Free Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis Page A

laughs.
    “No. I saw a picture of them in the Hollywood Reporter.”
    “She’s in England with Milo, I told you,” Kim says as we get closer to the lighted water. “At least that’s what I read in Variety.”
    “How about you?” Blair asks, starting to smile. “Who are you seeing?”
    “ Moi? ” Kim laughs and then mentions some famous young actor I think we went to school with; can’t remember.
    “Yeah, I heard about that. Just wanted you to verify.”
    “It’s true.”
    “He wasn’t at your Christmas party,” Blair says.
    “He wasn’t?” Kim looks worried. “Are you sure?”
    “He wasn’t,” Blair says. “Did you see him, Clay?”
    “No, I didn’t see him,” I tell her, not remembering.
    “That’s weird,” Kim says. “Must have been on location.”
    “How is he?”
    “He’s nice, he’s really nice.”
    “What about Dimitri?”
    “Oh, so what,” Kim says.
    “Does he know?” Blair asks.
    “Probably. I’m not sure.”
    “Do you think he’s upset?”
    “Listen, Jeff is a fling. I like Dimitri.”
    Dimitri’s sitting on a chair by the pool playing a guitar and is really tan and has short blond hair and he just sits in the chaise longue playing these strange, eerie chords and then starts to play this one riff over and over again and Kim just looks at him and doesn’t say anything. The phone rings from inside and Muriel calls out, waving her hands, “It’s for you, Kim.”
    Kim walks back inside and I’m about to ask Blair if she wants to go but Spit, still smoking the joint, comes over with some surfer to Dimitri and says, “Heston has some great acid,” and the surfer with Spit looks at Blair and winks and then she pats my ass and lights a cigarette.“Where’s Kim?” Spit asks when he doesn’t get an answer from Dimitri, who just stares into the pool, strumming the guitar. He then looks over at the four of us standing around him and for a minute it looks like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t, just sighs and looks back at the water.
    This young actress comes in with some well-known producer, who I met once at one of Blair’s father’s parties, and they check out the scene and walk over to Kim, who’s just gotten off the phone, and she tells them that her mother’s in England with Milo and the producer says that last he heard she was in Hawaii and then they mention that maybe Thomas Noguchi might be stopping by and then the actress and the producer leave and Kim walks over to where Blair and I’ve stood and she tells us that it was Jeff on the phone.
    “What did he say?” Blair asks.
    “He’s an asshole. He’s down in Malibu with some surfer, some guy, and they’re holed up in his house.”
    “What did he want?”
    “To wish me a Happy New Year.” Kim looks upset.
    “Well, that’s nice,” Blair says hopefully.
    “He said, ‘Have a Happy New Year, cunt,’” she says, and lights a cigarette, the champagne bottle she holds by her side almost empty. She’s about to cry or say something else when Spit comes over and says that Muriel locked herself in Kim’s room and so Kim and Spit and Blair and I walk inside, upstairs, down a hallway and over to Kim’s door and Kim tries to open it but it’s locked.
    “Muriel,” she calls out, knocking. No one answers.
    Spit pounds on the door, then kicks it.
    “Don’t fuck the door up, Spit,” Kim says, and then yells out, “Muriel, come out.”
    I look over at Blair and she looks worried. “Do you think she’s all right?”
    “I don’t know,” Kim says.
    “What’s she on?” Spit wants to know.
    “Muriel?” Kim calls out again.
    Spit lights another joint, leans against the wall. The photographer comes by and takes pictures of us. The door opens slowly and Muriel stands there and looks like she’s been crying. She lets Spit, Kim, Blair and the photographer and me into the room and then she closes the door and locks it.
    “Are you all right?” Kim asks.
    “I’m fine,” she says, wiping