But at the sixth floor, the elevator door opened instead to the model Kristen McMenamy, who was being photographed in a topless bathing suit by Steven Meisel for Italian Vogue. The walkie-talkie-toting scrum of assistants looked stricken at the interruption. “Can you move over here a little?” one tense-looking man asked Grossman, who was standing in full view of the camera, ignoring him completely. “Can you just …”
“She’s looking for a rabbi,” explained Margerison, somewhat helplessly. “Have you seen a rabbi? With a long white beard?”
He winced. “No, but can you just move …” Apparently, Meisel was in a Mood.
“Bettina, I think we have to move,” Margerison urged. Grossman moved toward a doorway, and the assistant looked agonized at the number of seconds it took.
Grossman peered into the room, which was being cleaned by maids.
“I think he was there,” she said, loudly. The assistant fidgeted.
“I think we’re getting kicked out, Bettina,” Kelsey said, gently.
It didn’t take her long to shuffle to the door. Clearly, on this floor, the special people were gone.