‘Maybe you could give her some tips one day,’ Chris said, as he pulled the papers on the table into a neat pile.
‘I don’t teach kids,’ said Carlotta.
And she stood up and left the room.
Chris watched her leave. A shame she was such a cow; she could be quite beautiful when she wasn’t yelling at him, he thought.
Carlotta was in the doorway of Chris’s office when her cell phone rang. Looking down, she saw John’s number come up.
‘Hello stranger,’ she said, laughing, her voice becoming silky.
Chris looked up at her in surprise. Gone was the shrew that he had known and instead here was a seductive Carlotta imposter.
She looked Chris up and down with a dismissive look and walked out of his office. For a moment Chris felt like shit. Christ, those de Santoval girls are more like their father than they realise, he thought.
*
‘I wanted to say thank you. I’m sorry it’s taken me a while, I’ve been frantic,’ said Jeff’s voice over the phone.
‘For what?’ asked Violetta coyly. It was fun flirting with nerds, she remembered from high school.
‘For the shirts and ties from Prada.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ said Violetta, as she was preparing to head out that night.
She was dressed in a butterscotch satin cocktail dress and was about to meet the camera crew at a cocktail party to raise money for a Foundation that she had never heard of before. Lesley had been the one who had suggested she attend. The invitations to fabulous events were thin on the ground coming into the end of October and until Thanksgiving and Lesley had been trying to rustle up invitations that would actually allow her socialites in with the cameras. Invitations from the society parties that she normally attended had been thinning out since she had made her television debut. So far just her trip to Prada and work had been aired, but tonight would be her debut onto the screens in New York’s nightlife.
‘I didn’t send them,’ she laughed.
‘Well, who did then?’ asked Jeff, playing along.
‘I don’t know. What did the card read?’
‘From the Fashion Police.’
‘Maybe it was Leticia,’ said Violetta, as she slipped an antique gold bracelet in the shape of a snake that Grace had given her years ago onto her wrist.
‘I doubt it. Well, it was very generous. I wonder if I can repay them somehow,’ he said, his voice tinged with laughter.
Was he flirting? She wasn’t sure.
Violetta was silent down the phone and then she spoke. ‘Just get my Mom better,’ she said in a small voice.
‘We are doing all we can, Violetta,’ he said, his professionalism returning. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Bye,’ she answered, wishing she hadn’t ruined the mood.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked good but felt terrible. What she really wanted to do was to stay at home, eat Chinese food and watch a romantic comedy. Instead she moved her keys, lipstick, phone, credit card and perfume into her vintage clutch purse. As she opened it, she saw a small edge of plastic poking out of the inner pocket. Pulling it out, she saw it was a small bag of cocaine from a party a few weeks ago, the night she had signed the contract forSocialites in the City.
Looking at it for a moment, she rushed into the kitchen and, after tapping out a small amount, pulled out her credit card and cut it up, quickly and expertly. Making a thin line, she opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a packet of drinking straws. Cutting one in half and then half again, she bent over and snorted the line up her nose. She then turned on the tap, sniffing hard, and then ran her fingers under the water. Taking a few drops of water onto the back of her hand, she snorted the water into her nostril and massaged either side of her nose, stretching the skin and letting the drug absorb into her system.
Violetta shook her head and felt the buzz begin. She checked her nose in the mirror and then smiled at herself. ‘Showtime,’ she said, plastering a smile on her face as she left for the party.
*
Grace and Carlotta both woke up with a feeling of dread. It had been a long time since either of them had that feeling. It came from somewhere else, almost supernatural. Grace checked her voice messages. Two messages. The first one was Spencer telling her to buy theDaily Post.The second was from Carlotta.
‘That fucking idiot sister of ours has outdone herself again,’ was all she said.
