Shit, I dream of the West Village, that’s why I love coming here for lunch, so I can play “Let’s pretend”.’
‘Let’s pretend?’ asked Tess.
‘Pretend that I’m someone like that,’ she whispered, nodding towards a super-glamorous blonde at a nearby table. The woman was stunning, with a flawless up-do and two-thousand-dollar dress that Tess recognized as Marni. She was sitting opposite a forty-something man wearing chinos, a navy sweater, and a scarf wrapped around his neck. He was overweight and, frankly, ugly.
‘You want to be a woman like that?’
Becky looked surprised. ‘Who doesn’t?’
‘But have you seen who she’s with? He’s wearing a pashmina!’
‘Darling, every woman in this city wants to land a rich husband. Some women, most of my friends in fact, devote their whole life to finding one. And these days you can’t be too picky.’ Becky let out a dramatic sigh. ‘Ah, the joy of not having to work.’
Tess smiled. ‘You love work.’
‘Completely beside the point,’ said Becky flatly. ‘It’s the option of not having to work.’
She leant forward conspiratorially.
‘Speaking of women with very rich men, how’s your new friend Brooke Asgill? You are going to get me an interview with her, aren’t you?’
Tess pulled a mock-outraged face. ‘After the stunt your newspaper has just pulled?’ she cried. ‘Seriously though, you do realize you have royally pissed off two of the most influential families in New York – and what for? A two-column pot-shot story that has to run an apology the next day?’
‘Actually, my editor loved the story,’ said Becky. ‘Anything to do with the Billingtons is big news, and David and Brooke are the sexiest New York couple since JFK Jr and Carolyn Bessette. It’s not like a tabloid is going to be best friends with them anyway.’
The waiter arrived with their ravioli and the girls started eating.
‘I need a favour,’ said Tess. ‘Two actually.’
Becky looked up. ‘Shoot.’
‘I need an introduction to all the media high-rollers you know. Newspaper editors, society column writers, editors-in-chief, and features editors on all the big glossies. I know a few people out here but I need to know everyone worth knowing very quickly.’
‘No offence, but I was surprised when I heard the Asgills had got you in. PR gigs are all about contacts, aren’t they?’
Tess pulled a sarcastic face. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘What else did you want?’
‘Tell me who gave you the story about Brooke.’
Becky gave a long slow laugh and wagged her finger. ‘Come on, Tess. You worked in papers; you know we never reveal a source. We have journalists on the paper who have been to jail rather than give up the name of their contact.’
‘Since when did you become Miss Integrity!’ laughed Tess. ‘I clearly remember you giving endless column inches to no-hoper bands on your music page in the Sun in return for a press trip – or even a glass of Cava!’
Becky smiled at the memory of their shared time on the loose in London.
‘So what can you do for me?’ she asked.
So much for friendship, smiled Tess. Becky hadn’t got this far simply by being a good laugh. Beneath the fluffy, party-girl exterior she was as hard as nails.
‘Help me now and I’ll see if I can get you a story exclusive on Brooke and David’s wedding.’
‘Honeymoon shots?’
Tess shook her head. ‘Can’t promise that, but certainly something exclusive, something that will earn you big brownie points.’
Becky took a big orange leather diary from her expensive-looking tote and began flicking through its pages. She scribbled down an address on a fluorescent pink Post-it note and handed it to Tess.
‘There’s a bunch of us going down to Soho House tonight. There’s a Cinema Society screening of the new Coen Brothers’ film. Very cool crowd,’ she said. ‘Everyone from Glenda Bailey to Col Allen should be there, and there will be drinks afterwards. That should start you off.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Tess, folding up the paper. ‘Now what about the source?’
Becky laughed. ‘Tess, you’re like a dog with a bone!’
‘Tell me,’ said Tess, but Becky held up her hands.
‘I don’t know, honestly. It wasn’t my story.’
‘Come on, Becks, you know everything.’
Becky looked at Tess for a long moment, then leant forward. ‘I think it was an ex-girlfriend of David’s,’ she said. ‘You know what they say about a woman scorned? Well, in New York, that fury is multiplied. Never underestimate the damage a vengeful social climber can cause.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ grinned Tess.
Becky put her hand on Tess’s. ‘Honey, it’s so good to have you over here. Honestly.’
‘It’s good to see you too. Especially as you’re doing so well. I mean, just look at you. Where did Bonkers Becks go?’
Becky laughed out loud, again causing heads to turn. ‘You know, I used to think that New Yorkers have no time for love because they throw themselves into their careers,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Now I think it’s the other way around – they become workaholics because it’s so hard to find love.’
‘So I take it you haven’t found your pashmina-wearing Prince Charming yet?’ smiled Tess.
She laughed again, casting a glance towards the couple at the next table. ‘No. The problem is, I think those banker types are pricks,’ she whispered.
Tess giggled.
‘Not that I’ve given up, of course. I even went to this “Fashion and Finance” speed-dating thing the other week,’ continued Becky. ‘Very popular right now, full of pretty girls and rich guys all looking for love, but I have to say I was absolutely bored to tears. I ended up going home with a woman.’
Tess’s eyes opened like saucers.
‘Her name was Dita,’ smiled Becky. ‘A freelance fashion PR. We had much more in common than any of those boring farts in their sensible shoes.’
‘Wow,’ gasped Tess. ‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing,’ laughed Becky. ‘Mother Nature kicked in; I couldn’t do it. But that’s New York, baby. That’s how desperate it is out there. I think it was God’s way of telling me I am destined to be alone. Anyway, how’s the very sexy Dom?’ she asked, sipping her water. ‘I think he always wanted to work in New York more than both of us.’
Tess’s smile faded at the mention of her boyfriend. ‘Dom’s still in London.’
‘You guys haven’t finished, have you?’ said Becky, her expression softening.
‘No, no, nothing like that. He hasn’t got a visa, so we’re having a transatlantic affair.’
‘Very chic,’ said Becky. ‘Are you missing him?’
‘Working fourteen-hour days I’ve not had a chance to miss him.’
‘Hmm. Or maybe you just don’t,’ said Becky, raising a brow.
Tess looked thoughtful. ‘No, I think it’s more that I had to come here to get out of my comfort zone.’
Becky laughed. ‘You two are hardly in a rut,