Back at work, I felt like a double agent—bosom buds on the surface with Daphster and posse, but really pals with my Cotton Club gang. Gabe and Teagan eagerly awaited choice Trumpettes quotables, particularly from Cecilia, who was ripe with shockers (“Flying commercial is soooo D,” “Bouley is my cafeteria!” and the even more insane “Gucci is my Gap”).
I wasn’t entirely sure why Daphne had decided to extend the olive branch of friendliness my way, but despite the chasm between her life and reality, at least she was entertaining. Her constant pronouncements (“Animal prints are only acceptable on accessories”) seemed to be taken as gospel by all, sometimes even by me. But as I pretended to just be mellow buddy-buddy during a Daphne-organized fashion show of a new rack of fall samples, I kept my eye on the prize: the job at Genevieve’s desk. Sure, I’d taken a bit longer lunch breaks a couple of times and even left at five once or twice, but I knew what I wanted and still did everything to get there. We’d be finding out the lucky winner in two days at the intern staff meeting, and I hoped I’d finally be saying au revoir to CeCe, the raging, demeaning beeyotch, and bonjour to the plum assignment. I just hoped Daphne wouldn’t be weirded out that I’d landed the gig over her. She’d probably be pissed and boot me from her little power clique, but quite frankly, even the alluring charms of her lifestyle—while enticing—would not eclipse the reason I was there. Nor could my sweet crush on her boyfriend, which I’d decided to ignore for now.
Gabe, Teagan, and I got to head home early one night, released from our duties because of some major Hughes Publication staff party that everyone was invited to but the interns.
“So are you and the Trumpettes like friends now?” Teagan asked after I had just relayed the latest fashion pronouncement from Daphne.
“We’re not friends, but we are,” I said, confusing even myself with that statement.
“Then why do you rag on Daphne?” asked Teagan.
I sighed. I liked Teagan, but her tone could be challenging. I knew she didn’t mean it, but she had a tendency to make people feel defensive.
“I don’t know. I think some of the things she says are really outrageous, but they’re harmless. She’s like Jessica Simpson.”
“I find her really shallow,” said Teagan.
“I think she’s smart,” said Gabe. “She just doesn’t know what to do with herself, since she’s been given everything.”
I felt bad that Gabe was defending Daphne, especially after she had been so harsh about him. I immediately wanted to change the topic.
“Any news on your college sitch?” I asked Gabe. I knew that he had talked to his parents for a long time the previous night, and I hoped he had told them about his change of plans.
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I don’t know what will freak them out more, my homosexuality or that I’m not going to school near them. I’m in denial.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assured him as we made our way through the turnstile.
“Don’t worry,” said Teagan soothingly. “You’re a great guy and your parents know that. You’ll get through this.” That was Teagan for you—just when she really annoyed me, she would then turn around and be a total sweetheart.
I was really lucky that these two were my roommates. Really lucky.