Glamorama

"That's so cool," I say, gazing at thin sheets of light-blue ice that cover an entire wall, lie in patches on the bar and on the mirrors behind the bar. Someone walks by in a parka.

"And I'd like to open a restaurant in the shape of a giant scarab."

We both stand there staring at the egg and then I slowly walk away, explaining, "My cafe au lait's a little too foamy, guy."

The makeup team has finished and they leave Chloe alone and I move over to where she's staring at us in a giant portable mirror that sits in the middle of the table, magazines scattered everywhere around her, some with Chloe's face on the cover.

"What's with the glasses?" she asks.

"Reef says it's fashionable to look like an intellectual this season." It's so cold our breath frosts, comes out in puffs.

"If someone asked you to eat your own weight in Silly Putty, would you do that too?" she asks quietly.

"I'm a-buggin', I'm a-jumpin', baby."

"Victor, I'm so glad you know what's important and what's not."

"Thanks, babe." I lean in to kiss her neck but she flinches and whispers something about disturbing powder, so I end up placing my lips on top of her scalp.

"What am I smelling?" I ask.

"I've been using vodka to lighten my hair," she says sadly. "Bongo got a whiff at the Donna Karan show and started muttering the Serenity Prayer."

"Don't sweat it, baby. Remember that all you have to do is say cheese about two hundred times a day. That's it!"

"Being photographed six hours straight is sheer torture."

"Who's the dude in the corner, baby?" I gesture toward the guy on the tatami mat.

"That's La Tosh. We go way back. I've known him for weeks. We met over a spring roll at Kin Khao."

"Tres jolie." I shrug.

"Supposedly he's one of Rome's best-connected psychos," she sighs. "Do you have any cigarettes?"

"Hey, what happened to the nicotine patch you were gonna wear today?" I ask, concerned.

"It was making me all wobbly on the runway." She takes my hand and looks up into my face. "I missed you today. Whenever I'm really tired I miss you."

I lean in, hug her a little, whisper into her ear. "Hey-who's my favorite little supermodel?"

"Take those glasses off," she says sourly. "You look like somebody who's trying too hard. You look like Dean Cain."

"So what's the story?" I remove the frames, slip them back into their case.

"Alison Poole has called about ten times today," Chloe says, looking around the table for cigarettes. "I haven't called her back. Do you have any idea what she wants?"

"No, baby. Why?"

"Well, didn't you see her at the Alfaro show?"

"Baby, I wasn't at the Alfaro show." I pull a small piece of confetti from her hair.

"Shalom said she saw you there."

"Shalom needs new contacts, then, baby."

"So why are you visiting me?" she asks. "Are you sure you don't have a cigarette?"

I check all my pockets. "I don't think so, baby." I find a pack of Mentos, offer her one. "Um, I just wanted to stop in, say hello, the usual. I've gotta be back at the club, meet this DJ we desperately need for the party tonight and then I'll see you at Todd's show."

"I've got to be out of here in forty minutes if I'm going to make it for hair." She takes a sip from a Fruitopia bottle.

"God, it's freezing in here," I say, shivering.

"This week has been hell, Victor," Chloe says blankly. "Maybe the most hellish week of my life."

"I'm here for you, baby."

"I know I should be comforted by that," she says. "But thank you anyway."

"I've just been so swamped today, baby, it's totally scary," I say. "I've just been so totally swamped."

Chapter Six

"We really need to treat ourselves to a vacation," Chloe says.

"So what's the story, baby?" I try again. "What's this thing about?" I ask, gesturing toward the crew, the egg, the guy on the tatami mat.

"I'm not sure, but Scott is supposed to be some kind of phantom- android obsessed with curry-the spice-and we have a fight about whatever people who look like us have fights about and I throw a cube, some kind of-oh, I don't know-a cube at him and then, according to the script, he 'flees.'"