They went snowmobiling with Tyler and Rock. Tyler and Mr. Big drove too fast and some people yelled at them. Then
she kept screaming at him to let her off because she was afraid they were going to tip over.
A couple of days later, they went to Tyler 's house. It was a fort in the woods that had once belonged to a porno star. There were bearskin rugs and animal heads mounted on the walls. They drank shots of tequila and shot bows and arrows. They raced the go-carts, and Carrie won every race. Then they went for a walk in the woods.
"I want to go in. My feet are cold," Mr. Big said.
"Why didn't you wear sensible shoes?" Carrie said. She stood at the edge of the stream, pushing snow in with the toe of her boot. "Don't," Mr. Big said. "You'll fall in."
"No I won't," Carrie said. She kicked more snow into the stream, watching it melt in the water. "I always used to do this when I was a kid."
Tyler was standing behind them. "Always pushing the limits," he said. Carrie turned, and they stared at each other for the briefest second.
On their last night, they all went to a party at the home of Bob Milo, a famous Hollywood movie star. His house was up on the other side of the mountain, and to get there, they had to park the car and ride on snowmobiles. The house and grounds were decorated with Japanese lanterns, even though it was February and snowy. Inside the house, there was a sort of grotto with koi swimming in it and a bridge you had to walk over to get to the living room.
Bob Milo was holding forth in front of the fireplace. His girlfriend and his soon-to-be-ex-wife were there, looking almost like twins except the wife was about five years older than the girlfriend. Bob Milo was dressed in a sweater and the bottom half of his long underwear. He was about five feet tall and was wearing felt slippers with pointy toes, so that he resembled an elf.
"I work out six hours a day," he was saying, when Stanford interrupted him. "Excuse me," he said, "but who decorated
Milo glared at him.
"No, I mean it," Stanford said. "I'm thinking of buying a private jet, and I want to be sure to get the right decorator."
Carrie was sitting at a table, eating her way through a pile of stone crab claws and shrimp. She was talking to Rock, and they were both being horrible httle cats, whispering jokes about the party and laughing, being more and more obnoxious. Mr. Big was sitting next to Carrie, talking to Tyler, who had two women draped over him. Carrie looked at Tyler and thought, I am so glad I don't have to deal with a man hke that.
She went back to her shrimp. And then there was a sort of mini commotion and a blond girl came over, waving her arms and talking in some kind of accent, and Carrie thought, Uh oh, I've heard that voice before, and decided to ignore it.
The girl came over and practically sat in Mr. Big's lap. They were both laughing about something. Carrie didn't turn around. Then someone said to Mr. Big, "How long have you two known each other?"
"I don't know. How long?" the girl said to Mr. Big.
"Maybe two years?" Mr. Big said.
"We bonded at Le Palais. In Paris," the girl said.
Carrie turned. She smiled. "Hello Ray," she said. "What did you do? Give him one of your famous blow jobs in the corner?"
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then everyone began laughing hysterically, except Ray. "What are you talking about? What do you mean?" she went on and on in her stupid accent.
"It's a joke," Carrie said. "Don't you get it?"
"If that's your idea of humor, honey, it's not funny."
"Really," Carrie said. "So sorry. Everyone else seems to think it was hysterical. Now, if you don't mind removing yourself from my boyfriend's lap, I'll get back to my conversation."
"You shouldn't have said that," Mr. Big said. He got up
"Shit," Carrie said. She went to find him, but instead she ran into another commotion. Stanford was in the middle of the room, screaming. There was a blond man standing there, and behind him was the Bone.
"You cheap little slut," Stanford was saying to the Bone. "Did anyone ever tell you what a slut you were? How could you take up with this kind of trash?"
"Hey," the Bone said. "I just met the guy. He asked me to a party. He's a friend."
"Oh please," Stanford said. "Please. Somebody bring me a drink so I can throw it in your face."
Ray walked by with Skipper Johnson in tow. "I've always wanted my own TV show," she was saying. "By the way, did I tell you that I've had a child? I can do things with my pussy that no woman has ever done to you before."
After that, Carrie made everyone go into the bathroom and smoke marijuana, then they came out and she danced wildly with Mr. Big, and people kept coming up to them saying, "You two are the best dancers."
They left the party at one, and a bunch of people went back to their house. Carrie kept drinking and smoking pot until she could hardly walk, then she went into the bathroom and threw up and lay on the floor. She threw up again and Mr. Big came in and tried to hold her head, and she said, "Don'toush'me," and he made her get into bed and she climbed out and went back into the bathroom and threw up again. Eventually she crawled into the bedroom. She lay on the floor next to the bed for a while, and when she could lift her head, she got into bed and passed out, knowing that there were little chunks of vomit in her hair and not caring.
It was a cold, clear night. Stanford Blatch wandered in and out among the private planes in the Aspen airport. He passed the Lear jets and the Gulf Streams, the Citations and the Challengers. And as he passed each one, he touched the tail numbers, looking for a number he recognized. Looking for a