brr6

“You're coming, right?”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so? Try and sound slightly less enthusiastic, please.”

He sighed, “Sorry. I just woke up.”

“Well, have some coffee and take a shower…” Emma instructed, “Because even though you spent like way more time in Phuket than you said you were going to, jet lag is not an excuse.”

“Okay, clarification.” He said, “I didn’t spend the entire three months in Phuket. I stayed there for about a month…then I went to LA for a couple weeks, then I went back to Tennessee, and now I’m back.”

“Uh, okay.” Emma replied, “Jet lag is not a valid excuse; you are coming!”

“Okay, okay. I said I’d come.”

“I'm coming over.” She warned, “Don't give me any gross females lurking around your shack, okay?”

“I’m alone.” He said tiredly, “I don't look good.”

“Yeah, right.” She said, “I just got out of the cab. Let me up.”

He let her up and waited by the door, his cell phone glued to his ear, “See you in a minute.”

“Kay.” She hung up and a moment later arrived at his front door.

She walked, sporting a flirty but bold printed green skirt and a brown tee shirt, the front section of her blonde hair pinned back with a bobby pin. “I’m disgusted. Where is your doorman?”

“I don't have one?”

She nodded slowly, shrugging off her coat and laying it across the couch, “Do you really mean to tell me you got in just last night?”

“Yes.”

The truth was that even though Justin had been out of town for practically forever, that hadn't prolonged the advancement of their friendship at all. She’d gone out to LA to visit him and they did their fare share of partying together. They kept pictures and emails on constant rotation to each other, and talked about once or twice a day. Emma was the bombshell in his life that he would have killed to hook up with, but they weren't each other’s types at all.

“Oh, hey.” He said, scratching his head, “I came home yesterday and I look on the side of a bus…and what do I see but your gorgeous mug?”

She laughed, “Ahh, I can't believe you saw it.”

“What is it?”

“My little perfume ad…” She rolled her eyes, “Disregard it all costs. It’s quite degrading.”

“I thought it was tasteful.”

“Your ex shot it; of course it’s tasteful.”

“Anna? Really? I haven't though about her in…a long time.”

“Is that so?’

“It is.”

“She’s coming tomorrow night.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No…sorry.” Emma smiled, “You get to meet my best friend Aubrey. She’s so your type…absolutely drop dead gorgeous.”

“Well so are you, but you aren't my type, now are you?”

She snickered, “Hah, hah. No, but honestly, she’s a knockout. I think she’ll make you faint.”

“We’ll see.”

“You better come ready to get crazy.”

“How crazy? I’ve been crazy for the past three months, Emma.”

“Yes you have,” She agreed, “Trying to get over Anna, trying to move on and forget all of your past failed relationships…it’s time to really get over it, once and for all, Justin. Did I mention it’s black tie?”

“Black tie? Jesus.”

“That’s right, Justin. Tuxedo. Pocket square; a cummerbund, even.”

He groaned as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, “I’d rather keel over and die?”

She smiled, “That’s the enthusiasm I love to hear. I really can't wait for you to meet Aubrey.”

“Do not set me up.”

“Me? Never.”

“You tried to hook me up with your sister in LA.”

“Yeah…and you got something out of that, so why are you complaining?”

“I want…” He paused, “I want somebody to love. Somebody I can have something with.”

“Okay, so stop complaining and do something about it.”

“But it isn't even about complaining; yeah, I’m lonely, and it isn't like I haven't had any one…I just want something that lasts longer than the span of a night, or in some cases, half an hour.”

She laughed out loud, “I’m not being insensitive…but…half an hour?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not in the mood for this. I’m fuckin tired, Emma.”

“I know you are, honey.” She said sweetly, “That is why I will go to Armani and pick your suit for you…Maybe I’ll even be nice and find some one to do your laundry?”

“I thought you said tux?”

“Tux, optional…but definitely black tie. So that’s what I picked for you; this classic black single breasted suit, a crisp white shirt and a skinny black silk tie with a pink pocket square. Very classic. Okay? So don't worry. I have it all under control. Now, about you hooking up aimlessly with anything that walks and has breasts—“

“Emma.” He said sternly.

“Okay, I get it. You're unhappy.” She said, “Let me introduce you to a couple of gorgeous friends tomorrow night, I swear I would never steer you wrong.”

“Good, because I do trust you.”

She smiled, “And vice versa. I invited most of your crew, so maybe you can make a couple intros for me, okay?”

“Ahh, now I see. You're going to scratch my back so I can scratch yours, huh? You work in the most mysterious ways.”

“Of course I do; all the van de Camp women do, it’s a fact of life.” She stated, “Okay, you sleep all day, I’ll drop by your suit later…rest up, okay? Jet lag is never fun. Get back on New York time. I want you rested and fresh for tomorrow night.”

“You're psychotic. Has any one ever told you that?”

She laughed, “Yes, of course.”

July 4th, 2005

Sisters Emma and Becca van de Camp threw a monstrous Fourth of July bash every year at the van de Camp estate in Bridgehampton; if you weren't invited, it was almost as bad as not existing at all.

Justin had gotten to Bridgehampton that morning and had been suckered into staying at Emma’s for the long holiday weekend. While he was getting ready around seven thirty, Emma came into his room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Looking handsome.” She said, crossing her legs. She wore a stellar white empire waisted Oscar de la Renta dress, her hair in loose waves around her face and shoulders.

“You look good.” He said absent mindedly, tying his tie.

“Let me,” She offered as he willingly stood up. In her heels she came up to his nose. She tied his tie delicately, and when she was finished, she kissed him on the cheek. “What was that for?”

She shrugged in that cute, flirty, innocent way only Emma had. “I just felt like it.”

He sighed, “I can read you like a book, Emma.”

“I know you can.” She said simply. “Aren't you attracted to me?”

He blinked, “I am.”

“Okay?” She said, thinking to herself, “We should be together.”

He shook his head slowly, “I think we’d be better off as friends.”

“You are so fucked up.” She said, “You know that?”

He nodded and sighed, “Yup.”

“You're a heartbreaker, too. We could be amazing.”

“But we’re friends, remember, Emma?”

She sighed and ran her hands down his black silk tie, “Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“I just like you.” She blurted, “That’s what it is. I like you; I’m smitten with you. That’s exactly what this is.”

“What are you talking about?”

She took a step back as she came to a conclusion, “Listen to me, okay?”

“When do I not?”

“I either want…a relationship or something that resembles one, with you. I either want that, or nothing.”

“That’s a little harsh, isn't it?”

“I don't think so.”

“We have a good friendship, don't we? Why would you do this?”

“Because I want you, I want a relationship with you.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry, then.”

After she walked out of his room he wondered if he had been too cold, too harsh, or too callous. It wasn’t that he was afraid of another relationship (although it was starting to grow into some kind of phobia); no, he just wanted some one to love and some one who loved him back, and he had an aching suspicion that Emma wasn’t that person for him.

He knew Emma; Emma liked to have a good time, she was fickle. At that point in his life, he wanted some one the complete opposite of Emma; some one ready to settle down and some one ready to fall into love. He knew in his heart of hearts that Emma was not that person.

He tied his dress shoes and went down the hall to Emma’s room. She was reapplying lip gloss in her bathroom.

“Emma.”

“What?” She asked coldly.

“Don't be mad at me, okay?”

“I’m not.”

“I just…” He paused, “You're not my type.”

She capped her lip-gloss and put it in her black clutch, “Okay?”

“Anything that we start would only be finished that much faster, leaving both of us pissed off yet again. It isn't that I can't afford to get my heart broken again even though I am genuinely sick of it, I just…I think that you and me, we’re good as friends. Don't you think that? Don't you think we have a good time together?”

She sighed, “Yeah.”

“Are we still friends?”

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“Okay, good.” He said, “Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you're really amazing.”

“Oh, thanks.” She smiled, “Ditto.”

He laughed softly, “I think people are starting to arrive.”

“Are they?” She said. She was excited for him to meet Aubrey, finally. Three whole months and not once had he met any of her best friends. Aubrey usually stayed with Emma during the weekend that this extravaganza of a party took place, but this time she opted to stay with Ginny at Aubrey’s family’s estate a few blocks away while Caylee stayed bunked with her financier boyfriend at his summer house on the other side of the beach.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” He told her, “What would you like?”

“Let me start with a tonic water.”

“Okay.” He said pleasantly, “See you down there.”

She nodded and smiled, “Absolutely.”

By ten thirty, the party was completely packed. Loud music pulsated throughout all the Bose speakers strategically placed around the house as richer than rich socialites danced in the house and by the pool.

Aubrey hadn't arrived until ten thirty or eleven; she’d taken a long nap after going shopping, after she’d been at the beach all day and she hadn't woken up until eight o’clock. Ginny had arrived around nine, though.

Aubrey made her way to the bar for yet another vodka tonic. She hadn't seen Emma since she’d arrived, but she could make a decent guess where she was; probably on a couch dancing somewhere. This party was always the highlight of the summer for any noted socialite who used the Hamptons as their summer playground. When Aubrey came out to the Hamptons, and she usually did almost every weekend and sometimes stayed entire weeks, she couldn’t wait to get back to the city for the week. As a born and bred Manhattanite, she couldn’t imagine staying anywhere else for a prolonged period of time.

“Brie!”

She turned around quickly and smiled, “Hey. You look amazing.”

Caylee smiled and kissed her friend on the cheek, “So do you. Who are you wearing?”

“This is vintage Chanel.” She said, having a hard time remembering. “Where is Emma?”

“I believe she and Lindsay Lohan are off dancing on a couch in the basement, but don't take my word for it.” Caylee giggled, “So, who did you come with?”

“Myself?”

“No date?”

“No…”

“Chad’s here.”

“He is?”

Caylee nodded, “With Luella Marsden.”

“He’s with Luella now?”

She nodded simply. Luella and Aubrey used to be friends in high school, before Luella got kicked out and got sent to Exeter where she had a tiny fling with Chad all through school. When Luella came back from Exeter she had turned into such a bitch that Aubrey deliberately tried to lose touch with the girl who used to be one of her good friends.

“I still cannot stand her.”

“I know.” Caylee sighed, “But your dress is forty million times better than hers.”

She smiled, happy about that. “I’m going to head out for fireworks; aren't they starting soon?”

“Quarter of twelve.” Caylee responded, “I’ll meet you out there.”

She nodded and went through the French doors of the living room to the large flagstone patio-pool area. She sat down on a teak lounge chair and sipped her drink.

“Anna,” She heard a voice say a few yards away, “Anna, please don't do this again.”

The svelte blonde whom Aubrey recognized as the artist Anna Kett sighed and started to speak, “It hasn’t been the same since you left, and I just…I want back what we had, Justin.”

“Well,” He said, “I don't. Because I feel like every single time we get together the only things that come from it are bad things and I don't feel like doing that again.”

“It isn't even like you’ve moved on.”

“What are you talking about, Anna?”

“You're not with any one now, are you?”

“No, but that isn't the point at all, Anna.” She heard him sigh and run his hands over his face. When she subconsciously looked at him, she thought about how handsome he was. He looked classic; he looked like a nice person. “The point is that last time our relationship went up in flames, and I’m not about to start one more fire. Okay? I don't want it.”

“Is it because of Emma?”

“Emma? Because of Emma?” He asked, sounding ridiculous. Aubrey had the breeding to know that listening to other people’s conversations was deeply rude and invasive, but she couldn’t help herself, “Hardly, Anna. Emma…we’re just friends. I don't feel anything for her, and I don't feel anything for you. Not any more. I thought you were screwing your art dealer?”

“I was, but we broke up.”

“Okay, well, my shoulder isn't the one you're going to be crying on.” He told her, “It’s over, it’s done. I don't want any more.”

“Fine.” She heard Anna say quietly, sounding defeated. “Fine.”

He walked away and Aubrey noticed that as he passed her, he stole a glance at her and for a split moment their eyes locked. She watched him as he joined a group of equally dapper looking men on the other side of the patio.

“Aubrey!”

She turned around and smiled, relieved that she wouldn’t be watching fireworks alone, “Robbie. Hi.”

Robbie was the epitome of gayness, but he was also so good looking that he made any and all girls swoon at the sight of him. He was a model for Gucci; he was perfect looking. “Hi, my love. You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

“I definitely fancy your dress more than Emma’s…” He said, sipping his drink casually, sitting down next to her, “Have you lost weight?”

“Oh, like five or six pounds,” She said simply, nonchalantly, “You look good.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, “I was sorry to hear about the wedding…you know, everything.”

“Yeah, well…what can you do?”

He put his arm around her, “It takes quite large balls to pull out of the wedding you pulled out of.”

“Well, I spent four years in a relationship growing them.”

He laughed, “And now you're single, huh? Single and ready to mingle?”

She smiled meekly as fireworks began to light up the black ocean breezed sky, “Barely.”