Free Mercury in Retrograde by Paula Froelich Page A

of Distressed Debt,” according to Business Week, was a self-made man, having “pulled myself up from my own bootstraps and got myself out of Brooklyn to the Upper East Side by my own wits.” What Martin always edited out of the so-called rags-to-richesstory was that while he did grow up in Brooklyn, it was in the upper-middle-class area of Brooklyn Heights, and when he went to Harvard, his parents had been able to pay for it.
    â€œLena, dear, we’re worried about you,” her mother, an older, more sophisticated version of her daughter, said, stroking Lipstick’s hair.
    â€œWhy?” Lipstick asked, brushing aside her mother’s hand. She sat down on one of the stools around the kitchen island while her parents remained standing. “I’m fine. Great, actually. Except for some reason my credit cards won’t work. We have to sort that out.”
    â€œI’m glad you brought that up,” Martin said.
    â€œMe too—Bergdorf won’t hold those dresses forever.”
    â€œWhat dresses?” Lana asked.
    â€œOh, Mommy, they are fabulous! There are two Chanels, one Allessandro Dell’Aqua and two Pradas. You’ll love them!”
    â€œOh, that does sound nice—are they formal or casual?”
    â€œFormal! Nan Thrice is out of intensive care and the May gala season is in hyperdrive.”
    â€œI’d heard that—”
    â€œEnough!” Martin said, slamming his fist on the kitchen counter. “We are not here to talk dresses that I am expected to pay for.”
    Lipstick and Lana stopped talking and looked down at the floor like chastened children.
    â€œWell, then, what are we here to discuss?” Lipstick asked. “And what are you doing snooping around my apartment while I’m not home? That’s not cool.”
    â€œIt’s actually our apartment, dear,” Lana said. “Although you insisted on getting an apartment down here—and without a doorman, I might add—we did pay for it.”
    â€œI know,” Lipstick said, “you keep reminding me.”
    â€œLena, your cousin Max has decided to come home,” Martin said. “And we’ve decided to let him stay at the apartment.”
    Lipstick’s twenty-four-year-old cousin Max—who’d been practically adopted by Lana since his mother, Lana’s sister, died five years earlier due to complications that arose after an experimental cosmetic procedure involving fat transfers had gone awry—considered himself something of a modern-day Vasco da Gama with a touch of Mother Teresa. After four years at Brown, he decided to trek the Himalayas and spent a year in the Annapurna base camp “communing” with Sherpas and various monks. Max left Shangri-la after a physical altercation with some local Gurkhas for a two-year stint at the Peace Corps camp in Namibia, teaching locals English. “I already have money, Lena, thanks to the family,” he told Lipstick. “I need to use my life to do good and explore.”
    It seemed he was finally ready to come home.
    â€œOh! That’s great!” Lipstick said, clapping her hands. “Maxie’s back! He can have the second bedroom.”
    â€œWell, actually, no.” Martin said. “We’ve decided to give him the entire apartment. He’s bringing some of the local African children he taught with him to study actual Americans—he calls it ‘complete culture consumption’ or something like that—and they’ll need the whole place. You’ll have to vacate, I’m afraid.”

4
    SCORPIO:
    Differences of opinion may come up, especially between family members.
    An hour later Penelope was back home but Neal hadn’t returned her “urgent! SOS!” messages yet.
    Omigod, omigod omigod, omigod, thought Penelope as she climbed the three flights to her apartment in shock and opened the gray metal front door.
    Penelope made a beeline for the