsome,” Janey said, nearly choking on the 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:22 PM Page 55
t r a d i n g u p
55
word. And then, to cover up her distaste, she added, “But Mimi, I told you before, I honestly don’t think he liked me.”
“Now, darling,” Mimi said, “I know men, and believe me, Selden is interested.
You wouldn’t believe how excited he got when I told him I was going to the polo with you.”
“Maybe he changed his mind,” Janey murmured, training the binoculars on the entrance to the polo—a narrow track clogged with cars that ran between two fences. “There’s still a long line of cars to get in,” she said. “That’s one of the problems with this place. They can never figure out the parking.” As she scanned the line of cars, her eye was caught by a rare 1948 Jaguar XK
120 with a six-cylinder engine. The car was so extraordinary (the first two hundred were crafted by hand), Janey had seen only one in her life—at a classic car show at the old Bridgehampton racetrack. She had even considered trying to have sex with the owner in order to get closer to the car, but it turned out he wasn’t there. And now, wondering who would be rich enough—and sophisticated enough—to own such a car, she focused the binoculars on the driver’s head.
There was, she thought, something disturbingly familiar about the driver’s hair, and with a jolt she saw that Selden Rose’s face was attached. She wondered what Selden Rose was doing in a car like that—a car that was far too cool for him—and she turned to Mimi. “I just saw Selden Rose. He should be here any minute,” she said with a sigh, thinking it was one of the more unfortunate rules of life that it was always the jerky guys who had the best cars. And with a touch of resignation, she turned her attention back to the field.
Selden Rose had a headful of thick nappy hair that looked like it never grew and therefore never required cutting or maintenance. His big boyish grin exposed fluoride-hardened teeth that were not perfectly straightened by sixties orthodon-tia; he was from outside Chicago and appeared to
Janey immediately rose to his defense. “I’ll bet he isn’t like that,” she said. “He looks like he has a soul .”
“If he does,” Mimi said, handing her back the binoculars, “it won’t last long in the East End.” She appeared to have lost interest in Zizi, because she began looking around. “I’m worried about Selden.”
I’m not, Janey wanted to say, but instead asked casually, “When was he supposed to get here?”
“Three o’clock,” Mimi said. “And it’s nearly a quarter to four. I hope he didn’t get lost again. You don’t see him anywhere, do you?” Reluctantly, Janey tore her eyes away from the polo field, making a pretense of scanning the crowd behind them through the binoculars. Mimi went on absentmindedly: “George is crazy about Selden. He thinks he’s going to be a huge deal . . .
not that Selden isn’t already, but George says he wouldn’t be surprised if Selden had a G5 in a couple of years.”
“Real-ly?” Janey said. “But you know I don’t care about money.”
“Janey Wilcox!” Mimi exclaimed. “I hardly know you, but if you tell me you don’t care about money, you’ll be lying. And I can’t be friends with a liar!” This was delivered in an eerily juvenile tone, and Janey suspected that it was the tone taken by rich teenage girls in boarding school. She couldn’t tell if Mimi was kidding or serious, and she felt the vast differences between them.
She wanted to be conciliatory, so she said, “I guess every woman cares about money . . .”
“They do,” Mimi said. “It’s no use pretending one doesn’t, because there’s nothing worse than having to support a man . . . And you can’t be put off by the way Selden looks. Really successful men don’t usually look like much of anything.”
“I actually thought he was . . . handsome,” Janey said, nearly choking on the 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:22 PM Page 55
t r a d i n g u p
55
word. And then, to cover up her distaste, she added, “But Mimi, I told you before, I honestly don’t think he liked me.”
“Now, darling,” Mimi said, “I know men, and believe me, Selden is interested.
You wouldn’t believe how excited he got when I told him I was going to the polo with you.”
“Maybe he changed his mind,” Janey murmured, training the binoculars on the entrance to the polo—a narrow track clogged with cars that ran between two fences. “There’s still a long line of cars to get in,” she said. “That’s one of the problems with this place. They can never figure out the parking.” As she scanned the line of cars, her eye was caught by a rare 1948 Jaguar XK
120 with a six-cylinder engine. The car was so extraordinary (the first two hundred were crafted by hand), Janey had seen only one in her life—at a classic car show at the old Bridgehampton racetrack. She had even considered trying to have sex with the owner in order to get closer to the car, but it turned out he wasn’t there. And now, wondering who would be rich enough—and sophisticated enough—to own such a car, she focused the binoculars on the driver’s head.
There was, she thought, something disturbingly familiar about the driver’s hair, and with a jolt she saw that Selden Rose’s face was attached. She wondered what Selden Rose was doing in a car like that—a car that was far too cool for him—and she turned to Mimi. “I just saw Selden Rose. He should be here any minute,” she said with a sigh, thinking it was one of the more unfortunate rules of life that it was always the jerky guys who had the best cars. And with a touch of resignation, she turned her attention back to the field.
Selden Rose had a headful of thick nappy hair that looked like it never grew and therefore never required cutting or maintenance. His big boyish grin exposed fluoride-hardened teeth that were not perfectly straightened by sixties orthodon-tia; he was from outside Chicago and appeared to
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