See Jane Date by Melissa Senate Read Free Book Online Page A

sipped her water. “But you already know all this—you know my life story! Well, not everything! Just the bare bones from my outline and whatever you’ve read about me in the press.”
    Bare bones, indeed, but what more did I need to know to judge her as an opportunistic, spotlight-hungry bitch? I’d already been forced to grudgingly acknowledge that the Gnat had written a decent outline of her ridiculous life story. It had all the necessary elements for a page-turning tell-all. Rags to riches and back to supposed rags(I knew Agnes B. when I saw it) with the all-important moral about self-esteem. I’d say Natasha Nutley had a little too much self-esteem. So forget about considering for a second that there was anything more to her than met the envious eye.
    Sixty-fourth Street. No one lived on 64th Street, and especially not between Park and Madison. That was like getting married at the Plaza. It just wasn’t done, unless you were a gazillionaire.
    So how had Dana Dreer and Natasha Nutley, two girls from Queens, managed to do the impossible? Maybe your name had to be alliterative.
    â€œOmigod! Natasha? Natasha Nutley?”
    Omigod was right. That voice belonged to my cousin Dana.
    I turned to find none other than Dana Dreer gaping at the Gnat, her mouth hanging open in wide-eyed joy. Of all the restaurants to have lunch in, did Dana have to pick the Blue Water Grill?
    Natasha stared at Dana, taking in her big blue eyes, her pixie blond haircut and her small frame in head-to-toe Prada (compliments of the Internet-millionaire groom-to-be). Suddenly Natasha broke out in a huge smile. “Dana? Little Dana Dreer?”
    They both squealed. Dana ran over, the Gnat stood up and the two hugged. Natasha had been Dana’s baby-sitter for a few years when Dana was around eight, nine and ten. You could imagine that this little piece of trivia was something Dana shared with everyone whenever she was in Forest Hills visiting her parents or Grammy.
    â€œJane told me she was editing your autobiography!” Dana exclaimed. “That’s so exciting! Adding author to your already very impressive résumé!”
    Natasha beamed. “Well, writing has always been my first love.”
    Oh, really? I thought her first love had been stealing other girl’s almost-boyfriends right before major school dances. Without knowing or caring.
    â€œJane!” Dana mock-scolded, turning those still-wide blue eyes on me. “I called you this morning, and you didn’t call me back. I wanted to tell you I found the perfect peach peau de soie shoes for you. There’s a store on Lexington at 77th, right when you come out of the subway.” She turned her attention to Natasha. “What a coincidence running into you two here! I’m having lunch with my caterer—”
    A waiter-model came by to ask if we were ready to order. I told him we needed a few moments. I noticed he eyed Natasha appreciatively.
    â€œWow! Little Dana Dreer!” Natasha said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it!”
    â€œI’m not so little,” Dana gushed. “I’m getting married in two months at the Plaza!” As if on cue, a slight pink flush appeared on Dana’s cheeks.
    Natasha sucked in the appropriate gasp. “The Plaza! Not too shabby. Did your folks win big at Lotto or what?”
    â€œMore like I’m marrying very well, if I do say so myself!” Dana whispered with a chuckle as she held up her two-and-a-half-carat-encrusted left hand and wiggled her fingers. Could I throw up now? “Omigod, Natasha, you have to come! Please say you’ll come! The wedding’s on August second, a Sunday.”
    â€œWell, I’ll have to check my book…” Natasha said with the flip of a ringlet. She plopped her Louis Vuitton satchel on the table and pulled out an appointment book, also covered in Louis Vuitton leather imprinted with hundreds of LV’s. She