“I love kissing you.”
She smiled, only temporarily detaching her lips from his. “So do I.”
He pecked her on the lips, then kissed her neck. He heard her moan softly and
grinned at the thought of satisfying her. They could have kissed like that all night if they wanted to; it was all about the
intimacy, just the sheer idea of being so close to each other.
Another hour flew by without either one of them realizing it. By the time one
AM rolled around, they were both half undressed, looking disarrayed.
He chuckled as he pulled back from her. He was pretty sure he was covered in lip
gloss. “I should go.”
She sighed, leaning back on her couch, “If you have to.”
He smiled and pecked her on the lips, grabbing his shoes, “I should. It’s
the best idea.”
She nodded slowly, watching as he tied his Ferragamo flats, “Okay.”
He grinned over his shoulder at her, “You sound stoned.”
“I’m just relaxed.”
He smiled, “That could have something to do with the entire bottle of port
we inhaled over the past three hours.”
She giggled, “Maybe?”
He laughed and leaned back to kiss her, “I really do love kissing you.”
She twirled one of his curls around her finger and smiled, “I’m glad.”
“Hey, are you doing anything next week?”
“Next week? I don't know. I’ll have to check my datebook. Why?”
“I was thinking we could take a vacation or something.”
She nodded, “On that note, I’m not doing a single thing next week.”
He laughed, “Alright. Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere where it’s not so hot.”
“Right now that’s about everywhere.”
“The beach, then. I don't really mind.” She said, “You pick.”
“Okay.” He agreed with a smile.
“Can I walk you out?”
“Nah, I got it.” He said, “I may walk home; it’s a really
nice night out.”
“Be careful, it’s late.” She warned.
He laughed, “Please, I live in SoHo; the most danger I encounter down there
on a daily basis is some chick breaking her heel.”
She giggled and adjusted the strap of her dress, bringing it tighter to her shoulder,
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“I have to; I’m playing golf tomorrow.” He said, “Tee
time is seven AM, baby.”
She smiled, “Oh, so you’d rather tee off then stay here with me?”
He laughed, “Not exactly, but I do love golf.”
She hit him playfully, “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Me too.” He sighed, standing up. He stretched his arms over his head
and yawned, “Might be taking a cab.”
She giggled and curled her knees to her chest, “It’s the wine, I’m
telling you.”
“I know; we can't do this anymore.” He laughed, “We’re
like an elder couple; no more alcohol after nine.”
She laughed and ran a hand through her now disheveled hair, “Call me tomorrow,
okay?”
“I will.” He said, leaning down to kiss her, “I had a really
good time with you tonight.”
“Me too.”
“Try not to dream about me all night,” he laughed charmingly.
“Only if you try not to dream about me all night, too.”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises.” He smiled, “Alright,
I really do have to go. I will call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She sighed, utterly relaxed. She hadn't been that relaxed
since she’d smoked pot for the first time her senior year of high school.
He smiled at her, kissed her hand then made his way to the door, leaving Aubrey
all alone in her Park Avenue penthouse.
The next day, July 15th
“Where’s a good place to vacation this time of year?”
“Hit the Bahamas.”
“I don't like it down there; too many flies for me.”
Trace laughed, “Uh, okay. Why don't you go up to Maine?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“You really are crazy about this girl, aren't you?”
“More like insane, but crazy is just another synonym.” He laughed,
“She’s just…oh my God, she’s so amazing.”
“Amazing is, like, the only word you ever use to describe her, dude.”
Trace noticed, “Okay, if I win this hole, you're going to Barney’s and buying me those stupid cashmere pants.”
“It’s summer, why the hell do you need cashmere pants, boy?”
“For lounging.”
“Alright, fine. If you win, you get the pants. But if I win, what do I get?”
“Nothing, asshole. You're the one who’s the millionaire, you don't
get nothing.”
“I take offense to that.” Justin said, “I know you got some
cash, man.”
“A little bit.”
“How much you got on you right now?”
“Six hundred.”
“In cash? Jesus.” Justin whistled, “You're gonna get robbed.”
“I doubt it. If I keep going everywhere with your security detail, I ain’t
getting touched.”
He laughed, “Alright, that’s true.”
“So this Aubrey chick, did you have sex with her yet?”
“Uhm…no.”
“Are you serious.”
“Yeah.” He said, “Why can no one believe I haven't slept with
her yet? I don't get it.”
“Uh, do I need to remind you of the speed slash quickness of your past relationships
and or flings?”
“No.” He said, picking a nine iron from his selection of custom made
golf clubs, “Why is it so unheard of to take things slow with a woman? What the hell.”
“Because this just is not you – you love them and you leave them.”
“I used to.” He said, then laughed, “But that was before I met
Aubrey.”
Trace just laughed at his best friend and whacked the golf ball into the unknown
morning sunlight.
Aubrey sipped her tea as she sat across from her mother. She stared off blankly
at the sparkling white wainscoting that covered the bottom half of the kitchen wall. She’d grown up in this house and
now she found she barely recognized it at all.
“Have you seen Chad lately?”
The mention of Chad made her eyes flicker, “Who?”
“Chad, darling. The man you almost married two months ago?”
She nodded slowly, “Chad? I saw him at Emma’s in the Hamptons last
weekend; he was with Luella. Why?”
“I was just wondering. I saw his mother at the Plaza for tea the other day
and I thought of him.”
“Oh.”
“Don't you at least regret not marrying him, Aubrey Mischa?”
She shook her head, “Not even a little bit, mother.”
“Well,” Felicity Roehm said, “If it’s any consolation,
I know a handful of young WASPs who would love to meet you.”
“That’s quite alright, mother.”
“Why, darling? Have you met some one?”
She nodded, “Actually, yes. I have.”
“Well? Bring him by for tea or something. I have to meet him.”
“He’s busy.” She said quickly.
“Oh? What does he do?”
“He’s a musician.”
“That’s endearing, I suppose." Felicity deadpanned. Aubrey knew this
was exactly how her snot nosed mother was going to react, word for word.
She rolled her eyes inconspicuously, “He’s really nice.”
“Well nice is good and well and all, but what’s going on financially?”
She sighed, “He was in a really popular band, broke away from them and did
his own solo CD, and now he’s just between projects.”
“Oh.”
“Mother, I know what you're thinking.” Aubrey said, “You think
he’s some kind of low life starving artist, don't you?”
“Not in those exact words, but a variation—“
“He’s loaded.” She said simply, only because she knew those
were the exact words her mother wanted to hear, “Is that what you were blatantly asking?”
Felicity sighed, “Aubrey.”
Aubrey regained her composure; money had always made her uncomfortable. “I
don't understand why money always has to matter to you; I’m well off. I don't need a man to give me a life that I've
already had for the past twenty four years.”
“I know that, Aubrey.” Felicity said, “But as your mother don't
you think I deserve to know these things?”
Aubrey sighed, sipping her tea, “Is Daddy around?”
“No, of course not.” Felicity said, “He’s in Chicago.”
She raised her eyebrows then looked at her periwinkle Chanel watch, “I have
to go before I’m late.”
“Where are you rushing off to? Sit and finish your tea.”
She stared at her mother, “Mother, I have to go. I’m meeting Justin
at Bergdorf.”
“Bergdorf? What are you going to do there, shop?”
She rolled her eyes, “I don't know; maybe get something to eat and do a
little shopping. I don't care where I go as long as I’m with him.”
“That’s touching.”
“Mother, you are so cold.” Aubrey said, grabbing her beloved Chloe
bag off the arm chair. She hastily kissed her mother on the cheek before she exited the classic white brick townhouse and
got into her awaiting towncar.
“Bergdorf’s?” Her driver, Huey, asked.
She nodded, “Yes, please.”
On her way there, she took her cell phone from her purse and pressed down the
one key for speed dial.
“Hi gorgeous.”
She grinned. “Hello. Are you already inside?”
“Yeah, at a table in the café.” He replied, “Are you on your
way?”
“I am. I’m not incredibly late, am I?”
“No, not at all.” He said gently, “I’ll see you inside.”
“Okay. Bye.” She hung up the phone and the car pulled up to the shopping
institution a few minutes later.
She told Huey good bye and rushed to escape the heat by trotting up the stairs
and into the department store. She subconsciously knew how to get to the café, greeted the maitr’d then walked right
back to where Justin was sitting.
He stood up to greet her and kissed her softly on the lips, “Hi.”
She smiled and sighed, “Hi.”
“I ordered you an iced tea.” He said, “I know you like that.”
She smiled, “Thank you, but after the tea I just had with my mother I’m
ready for the strongest cocktail the bar can make.”
He laughed, “I guess it went well…”
“Oh, barely.” She said, spreading her linen napkin across her lap,
“She just has this complete issue with men and money when it comes to me and I don't know why. It’s just so uncomfortable.
If I hate talking about anything I hate talking about money – all of it, bills, bank accounts…and I can't stand
it. I just can’t. And she makes this awful habit of interrogating me about every guy I meet.”
He rolled his eyes, “Just don't let it get to you.”
“I try.” She said truthfully, “Oh, I checked my datebook for
next week, and I have this gala on Tuesday but I’m free the rest of the week.”
“Alright,” he said, “Do you like Maine? I was thinking we could
head up there and stay at some bed and breakfast for a few days. It’s nice up there in August.”
“Kennebunkport?” She asked. He nodded as he sipped his lemon water,
“I adore it there. The beaches are really lovely and of course the lobster is out of this world. Maine would be lovely.”
He nodded, “Yeah. We can drive or we can take the plane, whatever you want.”
She giggled, “Whatever’s easiest. I’m not a good driver at all.”
“I’m from LA; do you think I’m any better?” She giggled,
“We’ll be better off in the jet, I think. Don't you?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled. The waiter brought their drinks, two iced
teas.
“Are you ready to order?” He asked gently.
“I’ll have the cedar plank Norwegian salmon,” Aubrey said, “Light
on the sauce, though, please.”
“And for you sir?”
“Filet mignon, please. Rare, and with extra shoe string fries, if you can.”
“Certainly.”
Aubrey took a sip of her peach iced tea and sighed, “Rare, huh?”
“Hell yeah.” He smiled, “That’s how us Southern boys take
our meat, you know. For me, it doesn’t even really have to be dead.”
“That’s quite appealing.”
“Yes, I know.” He smiled, “I think that is actually one of my
more redeeming qualities, you know, my ability to consume raw meat.”
“Definitely.” She smiled, “How was golf this morning?”
“Oh, fine. I lost; had to go to Barney’s and buy my stupid friend
these idiotic cashmere pajama pants he wanted.” He said sullenly, “Twelve hundred dollar cashmere pants in August.
What the hell.”
She giggled, “A bet is a bet.”
“Yeah, obviously.” He deadpanned, “So what did you do, you went
and had tea with mummy?”
She smiled, “After I got a facial, yes.”
“The price of upkeep for you must shoot through the roof.”
She shrugged and smiled innocently, “I don't know.”
He laughed, “Can I ask you a serious question? I know you wont want to answer
it.”
“What?”
“How much are you worth? Like an estimate, I don't even really care.”
He said, “It’s just that you live on Park Avenue, in a penthouse nonetheless, you have a round the clock driver…it’s
all kind of mind-blowing to me, not that I’ve never been around this kind of stuff, but…”
She sighed, “Do you really want to know?”
“Well…” He paused, “Yeah.”
“My entire family, collectively,” she said, “is worth a little
more than a billion.”
His eyes nearly popped out their sockets. “Oh.”
“And I have a trust fund of about two or three hundred million.”
He nodded slowly, “Okay. Question answered.”
“And you're so intimidated now, aren't you?” She asked, apparently
distraught.
“No, no, honey I’m not.” He said gently, “I’m shocked.
That’s all.”
She frowned, “Money is just so pointless, you know? And I hate thinking
about how much you have gives some kind of definition to who you are—“
“Say no more. I know.” He said, “I was just wondering. Don't
sweat it, okay?”
She bit her lip then sipped her iced tea.
“I guess I’m on the very wrong career path.” He laughed warmly,
“Oil stock seems to the business to get into.”
“Well, sure, but…” She smiled, “How much are you worth?”
“Thirty or forty million, I don't really know.”
“You don't really know?”
“I barely handle any of my moneys…I have people who do it for me,
and I just take their amounts hoping they aren't ripping me off.” He said, “Not saying I’m not careful,
I am, because I have been ripped off before, but I trust the people who do my stuff for me.”
“Hmm. I thought you’d be worth a lot more than that.” She said,
not meaning anything by it.
He laughed, “Every one says that. I’m not even kidding.”
“At least you made money yourself.” She said, “Me, I was born
into it.”
“That’s true.”
“You must feel accomplished.”
“I do.” He said thoughtfully, “But sometimes I don't even think
it’s worth it.”
“Why is that?”
“Well,” he said, “While I love what I do, the things that come
with it aren't exactly things to be admired. You're a lucky one, actually.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yeah. Usually if I even talk to a girl,” he said, spreading butter
on a roll, “the press gets all over me and they start doing the stalking thing. Luckily no one has gotten wind of you
and me.”
“But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time though, right?”
She laughed softly.
He nodded and smiled lightheartedly, “Pretty much.”
The Dissapointment Of Cancellation
