Page 106 of Naughty Nelle

“C’mon, you’ve got to tell me,” she pleaded with a fling of her perfectly blown, shoulder-length auburn hair.

“No,” I said, at last. Theoretically, that was true.

“One of these days, you’ve got to say goodbye to your virginity. It’s no big deal.”

I twitched my mouth, saying nothing to big-mouth Lauren.

Knitting her brows, Lauren took another sip of her soda. “How did you meet him?”

“On the train home from Philly.”

There was no way I was going to tell the gossip girl about the details of our train encounter as the juices between my legs began once again to percolate. I flushed at the memory.

“Well, you know what they say. You never know when and where you’ll meet Mr. Right.”

As my sassy friend put her cell phone back into her Birkin, my eyes landed on something that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh my God, Lauren, what’s that?” I asked, pointing at her left fourth finger.

A big smile spread across her Emma Stone look-alike face. “I thought you’d never notice.”

“No way!”

“Way!” she squealed. “Taylor and I are engaged. He got down on his knees—right in front of all my friends—and asked me to marry him while the Black Eyed Peas were singing tonight’s gonna be a good, good night. It was so romantic.”

The engagement ring on Lauren’s finger must have been at least five carats. And I’m sure it was flawless. Taylor Hodges IV grew up in the same circles as Lauren; their families probably dined together on the Mayflower. They’d known each other since their childhood cotillion days, but their relationship didn’t blossom into a romance until he went to Brown while she was “next door” at RISD. Despite a couple of major breakups, they’d been together for six years. He worked for her father. Already written up in the Wall Street Journal as one of Wall Street’s wunderkinds, he was destined to be one of the financial world’s major players. While he was never my favorite person in the world, for Lauren, he was perfect marriage material. I gave her a huge hug.

“That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you.”

“I want you to be one of my bridesmaids. You can bring Ari as your date.”

“I’d love to,” I replied, eschewing Ari. That wasn’t happening!

“Mummy has already lined up a private appointment for me at Vera Wang’s at noon, and then we’re heading over to the Bergdorf Bridal Salon. It would be so much fun if you came along.”

I politely declined. In my head, I knew I’d better get used to the next six months of constant wedding talk from Lauren. There’d be no detail spared, and she was going to want me to weigh in on every decision from the color of her wedding day nail polish to the number of layers of her cake. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought me an iPhone like hers so that we could be in touch 24/7.

“Maybe, tomorrow we can hang out,” I said.

“Can’t. I’ll be in the Hamptons. Taylor’s parents are throwing us a little impromptu cocktail party tomorrow night to celebrate our engagement.”

Lauren plunked the Diet Coke can on my coffee table (having servants her entire life, she didn’t know from cleaning up—that was my job when we were roommates at RISD) and heel-toed toward the door.

“Sarah, maybe you’ll be next.”

She winked at me as she turned the doorknob to let herself out. As the door slammed behind her, my phone rang. My heart jumped. I ran to it before it went to voicemail. In my head, I could hear him saying my name in that soft, sultry sexy voice. Stop it, Sarah. Stop it! This man is not into you.

When I picked up the receiver, I was as relieved as I was disappointed. It was just another one of those obnoxious bill collectors. I pretended to be someone else. I hated these people because I was positive they got some sadistic pleasure out of people suffering. Since my mother’s illness, my bills had piled up. The added cost of my weekly trips to Philadelphia forced me to make late payments and even ignore some bills. Seeing my mom had to be the priority. Someday, I would be a rich and famous toy designer and never worry about money again. I just wanted my mother to be in my life when I got there.

More bills were stacked in a pile on the kitchen counter. I’d left them there last night. After feeding Jo-Jo, I attacked the bills. The usual suspects—termination of cell phone service if my bill wasn’t paid immediately…late charge for an emergency room visit (I fell off my skateboard and needed a few stitches)…an invitation to one of Lauren’s charity balls ($1000 per ticket—forget it)…and finally a bill from The Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. Except the latter was not a bill; it was a letter.

Dear Ms. Greene:

I regret to inform you that the government grant providing for your mother’s treatment has run out of funds. Unfortunately, her insurance company will not cover experimental drug treatments. In light of the circumstances, we have no choice but to terminate her current treatment protocol, but we will be glad to work with the both of you to find a viable alternative that is affordable and possibly covered by another insurance provider. Please contact me at your earliest possible convenience.

Sincerely,

Dr. Martin Chernoff

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