"Only in an increasingly superficial way," she says. "Only because we're in this movie together."
"You think you know everything, Chloe."
"I know a f**k of a lot more than you do, Victor," she says. "Everyone knows a f**k of a lot more than you do and it's not cute."
"So you don't have any lip balm?" I ask carefully, glancing around to see if anyone heard her.
Silence, then, "How did you know Alison was going to wear that dress?" she suddenly asks. "I've been thinking about that all night. How did you know Alison was going to be wearing the same dress? And you did know, didn't you?"
"Baby," I say, semi-exasperated. "The way you look at things is so hard-"
"No, no, Victor," she says, sitting up. "It's very simple. It's actually very, very simple."
"Baby, you're very, very cool."
"I am so tired of looking at that empty expanse that's supposed to be your face-"
"Alfonse." I raise my hand at a passing busboy, making a pouring motion. "Mineral water for the table. Con gas?"
"And why does Damien keep asking me why I'm not wearing a hat?" she asks. "Is everyone demented or something?"
Chloe zones out on her reflection in a mirror situated across the room while Brad Pitt and Gwyneth Paltrow celebrate her choice of fingernail polish and gradually we drift away from one another and those who aren't doing drugs light up cigars so I grab one too and somewhere above us, gazing down, the ghosts of River Phoenix and Kurt Cobain and my mother are totally, utterly bored.
"Is Lauren dating Baxter?" I ask innocently, giving Chloe one last try for an answer, and I'm leaning in, nodding goodbye to Brad and Gwyneth. "
"'Is Lauren dating Baxter?'" she mimics. "I need another Cosmopolitan and then I'm getting the hell out of here." She turns her attention to Baxter, completely ignoring me, and I'm totally startled so I do a few cool moves with the cigar and turn to Lauren, who seems to be paying attention to my plight.
"She looks displeased," Lauren says, glancing over at Chloe.
"My fault." I shrug. "Forget about it."
"Everyone here is just... so... dead."
"Alicia Silverstone doesn't look so dead. Noel Gallagher doesn't look so dead. JFK Jr. doesn't look so dead -
"JFK Jr. never showed up, Victor."
"Would you like some more dessert?"
"I suppose it's all relative," she sighs, then starts drawing on a large cocktail napkin with purple Hard Candy nail polish.
"Are you dating Baxter Priestly?" I finally ask.
She looks up from the napkin briefly, smiles a private smile, continues drawing with the nail polish. "Rumor has it that you are," she murmurs.
"Rumor has it that Naomi Campbell's shortlisted for the Nobel Prize but really, what are the odds?" I ask, annoyed.
Lauren's looking at Alison, considering her, while Alison pitches forward in her chair, drunkenly grabbing onto Calvin Klein for support, everyone knocking back shots of Patron tequila, a small gold bottle sitting half-empty in the middle of Damien's plate.
"She's like a tarantula," Lauren whispers.
Alfonse starts pouring San Pellegrino into extra glasses scattered around our table. "Could you please bring her another Diet Dr Pepper?" I ask him, pointing at Lauren.
"Why?" Lauren asks, overhearing me.
"Because everything needs to be redefined right now," I say. "Because things need to be redefined for me. People need to sober up, that's why, and-"
Something crawls up my neck and I whirl around to slap it away but it's just one of Robert Isabell's floral arrangements going limp. Lauren looks at me like I'm insane and I pretend to study the point where Mark Vanderloo's eyebrows don't meet. Someone says "Pass the chips," someone else says "Those aren't chips." I finally turn back to Lauren, who's still writing on the cocktail napkin, concentrating, her eyes slits. I notice the letters W, Q, J, maybe an R. We'll slide down the surface of things. Damien slowly disengages himself from his table and starts moving toward me, cigar in hand.
"Lauren-" I start.
"You're high," she says somewhat menacingly.
"I was high. I'm not high anymore. I am no longer high." I pause. "You said that somewhat menacingly."
I pause, testing the situation. "But do you have any coke?" and then, "Are you, like, carrying?"