[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Basically. His mom grinned, her blue eyes sparkling as
she grabbed two frosted mugs from the freezer and poured the
beer. And some of Soho, too.
Great, Drew said glumly. This was just what he needed
right now. Did you invite the Macallisters?
Did you manage to kill all your brain cells in Amsterdam?
His mother s brow wrinkled as she feigned confusion. Of
course I invited the Macallisters! Don t tell me you have a
problem with that not after all the time you spent with Madi-
son last spring.
What s going on with you two, anyway? His dad picked
up the plates and moved into the bright yellow dining room,
placing them down on the long cherrywood table where the
Van Allens ate nightly when they all happened to be home,
which wasn t very often.
I don t know. Drew sighed, swallowing hard and run-
ning a hand through his hair.
You don t know, huh? Drew s dad said, wiping bits of
yellow-tinged coconut milk off his hands with a dishtowel. I
know what it s like to not know, Drew. It s tough not know-
ing, but if there s anything that can help you out, it s the advice
of a guy like me who knows what it s like to not know.
54
THE ELI TE
Great, Drew thought. Here we go again. Drew could feel his
mother s eyes lock on him the instant his dad began to speak
and he knew that if he were to look over, she would be sipping
at her drink intently, trying to hide her laughter behind the
glass.
Now, before I met your mother, Drew, when I first came
to New York I knew this girl named. . .
Marissa? Drew half-coughed, half-laughed.
Her name was Marissa, his dad said with surprise, sitting
down at the dining table and picking up his fork. How did
you know that?
Because you ve told us this story a million times, maybe?
His mother burst out laughing, stabbing her chicken with a
fork and releasing a cloud of curry-scented steam in the air.
Ah, the infamous Marissa . . .
Drew s dad placed his fork at the side of his plate and sur-
veyed his son calmly. Are you trying to tell me that you re
bored of my stories?
That s exactly what I m trying to tell you, Drew said,
walking toward his room and shutting the door behind the
sound of his parents laughter, and then the unmistakable
sound of two pairs of lips meeting and retracting. He shook
his head, smiling. He was probably the only kid in Manhattan
to have two still-happily married parents and things could
definitely be a lot worse than having a dad who told the same
stupid story over and over. Drew kicked a pile of dirty laundry
out of the way, maneuvered around his still-unpacked suitcase,
and sat down on the bed, grabbing his laptop. He couldn t
55
JENNI FER BANASH
help but wonder if Madison would someday be one of those
stories, if someday he d be the one standing in the kitchen
telling his own son about the one who got away.
And as he stretched out on the bed and checked his e-mail,
he realized that not only wasn t he ready to become his father,
he also wasn t ready to let Madison go just yet.
56
better late
than
never . . .
Madison flopped down on her white Siberian goose-
down comforter and exhaled loudly. Drew had only been back
for a nanosecond and already everything was even worse than
before he d left. Maybe now that she was home, she d be able
to calm down though just thinking about the way Drew had
flirted with that horrible Casey girl right in front of her, she
seriously doubted it. Was he just trying to piss her off? Make
her jealous? Had he suddenly developed a brain tumor? There
had to be some reason to explain his decidedly dumbass be-
havior. Even though Madison didn t know if she even wanted
to be with Drew anymore, she wasn t sure she was ready to
give him up either especially not to some terminally uncool,
JENNI FER BANASH
frizzy-haired loser. After all, she was Madison Macallister: She
had a reputation to uphold and a legend to create.
Madison stared up at the sky-blue ceiling above her head,
the only slice of color in her otherwise monochromatic bed-
room lair. Her room was the only place in their overstuffed,
overdecorated pent house apartment where she felt comfort-
able anymore. Her mother, Edith Spencer Macallister, was
going through a truly unfortunate Baroque period, and two
months ago had ordered the apartment completely redone,
and the Danish ultramodern furniture burned. Now, the mas-
sive, sunken living room was covered in muted frescos starring
demented round-faced cherubs complete with gold-leaf
trim and the minimalist style Edith had favored last year had
been replaced by massively uncomfortable, sprawling antique
furniture with way too many spindly legs. Swirling silk-
damask drapes in shades of French blue and gold, and tinkling
crystal chandeliers hanging everywhere certainly didn t help
the space feel less like a museum. All the apartment needed
now were a few peasants and a guillotine. Every time she en-
tered the Louis XIV nightmare that her apartment had be-
come, Madison was happier than ever that she had declared
her own room with its white- on-white decor, and sleek
chrome furnishings, completely off-limits.
A sharp rap on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.
Madison sat up and crossed her legs beneath her as Edie en-
tered the room in a cloud of Vera Wang perfume, a bronze
Norma Kamali sheath dress hugging her bony size- zero frame,
and strappy gold Jimmy Choo sandals on her feet. Ancient
58
THE ELI TE
Roman coins spilled from her throat in a shower of gold, and
a platinum-and-diamond ring sparkled on her left hand in
which she held a large, cream-colored envelope. Her blue eyes,
expertly outlined in bronze liner, were as unfocused as ever due
to her chronic pill popping. Edie referred to her monthly intake
of Valium as her therapy. Madison had quit trying to get her
mother to stop overmedicating years ago, but if Edie wanted to
float through life in a haze of prescription narcotics, then who
was she to stop her? They d played that game for as long as
Madison could remember and she was tired of losing.
There you are! she exclaimed, sitting down on Madison s
bed and crossing her slim ankles.
Where else would I be? Madison snapped, pulling a hair
tie from her wrist and pulling her slightly tangled blond hair
back in a ponytail.
I see someone forgot to take her Prozac, her mother said
with annoying calm, reaching over and straightening the rum-
pled corner of the comforter.
Someone around here certainly needs medication, Madi-
son said dryly, picking at a loose thread on her fifteen-
hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, but I think we
both know it isn t me.
Edie shook her head, the corners of her lips turning up in
a smile. Tsk- tsk, she clucked, I guess someone woke up on
the wrong side of the bed this morning.
I woke up on the wrong side of my life this morning,
Madison said, her green eyes flashing, but that s besides the
point.
59
JENNI FER BANASH
Well, maybe this will cheer you up. Edie threw the enve-
lope she held down on the bed and smiled, showing rows of
brilliantly Zoom- whitened teeth courtesy of Dr. Haven, cos-
metic dentist to practically the entire Upper East Side.
What is it? Madison asked suspiciously, picking up the
heavy envelope to examine the return address.
The Van Allens are throwing a welcome home party for
Drew, Edie said excitedly, squeezing Madison s arm.
That s supposed to cheer me up? A party? What am I
six? Madison pulled away, uncurled her legs, and walked over
to her dressing room, which had been converted into an
enormous walk-in closet. She began sifting through her jeans,
looking for her favorite pair of Rock and Republic Stevie jeans
with the pink Swarovski crystals on the back pockets. Drew
couldn t even act like a normal human after being away for
three months what were his chances of being able to pull it
off at this party? Well, screw him, she wasn t going. Not even
if he begged. OK, maybe she d consider if he really begged
and brought her flowers. And Godiva chocolates. And told her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
Basically. His mom grinned, her blue eyes sparkling as
she grabbed two frosted mugs from the freezer and poured the
beer. And some of Soho, too.
Great, Drew said glumly. This was just what he needed
right now. Did you invite the Macallisters?
Did you manage to kill all your brain cells in Amsterdam?
His mother s brow wrinkled as she feigned confusion. Of
course I invited the Macallisters! Don t tell me you have a
problem with that not after all the time you spent with Madi-
son last spring.
What s going on with you two, anyway? His dad picked
up the plates and moved into the bright yellow dining room,
placing them down on the long cherrywood table where the
Van Allens ate nightly when they all happened to be home,
which wasn t very often.
I don t know. Drew sighed, swallowing hard and run-
ning a hand through his hair.
You don t know, huh? Drew s dad said, wiping bits of
yellow-tinged coconut milk off his hands with a dishtowel. I
know what it s like to not know, Drew. It s tough not know-
ing, but if there s anything that can help you out, it s the advice
of a guy like me who knows what it s like to not know.
54
THE ELI TE
Great, Drew thought. Here we go again. Drew could feel his
mother s eyes lock on him the instant his dad began to speak
and he knew that if he were to look over, she would be sipping
at her drink intently, trying to hide her laughter behind the
glass.
Now, before I met your mother, Drew, when I first came
to New York I knew this girl named. . .
Marissa? Drew half-coughed, half-laughed.
Her name was Marissa, his dad said with surprise, sitting
down at the dining table and picking up his fork. How did
you know that?
Because you ve told us this story a million times, maybe?
His mother burst out laughing, stabbing her chicken with a
fork and releasing a cloud of curry-scented steam in the air.
Ah, the infamous Marissa . . .
Drew s dad placed his fork at the side of his plate and sur-
veyed his son calmly. Are you trying to tell me that you re
bored of my stories?
That s exactly what I m trying to tell you, Drew said,
walking toward his room and shutting the door behind the
sound of his parents laughter, and then the unmistakable
sound of two pairs of lips meeting and retracting. He shook
his head, smiling. He was probably the only kid in Manhattan
to have two still-happily married parents and things could
definitely be a lot worse than having a dad who told the same
stupid story over and over. Drew kicked a pile of dirty laundry
out of the way, maneuvered around his still-unpacked suitcase,
and sat down on the bed, grabbing his laptop. He couldn t
55
JENNI FER BANASH
help but wonder if Madison would someday be one of those
stories, if someday he d be the one standing in the kitchen
telling his own son about the one who got away.
And as he stretched out on the bed and checked his e-mail,
he realized that not only wasn t he ready to become his father,
he also wasn t ready to let Madison go just yet.
56
better late
than
never . . .
Madison flopped down on her white Siberian goose-
down comforter and exhaled loudly. Drew had only been back
for a nanosecond and already everything was even worse than
before he d left. Maybe now that she was home, she d be able
to calm down though just thinking about the way Drew had
flirted with that horrible Casey girl right in front of her, she
seriously doubted it. Was he just trying to piss her off? Make
her jealous? Had he suddenly developed a brain tumor? There
had to be some reason to explain his decidedly dumbass be-
havior. Even though Madison didn t know if she even wanted
to be with Drew anymore, she wasn t sure she was ready to
give him up either especially not to some terminally uncool,
JENNI FER BANASH
frizzy-haired loser. After all, she was Madison Macallister: She
had a reputation to uphold and a legend to create.
Madison stared up at the sky-blue ceiling above her head,
the only slice of color in her otherwise monochromatic bed-
room lair. Her room was the only place in their overstuffed,
overdecorated pent house apartment where she felt comfort-
able anymore. Her mother, Edith Spencer Macallister, was
going through a truly unfortunate Baroque period, and two
months ago had ordered the apartment completely redone,
and the Danish ultramodern furniture burned. Now, the mas-
sive, sunken living room was covered in muted frescos starring
demented round-faced cherubs complete with gold-leaf
trim and the minimalist style Edith had favored last year had
been replaced by massively uncomfortable, sprawling antique
furniture with way too many spindly legs. Swirling silk-
damask drapes in shades of French blue and gold, and tinkling
crystal chandeliers hanging everywhere certainly didn t help
the space feel less like a museum. All the apartment needed
now were a few peasants and a guillotine. Every time she en-
tered the Louis XIV nightmare that her apartment had be-
come, Madison was happier than ever that she had declared
her own room with its white- on-white decor, and sleek
chrome furnishings, completely off-limits.
A sharp rap on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.
Madison sat up and crossed her legs beneath her as Edie en-
tered the room in a cloud of Vera Wang perfume, a bronze
Norma Kamali sheath dress hugging her bony size- zero frame,
and strappy gold Jimmy Choo sandals on her feet. Ancient
58
THE ELI TE
Roman coins spilled from her throat in a shower of gold, and
a platinum-and-diamond ring sparkled on her left hand in
which she held a large, cream-colored envelope. Her blue eyes,
expertly outlined in bronze liner, were as unfocused as ever due
to her chronic pill popping. Edie referred to her monthly intake
of Valium as her therapy. Madison had quit trying to get her
mother to stop overmedicating years ago, but if Edie wanted to
float through life in a haze of prescription narcotics, then who
was she to stop her? They d played that game for as long as
Madison could remember and she was tired of losing.
There you are! she exclaimed, sitting down on Madison s
bed and crossing her slim ankles.
Where else would I be? Madison snapped, pulling a hair
tie from her wrist and pulling her slightly tangled blond hair
back in a ponytail.
I see someone forgot to take her Prozac, her mother said
with annoying calm, reaching over and straightening the rum-
pled corner of the comforter.
Someone around here certainly needs medication, Madi-
son said dryly, picking at a loose thread on her fifteen-
hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, but I think we
both know it isn t me.
Edie shook her head, the corners of her lips turning up in
a smile. Tsk- tsk, she clucked, I guess someone woke up on
the wrong side of the bed this morning.
I woke up on the wrong side of my life this morning,
Madison said, her green eyes flashing, but that s besides the
point.
59
JENNI FER BANASH
Well, maybe this will cheer you up. Edie threw the enve-
lope she held down on the bed and smiled, showing rows of
brilliantly Zoom- whitened teeth courtesy of Dr. Haven, cos-
metic dentist to practically the entire Upper East Side.
What is it? Madison asked suspiciously, picking up the
heavy envelope to examine the return address.
The Van Allens are throwing a welcome home party for
Drew, Edie said excitedly, squeezing Madison s arm.
That s supposed to cheer me up? A party? What am I
six? Madison pulled away, uncurled her legs, and walked over
to her dressing room, which had been converted into an
enormous walk-in closet. She began sifting through her jeans,
looking for her favorite pair of Rock and Republic Stevie jeans
with the pink Swarovski crystals on the back pockets. Drew
couldn t even act like a normal human after being away for
three months what were his chances of being able to pull it
off at this party? Well, screw him, she wasn t going. Not even
if he begged. OK, maybe she d consider if he really begged
and brought her flowers. And Godiva chocolates. And told her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]