The Address(16)

“I’m so glad you did. I heard that Tristan took care of the cost, is that right?”

“He did.” She couldn’t help but cringe, thinking of their conversation this morning.

“First things first. Tell me about Silver Hill. Meet anyone famous?”

“Liza was there. Lovely woman but, of course, I can’t say anything about it.”

That did the trick. Melinda looked both awed and chastised.

She’d have to remember that the next time someone asked.

The waiter poured water for the table and Bailey gulped down half her glass.

“It breaks my heart, what you went through.” Melinda’s eyes welled with tears. “I should have been there for you the way you’ve been for me. Remember when you pulled me out of the Roxy right before the cops swooped in?”

“Right. The Roxy. One of our many close calls.”

The waiter came by and handed them a couple of menus. Melinda didn’t bother to glance at it, kept her gaze rooted on Bailey. “Did you make any friends in rehab?”

“No. Not my type. Bunch of addicts and drunks.”

Melinda’s big blue eyes grew even bigger. “Don’t make fun. I know it must’ve been hard.”

Getting sympathy from Melinda made Bailey squirm. “The worst thing is not remembering much about my apparent night of infamy.”

Melinda let out a guffaw. “You were a trip, I have to say.”

“You were there?”

Bailey couldn’t remember much from that evening. She knew she’d had a few glasses of champagne and done some coke in one of the guest rooms at the Plaza. It was a big night out to celebrate Tristan’s birthday. They were to hit the Oak Room for martinis and then eventually end up clubbing at the Limelight, a former church from the 1800s where high-society families like the Astors and the Vanderbilts used to pray.

“Uh-huh. We ran into you guys in the Oak Room. Tony and I said hello and you were out of your mind already.”

A faint recollection of Bailey mimicking Tony’s English accent emerged through her hazy memory. She hadn’t liked Melinda’s latest boyfriend. He was one of those guys who always knew someone who knew someone, and liked to impress with how connected he was.

Bailey grimaced. “I was a bitch that night. Why did I insult Tristan’s top client?”

“Because she deserved it! You were completely right about the daughter’s apartment. That family never had any class.”

“She wanted her living room to have a rotating floor, for God’s sake.”

“I was at a party there a few weeks ago. Awful. You can’t buy taste.”

The waiter appeared. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Bailey ordered an iced tea, and Melinda paused for a moment before ordering the same.

“You don’t have to avoid alcohol on my account,” offered Bailey. “Feel free.”

“In that case, I’ll have a vodka on the rocks. I’m hitting Area later with Tony, so I’ll start slowly.”

“You and Tony are still good?” They’d been dating for a year now.

“You bet. I think marriage is in the cards. How do you feel about a new cousin-in-law?”

“If he makes you happy, I’m all for it. I’ll even babysit when you guys start adding to the family tree.”

Melinda giggled. “I guess I’ll have to produce at least one little rug rat for the sake of the Camden legacy. It’s not like Manvel is going to breed anytime soon. He’s way too in love with his creepy country artists.”

Bailey brushed some imaginary crumbs off the table. “Maybe he’ll find a nice girl in Alabama to settle down with.”

“I wouldn’t stop him, in any case,” said Melinda with a wink. “It isn’t as though I’ll be bumped down the line of inheritance if poor Manvel produces an heir. We each get an equal share, the day we turn thirty. Which is only a month away. Yee-haw, cuz!”

Melinda could play the family card all she liked, but she and Bailey weren’t actually related. Not by blood, anyway. Melinda and Manvel were real Camdens, heirs to the Camden money, co-owners of the Dakota apartment. While Bailey was extraneous. A fake Camden, whose grandfather was granted the family name but not the birthright, when he was taken in as a baby. “It’s not like we’re really cousins, cuz.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Our grandparents were raised together, as if they were siblings. That makes us cousins, in my mind.” Melinda took a sip of her drink. “Cheers to that.”

Bailey’s senses were overwhelmed by the glass in Melinda’s hands. The clinking of the ice cubes, pink lipstick on the rim the color of cake frosting. Her own iced tea proved a bitter disappointment.

“So what now for you?” Melinda asked. “Back to Crespo & O’Reilly?”

“No. They won’t have me back. Tristan made it clear that because of what I did, I’m a liability.”

“Fuck them. You deserve better, after all the work and connections you made for them. Where are you staying?”

“At the apartment of my roommate from Silver Hill, down on Avenue A.”

Melinda blinked a couple of times. “Is that the best neighborhood for someone fresh out of rehab to stay? Is your roommate a junkie?”