Suburban Girl Page #2

Sage advice.

Hilda?

What did you say your last name was?

Eisenberg.

Dear God! You're not related to...

- I'm her grand-niece.

- Hilda Eisenberg?

- Yes.

- I adored Hilda!

You know, the first time I met her

was at Botn's in Madrid.

It was Hemingway's favorite restaurant,

famous for its suckling pig,

and Hilda got incredibly drunk

and she bet me that she could punt

the pig carcass

across the entire length of the dining room,

which she did.

Won a hell of a lot of pesetas.

I used that in my book.

- You wrote a book?

- One.

Years ago.

It's on Amazon's endangered species list.

Dear Hilda. She was

the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Let me see your face.

I can see her in your eyes.

(ARCHIE CHATTERING)

BRETT:
This is me.

You live in Hilda's old apartment?

- You've been here?

- Many, many nights, yeah.

Her parties were legendary.

Well, she left it in the family

and I have temporary custody.

I have a boyfriend.

I have a goldfish.

Well, then...

Is he in there? The boyfriend.

No. Actually, he's...

He's over there.

- Papaya King?

- Europe.

He's finding himself.

Why did he have to travel 3,000 miles

to find himself without you?

What do I know?

Good night, Pumpkin.

Good night.

- BRETT:
Hey.

- Good morning, Brett.

(WOMAN CHATTERING ON PHONE)

JASON:
Uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

Okay, so what's the cost difference between

a partial ocean view and a full ocean view?

Excuse me?

Let me speak to my boss

and get back to you. Damn!

Why are you in my office?

I knew no one was gonna tell you,

but I'm not gonna get stuck with it.

- Am I fired?

- Just go up to your boss's office

and speak to Faye. She'll explain everything.

- Who's Faye?

- Reservations, please.

Oh, it feels good. The burn.

The burn feels good.

Can you give me a hand here?

- You must be Katie.

- I'm Brett.

Oh, right. The one with the office.

Well, Brett, it's nice to meet you.

I'm your new boss, Faye Faulkner.

Yes. That Faulkner.

- What happened to Dorrie?

- Dorrie's dead.

(LAUGHS)

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

You see, Dorrie was

the victim of her own futile search

for something that no longer exists.

A great novelist.

Sorry about your office, by the way.

My assistant Jason needed some privacy

to make sure the transition went smoothly,

but I'll be sure you get it back

in a week or so.

Sure. It's no problem.

In the meantime, just go about your work

until the evaluation process ends, hmm?

Okay.

Oh, wait. One more thing.

(PHONE RINGING)

Faye Faulkner.

Jean-Claude.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

It's a private invitation

to a Bergdorf sale tonight.

Forty off. Enjoy.

- What happened?

- Dorrie got fired.

Damn it. After I spent a year

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