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wasn t like that, she protested, her voice curt. Unlike Alexa,
wasn t like that, she protested, her voice curt. Unlike Alexa,
Holly wasn t a fan of the word crush; she felt like it implied
something sort of serious. Instinctively, Holly reached into
her beach bag to retrieve her Claddagh ring and slipped it
back on. The whole rescue now felt so random, so bizarre.
Holly knew what she needed was some normalcy to put her
on an even keel again. Something mindless and trivial.
Alexa, observing her friend s sober expression, realized,
with a prickle of guilt, how exhausted Holly must be after
that intense experience.  Hoi, I m sure you want to go back
to El Sueño and rest, she offered gently.
 Not at all. Holly swung her legs off her lounger, looking
determined.  I want to shop.
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And Alexa  who knew all too well what a rare occasion it
was when Holly suggested retail therapy  decided not to
fight it.  If you say so, she said, shooting her friend a grin.
 Maybe you ll rescue someone out of their too-tight capris.
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CHAPTER SIX
Rodeo Queens
Alexa had many pet peeves  pleated pants, bad kissers,
the math section of the SAT  but chief among them were
people who referred to that fabled strip of Beverly Hills high
fashion  as ROW-dee-oh Drive.
Rodeos, the cowboy kind, could be sort of sexy in and of
themselves  all those cute, sweaty boys in plaid shirts,
fitted jeans, and Stetsons  but the famous Row-DAY-oh
Drive inhabited a world of glamour and class that had
nothing to do with bucking broncos.
Unfortunately, when Alexa and Holly got lost en route from
Zuma Beach to Beverly Hills and stopped to ask a
passerby for directions, the woman turned out to be a
tourist who committed the twin crimes of not knowing where
the shopping paradise was and
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pronouncing its name all wrong. Sighing in frustration,
Alexa rolled up the window and zoomed off, while Holly
chided her for being so snobby.
 Not everyone knows, Alexa, Holly pointed out as the girls
cruised down North Robertson Boulevard, passing The Ivy
restaurant, which even Holly recognized as a celebrity
power-lunch landmark.  The whole world hasn t traveled as
much as you have.
Turning the wheel, Alexa felt herself mellowing as she
realized Holly had a point.  You know, she argued feebly.
Holly shrugged.  I ve seen Pretty Woman.
As Alexa giggled, Holly reached up to brush some stray
sand out of her loose braid; she and Alexa had changed
out of their swimwear in the Zuma Beach bathrooms, but
even in her purple ribbed tank and drawstring white skirt,
her skin soothed with Alexa s aloe hand cream, Holly felt
gritty and still kind of shaky from her ocean escapade. To
get her mind off the crazy adventure, she gazed out the
window, noticing that the tree-lined sidewalks  blinding
white in the midday sun  were empty, even though there
were countless little shops and restaurants.
 It s kind of creepy, right? Alexa asked, observing the
same phenomenon.  Where is everyone, besides on the
beach?
 In their cars, Holly realized out loud, watching
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as a fleet of Maseratis passed by, their trunks half open to
accommodate bulging bags from boutiques.  People drive
everywhere, shop, and drive back home. That notion didn t
seem terrible to Holly right then; she was achy from her
swim, and wasn t wild about the idea of doing too much
walking.
Alexa, meanwhile, was ruminating on how much she loved
to walk and window-shop  that was one of her favorite
things about New York City. Once, last summer, she d put
on her leopard-print Miu Miu flats and walked all the way
from Bloomingdale s uptown to Bloomingdale s SoHo,
buying long necklaces, footless tights, and spiky heels as
she went and breaking only to eat a hot dog. Alexa smiled
at the memory, but her brief moment of New York nostalgia
faded the instant she and Holly turned onto Rodeo Drive. At
last.
 Lacoste! Alexa exclaimed as she steered the Hybrid
slowly between miles of slender palm trees.  Stuart
Weitzman! Valentino! She felt as if she were saying hello
to old friends; it was rapturous to see them all in one
concentrated place.
 You realize you sound like a lunatic, Holly teased, but
when Wilshire Boulevard came into view, she gasped in
recognition at the elegant, old-fashioned facade of the
Regent Beverly Wilshire.  Isn t that   she began.
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 Yup. Alexa beamed up at the ornate via rodeo sign on the
corner. In her big Oliver Peoples sunglasses, gauchos, and
an aqua Michael Stars tank, she felt more than ever like a
fashionable character in a movie.  The hotel from Pretty
Woman. Don t you feel like, in this moment, you are Julia?
she added in all seriousness, twirling her hand through the
air with a flourish.
 Except, you know, for the hooker thing, Holly remarked
wryly.
The girls opted for valet parking, which neither of them was
too familiar with. But in LA, valet was everywhere, and
Alexa enjoyed the glam sensation of accepting the white
ticket from the attendant as she handed over her keys. To
kick off their shopping extravaganza, the girls strolled along
an elevated cobblestone road lined with small shops, their
arms linked as they pointed out familiar brand names and
snapped photos, blending in with the throngs of tourists.
Their first stop was Burberry  all shiny blond wood and
high ceilings  but the store proved a little too Northeast
country club for their tastes. It was Alexa s idea for them to
tie on silk head scarves printed with the distinctive red-and-
black tartan design, and loudly call each other names like
 Biffy and  Muffy. Laughing uncontrollably while Alexa
pouted into the
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mirror near the sunglass display, Holly reflected on how
being with her friend could make her feel like she was
twelve again  in the best possible way. She was reaching
for a pair of aviator shades when a balding salesman in a
cream linen suit strode over to the girls, frowning.
 Ladies. His tone was just this side of sharp as he cast a
scornful eye over, Holly feared, her sand-speckled hair.  I
must inquire if you are intending to purchase anything. If not,
I will have to ask you to leave.
Holly and Alexa glanced at each other in shock. Then,
stifling their laughter, they darted out of there and into Dolce
& Gabbana, where the salespeople consisted of funky,
multiply-pierced men who gave them no trouble at all. Holly
tried not to curse out loud at the price tags she always
forgot what shopping with Alexa could be like but Alexa,
always willing to splurge a little, bought a short, poufy satin
skirt decorated with pink-and-silver swirls. Then it was on to
Theodore  a holy site, as far as Alexa was concerned,
because the store had been among the first to sell Seven
jeans. There, Alexa tried on a plum-colored dress that she
decided wasn t fun or flirty enough for Margaux s outdoor
wedding. Holly, for kicks, decided to try on her first-ever
pair of dark
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denim Sevens, and the pricey designer jeans fit so well that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]