The First Wives Club Read Online Free PDF Page B

region. Well, she was still beautiful and had been the stuff of intelligent men’s lustful dreams for two decades. Still, he was surprised and embarrassed by his own reaction. He wasn’t the kind of animal who walked around with a hardon and pursued strange women. Jesus, this was a legend he was walking behind, and she’d obviously just suffered a great loss. Who was Cynthia Griffin to her anyway, and why did she have to bear this alone?
    He felt moved to pity, and ashamed of his spying. Still, he followed her.
    On Seventy-sixth she turned left. Of course, he should have guessed.
    The Carlyle Hotel, a favorite watering hole and trysting place of the very, very wealthy. Reportedly John Kennedy had had assignations here when he was president, and only last year Sid and Mercedes Bass had holed up in a suite on the tenth floor when their affair was at its peak and they were still very married to other people. He’d made a few bucks on a shot of them he caught.
    She was turning in at the hotel entrance. Well, he had enough shots.
    The pictures would be beautiful. Perhaps he should just take off. Yet her face haunted him. He started to think crazy, like maybe he’d follow her inside.
    There was so little in life that was beautiful, truly beautiful. It was no surprise that he was drawn to what was. Maybe he’d talk to her.
    But Jesus, he was a professional, and a broke one at that. What was he thinking of ? He wasn’t even sure he had enough cash on him to buy her a drink. This was no time to get weird, risk having some burly security guard expose his film or dump his ass on the sidewalk. Still, he followed Elise in through the gilded revolving doors. Luckily he had put on a blazer and tie this morning, but he wasn’t sure it would pass muster. Probably they wouldn’t eject him if he kept a low profile. He saw Elise slip up the low, elegantly carpeted stairs and decided to follow. He didn’t think she had spotted him yet. This was ridiculous, but he couldn’t walk away.
    Elise entered Bemelman’s Bar and took a seat on a banquette in the corner. It was dimly lit, which was the way she wanted it. Then no one could watch her fall apart. Because she was falling apart, no doubt about it.
    It was too early for a drink, of course, but she’d have one anyway.
    Today she needed it, anything to calm her. She desperately didn’t want to go all the way back to Greenwich or East Hampton, but she also wanted to avoid the New York apartment and a possible encounter with Bill.
    So perhaps she would stay right here, in Bemelman’s Bar. She’d always liked this place, and so many good things had happened to her here.
    She’d been brought here after her coming out party, and it was here she met with Howard, her agent, and heard the news that she was being signed by MGM. She’d been here on Oscar night, 1961, when she was the dark-horse winner. She’d met Gerard here for the first time. Only good things had happened in this place.
    And there hadn’t been good things in her life for some time. Of course, things were different for her than they were for other people.
    Being one of the three wealthiest women in America didn’t help one fit in. She knew that, had accepted it long ago. But surely some things had to be the same. So what were they, and how could she tell? Was this sense of dislocation normal for everyone, or was it just her?
    Growing up so very different had been difficult, although her mother’s direction had helped Elise learn to deflect much of the envy and resentment of others. Of course, there was a price, she could never be completely natural, never completely herself with outsiders. Even her mother couldn’t save her from the loneliness. Because it wasn’t just the money that set her apart—as she grew up, her beauty and intelligence became more evident, and for many, the powerful combination of looks, money, and brains was too much. Elise was also thoughtful, pleasant, generous, as a result, she was popular