Killing Monica by Candace Bushnell Read Free Book Online Page B

over cupped hands.
    She was lighting a cigarette.
    She was wearing a fringed suede jacket that looked expensive, possibly Ralph Lauren.
    She had on a pair of men’s pea-green trousers. She’d rolled the waist down to reveal the silver-gray lining and the tops of her hip bones.
    As Pandy got out of the car, SondraBeth glanced over hopefully. She was still looking hopeful as she took in Pandy’s appearance: her long, swinging hair, stylishly short yellow skirt, and fancy black-and-white patent leather heels. A front tooth pulled back the edge of SondraBeth’s lower lip as a look of dismay crossed her face. It was quickly replaced with a grin. “Hey,” SondraBeth said, as if she, too, were in on the joke. “I’ll bet you can’t even get me this job.” She tossed her head as if it didn’t matter.
    Pandy laughed. “I’ll bet I can.”
    SondraBeth got the cigarette lit. She exhaled a stream of smoke without taking those topaz-green eyes off Pandy. She shrugged. “If you can’t, it’s not your fault. I deal with this bullshit every day.”
    “Listen,” Pandy said quickly. “I hate salons—and my hotel’s right up the street.” Sensing a skittishness on the part of The Girl, she tried to make the invitation sound casual. “I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the fridge.”
    She needn’t have worried. At the word “champagne,” SondraBeth suddenly relaxed, dropping her cigarette and grinding it under a gray-and-white snakeskin cowboy boot.
    “Now, that sounds like a plan,” SondraBeth replied eagerly. “Champagne. It’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
    “I’m at the Chateau.”
    SondraBeth smirked. “I figured.”
    “Bungalow One,” Pandy added.
    She got back into her car. When she went to close the door, her hands were shaking.
    *  *  *
    “D’you mind if I wash my face?” SondraBeth asked as she entered the bungalow a few minutes later.
    “Not at all.” Pandy went into the hallway that led to the kitchen and opened the door to the powder room. “In here.”
    “I just want to wash off my makeup.” SondraBeth stepped inside the bathroom.
    “No problem.” Pandy smiled broadly as if to reassure her. “I’ll open the champagne. PP sent the bottle last night.”
    “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” SondraBeth stuck her head out, emitted a loud “HA!” and slammed the door shut behind her.
    Pandy went into the kitchen. She took PP’s bottle from the refrigerator and carried it and two glasses out to the terrace, placing them on a filigreed metal table with an umbrella poking out of the top.
    “Hey!” SondraBeth reappeared, rubbing her face with a hand towel. She walked toward Pandy, a ray of sunlight illuminating the reddish freckles marching across the bridge of her nose like ants. “Sorry for using the bathroom. It’s just that I didn’t get a chance to take my makeup off.” She laughed and carelessly dropped the towel onto an empty seat. “I left a shoot early so I could get to meet you.”
    “Oh.” This, Pandy wasn’t expecting. “You didn’t have to do that.”
    “Oh, yes I did.” SondraBeth raised her glass of champagne. “To meeting you. Fuck Hollywood.”
    Pandy laughed and sat down. “Is it really that bad?”
    SondraBeth hooted, plopping into the chair next to Pandy and resting her boots on the table. “It’s just like in the movies,” she said with a sneer.
    “How do you know PP, anyway?” Pandy asked casually.
    “You mean…” SondraBeth leaned back in her chair, and suddenly she was PP, right down to the way he yawned ever so slightly before he dropped his arms from behind his head.
    “You mean that PP?” she asked.
    “How do you do that?” Pandy cooed with appropriate awe.
    SondraBeth shrugged. “I can imitate anyone. Always could, ever since I was a kid. When you grow up on a cattle ranch in Montana—” She broke off and chuckled, waggling her fingers at Pandy. “For a while, I actually wanted to be a stand-up comic. Like Ellen. Can