Glamorama

Glamorama Page 135

"So who lives here?" I ask as Bobby pads back into the room. "I mean, I know it's a set, but it's pretty nice."

"Well, sometimes I rent it from someone," he says as he heads toward the computer and studies the screen. "And right now I'm sharing it with Tammy and Bruce, who I think you've met."

"Yeah, they're cool."

"And Bentley Harrolds, who's an old friend of mine, and Jamie Fields, whom"-a pause, without looking up at me-"I take it you know from college."

"Yeah, yeah." I'm nodding. "Right. She's cool too."

"Yeah," Bobby says wearily, flicking off the screen, sighing. "We're all pretty damn cool."

I consider going somewhere, debate, then decide to press ahead.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?" He's looking over at me again.

"I just want to, um, let you know that- this is going to sound really corny-but you were"-I take a deep breath-"a really, like, a really, like an inspiration to a lot of us and you were like a major influence and I just want to let you know that." I pause, look away, distressed, my eyes watering. "Did I just sound totally weird?"

Silence, then, "No. No, you didn't, Victor." He's staring at me warmly. "It's good. I like it. Thank you."

Relief washes over me, my throat tightens, and with difficulty, my voice totally strained, I manage, "No problem, man."

Voices outside in the yard. A gate opens, then closes. Four gorgeous people dressed in black, wearing sunglasses and carrying chic grocery bags, move through the darkening garden and toward the house. Bobby and I watch them from behind the glass doors.

"Ah, the troops return," Bobby says.

I wave at Jamie as the group walks toward the expanse of window I'm standing behind, but no one waves back. Bentley scowls, flicking away a cigarette. Bruce, holding two bags piled high with groceries, playfully nudges Tammy off the stone path. Jamie strides forward, staring straight ahead impassively, chewing gum.

"Why can't they see me?" I'm asking.

"That's one-way glass," Bobby says.

"Oh," I say. "That's... cool."

Chapter Thirteen

The four of them stagger through a back entrance and into the kitchen, a series of small electronic beeps sounding as someone closes the door. Turning, Bobby and I watch as they drop grocery bags on a large steel counter. We move closer, hitting our marks. Jamie is the first to see us and she whips off her sunglasses, smiling.

"So you're awake," Jamie says, walking toward us.

I smile at her and as she heads toward me I start expecting a kiss and I close my eyes, bouncing lightly up and down on the soles of my feet. A small rush of lust starts gaining momentum and then gets out of control, shoots out all over the place. But Jamie passes by and I open my eyes and turn around.

She and Bobby are embracing and he's kissing her hungrily, making noises. It takes too long for Jamie to notice me standing there staring, and as she pulls back a little Bobby hangs on and won't let go.

"You guys meet?" is all Jamie can ask after taking in the expression on my face.

"Yeah." I nod.

"Hey, let go," Jamie squeals, pushing Bobby off her. "Let go, let go."

But Bobby doesn't-he just keeps leaning in, kissing her face, her neck. I just stand there watching, hot, suddenly clearheaded.

"I think it's cocktail hour," Bentley says, pouting.

Tammy walks by where I'm standing. "We ran into Buffy. She just got back from climbing Everest. There were two deaths. She lost her cell phone."

I have no idea who this is directed at, so I just slowly nod my head.

"Hey, I'm ravenous," Bobby says, still holding Jamie in his arms, but she's not struggling anymore. "When are we eating?" he calls out. "What are we eating?" Then he whispers something into Jamie's ear and she giggles and then slaps his arms, grabbing at them with both hands where his biceps bulge.

"I'm making bruschetta," Bruce calls out from the kitchen. "Porcini risotto, prosciutto and figs, arugula and fennel salad."

"Hurry," Bobby bellows, nuzzling Jamie's face, squeezing her tighter. "Hurry, Bruce. I'm starving."

"Victor, what are you wearing under that robe?" Bentley asks, staring at me, holding a bottle of Stoll. "Wait-don't tell me. I don't think I can handle it." Walking back into the kitchen, he calls out, "I have your underwear, by the way."