Killing Monica Read Online Free PDF

had sprung up like mushrooms all over lower Manhattan.
    The club was already packed when Pandy arrived just after eleven—so much so that an unsuspecting tourist might think she was in another city, possibly Miami or Las Vegas.
    “There you are!” Portia exclaimed as Pandy wove through lounge chairs covered with towels, bits of clothing, suntan lotion, and bags spilling computers and magazines. And so many young people. The girls in bikinis with flat stomachs and competitive breasts. The arrogant young men talking loudly on their devices, as if they were all so very important.
    “Here.” Suzette picked up a pile of magazines from the chaise next to her and motioned for Pandy to sit down.
    Pandy eased herself onto the terry-cloth cover. She took off her sunglasses and glowered at a skinny, hairy man with two doting young women a few feet away. “Why are there so many people here? It’s Thursday; doesn’t anyone have to work?”
    “Thursday is the new Sunday.” Suzette passed Pandy a handful of necklaces made of plastic beads in gold, purple, and green. “San Geronimo festival,” she purred. “When I woke up this morning, my son had strung them all over the apartment.”
    “It’s a celebration,” Portia said, sitting up. She twisted around to remove a bottle from an ice bucket on a stand next to her. “Champagne?” she asked.
    “Of course she wants champagne,” Suzette said. “Look at her.”
    “I have your phone,” Pandy said to Portia.
    Portia pounced on it. “What about your agent?” she asked.
    “My agent?” Pandy sputtered as she took a sip of the fizzy drink.
    Suzette rolled her eyes and lay back. “All morning she’s been talking about Henry. And you. ‘Why doesn’t Pandy date her agent? He’s so cute,’” she said in a mimicking voice.
    “Henry?” Pandy picked up several strands of beads and slung them around her neck.
    “He’s a real pretty boy. You have to admit that,” Suzette said.
    “When I saw you talking to him at the party, I said to Suzette, ‘Those two look like they could go together.’ You know?” Portia added.
    “ Henry? ” Pandy screeched.
    “He’s gay,” Suzette said. “Has to be.”
    Pandy reddened and shrugged.
    “And besides, she’s not going to date her agent,” Suzette added dismissively. “No one dates their agent. It isn’t done.”
    “I thought SondraBeth Schnowzer dated her agent. The guy with the funny name. PP?”
    Pandy sat up. “He wasn’t her agent,” she muttered. “He was the head of the studio.” Determined to get off the topic, Pandy turned to Portia. “How are you here in the middle of the day? I thought you had a job.”
    “I was let go.” Portia shrugged.
    Pandy gasped. “Again?”
    “Again.” Portia smiled.
    “How much time off do you have this time?”
    “A year. At full salary. I’ll start looking for another job in nine months. In the meantime, I’m going to travel.”
    “So far she’s only made it to the Pool Club, though,” Suzette said.
    “Hey, guys. If it weren’t for you, I’d be in Rio right now.” Portia giggled.
    “Oh, please.” Suzette rolled her eyes. “The South of France.”
    “Saint-Tropez is totally boring in June,” Portia said dismissively.
    “How about Switzerland?” Pandy asked.
    Suzette stared at Pandy. “Who goes to Switzerland in the summer?”
    “I do,” Pandy replied, rubbing suntan lotion on her arms. “Or I want to, anyway. I went there once in July. For a wedding. We stayed in one of those castle hotels. And the beds—triple down pillows and comforters. Like sleeping on a cloud. And the mountains! I kept thinking I was in The Sound of Music . There was this piano player, and I started singing Burt Bacharach songs. Johnny Depp was there, and supposedly he was so horrified by my singing that he left.”
    “The room?” Portia asked.
    “The hotel ,” Pandy said. “Supposedly he checked out that evening.”
    “What about your house in the country? Why don’t you go