Glamorama

Glamorama Page 76

I'm taking this in with a large amount of extreme calm. "She OD'd?"

"No," Damien says very carefully. "She was eviscerated, Victor."

"Oh my god," I gasp, holding my head, and then, "What does eviscerated mean?"

"It means she didn't die a peaceful death."

"Well, yeah, but how do we know that?"

"She was strangled with her own intestines."

"Right, right."

"I hope you realize this conversation is off the record."

Below us I'm just looking down at Debi Mazar and Sophie B. Hawkins, who's with Ethan Hawke and Matthew Barney. Below us a photographer spots me and Damien standing by the railing and snaps three, four, eight shots in rapid succession before I can straighten my tie.

"No one knows this yet," Damien sighs, lighting another cigarette. "Let's keep it this way. Let's just keep everyone smiling until tomorrow."

"Yeah man, cool," I say, nodding. "I think I'm capable."

"And please try to keep Alison and Lauren away from each other," he says, walking away. "Let's make a concerted effort to try and pull that off, okay?"

"I think I'm capable, dude."

We'll slide down the surface of things...

Someone calls up to me and I move away from the railing and head downstairs back into the party and then Carmen, this Brazilian heiress, grabs my arm. Chris O'Donnell has moved away from Lauren, who spots me from across the room and just stares, and Baxter's still desperately keeping Alison occupied, even though it looks like she's losing interest, because she's rolling her eyes and making yapping gestures with her hands.

"Victor! I just see the film Beauty and the Beast and I love it! I-love-it!" Carmen's shrieking, eyes wide, flailing her arms around.

"Baby, you're cool," I say worriedly. "But it would be somewhat profitable if you chilled out a bit."

Alison pats Baxter on the side of his face and starts to move away from the bar toward the center of the room, where the camera flashes are most intense, and Chloe, predictably, is now standing with Chris O'Donnell.

"But Victor, you hear me?" Carmen's blocking my way. "I love it. I adore both the Beauty and the Beast. I love it. 'Be My Guest'-Oh my god!"

"Baby, be my guest. You need a drink." Distressed, I snap at Beau while pointing at Carmen. "Beau-get this chick a Caipirinha."

I push Carmen out of the way but it's too late. Tarsem and Vivienne Westwood grabbing each of my arms, I can only watch helplessly as Alison glides gaily, drunkenly toward Chloe, who's being interviewed with Chris O'Donnell for MTV, her expression becoming more confused the nearer she gets. Once she's behind Chloe, Alison sees the dress, immediately grabs a lighter out of Sean Penn's hand and, horror-struck, waves the flame so she can see Chloe better. Bijoux from MTV isn't looking at Chloe now and has lowered her microphone, and Chloe turns around, sees Alison, smiles, and in the middle of a tiny wave notices Alison's dress, grimaces, squints desperately, tries to take a closer look-Chris O'Donnell is pretending not to notice, which makes things better-and Bijoux leans in to ask a question and Chloe, dazed, turns hesitantly back to the camera to try and answer it, succeeds with a shrug.

Lauren is standing next to me holding a giant glass filled with what I can only hope is not vodka and without saying a word clamps her free hand onto my ass. Alison starts heading toward us, purposefully grabbing a martini off a passing tray and getting about half of it in her mouth.

"How did you get off the Xanax?" I'm murmuring to somebody quasi-famous.

"You mean get the Xanax."

"Yeah, yeah, get the Xanax, cool."

"I was withdrawing from marijuana addiction and so I went to my mom's doctor and-hey Victor, you're not listening to me-"

"Hey, don't freak, you're cool."

Alison walks up to me, licks my cheek and, standing incredibly close, places her mouth on mine, desperately trying to push her tongue in, but my teeth are clenched and I'm nodding to the guy who's talking about Xanax and shrugging my shoulders, trying to casually carry on my part of the conversation, when Alison finally gives up, pulls back, leaving my mouth and chin slathered with a combo of saliva and vodka, smiles meanly and then stands next to me so that I'm flanked by her and Lauren. I'm watching Chloe, her interview over, squinting into the crowd trying to find me, Chris O'Donnell still nursing his Grolsch. I look away.

Alison leans in and touches my ass, which I tense uselessly, causing her hand to creep across until it touches the back of Lauren's hand and freezes.