Read Online Last Night at Chateau Marmont by Lauren Weisberger - Free Book Online Page B

nothing to do. Want to go to a museum while we’re up here?” Brooke asked, taking his hand and tugging gently on his arm as they walked toward the subway.
    “Nah, I don’t think I’m up for the Sunday crowds.”
    She thought for a moment. “You’ve been wanting to see that 3-D IMAX movie for a while. I wouldn’t mind going with you,” she lied. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
    “I’m fine, Brooke. I really am,” Julian said quietly, pulling on his wool scarf. She knew he was the one lying now.
    “Can I invite Nola to the showcase? It sounds so fabulous, and you know Nola can’t miss any opportunity at fabulousness.”
    “I guess, but Leo said it’s going to be really small, and I already invited Trent. He’s only in New York on this rotation another couple weeks and he’s been working like crazy. I thought he could use a night out.”
    They talked more about the showcase, and they discussed what he would wear, which songs he would play, and in what order. She washappy she could draw him out, and by the time they reached their apartment, Julian seemed almost like himself.
    “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” Brooke asked when they stepped onto their own elevator, both clearly relieved to be home.
    “Yeah,” Julian said with a small smile.
    “Well, come inside, baby,” Brooke said, pulling him down the hallway by the hand. “I think it’s about time I showed you.”

3
Makes John Mayer Look Like Amateur Hour

    “W HERE are we?” Brooke grumbled, stepping out of the cab and looking around the dark and deserted side street in West Chelsea. The tall black pull-on boots she’d found at an end-of-season sale kept sliding down her tights.
    “Heart of the gallery district, Brooke. Avenue and 1 OAK are right around the corner.”
    “I should know what those are, shouldn’t I?”
    Nola just shook her head. “Well, at least you look good. Julian’s going to be proud to have such a hot wife tonight.”
    Brooke knew her friend was just being kind. It was Nola who, as usual, looked stunning. She’d jammed her suit jacket and her sensible pumps into her oversized LV tote and replaced them with a massive multistrand necklace and a pair of those sky-high Louboutin heels that were somewhere between a bootie and sandal, a style approximately six women on earth could pull off without being mistaken for a professional dominatrix. Things that would look downright trashy on everyone else—scarlet lipstick, flesh-colored fishnets, and the black lace bra that peeked through her sheer tank—on Nola managed to look both edgy and playful. Her pencil skirt, which as one-half ofan expensive suit had been appropriate enough for one of the most conservative work environments on Wall Street, now showed off her toned backside and perfect legs. If Nola had been any other female on earth, Brooke would have hated her mightily.
    Brooke looked at her BlackBerry. “Between Tenth and Eleventh. That’s exactly where we are, isn’t it? Where is this place?” She saw a darting shadow out of the corner of her eye and yelped.
    “Oh relax, Brooke. It’s much more scared of you than you are of it.” Nola waved off the rat spotting with a cocktail-ring-adorned hand.
    Brooke hurried to cross the street, seeing that the even-numbered addresses they wanted were on the opposite side. “Easy for you to say. You could pierce its heart with one stomp of that heel. My dumpy flat boots put me at heightened risk.”
    Nola laughed and scampered gracefully behind Brooke. “There, I think that’s it,” she said, pointing to the only building on the block that didn’t look condemned.
    The girls followed a small staircase down from the sidewalk to a windowless basement door. Julian had explained that these kinds of showcases were constantly on the move, and music-biz people were always looking for the next hip place to help generate buzz, but still, she had been envisioning a venue somewhere that looked like a smaller