A Brilliant Ride (2 page)

I should point out that money - a lot
of money, especially old money - allows for a broad array of quirky and irrational behaviors. This could explain Phyllis’ carte blanche attitude when it comes to self-expression...and wardrobe.

Aside from her diverse attire, Phyllis is rea
lly quite pretty. She’s petite - sort of waif-like - with very long, dark, stick-straight hair, large brown eyes that always seem to be open too wide, and a smile that turns up ever so slightly at the ends, giving the hint of a delicious secret- sort of Mona Lisa gone psychedelic.

Phyllis has been married to Frank Triola for the past four years. Jackie says he’s a character (gangster) straight out of the Goombah Chronicles. I think he’s a big softy. Frank’s in Oil, as in Olive, and made an absolute killing when everyone got on that Mediterranean kick. He’s a large, gregarious man and a little rough around the edges. That said, he’s only tolerated at the ultra-snobby Regal Rock because he’s married to Phyllis, who, as everyone knows, is one of the Cowl heirs…as in Cowl Necks …billions there.

“He’s a BOOB,” Jackie’s voice sounded out like a bugle, snapping me back with a jolt.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Mrs. Carrington Johnson put one arthritic finger up to her pursed blue lips and raised her eyebrow high, while her cronies loudly cleared their crinkly, bejeweled throats. “Do you mind,” she creaked.

In response, Claudia narrowed her eyes like a mosquito zeroing in for a sting.

“Those old bags should be on treadmills instead of sitting here throwing canapés down their turkey necks; their triglycerides must be sky high.” Raising her glass up, she toasted the sour looking group, “Bottoms up.”

“Oh, but Claudia, my darling, not everyone has your kind of self-discipline,” Phyllis sang and placed her hands together, slowly bowing to Mrs. Johnson’s table. “Namaste,” she whispered.

“Please. That battle-axe, Johnson, gives me a pain. She thinks she’s all that after she got her band.”

“Eternity..?”

“No, Lap...how else do you think she dropped all that weight?”

“Oh, Claudia, you’re a hoot!”

Grinning broadly, Claudia leaned forward and
adjusted her gazillion dollar tourmaline enhancer, pointing it directly at Mrs. Carrington Johnson for added leverage. Her eyes flashed as the geriatric group turned away, humbled by the imposing piece of bling. “That should shut them up for a while,” she growled.

Claudia uses h
er astounding arsenal of baubles like weapons of mass destruction. And trust me; she has a ton of it - amazing jewels in every shape and color from the most famous design houses in the world. Half of her immense collection was handed down from the generations of grand women in her iconic family…the rest is from Paul, who spoils her senseless. She has a special temperature controlled room with glass showcases and elaborate alarm systems just to store all the bling - totally state of the art.

Aside from her love of gems, Claudia is very passionate about staying in shape. Thus, she is the self-proclaimed jock of our coterie. I mean, she’s a total fitness fanatic, obsessed with being in the best physical condition a person could possibly be in, spending hours perfecting her body and her circulatory system. As a matter of fact, she was the first person in our township to acquire her own private, personal fitness trainer. Of course everyone has one now, but back then it was quite sensational. We would all drive by to sneak a peek when three times a week he rolled up on his Hog in front of her large French Normandy with the swirling twin turrets, wearing black leather chaps over his athletic wear…very motivating.

In contrast to Phyllis’ Mona Lisa in sari look and Jackie’s Technicolor beauty, Claudia is icy. She has a trendy beige appearance - hair, face and eyes representing different shades of pale; the perfect canvas for showcasing her rock collection. She’s married to a very successful plastic surgeon, Paul Peterson - the nip and tuck man to the Stars. Jackie says he can make anyone look twenty years younger, and she should know…

“Oh, damn!” Jackie’s false eyelash fell into her Pinot Grigio, and she fished it out with her dessert spoon. She looked at the damp thing, which resembled a drowned spider, and started to cry again. The whole thing looked so pitiful; I closed my gaping mouth and reached out for her hand. Like Claudia, she too was bejeweled, adorned with a massive, intricately carved gold ring with a large blue stone set in the center. It was new; at least I had never seen it before…a bit gaudy for Jackie’s taste, I thought.

Her outfit, on the other hand, was killer. She was tightly wrapped - leaving little to the imagination - in an exquisitely cut black cashmere dress. I tried to calculate the time and expense involved in Jackie’s total look. Not only was she draped in luscious cashmere, but her perfect size six feet were adorned with gorgeous black suede pumps featuring four-inch Lucite heels. A hefty silver cuff hung from her small wrist, and a matching - very large - organic shaped brooch was pinned high on her right shoulder. Mental note to me: search for Lucite heels.

As I took it all in, I could feel envy quickly casting its spell on me, dragging me deeper and deeper, until…

“Beauty lies within…beauty lies within,” a voice rang through my head. I glanced around the table nervously and shifted in my seat.

“Look within,” the voice thundered.

There it is again!

Trying to compose myself, I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my freshly glazed hair. Clay, my hairstylist, insisted it was the color of the season…
Sunny & Share
. The name sold me.

I gave it a little flip and tried to focus.

“Perhaps an aura cleansing…or, no, better yet…an ear coning!” That was Phyllis, distracting me from my inner clamor. “You know, a buildup of wax can lead to pressure on the brain, which can sometimes cause irrational behavior.” Her eyes widened.

“Er, Jackie
,” I cut Phyllis off, “it’s not like you to be so insecure, darling. Maybe you should hire a private investigator. You know, have Ted professionally followed. There’s probably a very simple explanation, and until you have something solid - you know, concrete proof - I don’t think you should fall apart like this.”

“Yes; totally!” added Claudia, a look of excitement shooting across her face. “You need dirt…”

After a twitch and a look that could peel paint, Jackie whipped around and summoned the waiter with a quick flick of her porcelain hand. Within seconds he was at our table.

“Yes ladies. What can I get you?” He stood at attention, like a soldier, his back straight as an arrow. “May I suggest starting with a st
eaming tureen of octopus bisque or a nice salad…perhaps field greens with pecorino shavings?”

“More wine!” Jackie bellowed.

“Yes, of course, madam.”

“
I’ll just have a plain salad to start,” I said, reviewing the menu.

“Yes madam; Radicchio, Mesclun, Watercress, Endive, Escarole, Arugula, Swiss Chard or Dandelion?”

“Er…Arugula?”

“Lovely choice
…and for your main course, madam? May I suggest our Paupiette of Black Bass, in a lovely caviar and wild root sauce, with a side of truffle risotto?”

“Can you repeat that?”

“Pen, please! We’ll be here all day,” Jackie growled.

“Sorry…
I’ll have the salmon, grilled.”

“For you, madam…
anything
.” His eyes twinkled.

“What’s with this guy,” Claudia whispered out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll have the soup and seared
tuna - not too well done,” she said flatly, giving him the once over.

“Bring me a steak,” Jackie roared, “and make it rare.”

“Indubitably.” The waiter clicked his heels and smiled.

“I’ll have tofu,” said Phyllis.

“Tofu, madam?”

“Yes”

“Just tofu?”

“Yes. And more Pinot.”

“Very well. Your wish is my command,” he sang and turned on his heel.

“
That took long enough
…” Jackie grimaced.

“You’ll feel so much better after you eat something,
you’ll see.” I squeezed her hand.

“Yes; your blood sugar is low,” Phyllis added.

“Oh look. There’s poor Cathy Greenheart.”

We all turned and waved.

“Oh dear. She looks haggard.”

“Well, it’s no wonder. I heard she had to sell her entire
Hermes
scarf collection.”

“No!”

“Yes. Can you imagine? It’s too awful to think about.”

“
A tragedy. She lost every dime in that Ponzi scam,” Claudia whispered.

“Do you think she’s had work done…?” We all turned to scrutinize.

“Definitely. Thank God she had that done before she went broke.”

“Oh yes…thank God.”

“Well. It’s a good thing she has deep, caring friends like us.” We waved again and smiled.

“Absolutely; we must make it a point to take her out for a manicure or something…”

“Oh yes. And let’s send her a gift…something useful…like a silver tray or monogramed napkins…”

We put our heads down for a moment of silent reflection.

I took advantage of the solemn moment and survey
ed the club. It was jam packed with Chatsdale’s
top drawer
, most likely chatting about fundraisers, the popular fall fashion show, or where they were spending the holidays. I wondered how many tables were discussing philandering husbands…probably 75%; I estimated.

Over to my left, I spotted the Regal’s manager, Charles, making a beeline for a table of chatty women with the house phone in his hand. Color drained from my f
ace as I watched him hand it over to a woman busily searching her handbag…but not just any handbag. No - holy moly macaroni - the handbag of all handbags!

The holy grail of handbags.

The gold standard.

The TIGER!!!

Divine intervention! My foot tapped uncontrollably.

The coveted
Tiger Bag
.

My eyes glazed over as I was instantly whisked away into the land of extravagance and beauty, imagining ownership of the magnificent work of art and the respect and envy it would undoubtedly demand…like knowing the secret handshake. Oh, the doors that would open if it were securely tucked under my arm. My mind
raced like a runaway train.
That bag is soooo gorgeous.

Its stripes mesmerizing and bringing out the animal in me, I envisioned the rectangular bag with its genuine 14kt gold chain link handle and matching tiger’s head cl
osure by my side and let out a little “roar.”

“What? Pen, did you say something?”

“Oh, er…yes,
bore
. Ted is such a bore,” I quickly replied.

“Beauty
lies within…beauty lies within,” the haunting voice boomed through my head again.

“Oh, enough, already,” I said loudly, pulling at my collar. If only that voice would stop nagging at me.

“Pen, what are you going on about?” Phyllis screwed her face up.

“Er…
enough
speculating,” I blurted out. “It’s going to turn out to be something innocent…you’ll see. You can’t fall apart like this.” I cleared my throat loudly and picked at my cuticle, my eyes locked on the superb masterpiece. I wonder if the Tiger has a matching wallet. Oh, oh…and a card case, and maybe a cell phone holder, a makeup bag and a…lipstick holder! I made another mental note.

Jackie was staring at me, the gold flecks in her green eyes dancing around like tiny flames. I gave my Sunny & Share a nervous flip and tried my best to ignore her.

Meanwhile, Claudia darted her eyes over to the Tiger and kicked me hard under the table.

“Ouch!”

“Beauty lies within, beauty lies within…” Ahhhhh, it’s that voice again. I shook my head, trying to lose the maddening chant, but it was useless.

“Darling, have you seen my new
Salvatore Caracas
?” Claudia pulled my attention back. “
It’s a dream
.” Her eyes twinkled.

“
Salvatore Caracas
…” My ears perked up like a bunny spotting a carrot.

She pointed to the pale pink scarf casually draped over her shoulder and purred.

“Oh my…
it is dreamy
.” I put my hand out hoping to feel the exquisite piece of silk.

“Oh yes.
It’s a one of a kind…and signed. Paul got it for me when he was in Barcelona, at that Botox convention. Darling you know
Salvatore Caracas
is just….”

“Excuse me!” That was Jackie, her voice hitting a new high. “It’s all about me, today…remember?”

“Er….yes, sorry…”

“Well, if you ask me,” Phyllis said flatly, “I think you should try clairvoyant counseling. It might give you some insight into Ted’s psyche,” she shrugged her shoulders.