Being Audrey Hepburn by Mitchell Kriegman Read Free Book Online Page B

distance of a completely hammered pop sensation. I absolutely could not return Audrey Hepburn’s dress to Jess with barf chunks on it.
    “Don’t you dare take a fucking picture of me,” she slurred.
    “I wouldn’t,” I said, surprised at how insulted I felt. Why would she think that? “I don’t even have a camera.”
    “Yeah right, what about your cell phone?” I shrugged, realizing instantly that I didn’t have my phone, my driver’s license, car keys, or anything that would identify me other than this magic dress, which wasn’t mine. “I have people who’d sue you.” Tabitha eyed me warily, trying to wipe the puke off her lips. Gently, I handed her another piece of TP.
    “I don’t have a cell phone.”
    “You don’t have a cell phone?” She seemed confused. “Who doesn’t have a cell phone?”
    “Well actually, I mean, I have one, just not with me at the moment,” I answered as politely as I imagined Audrey might have explained. I also figured that this was definitely not the time to scream to Tabitha that I was a huge fan of her music and her wild fashion sense.
    She threw up again—kind of at the end of her run—not much came out, and she rested back against the side of the stall, exhausted. I walked back to the sink and wet a couple of paper towels. Returning, I handed her one for her lips and placed several on the back of her neck.
    She softly moaned and gazed up at me. “You’re wearing a tiara.”
    “Yes, that’s very observant for someone in your condition,” I responded. This made her laugh and totally broke the ice.
    “These paper towels feel so good.”
    “Yes,” I said, “towels on the neck cool you off nicely, and, as an added bonus, it won’t ruin your makeup.”
    The bathroom door flew open, and there was the penetrating sound of a gaggle of giggly girls invading our privacy. Discretely closing our stall door, I locked it, stepping deeper inside with Tabitha as the girls filled up the bathroom.
    I put my finger to my lips, and Tabitha drew her feet to her chest in a little ball. We tried not to crack up as we listened to one of the girls pee in the stall next to ours. Listening to someone pee had never been so funny. We held our breath and managed to keep it together for another three minutes, eavesdropping on the random high-heeled socialites peeing and flushing. There was some idle chatter and no good gossip to speak of. Soon they were at the mirror checking their lip gloss. We heard the door open again as they left, and we burst out laughing. It was so ridiculous, we had to catch our breath and force ourselves to settle down.
    “God, what am I going to do?” Tabitha said, still almost crying from laughter. “I can’t go back out there and face everyone like this.”
    She really was a mess; I couldn’t just leave her there. “Let’s see how you look standing,” I said, pulling her up to her two wobbly feet and moving toward the sink. I scanned myself in the mirror, hoping I hadn’t damaged Audrey’s dress.
    “Can I get someone for you in the main gallery?” I asked.
    “I came alone,” Tabitha said.
    She avoided making eye contact and sounded so abandoned that it made me feel sorry for her. It was hard to believe that a person as fabulous as Tabitha Eden could ever feel alone.
    “If I go out there,” she whispered, “the paparazzi will have me on TMZ covered in puke within the hour. And if they don’t, one of my ‘friends’ will call them.”
    “Darling, you didn’t really get any on your dress, and your makeup is fine.”
    Taking another wet paper towel, I freshened her up a bit while I tried to think of some way to get her discretely out of the museum.
    As an aside, I was very proud that I could do a decent “darling.” I’d had a lifetime of hearing it, that was for sure. No one in the history of speaking has ever said the word “darling” the way Audrey did. There wasn’t anything cloying or pretentious about the way she said it. On