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第44章

时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第44章


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  people just like him。 Never even mind theNew Yorkerwriters! I racked 
  my brain; trying to remember if I’d mentioned to him at the party 
  that Babbo was the one restaurant I most wanted to try in New York; 
  that I loved Italian and knew how much Miranda loved it and I was 
  dying to go。 I’d even thought about blowing a week’s pay on a meal 
  and had called to make a reservation for Alex and me; but they’d 
  been booked solid for the next five months。 I hadn’t been asked on a 
  date by anyone other than Alex in three years。

  “Um; Christian; golly; I’d love to;” I started; trying to forget 
  immediately that I’d just said “golly。”Golly! Who said that? The 
  scene where Baby proudly announces to Johnny that she’d carried a 
  watermelon flashed to mind; but I pushed it back and willed myself 
  to forge forward despite the humiliation。 “I’d really love to”—yes; 
  you idiot; you just said that; try to make some progress here—“but I 
  just can’t do it。 I; um; I already have plans for Saturday。” A good 
  response overall; I thought。 I was shouting over the noise of the 
  siren; but I thought I still sounded somewhat dignified。 No need to 
  be available for a date that was only two days away; and no real 
  need to reveal existence of boyfriend 。 。 。 after all; it really 
  wasn’t any of his Business。 Right?

  “Do you really have plans; Andrea; or do you think your boyfriend 
  would disapprove of you going out with another man?” He was Fishing; 
  I could tell。

  “Either way has nothing to do with you;” I said prissily; and I 
  actually rolled my eyes at myself。 I crossed Third Avenue without 
  noticing that the light was against me and almost got mowed down by 
  a minivan。

  “OK; well; I’ll let you off this time。 But I’ll be asking again。 And 
  I think next time you’ll say yes。”

  “Oh; really? What gives you that impression?” The confidence that 
  had seemed so sexy before was now starting to sound a whole lot like 
  arrogance。 The only problem was that it made him sound even sexier。

  “Just a hunch; Andrea; just a hunch。 And no need to worry that 
  pretty little head of yours—or your boyfriend’s—I was just extending 
  a friendly invitation for a good meal and good pany。 Maybe he’d 
  like to join us; Andrea? Your boyfriend。 He must be a great guy; I’d 
  really like to meet him。”

  “No!” I almost shouted; horrified at the thought of the two of them 
  sitting across a table from each other; each so amazing in such 
  radically different ways。 I’d be ashamed for Christian to see Alex’s 
  wholesomeness; his do…gooder ways。 To Christian; Alex would seem 
  like a naï;ve hick。 And I’d be even more ashamed for Alex to see; 
  with his own eyes; all the ugly things I found so incredibly 
  attractive about Christian: the style; the cockiness; a 
  self…assuredness so rock…solid it seemed impossible to insult him。

  “No。” I laughed or; rather; forced a laugh; as I tried to make it 
  sound casual。 “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea。 Although I’m sure 
  he’d just love to meet you; too。”

  He laughed with me; but it had turned mocking; patronizing。 “I was 
  just kidding; Andrea。 I’m sure your boyfriend’s a really great guy; 
  but I’m not particularly interested in meeting him。”

  “Well; of course。 Sure。 I mean; I knew what you—”

  “Listen; I’ve got to run。 Why don’t you give me a call if you change 
  your mind 。 。 。 or your ‘plans;’ OK? Offer’s still open。 Oh; and 
  have a great day。” And before I could say another word; he’d hung 
  up。

  What the hell had just happened? I ran through it again: Hot Smart 
  Writer had somehow found my cell number; called it; and fully asked 
  me on a date for Saturday night to Hot Trendy Restaurant。 I wasn’t 
  clear whether he knew ahead of time if I had a boyfriend or not; but 
  he didn’t appear particularly daunted by the information。 The only 
  thing I knew for sure was that I’d spent way too long chatting on 
  the phone; a fact confirmed by a quick glance at my watch。 It had 
  been thirty…two minutes since I’d left the office; longer than the 
  time it usually took me to get lunch and e back。

  I stashed the phone and realized I had already made it to the 
  restaurant。 I pulled open the lumbering wooden door and stepped into 
  the hushed; darkened dining room。 Even though every table was filled 
  with midtown bankers and lawyers gnawing on their favorite steaks; 
  there was barely any noise at all; as if the plush carpeting and 
  manly color scheme just absorbed all the sound。

  “Andrea!” I heard Sebastian cry from the hostess stand。 He beelined 
  toward me as though I might be holding the last of a life…saving 
  medication。 “We’re just all so glad you’re here!” Two young girls in 
  crisp gray skirt suits nodded seriously behind him。

  “Oh; really? Why is that?” I could never help myself toying with 
  Sebastian; just a little。 He was such an unbelievable kiss…ass。

  He leaned over conspiratorially; his excitement palpable。 “Well; you 
  know how the entire staff here at Smith and Wollensky feels about 
  Ms。 Priestly; don’t you?Runway is such a gorgeous magazine; what 
  with all the beautiful shoots and stunning style and; of course; 
  fascinating; literate articles。 We all just adore it!”

  “Literate articles; huh?” I asked; suppressing the huge smile that 
  was threatening to emerge。 He nodded proudly and turned as one of 
  the suited helpers tapped him on the shoulder to hand him a tote 
  bag。

  He literally cried out in joy。 “Ah…hah! Here we have it; one 
  perfectly prepared lunch for one perfect editor—and one perfect 
  assistant;” he added while winking at me。

  “Thank you; Sebastian; we both appreciate it。” I opened the natural 
  cotton tote; a bag that looked just like thoseüber …cool ones from 
  the Strand that all the NYU students slung over their shoulder; but 
  without the logo; and made sure everything was right。 
  One…and…a…quarter…pound ribeye; bleeding all over the container; so 
  raw it just might not have been cooked at all。 Check。 Two baked 
  potatoes the size of small kittens; each steaming hot。 Check。 One 
  small side container of smashed potatoes; made soft with lots of 
  heavy cream and extra butter。 Check。 Precisely eight perfect stalks 
  of asparagus with the tips looking plump and juicy and the ends 
  shaved to a clean; white finish。 Check。 There was also a metal gravy 
  boat full of softened butter; a pinch…box overflowing with grainy 
  kosher salt; a wooden…handled steak knife; and a crisp white linen 
  napkin; which today was folded into the shape of a pleated skirt。 
  How adorable。 Sebastian waited to see if I liked it。

  “Very nice; Sebastian;” I said as though I were praising a puppy for 
  going number two outside。 “You really outdid yourself today。”

  He beamed and then looked at the ground in practiced humility。 
  “Well; thank you。 You know how I feel about Ms。 Priestly; and; well; 
  it’s really an honor to; well; you know 。 。 。”

  “Prepare her lunch?” I supplied; helpfully。

  “Well; yes。 Exactly。 You know what I mean。”

  “Yes; of course I do; Sebastian。 She’ll love it; I’m sure。” I didn’t 
  have the heart to tell him that I immediately unfolded all of his 
  creations because the Ms。 Priestly he so adored would throw a hissy 
  fit if faced with a napkin in the shape of anything other than a 
  napkin—never mind a bowling bag or a high…heeled shoe。 I tucked the 
  bag under my arm and turned to leave; but just then my phone rang。

  Sebastian looked at me expectantly; fervently hoping that the voice 
  on the other line of my Cell Phone would be his love; his reason for 
  living。 He wasn’t let down。

  “Is this Emily? Emily; is that you; I can barely hear you!” 
  Miranda’s voice

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