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.Evelyn's wearing a cotton blouse by Dolce do Gabbana, suede shoes by Yves Saint Laurent, a stenciled calf skirt by Adrienne Landau with a suede belt by Jill Stuart, Calvin Klein tights, Venetian-glass earrings by Frances Patiky Stein, and clasped in her hand is a single white rose that I bought at a Korean deli before Carruthers' limousine picked me up.Carruthers is wearing a lamb's wool sport coat, a cashmere/vicuña cardigan sweater, cavalry twill trousers, a cotton shirt and a silk tie, all from Hermès.("How tacky," Evelyn whispered to me; I silently agreed.) Courtney is wearing a triple-layered silk organdy top and a long velvet skirt with a fishtail hem, velvet-ribbon and enamel earrings by José and Maria Barrera, gloves by Portolano and shoes from Gucci.Paul and Ashley are, I think, a bit overdressed, and she has sunglasses on even though the windows in the limo are tinted and it's already dusk.She holds a small bouquet of flowers, daisies, Carruthers gave her, which failed to make Courtney jealous since she seems intent upon clawing Evelyn's face open, which right now, though it's the better-looking face, seems not a bad idea and one I wouldn't mind watching Courtney carry out.Courtney has a slightly better body, Evelyn nicer tits.The concert has been dragging on now for maybe twenty minutes.I hate live music but everyone around us is standing, their screams of approval competing with the racket coming from the towering walls of speakers stacked over us.The only real pleasure I get from being here is seeing Scott and Anne Smiley ten rows behind us, in shittier though probably not less expensive seats.Carruthers changes seats with Evelyn to discuss business with me, but I can't hear a word so I change seats with Evelyn to talk to Courtney."Luis is a weasel," I shout."He suspects nothing.""The Edge is wearing Armani," she shouts, pointing at the bassist."That's not Armani," I shout back."It's Emporio.""No," she shouts."Armani.""The grays are too muted and so are the taupes and navies.Definite winged lapels, subtle plaids, polka dots and stripes are Armani.Not Emporio, " I shout, extremely irritated that she doesn't know this, can't differentiate, both my hands covering both ears."There's a difference.Which one's The Ledge?""The drummer might be The Ledge," she shouts."I think.I'm not sure.I need a cigarette.Where were you the other night? If you tell me with Evelyn I'm going to hit you.""The drummer is not wearing anything by Armani," I scream."Or Emporio for that matter.Nowhere.""I don't know which one the drummer is," she shouts."Ask Ashley," I suggest, screaming."Ashley?" she screams, reaching over across Paul and tapping Ashley's leg."Which one's The Ledge?" Ashley shouts something at her that I can't hear and then Courtney turns back to me, shrugging."She said she can't believe she's in New Jersey."Carruthers motions for Courtney to change seats with him.She waves the little twit away and grips my thigh, which I flex rock-hard, and her hand lingers admiringly.But Luis persists and she gets up, and screams at me, "I think we need drugs tonight!" I nod.The lead singer, Bono, is screeching out what sounds like "Where the Beat Sounds the Same." Evelyn and Ashley leave to buy cigarettes, use the ladies' room, find refreshments.Luis sits next to me."The girls are bored," Luis screams at me."Courtney wants us to find her some cocaine tonight," I shout."Oh, great." Luis looks sulky."Do we have reservations anywhere?""Brussels," he shouts, checking his Rolex."But it's doubtful if we'll make it.""If we don't make it," I warn him, "I'm not going anywhere else.You can drop me at my apartment.""We'll make it," he shouts."If we don't, what about Japanese?" I suggest, relenting.'There's a really top sushi bar on the Upper West Side.Blades.Chef used to be at Loito.It got a great rating in Zagat.""Bateman, I hate the Japanese," Carruthers screams at me, one hand placed over an ear."Little slanty-eyed bastards.""What," I scream, "in the hell are you talking about?""Oh I know, I know," he screams, eyes bulging
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