black lace thong cost $115 ($135 if she wanted the crotchless version)? After two of the three stores, she told Nola firmly that while she appreciated her help, there would be no purchasing that afternoon. It wasn’t until the following week, when Brooke found herself in the curtained-off room at Ricky’s to buy paraphernalia for another friend’s bachelorette party, that she stumbled on the solution.
There, in a floor-to-ceiling display between the vibrators and the penis-themed paper plates, was a wall of individually wrapped ‘fantasy outfits.’ They were in flat, envelope-like packets that reminded her of pantyhose packaging, but the pictures on the front depicted beautiful women in all manner of sexy outfits: French maid, schoolgirl, firefighter, jailbird, cheerleader, and cowgirl, plus a whole bunch of non-themed getups, almost all of which were short, tight, and black. Best of all, the most expensive among them was $39.99, and most of the packets were marked less than $25. She began to examine the pictures, trying to imagine what Julian would like most, when a blue-haired and heavily guylinered employee pushed aside the beaded curtains and walked right up to Brooke.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ he asked.
Brooke quickly averted her attention to a cluster of penis straws and shook her head.
‘I’d be happy to make some recommendations,’ he lisped. ‘On the outfits, the sex toys, whatever. Tell you which are bestsellers.’
‘Thanks, I’m just picking up some of this stupid stuff for a bachelorette party,’ she said quickly, already mad at herself for being embarrassed.
‘Uh-huh. Well, just let me know.’
He swished back into the main store area, and Brooke sprang into immediate action. Knowing she’d lose her nerve if he came back – or anyone else walked into the room – she grabbed the first non-themed outfit and tossed it into her shopping basket. She practically sprinted to the cash register, tossing in a bottle of shampoo, a travel-sized packet of Kleenex, and some refill razor blades on the way there, just to throw off the cashier. It wasn’t until she was on the subway home, sitting in the far back car, miraculously isolated from other people, that she allowed herself a peek in the bag.
The picture featured a redheaded woman who didn’t look drastically different from Brooke – save the forty-two-inch legs – wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, full-length mesh bodysuit. The woman jutted out her hip provocatively and stared at the camera, but despite all the dramatic posturing, she managed to convey ‘sexy’ and ‘confident’ and not just ‘sleazy’ and ‘slutty.’ I can do this one, she thought to herself, and that very night, when she walked out of the bathroom wearing that bodysuit and a pair of heels, Julian had nearly fallen off the bed.
Brooke had donned the now-infamous jumpsuit over the years on some of Julian’s birthdays, their anniversaries, and the occasional warm-weather vacation, but lately, like all the old remnants of their pre-exhaustion sex life, it had gotten pushed to the back of the drawer. As she unrolled the material over her legs and shimmied first her hips and then her arms into the outfit, she knew it would send the message loud and clear: I’m so proud of you for this amazing accomplishment, now get over here so I can show you. No matter that the one-size-fits-all jumpsuit was digging tightly into her thighs and doing a weird thing on her upper arms; she felt sexy anyway. She had just shaken her hair out of her ponytail and reclined on top of the covers when the landline rang. Certain it was Julian calling to say he was on his way home, Brooke answered on the first ring.
‘Rook? Honey, can you hear me?’ Her mother’s voice rang through the receiver.
Brooke took a deep breath and wondered why the woman had an uncanny knack for calling at exactly the worst possible times. ‘Hey, Mom. I hear you.’
‘Oh, good. I was hoping I’d catch you. Listen, I need you to grab your calendar and check a date for me. I know you hate planning ahead, but I’m trying to make some arrangements for—’
‘Mom! Hey, sorry to interrupt, but it’s not a great time right now. Julian’s going to be home any second, and I’m late getting ready,’ she lied.
‘Are you going out to celebrate? Such amazing news. You both must be so happy.’
Brooke opened her mouth to talk and then remembered she hadn’t yet told her mother Julian’s good news. ‘How did you know?’ she asked.
‘Randy, sweetheart. He saw some update on Julian’s fan page – is that what you call it? I wish I could say my daughter had called to tell me on her own, but luckily Randy remembered his dear old mom.’
‘Mmm, right. Facebook. I almost forgot. So yeah, we’re both really excited.’
‘So how are you two going to celebrate tonight? Going out to dinner?’
Brooke glanced down at her mesh-covered body; as if to emphasize the ludicrousness of talking to one’s mother while wearing a crotchless mesh jumpsuit, one of her nipples popped through the fabric. ‘Um, I think Julian’s bringing dinner home. We already have a bottle of good champagne, so we’ll probably have that.’
‘Sounds lovely. Give him a kiss for me. And as soon as you have a second, I’d really like to get a date nailed down—’
‘Uh-huh, okay, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Because it’ll only take a second, and—’
‘Mom …’
‘Okay. Call me tomorrow. Love you, Rookie.’
‘Love you, too, Mom.’ She heard the door open just as she hung up the phone.
She knew he would take his coat off and greet Walter, which gave her just enough time to peel off the foil wrapper and unscrew the wire basket around the cork. She had remembered to bring two flutes, which she placed on her bedside table before stretching out, catlike, atop the made bed. Her nervousness lasted only a second, just until Julian opened the door.
‘Guess who’s staying at the Chateau Marmont?’ he said, his smile a mile wide.
‘Who?’ She sat up in bed, momentarily forgetting her outfit.
‘I am,’ he said, and instantly Brooke felt a wave of anxiety.
‘No way,’ she breathed. It was all she could manage.
‘Oh yes. In a suite. Where I’ll be picked up by limo and taken to the NBC studio for the Leno taping.’
She forced herself to focus on his good news and remind herself that it had nothing to do with her. ‘Wow, Julian, that’s amazing! They mention that place constantly in Last Night, US Weekly, all of them. Kate Hudson just hosted an all-night party in the bungalows. JLo and Marc Anthony ran into Ben Affleck by the pool and Marc supposedly made a scene. Belushi overdosed there, for chrissake. The place is absolutely legendary.’
‘And guess what else?’ Julian asked, sitting down beside her on the bed and running his hand over her mesh-covered thigh.
‘What?’
‘My extremely hot wife is going to be joining me, so long as she promises to bring this mesh outfit with her,’ he said, leaning in to kiss Brooke.
‘Stop it!’ she shrieked.
‘Of course,
