End of the Beginning: Prologue
Disclaimer:It's not mine.
Brooke's eyes scanned the menu. She knew what she was ordering, of course, but Chris wasn't making an effort to talk to her. Brooke stared at the bold black typeface, pretending that it was interesting.
He used to be all about big romantic gestures, and Brooke fondly remembered how he sent her twelve dozen white roses before she agreed to go out with him.
Today was their fifth wedding anniversary, however, and all she was getting was dinner at his favorite restaurant. She didn't like Rao's, the older Italian men and sketchy characters at surrounding tables made her feel like she was in an episode of the Sopranos. She would have been much happier anywhere else, but she had made this reservation in the hopes that Chris would enjoy it.
She wondered if he was enjoying it. Brooke used to be able to tell, but the way his eyes were quickly scanning the room made her wonder if he was nervous. A few years ago all his attention would have been on her smiling face, but it wasn't. She wasn't smiling either.
"So," Brooke said, "how was work?"
"Eh, it was okay." He signaled over a waiter.
"Oh," Brooke smiled up at the man, "could I have a small order of penne with butter, no sauce? Thank you."
"I'll have the Veal Parmesean with a garden salad, and two glasses of champagne?" Chris winked across the table, and Brooke was immediately relieved. Maybe he hadn't forgotten about the occasion.
The champagne came a few minutes later. Chris held up his glass. "To five years of happiness with the most beautiful woman in the world." She smiled at him.
"Cheers!"
Brooke took a sip of the bubbly alcohol. She doesn't drink as much as she used to. Chris and her agent made her quit ages ago, beer always made her gain a few pounds. She has always enjoyed the taste of champagne. Besides, one glass is not enough to make Brooke Waldorf drunk.
"I did a new Burberry shoot today."
"That's nice, sweetheart." His eyes dart towards a skinny blonde entering the restaurant. Brooke suddenly regrets the calories in her champagne as she glances at the woman's toned thighs.
She puts down the glass and signals for the waiter to take it away as the blonde walks towards her. Brooke looks at her face, and suddenly feels old. Her clearly natural features look about sixteen.
She smiles at Chris and Brooke looks on uncomfortably. Maybe she's a client? A lawyer? She doesn't look very professional though, and the way she's looking at Chris shows that she's definitely not a co-worker.
"Hello," she coos. Chris bites a lip, and Brooke feels as though she shouldn't be here.
The blonde lady looks confused. She obviously expected a warmer greeting than this. "Chris, aren't you going to introduce me?"
"Uh, I don't know. That depends. Who are you exactly?" But his questioning is lost on Brooke, it's more than obvious that the pair has met before.
"You seemed to know me pretty well the other night."
This woman doesn't look like the slut she's acting to be. Her long sleek hair is perfectly highlighted and blown out. Brooke is pretty sure her skirt is by Prada, and she knows that she has the same exact brown Manolo's at home.
She grins at Brooke, putting out her hand to shake. "I'm sorry for the rudeness."
"Oh, it's fine," Brooke is a little flustered, as she takes the hand to shake. Who is this person and what does she have to do with Brooke's husband?
"I'm Alexandra Shamis."
"Brooke Waldorf." Brooke purposely accentuates her last name, hoping the bitch will get the point.
"Oh, I didn't know he had a sister!" Alexandra pauses and Brooke gives her a tense smile. "Chris and I are sort of on-again off again, but lately we're on-again." She giggles.
Chris looks panicked, and Brooke quickly grabs her purse. "Actually, I'm his wife." She stands up to leave. "Happy Anniversary, Christopher!"
"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." Winston Churchill
Disclaimer:It's not mine.
Brooke's eyes scanned the menu. She knew what she was ordering, of course, but Chris wasn't making an effort to talk to her. Brooke stared at the bold black typeface, pretending that it was interesting.
He used to be all about big romantic gestures, and Brooke fondly remembered how he sent her twelve dozen white roses before she agreed to go out with him.
Today was their fifth wedding anniversary, however, and all she was getting was dinner at his favorite restaurant. She didn't like Rao's, the older Italian men and sketchy characters at surrounding tables made her feel like she was in an episode of the Sopranos. She would have been much happier anywhere else, but she had made this reservation in the hopes that Chris would enjoy it.
She wondered if he was enjoying it. Brooke used to be able to tell, but the way his eyes were quickly scanning the room made her wonder if he was nervous. A few years ago all his attention would have been on her smiling face, but it wasn't. She wasn't smiling either.
"So," Brooke said, "how was work?"
"Eh, it was okay." He signaled over a waiter.
"Oh," Brooke smiled up at the man, "could I have a small order of penne with butter, no sauce? Thank you."
"I'll have the Veal Parmesean with a garden salad, and two glasses of champagne?" Chris winked across the table, and Brooke was immediately relieved. Maybe he hadn't forgotten about the occasion.
The champagne came a few minutes later. Chris held up his glass. "To five years of happiness with the most beautiful woman in the world." She smiled at him.
"Cheers!"
Brooke took a sip of the bubbly alcohol. She doesn't drink as much as she used to. Chris and her agent made her quit ages ago, beer always made her gain a few pounds. She has always enjoyed the taste of champagne. Besides, one glass is not enough to make Brooke Waldorf drunk.
"I did a new Burberry shoot today."
"That's nice, sweetheart." His eyes dart towards a skinny blonde entering the restaurant. Brooke suddenly regrets the calories in her champagne as she glances at the woman's toned thighs.
She puts down the glass and signals for the waiter to take it away as the blonde walks towards her. Brooke looks at her face, and suddenly feels old. Her clearly natural features look about sixteen.
She smiles at Chris and Brooke looks on uncomfortably. Maybe she's a client? A lawyer? She doesn't look very professional though, and the way she's looking at Chris shows that she's definitely not a co-worker.
"Hello," she coos. Chris bites a lip, and Brooke feels as though she shouldn't be here.
The blonde lady looks confused. She obviously expected a warmer greeting than this. "Chris, aren't you going to introduce me?"
"Uh, I don't know. That depends. Who are you exactly?" But his questioning is lost on Brooke, it's more than obvious that the pair has met before.
"You seemed to know me pretty well the other night."
This woman doesn't look like the slut she's acting to be. Her long sleek hair is perfectly highlighted and blown out. Brooke is pretty sure her skirt is by Prada, and she knows that she has the same exact brown Manolo's at home.
She grins at Brooke, putting out her hand to shake. "I'm sorry for the rudeness."
"Oh, it's fine," Brooke is a little flustered, as she takes the hand to shake. Who is this person and what does she have to do with Brooke's husband?
"I'm Alexandra Shamis."
"Brooke Waldorf." Brooke purposely accentuates her last name, hoping the bitch will get the point.
"Oh, I didn't know he had a sister!" Alexandra pauses and Brooke gives her a tense smile. "Chris and I are sort of on-again off again, but lately we're on-again." She giggles.
Chris looks panicked, and Brooke quickly grabs her purse. "Actually, I'm his wife." She stands up to leave. "Happy Anniversary, Christopher!"
"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." Winston Churchill