velvet coat and your hat with the gray ostrich feathers and told your coachman, who drove your four gray horses, to hurry to return to your big house that now looked out on the trees of the Parc Monceau? Was it because you were happily eager to go home without a king or even a stockbroker, and watch over the sleep of your little twin boys? Was it, oh, soft-hearted Gabrielle, because, you knew only too well what happened to women who listened to men, and surrendered that priceless possession they only possessed if no one else possessed it, for such is fate? To say nothing of biology?
With love from Gigi
.
Billy read the card and laughed and cried a little and resolved to wear the peignoir tonight, for she too had listened to a man, and she, like Gabrielle, had no regrets.
As soon as Gigi got back to Scruples Two, she made a lunch date with Sasha, who was free that very day. Sasha Nevsky was the last important person to whom she had to tell her news, except for Zach, who wouldn’t care where she worked as long as she was happy.
And her father, of course. Vito Orsini was in Europefor the moment, but as soon as he came home she’d have dinner with him and discuss the whole thing. Their relationship had grown close and warm in the past years, and often, when Gigi was alone, Vito would take her out, always to a different restaurant, and insist that she order the most expensive things on the menu, and talk over all sorts of things, with an intimacy she didn’t believe would be possible for a daughter who’d grown up normally in her father’s house.
“You look awfully pleased with yourself—did someone just give you a lifetime supply of perfect panty hose?” Sasha asked her closest friend, with whom she’d shared apartments in New York and West Hollywood until, little over a year ago, she’d met Josh Hillman, Billy’s lawyer, and agreed to marry him on their first date.
“I’m so excited and relieved I don’t know what to do,” Gigi admitted gaily. “I was dreading telling Spider and Billy that I’m leaving, but they both think it’s a great idea.”
“Leaving? Leaving Los Angeles?” Sasha looked bewildered.
“Of course not, leaving Scruples Two.”
“What?” Sasha shouted. “You’re doing
what?”
“Stop making that awful noise, for heaven’s sake, it’s not going to bother you. I’ve got that job at the ad agency I told you about, isn’t that terrific?”
“It’s the worst news I’ve ever heard! How can you do this to me, Gigi? Oh God, I don’t—I
won’t
—believe it, you’re just springing this on me, as if it doesn’t matter? What ever happened to you to make you so cruel?”
Two large tears plopped out of Sasha’s eyes and dribbled down her cheeks, merely enhancing her Edwardian beauty, that classic Gibson Girl profile, that lavish luster of black hair and black eyes and white skin that, in combination with her marvelous body and irresistible walk, had made her the best lingerie model on Seventh Avenue before she joined Gigi in Scruples Two.
Gigi looked at her in astonishment. Sasha, the famously hard-hearted tormentor of the male sex; Sasha, who hadbrought Josh Hillman, the most eligible single man in Beverly Hills, to his knees in one evening; Sasha, the sweepingly tall, the domineering, the possessor of all the answers—weeping? She’d never seen a tear form in those eyes before.
“But, Sasha,” Gigi protested, watching more huge tears appear, “it shouldn’t make any difference to you. It won’t change anything between us, you’re always out of the office with your assistants, why in God’s name are you crying? Stop it, or at least get out a Kleenex, this is getting embarrassing … people are looking at you.”
“Let them look,” Sasha gulped as a narrow ribbon of tears dripped off her chin and hit the tablecloth. “I’m not ashamed of honest emotion.”
“If you’d just explain … What emotion, exactly? It can’t be that you’re going to miss
With love from Gigi
.
Billy read the card and laughed and cried a little and resolved to wear the peignoir tonight, for she too had listened to a man, and she, like Gabrielle, had no regrets.
As soon as Gigi got back to Scruples Two, she made a lunch date with Sasha, who was free that very day. Sasha Nevsky was the last important person to whom she had to tell her news, except for Zach, who wouldn’t care where she worked as long as she was happy.
And her father, of course. Vito Orsini was in Europefor the moment, but as soon as he came home she’d have dinner with him and discuss the whole thing. Their relationship had grown close and warm in the past years, and often, when Gigi was alone, Vito would take her out, always to a different restaurant, and insist that she order the most expensive things on the menu, and talk over all sorts of things, with an intimacy she didn’t believe would be possible for a daughter who’d grown up normally in her father’s house.
“You look awfully pleased with yourself—did someone just give you a lifetime supply of perfect panty hose?” Sasha asked her closest friend, with whom she’d shared apartments in New York and West Hollywood until, little over a year ago, she’d met Josh Hillman, Billy’s lawyer, and agreed to marry him on their first date.
“I’m so excited and relieved I don’t know what to do,” Gigi admitted gaily. “I was dreading telling Spider and Billy that I’m leaving, but they both think it’s a great idea.”
“Leaving? Leaving Los Angeles?” Sasha looked bewildered.
“Of course not, leaving Scruples Two.”
“What?” Sasha shouted. “You’re doing
what?”
“Stop making that awful noise, for heaven’s sake, it’s not going to bother you. I’ve got that job at the ad agency I told you about, isn’t that terrific?”
“It’s the worst news I’ve ever heard! How can you do this to me, Gigi? Oh God, I don’t—I
won’t
—believe it, you’re just springing this on me, as if it doesn’t matter? What ever happened to you to make you so cruel?”
Two large tears plopped out of Sasha’s eyes and dribbled down her cheeks, merely enhancing her Edwardian beauty, that classic Gibson Girl profile, that lavish luster of black hair and black eyes and white skin that, in combination with her marvelous body and irresistible walk, had made her the best lingerie model on Seventh Avenue before she joined Gigi in Scruples Two.
Gigi looked at her in astonishment. Sasha, the famously hard-hearted tormentor of the male sex; Sasha, who hadbrought Josh Hillman, the most eligible single man in Beverly Hills, to his knees in one evening; Sasha, the sweepingly tall, the domineering, the possessor of all the answers—weeping? She’d never seen a tear form in those eyes before.
“But, Sasha,” Gigi protested, watching more huge tears appear, “it shouldn’t make any difference to you. It won’t change anything between us, you’re always out of the office with your assistants, why in God’s name are you crying? Stop it, or at least get out a Kleenex, this is getting embarrassing … people are looking at you.”
“Let them look,” Sasha gulped as a narrow ribbon of tears dripped off her chin and hit the tablecloth. “I’m not ashamed of honest emotion.”
“If you’d just explain … What emotion, exactly? It can’t be that you’re going to miss
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