Everyone Worth Knowing
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WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A GIRL ON THE FRINGE ENTERS THE REALM OF NEW YORK'S CHIC, PARTY-HOPPING ELITE?
Soon after Bette Robinson quits her horrendous Manhattan banking job like the impulsive girl she's never been, the novelty of walking her four-pound dog around her unglamorous Murray Hill neighborhood wears as thin as the "What are you going to do with your life?" phone calls from her parents. Then Bette meets Kelly, head of Manhattan's hottest PR firm, and suddenly she has a brand-new job where the primary requirement is to see and be seen inside the VIP rooms of the city's most exclusive nightclubs. But when Bette begins appearing in a vicious new gossip column, she realizes that the line between her personal and professional life is...invisible.
left, before noticing that a photographer was subtly snapping photos without a flash from a crouching position in the corner. I remembered the first media dinner Will had dragged me to, when I was fourteen and visiting from Poughkeepsie. We’d been at Elaine’s that night, too, also for a book party, and I’d asked Simon, “Is it weird that there’s someone taking pictures of us eating dinner?” He’d chuckled. “Of course not, dear, that’s precisely why we’re all here. If there’s no photo in the party
wouldn’t be quite so bad if they just minded their labels.” “Did that just happen?” Penelope asked, looking as dumbfounded as I felt. “I think so. Just how pathetic were we? I’m almost afraid to ask.” “There are actually no words for that level of pathetic-ness. It was like watching Jeopardy!—I knew all the answers, just ten seconds too late.” I was about to suggest that we medicate ourselves with as much undiluted vodka as we could locate, but Elisa found us first. “This place is so hot,”
respectable career—I’d rather see you doing that than any of those hippie-dippy-save-the-world jobs your parents would recommend—but you just seem so young to lock yourself into something so boring. You should be out there meeting people, going to parties, enjoying being young and single in New York, not tied down to a desk in a bank. What do you want to do?” As many times as he’d asked me this, I’d never come around to a great—or even decent—answer. It was certainly a fair question. In high
I heard him tell someone we’d be there in ten minutes. “I’m actually waiting for a car that Elisa’s sending,” I said. “Afraid not, love. Elisa sent me. We’re going to pay a visit to my dear friend Caleb, and Elisa’s going to bring the business blokes to us.” This was not making any sense, but he did seem to be working on direct orders from Elisa. “Why are we going to your friend’s apartment?” I asked. “He’s having a little birthday gathering at his place. Costume party, actually. Let’s go.”
real task was to remain standing and fully conscious in the shower. Figuring if there was ever a time to splurge for a cab it was now, I chased one halfway down my block and dove into it headfirst. Not being stuck underground in the signal-free subway also allowed me to check a few of the morning’s websites from my brand-new BlackBerry, a gift from the company’s corporate department so I could “familiarize myself with their product.” I pulled clips of the Shrek 3 premiere, the Grey Goose