Lady Be Good: A Novel

by Amber Brock Narrated by Julia Whelan

Overview

Set in the 1950s, Lady Be Good marks Amber Brock's mesmerizing return, sweeping readers into the world of the mischievous, status-obsessed daughter of a hotel magnate and the electric nightlife of three iconic cities: New York, Miami, and Havana.

Kitty Tessler is the winsome and clever only child of self-made hotel and nightclub tycoon Nicolas Tessler. Kitty may not have the same pedigree as the tennis club set she admires, but she still sees herself as every inch the socialite--spending her days perfecting her "look" and her nights charming all the blue-blooded boys who frequent her father's clubs. It seems like the fun will never end until Kitty's father issues a terrible ultimatum: she may no longer date the idle rich. Instead, Kitty must marry Andre, her father's second-in-command, and take her place as the First Lady of his hotel empire. Kitty is forced to come up with a wily and elaborate plan to protect her own lofty ideas for the future, as well as to save her best friend, Henrietta Bancroft, from a doomed engagement; Kitty will steal Henrietta's fiancé, a fabulously wealthy but terribly unkind man from a powerful family--thereby delivering the one-two punch of securing her now-fragile place on the social ladder and keeping her friend from a miserable marriage.
**** Then Kitty meets Max, a member of a band visiting New York from her father's Miami club, and her plans take a turn. Smitten, but still eager to convince her father of her commitment to Andre, Kitty and Hen follow Max, Andre, and the rest of the band back down to Miami--and later to Cuba. As Kitty spends more time with Max, she begins waking up to the beauty--and the injustice--of the world beyond her small, privileged corner of Manhattan. And when her well-intended yet manipulative efforts backfire, Kitty is forced to reconsider her choices and her future before she loses everyone she loves.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"Lady Be Good is a fascinating, endlessly entertaining romp through the 1950s through the eyes of a clever, complicated socialite. Funny and incisive, richly detailed and full of unexpected twists, this novel is a delight from the first page to the last."
—Anton DiSclafani, author of The After Party

“Brock (Fine Imitation, 2016) uses descriptions of the glamour of 1950s New York, South Beach, and Havana to add sparkle to this quick-paced period novel about a spoiled heiress who slowly learns to see beyond her own privilege.”
—Library Journal

“An exciting romp through 1950’s Manhattan, Miami, and Havana… a spellbinding story complete with captivating characters, sweet romance, and fascinating female friendships.” 
—Bustle

“Satisfying and heartwarming…a solid choice for historical fiction fans interested in the 1950’s as well as readers who enjoy tales of women becoming empowered, taking control of their lives, and learning true friendship.” 
—Booklist

"Amber Brock's Lady Be Good is a charming, effervescent romp through 1950's New York, Miami, and Havana. But underneath the glitz and glamour of this fun and flirty page-turner is something deeper and far more important: a woman learning to see beyond her own life of privilege in order to find real love and lasting purpose."
—Ariel Lawhon, author of I Was Anastasia

“Kitty Tessler, a headstrong glamour girl determined to move up in the world, steals the spotlight in Amber Brock’s latest, a tour-de-force filled with intrigue and surprises.”
—Fiona Davis, bestselling author of The Address and The Dollhouse

“A delicious slice of mid-century Americana—stylish, sexy, and bursting with color and sound.  From the glittering skyline of Manhattan to the club scene in pre-revolutionary Havana…Brock has created a fascinating journey of self-discovery as Kitty searches for love and the strength to forget all she once believed was true, and embrace the new and modern woman she wants to be.”
—Karen White, bestselling author of The Night the Lights Went Out

Kirkus Reviews

2018-04-03
Women's fiction set in the 1950s, with a touch of social consciousness.In her second novel, Brock (A Fine Imitation, 2016) tells the story of 25-year-old Kitty Tessler, the spoiled, devious daughter of New York hotel magnate Nicholas Tessler. An attractive socialite in the Paris Hilton mode, Kitty leads a carefree existence, shuttling between beauty salons, nightclubs, and fashion shows. Yet she's not really satisfied and yearns for acceptance in the elite, old-money world epitomized by her good-hearted BFF, Henrietta Bancroft. So Kitty hatches a complicated and fairly implausible scheme to separate Hen from her fiance, the social-register cad Charles Remington, and claim him for herself; the idea is to secure his pedigree and make him miserable at the same time. Meantime, Kitty's loving father—concerned about her future—virtually commands her to marry Andre, his steady but not-so-exciting second-in-command. Needless to say, things don't go exactly as anyone planned. The action moves from New York to Miami to pre-revolutionary Cuba, where the visiting Kitty and Hen get a taste of the unrest that will eventually bring Castro to power. It's here that Kitty begins to emerge from her privileged cocoon, thanks to Max, a Jewish bandleader in the Tesslers' Miami hotel, who opens her eyes to social injustice. The pace of the book quickens during the Havana interlude, which includes scenes set in the real-life Hotel Nacional and other local hot spots. Throughout, though, too much space is devoted to descriptions of cute outfits and lavish decors. And while there's a tiny hint of Jane Austen in the novel's romantic intrigue, the characters are mostly one-dimensional, their dialogue stilted. The cheery resolution—with Kitty learning to be proud of her lineage—is never in much doubt.Some amusing moments but not as clever or observant as it needs to be.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169413649
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	06/26/2018
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***

Copyright © 2018 Amber Brock

Kitty Tessler sat at the long wooden bar in the Palm on a chilly Friday evening, steadily losing confidence that her date deserved the seat next to her. Raymond had seemed like a true catch, the perfect fit for her meticulous plans. About five minutes after they ordered their drinks, however, he had begun flicking his gaze over Kitty’s shoulder with a frequency that suggested a fugitive searching the crowd for a plainclothes policeman. Perhaps a change of scenery would still his wandering eye.

She waited until he paused the stream of names he’d been dropping since her rear hit the bar stool. “Raymond, don’t you think we ought to get a table?”

“Oh. Oh, sure. Right.”

Another glance over her shoulder. Who is he looking for?

“Not to rush you.” She flashed him a coy smile. “Don’t want you to think I get too hungry for dinner at eight.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, and she swallowed a sigh. “Never mind,” she said. “Why don’t I get our drinks?”

“I can’t let a lady pay,” he said.

“It’s on my father. He has a tab here.” She motioned for the bar- tender.

“What? Nicky Tessler has an open account at the Palm?”

Kitty turned her full attention on him. No one she knew would dare to call her father “Nicky.” “Is that so hard to believe?”

“That’s usually based on a certain . . . status. At a place like this, you understand.” He sipped his drink, unaware of the approaching storm.

“I see. And what kind of status would you say my father has?”

“Don’t get me wrong. He’s done well for himself. But it’s not like he runs in my father’s circles.”

“And remind me, where is your father spinning these days?”

Raymond straightened his tie. “Well, he’s a partner at Dunham and Lowe, for starters.”

“That’s right . . . aren’t they the ones who bungled that big corruption case that was all over the papers a few months ago?”

He squirmed on his bar stool. She pressed on. “That’s right. Your father was the lead lawyer on the matter. The papers really made it sound for a while there like he was awfully tied up in the whole situation. Thank goodness there wasn’t more of a scandal. It sure went away quietly.”

He scowled. “Hold on just a minute. You don’t know the first thing about it.”

“Now, now. I’m saying it’s a good thing. He avoided losing any of that stellar reputation.” She turned to smile at the now-waiting bar- tender. “Won’t you be a dear and put my drink on my father’s account? Nicolas Tessler is the name. In fact . . .” Kitty glanced around and raised her voice. “A round of champagne for everyone in the bar. Some- thing French and old.” She pointed a manicured finger at Raymond. “For everyone but Raymond here. He can’t stay.”

His lips were a thin, tight line. He fumbled with his wallet, threw a five on the bar, and walked out without another word. She folded the bill. When the bartender returned with a sparkling glass of bubbly, Kitty handed him the five. “This is for you. And I’ll get Raymond’s martini on my tab. Poor fellow. Had a sudden upset stomach.”

The bartender nodded, then shot her a knowing look. “I’m surprised to see Mr. Leighton here on a Friday. You must be a friend of his girlfriend Carol’s. Is she coming in with him on Saturday, as usual?”

Kitty loved a chatty bartender. “Oh, yes. She and I are dear friends. And I’ll tell you what—the next time they come in, will you put Carol’s first drink on my tab? Compliments of Kitty Tessler. She’ll be so delighted.”

The bartender winked and held the bottle aloft. “All right,” he said. “This young lady is buying champagne for anyone who wants it.”

A cheer went up from a few patrons, who crowded around to claim their glasses. Kitty stewed. She had known Raymond was flawed. None of them were perfect, after all. But she’d held out hope he would prove a viable candidate anyway. All he had proven was that he was the same as the other men she’d gone out with lately: appropriately wealthy and connected, yet all with some disqualifying factor she couldn’t ignore.

A meaty hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man said. Kitty scanned him. Hideous sweater vest, shoes not shined, greasy grin.

“You don’t scare me,” she said, turning back to the bar.

“Hey, that’s good, that’s good.” Ignoring all signs that he shouldn’t, he took the seat beside her. He stuck out a hand. “Joe Carlo.”

“I’m not looking for company at the moment, Mr. Carlo. I hope you understand.”

“Ah, yeah, I saw that guy leave. You had him pretty hot under the collar. But he obviously didn’t know how to talk to a classy lady like you. I’m glad you let him have it.”

Kitty turned her head so her eye roll wouldn’t be obvious. “Listen, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not—”

“I noticed you recognized my name when I introduced myself. I won’t leave you guessing. Yes, I am that Carlo. The Muffler King is my uncle.”

The confession signaled the final curtain on Kitty’s doomed evening. She downed her glass of champagne.

“Oh, look at the time. I’d better go.” She hurried out. Sharing a drink with Joe Carlo, already an unappealing prospect, would only make her situation more impossible than it already was. She would never find the kind of man she needed to propel her into the social stratosphere if someone she knew caught her consorting with the Muffler King’s nephew.

She took a cab back to the Vanguard Hotel, barely seeing the city as it whizzed by outside the car’s window. Her mental list of acceptable mates was growing shorter with each disappointing Friday night. It wasn’t really about money. She had money. Even guys like the Muffler Prince had money. She needed the warm, cocooning protection of good breeding. And that kind of security could never be hers until she had a venerable and appropriately Anglo-Saxon name attached to her own. The trouble was, only a thimbleful of New Yorkers had the right lineage to counterbalance Kitty’s own pedigree. Even more troubling was the fact that the children of those respected families had an irritating tendency to marry each other. Though she moved in their social world, the dismissive way people like Raymond still said her father’s name was a constant reminder of how far the Tesslers still had to climb.

The cab pulled up to the curb in front of the Vanguard. Kitty considered going into the club on the first floor, but her mood was too sour. Instead, she took the elevator up to the top-level suite that she and her father called home.

The suite was a unique space. The diamond-shaped living room offered double the view of the area surrounding the hotel through two sliding-glass doors that led to a triangular balcony. If Kitty leaned over the point of the triangle, she could see down to Herald Square. She rarely went out onto the balcony these days, since they’d parked the bar cart in front of the windows. Nothing like a glittering view of city lights while mixing a drink. The door leading to her room and bathroom was on the wall just to the left of the balcony, while her father’s bedroom door was mirrored on the other side of the room. Thick, cream-colored rugs and a brocade couch with heavy pillows satisfied Nicolas Tessler’s preference for a classic look. The chaise longue had been Kitty’s choice, since she liked to have her feet up when she rested. He’d also given in to her request for a television, though he hated the clunky box.

A clattering of claws on the wooden floor meant Kitty’s little dog, Loco, had heard the key turn in the lock. She bent down, and the cocker spaniel leapt into her arms. Kitty laughed as she stood up.

“Oof. You’re gaining some weight, pretty girl. Time for that diet. Nothing but cottage cheese and lettuce for you from now on.” The dog enthusiastically licked Kitty’s face until she set the wriggling bundle of enthusiasm on the couch.

Fresh start tomorrow, Kitty thought, going into her bedroom to change.

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