Lucy is a talented television producer with a husband, three kids, and a big-time crush on a game show host. Her best friend Jess is a divorced suburban mom with a sexy French ex-husband in her bed -- and a reality show "bachelor" named Boulder on her couch. Jess and Lucy's friendship flourishes through bake sales, Botox parties, and the transition from itty-bitty bikinis to "Kindest Cut" one-piece suits. Whether cooking up fancy dinner parties or navigating sixth-grade sex-ed class, these funny, delightful women know that their friendship will remain the one true thing they can count on. Well, that and a good push-up bra, of course. And their bond withstands everything -- until Lucy's husband appears to be flirting with Jess.
champagne corks are popping and it's only five a.m.
"Darling," Lucy trills as I groggily cradle the phone between my ear and my goose down pillow. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
Of course not. Why would I be asleep at this hour when I could be up repotting the azaleas?
"Where are you?" I ask, fumbling for the Brite-Lite clock on the night table to confirm that, yes, it's still two hours until my alarm goes off. "Traveling?"
"L.A., darling," Lucy says. "Working."
I knew that. When she's in New York, Lucy lives around the corner in a big Tudor house, but she regularly packs off to Burbank to produce glamorous TV shows. Being on the opposite coast causes her to sink into saying "darling" too much.
"Everything okay?" I ask, awake enough now for my worry genes to have kicked in.
"Absolutely, yes," Lucy says as I hear what I swear is another champagne cork popping in the background. She bursts into giggles, covers the phone, and calls out, "Watch it, darling!"
"What's going on there?" I ask.
"It's not what you think. We're rehearsing for a show and there's a scene with Dom Perignon. We're using real French champagne, even for the sound check."
French champagne. I sit up abruptly realizing that when the phone rang, I had been dreaming about Jacques, my very own Frenchman. We were lying naked, with our arms wrapped around each other at the edge of a warm, sunny beach. He was kissing me passionately as the waves lapped over us. Wait a minute. Didn't I see that same scene in some old movie? I put the phone down and notice the TV across the room is still flickering. I must have fallen asleep watching From Here to Eternity. Again.
"Yoo-hoo, " Lucy calls impatiently. "Earth to Jess. You still with me?"
I clear my throat. "Jacques," I say. "We were making love."
"Jacques? Jacques is there?" Lucy screams so loudly across the country that she doesn't even need her brand-new cherry red Nokia 120000RICH cell phone.
"No, Jacques isn't here. Of course not. We were on the beach." That's not what I meant to say. "I mean I was dreaming about him on the beach. Nude." I manage to stop myself before I get to the climax. Of the story. Next topic. I realize it's two a.m. on her coast so I say, "But anyway, you're working late."
"I know. All night. Everyone thinks my life is all poolside meetings with Ben Affleck, but all I do out here is work, work, work." Lucy sounds awfully cheerful for a poor working girl. But then again, she's downing champagne while I'm cozying up to a blue plastic tumbler of tepid bathroom water.
"So what's going on?" I ask, wondering why this call couldn't have waited for daybreak--on either coast.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, " Lucy says, taking a deep breath, "but it's about the bake sale."
Ah, right. The fifth-grade bake sale. Now that's certainly worth a call at five a.m. In fact, I bet she's halted shooting on her million-dollar production in order to get this handled.
"I need a favor, darling," Lucy says. "Dan said he'd pick up something for Lily to bring, but that means it will be store-bought. Uck. I'll look like a bad mother. So two questions. What are you making for Jen to take, and would you mind very much making double?"
Double what? I haven't even given it a thought. I've just barely recovered from making nachos to send to school last week for International Lunch Day. The week before it was homemade yogurt for the Dairy-Tasting Project. Did I miss the PTA meeting when they installed Martha Stewart as the new principal? Jen's homework tonight will no doubt include long division, current events, and . ....
Reviews
LAUREN WEISBERGER, author of The Devil Wears Prada...
"Warning! Reading this book could cause laugh lines! May also lead to sleep deprivation--since once you start, you won't be able to stop. I loved it."
JACQUELYN MITCHARD, author of The Deep End of the Ocean...
"Janice Kaplan and Lynn Schnurnberger may have written the Ur Post-Chick-lit novel. The Botox Diaries is a romp that lauds the 'tender' virtues we all embrace. Try not to deepen your laugh lines as you follow the adventures of these two lovable grownup girls."
DICK CLARK...
"A sexy, sophisticated romp guaranteed to keep you entertained. Highest ratings to the hilarious TV tales, told with an insider's wry and loving eye. A great read!"
KAREN MOLINE, author of Belladonna...
"What midlife crisis? The Botox Diaries is the perfect antidote to scalpel scandals and yoga yuppies . . . and far, far more satisfying than a carb-free éclair will ever be."
JEANNE WOLF, Jeanne Wolf's Hollywood...
"Talk about a lift! The Botox Diaries is a potent injection of humor and insight."
Home
