Présentation de l'éditeur
Dissatisfied both with writing a “Single Girl on the Edge/ Ledge/Verge” lifestyle column and with her boyfriend (who has a name for his car and compulsively collects plastic bread ties), Ruby Capote sends her best columns and a six-pack of beer to the editor of
The New York News and lands herself a new job in a new city.
In New York, Ruby undertakes the venerable tradition of Poker Night—a way (as men have always known) to eat, drink, smoke, analyze, interrupt one another, share stories, and, most of all, raise the stakes. There’s Skorka, model by profession, homewrecker by vocation; Jenn, willing to cross county lines for true love; Danielle, recently divorced, seducer of at least one father/son combo in her quest to make up for perceived “missed opportunities.”
When Ruby falls for her boss, Michael, all bets are off. He’s a challenge. He’s her editor. And he wants her to stop being quippy and clever and become the writer—and the woman—he knows she can be. Adding to Ruby’s uncertainty is his amazing yet ambiguous kiss in the elevator, and the enjoyably torturous impasse of he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not.
What happens when you realize that Mr. Right has his own unresolved past? Where does that leave the future you envisioned? Ruby knows that happy endings aren’t for cowards, and she hasn’t lost hope that there are risks worth taking. As smart as it is laugh-out-loud funny,
Girls’ Poker Night is a twenty-first-century
His Girl Friday and a re-freshingly upbeat look at friendship, work, and love.
From the Hardcover edition.
Extrait
UnfaithfulHappy endings aren’t for cowards. I’ve been alive for how many years, and I’ve just figured that one out.
I learned to be unfaithful from my parents. Not infidelity in the classic sense—but I was always prepared for the unhappy ending, which made me less willing to work toward a happy one. I was unfaithful to the idea of a well-adjusted future.
My name is Ruby Capote. Ruby Capote. I am Ruby Capote. Capote. Capote. Ruby Kiley Capote. Have you ever written your name, or seen it printed somewhere, and thought it looked unfamiliar? Like maybe you spelled it wrong or something? It used to happen to me all the time. But then again, I’m only the strangest person I’ve ever met. So much for a positive image, you may be thinking. But the truth is I’m kind of happy with the way I turned out. I mean, things could be worse. I could be boring. Or unhappy. Or, like, I don’t know, Canadian or something.
Imagine settling for a life you can have because you don’t have the courage to go after the life you really want. That’s what made me do it—make one of those decisions—the kind that bends your future in a whole new direction.
Every day the opportunity exists to change your life. But most days, the idea of having to change the big things in life just seems like too much work. Should I lie on the couch and watch a movie, or should I confront my personal demons? You get the point.
Anyway, I’ve done it. So I’m getting it down on paper, before the memory evaporates. Because that’s what people do—they move into their new life and disassemble the old life in some ungrateful way and leave it out by the curb. Like it never served any purpose at all. Like self-preservation is some frivolous little thing.
Doug
I met Doug on the six-thirty p.m. Delta shuttle from New York to Boston. I was returning from an interview at the United Nations Building. My subject, the U.N. interpreter for Moldova, who is originally from Back Bay of all places, didn’t have much to say. But I guess interpreters don’t . . . unless they’re interpreting. Anyway, I’m on the shuttle, and this adorable guy is sitting next to me. And when he wolfed down his peanuts, I gave him mine. And then when he finished those, the old lady next to me handed me hers, and I quickly, deftly, passed them off, like a baton in a relay race, to Doug. And the old lady and I smiled at each other, practically high-fived each oth
