Sex and Vanity(78)

“Cecil, I have to go down to Soho Art Materials after this to get supplies. I can’t be schlepping canvases and stuff wearing that ring.”

“Why do you need to be schlepping anything in the first place? I’ve told you so many times I have a multitude of underlings from Pike Projects ready to wait on you hand and foot. They can get you whatever you want, whenever you want, and deliver it right to the door of your barn in East Hampton.”

“But I need to choose the materials myself, Cecil. The brushes, the paints, everything.”

“Well then, where is your ring? I’ll have one of my three personal assistants go to the apartment and bring it here to you. It can be done within fifteen minutes.” Cecil took out his phone and began texting away furiously.

“Are you sure you want one of your assistants to go to all that trouble?” Lucie asked.

“Of course. What’s the point of being a billionaire if you can’t have an army of slaves at your beck and call to do whatever you want? My mother has one girl who does nothing but fly around the world doing all her returns for her.”

“But is it so crucial for her to see the ring right now?”

“Absolutely. Everyone’s been talking about my ring, and Marie-Laure has one of the most legendary joaillier collections on the planet. If Marie-Laure approves of the ring, she might actually come to the wedding!”

“Who is she again?” Lucie cocked her head.

“Baby, her family owns the Imperial Hotel in Gstaad and she’s a dear friend of my mother’s. We’re going to be seeing her every February from now on when we do the season in Gstaad.”

Freddie looked up from his plate. “I didn’t know you skied, Cecil.”

“I don’t. I go to Gstaad for the season.”

Lucie finally gave in, knowing Cecil wouldn’t stop fixating on this till he got what he wanted. “The ring is in the top left drawer of my highboy, behind all my sunglass cases. Mom, could you please call Tony and tell him someone’s coming by?”

Marian gave her a weary look. “Mary’s got the day off—there’s no one at home right now. Are you sure we want a total stranger up there?”

Charlotte leaned in. “Do you trust your assistant, Cecil?”

“Of course I do!” Cecil insisted.

Marian reached into her thirty-year-old Coach handbag and got out her phone. “What’s the name of your assistant? I need to tell Tony to let them up.”

“I don’t know,” Cecil answered.

Marian looked up at Cecil incredulously. “Uh … you don’t know the name of the assistant you’re going to be sending to rummage through my home looking for a multimillion-dollar ring?”

“Marian, they change so frequently, I can’t be bothered to keep track of their names. Rose, Kirk, Lili, Emile, who the hell knows? But I can ensure you not a single one of them would ever be stupid enough to risk being fired for screwing up this errand. We only hire kids from the Ivys, and they are all grossly overpaid if you ask me. Besides, the ring is insured, and trust me, there’s really nothing in your apartment that anyone would want to steal.”

Freddie projectile spat his mouthful of chocolate mousse all over his plate as he burst out in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Cecil asked angrily.

“Nothing,” Freddie answered lightly. “Where’s the waiter? Don’t we need to order?”

Lucie fumed as Marian and Charlotte sat in uncomfortable silence, not sure how to resolve this matter.

“You know what? If you don’t trust one of my Ivy League minions, I will go and get the ring myself,” Cecil announced, rising from the table and rushing off just as the waiter arrived to take their orders.

“Oh well, let’s go ahead and order first. I’m not waiting for Cecil,” Marian said decisively.

After everyone had placed their lunch orders, Charlotte suggested, “Let’s google some famous animal activists and find the perfect person to honor at your benefit, Marian.”

“Yes, who should we try for?” Marian wondered.

Charlotte scrolled through her phone. “Okay … here’s a good list of celebs. Let’s see … Paul McCartney … we’ll never get him either. How about Penélope Cruz? She was so good in the latest Almodóvar film.”

“Hmm … I’m not sure she’s quite right for this crowd,” Marian assessed.

“Jared Leto.”

“Love him, but not right for this crowd either,” Lucie assessed.

“Oh, how about Bea Arthur?”

“She’s dead,” Freddie said.

“When did she die?!” Charlotte cried.

“Like, years ago,” Freddie replied.

“How sad! I must have missed that news cycle. Wait, here’s a good one for the Long Island crowd—Wendy Williams.”

“That’s a good possibility. Any others?”

Charlotte gasped. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Cornelia Guest!”

“Oh, she’d be terrific!” Marian agreed.

Charlotte held up a PETA ad featuring Cornelia with an incredible mane of blond hair cleverly covering up her voluptuous nude body, accompanied by the slogan I’D RATHER GO NAKED THAN WEAR FUR.

“She’s a babe!” Freddie said.