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guilty； because I’d already decided after the whole lunch debacle
that I’d rather reschedule。 My first week had been so crazy that
we’d barely seen each other； and we’d made a special plan to have
dinner that night； just the two of us。 But I knew I wouldn’t be any
fun if I fell asleep in my wine； and I kind of wanted a night to
unwind and be alone。 I’d have to remember to call and see if we
could do it the next night。
Emily was standing over me； having already checked her own voice
mail。 From her relatively calm face； I guessed that Miranda had not
left her any death threats。 I shook my head to indicate that I
hadn’t gotten one from her yet。
“Hi； Andrea； it’s Cara。” Miranda’s nanny。 “So； Miranda called here a
little while ago”—heart stoppage—“and said she’s tried the office
and no one was picking up。 I figured something was going on down
there； so I told her that I’d spoken to both you and Emily just a
minute before； but don’t worry about it。 She wanted aWomen’s Wear
Daily faxed to her； and I had a copy right here。 Already confirmed
that she got it； too； so don’t stress。 Just wanted to let you know。
Anyway； have a good weekend。 I’ll talk to you later。 ’Bye。”
lifesaver。 The girl was an absolute saint。 It was hard to believe
I’d only known her a week—and not even in person； only over the
phone—because I thought I was in love with her。 She was the opposite
of Emily in every regard： calm； grounded； and entirely
fashion…oblivious。 She recognized Miranda’s absurdity but didn’t
begrudge her it； she had that rare； charming quality of being able
to laugh at herself and everyone else。
“Nope； not her；” I told Emily； lying sort of but not really； smiling
triumphantly。 “We’re in the clear。”
“You’rein the clear； this time；” she said flatly。 “Just remember
that we’re in this together； but I am in charge。 You’ll cover for me
if I want to go out to lunch once in a while—I’m entitled。 This will
never happen again； right？”
I bit back the urge to say something nasty。 “Right；” I said。
“Right。”
We’d managed to finish wrapping the rest of the bottles and get them
all to the messengers by seven that night； and Emily didn’t mention
the office…abandonment issue again。 I finally fell into a taxi （just
this one time） at eight； and was spread…eagle； still fully dressed；
on top of my covers at ten。 And I still hadn’t eaten because I
couldn’t bear the thought of going out in search of food and getting
lost again； as I had the past four nights； in my own neighborhood。 I
called Lily to plain on my brand…new Bang and Olufsen phone。
“Hi！ I thought you and Alex had a date tonight；” she said。
“Yeah； we did； but I’m dead。 He’s fine with doing it tomorrow night；
and I think I’ll just order。 Whatever。 How was your day？”
“I have one word： screwed up。 OK； so that was two。 You’ll never
imagine what happened。 Well； of course you will； it happens all
the—”
“Cut to it； Lil。 I’m going to pass out any minute。”
“OK。 Cutest guy ever came to my reading today。 Sat through the whole
thing looking absolutely fascinated； and waited for me afterward。
Asked if he could take me for a drink and hear all about the thesis
I had published at Brown； which he’d already read。”
“Sounds great。 What was he？” Lily went out with different guys
almost every night after getting off work； but had yet to plete
her fraction。 She had founded the Scale of Fractional Love one night
after listening to a few of our guy friends rate the girls they were
dating on their own invention； the Ten…Ten Scale。 “She’s a six；
eight； B…plus；” Jake would declare of the advertising assistant he’d
been set up with the night before。 It was assumed everyone knew that
it was a ten…point scale； with face always being the first numerical
ranking； body the second； and personality ing in last with a
slightly more generalized letter grade。 Since there were clearly
more factors at work in judging guys； Lily devised the Fractional
Scale； which had a total of ten pieces that each earned a point。 The
Perfect Guy would obviously have all five of the primary pieces：
intelligence； sense of humor； decent body； cute face； and any sort
of job that fell under the generous umbrella of “normal。” Since it
was next to impossible to find The Perfect Guy； someone could up
their fraction by earning points on the secondary five； which
included a definitive lack of psycho ex…girlfriends； psycho parents；
or date…rapist roommates； and any sort of extracurricular interests
or hobbies that weren’t sports… or porn…related。 So far； the highest
anyone had received was a nine…tenths； but he had broken up with
her。
“Well； at first he was going strong at seven…tenths。 He was a
theater major at Yaleand he’s straight； and he could discuss Israeli
politics so intelligently that he never once suggested that we ‘just
nuke ’em；’ so that was good。”
“Sure sounds good。 I can’t wait for the clincher。 What was it？ Did
he talk about his favorite Nintendo game？”
“Worse。” She sighed。
“Is he thinner than you？”
“Worse。” She sounded defeated。
“What on earth could be worse than that？”
“He lives on Long Island—”
“Lily！ So he’s geographically undesirable。 That doesn’t make him
undateable！ You know better than to—”
“With his parents；” she interrupted。
Oh。
“For the past four years。”
Oh； my。
“And he absolutely loves it。 Says he can’t imagine wanting to live
alone in such a big city when his mom and dad are such great
pany。”
“Whoa！ Say no more。 I don’t think we’ve ever had a seven…tenths fall
all the way to a zero after the first date。 Your guy set a new
record。 Congratu