Beach Lane

vacation is never long enough, is it?





EARLY THE NEXT MORNING THE PERRY KIDS RAN SCRAMBLING into the au pairs’ room. They galloped up the rickety stairs, completely ruining the girls’ plans to sleep in. Remnants of the party the night before were in evidence in their little domicile. Jeremy had left his coat under Eliza’s bed. Ryan’s sweatshirt was draped over the armchair. Several dirty cocktail glasses were breeding fungus in the bathroom.

“We’re back! We’re back!” Madison yelled, jumping up and down on Eliza’s bed. “Did you guys miss us?”

“Wanna go swimming!” Zoë said.

Eliza groaned. “Is it Sunday already?”

Mara couldn’t even raise her head from her pillow. “William, stop pulling my hair, please!”

“Oh my God, I am SO hung over,” Eliza complained.

“Me too,” Mara said, clutching her stomach. She scanned the room. “Where’s Jacqui?”

Eliza gave Mara a blank look. Jacqui? Hello, where had Mara been all summer? Jacqui was never around. She was their phantom roommate.

“She was here last night,” Mara explained. “I can’t believe she bailed! It’s her turn to take the kids somewhere. Ugh.”

“Well, I haven’t seen her.” Eliza shrugged, trying to hide underneath the covers.

“Seriously, there is no way I can go to the beach today,” Mara yelled over the clamor as William and Madison fought over who got to sit on the armchair.

“I’ve got an idea,” Eliza said.

* * *

They drove into one of the few movie theaters in town. Unlike the sprawling suburban megaplexes in Sturbridge or the high-tech high-rises in Manhattan, where a movie ticket cost upward of ten dollars, the East Hampton theater was a small, brown-shingled building that showed obscure foreign films, art house indies, and, luckily for them, a Disney animated feature that afternoon.

“I wanna see Alien versus Predator!” William demanded.

“Sucks to be you; it’s not showing.” Eliza yawned.

They ushered the kids into the theater. Eliza was thankful for the air-conditioning and the darkness. She was planning to catch up on her sleep through the entire thing in an attempt to exorcise the events of the night before from her memory. After she had left the screening room in disgrace, she had tried to look for Jeremy, but all she found were assorted half-naked people passed out on the porch.

He had to understand—she’d been put on the spot—in front of people she had known her whole life. It wasn’t anything to do with him, really. God, it was all such a mess. She gnawed her cuticles anxiously.

Mara walked in with Madison, carrying a huge bucket of popcorn and a Coke.

Eliza stuffed a handful into her mouth and instantly spit it out. “What? No butter?”

“That motor oil they pass off for butter has more calories than a porterhouse steak!” Mara reminded her, nodding toward Madison.

Eliza knew that. But everyone knew popcorn wasn’t really a food. And it tasted like sand without butter. “I’m getting butter on this and salt,” Eliza said, grabbing the carton.

“Hey, get your own!” Mara said, nodding even less subtly at Madison.

“Why don’t we just ask her what she wants?” Eliza said. “Do you want butter?”

Madison looked at the two au pairs. She really wanted butter, but Mara was giving her such an encouraging look, she didn’t know what she wanted. It was Mara who had fixed the hair on her Barbies the other day, combing them until they weren’t tangled up anymore. She didn’t want to disappoint her.

“No,” she replied, almost like a question.

“Good girl, Mad.” Mara nodded. “Why don’t you buy your own bag?” she asked Eliza in a conciliatory tone.

“Forget it.” Eliza frowned. She had already spent all her money and didn’t have a penny to her name till the next pay period.

The lights dimmed, and the strains of the Walt Disney theme built to a crescendo.

* * *

While the kids were occupied with the movie, Eliza told Mara what had happened with Jeremy and her friends. “I swear, I totally didn’t mean for that to happen! I was just so shocked, you know?” Eliza said, wanting to be consoled so badly. “He means more to me than any of them put together.”

Mara nodded. That was a pretty wretched picture Eliza had painted, but Mara could see it was tearing Eliza up. “I’m sure he’ll understand. You’re only human.”

In hushed tones she then told Eliza about the scene with Jim and Ryan, complete with a strip poker play-by-play.

“Jeez, what a jerk. I don’t even know why you stayed with that white trash Jim for so long,” Eliza said.

Mara was taken aback. That was pretty harsh. Granted, she wanted sympathy, but calling her boyfriend white trash was stepping over the line. Sure, Jim wasn’t some heir to a brand-name fortune and he didn’t drive a fancy car, and fine, he couldn’t pronounce Quogue if his life depended on it, but he wasn’t that bad. A little dim, maybe, a little overprotective, yes. And very bad tempered when he was provoked. But white trash? Combined with Eliza’s callous comments the other night about Jeremy not “fitting in” with “this world,” Mara felt extremely insulted.

“You really are a piece of work,” Mara said, glaring at Eliza.

“Huh?”

“You know, I felt really bad about what happened with you and Jeremy, but now I think maybe you just got what you deserved.”

“Wait a minute . . .”

“Here’s a piece of advice, Liza: maybe you should think about what you’re saying before you open your mouth,” Mara hissed, grabbing her bags.

“Why? What the hell?” Eliza asked, mystified. It wasn’t like she had the best night either. C’mon, all her friends thought she was white trash now.

“Because you know what’s really low class?” Mara asked, her color high and her voice defiant. “A total SNOB like you!”

And with that, Mara left all four sugar-crazed kids for Eliza to deal with on her own.

* * *

Mara returned to the estate in time to see Jacqui saunter through the front door.

“Where have you been all morning?” Mara demanded.

“I was signing up the kids for the regatta competition down in Shelter Island. I thought they might enjoy it, and it’s the last day,” Jacqui explained.

Oh. She was actually doing something nice and responsible for the kids for a change. But instead of putting Mara in a good mood, it just made Mara feel worse for neglecting the kids every so often in order to make googly eyes at their older brother.

“Well, you could have told us,” she snapped.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jacqui asked, a little hurt that Mara hadn’t even thanked her for the idea.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just—can you just leave me alone?” Mara said.

“Gladly,” Jacqui said.





everything is getting progressively worse





FOR THE FIRST TIME THE ENTIRE SUMMER, BOTH ANNA and Kevin actually showed up for the weekly progress report in the screening room. Anna was in a good mood. Her co-chairwomanship of Super Saturday was almost locked. She had found a designer with a massive amount of overstock who wanted to sell it all in a prime booth, and it was just a matter of time before the committee anointed her with the title.

Mara and Eliza stumbled in late (projectile poo from the baby while getting his diaper changed had delayed their arrival) and were surprised and not too pleased that Jacqui of all people was sitting there, conversing pleasantly with their bosses as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They took their usual seats, perplexed at the turn of events.

“So, anyway, as I was saying, I just want to know how Zoë is keeping up with her reading. Has she moved on to the new Art Spiegelman?”

“Uh, I’m not quite sure, Anna,” Eliza said brightly. “In fact, you should ask Jacqui since she’s been reading to her all summer.”

“Yes, she’s completely engrossed in a book, I think it’s called Where in the World Is Carmen SanDiego?” Mara interrupted.

Jacqui kicked Mara under the table.

Anna beamed. “And Cody?”

“Oh, we’ve almost cured him of the whole running-around-naked thing. We’re really setting a fine example that clothes are very, very important to one’s social development,” Eliza said, glaring at Mara.

Kevin yawned. He was still picturing Jacqui naked below the decks on his Catalina.

“As for Madison, she’s learning the value of telling the truth. Especially to her friends,” Mara said, returning Eliza’s icy stare.

“And William? Is he taking his meds?”

“Oh, absolutely,” all three au pairs chorused. His doctor had put William on Adderall in addition to the Ritalin and the Metadate that he was already taking, so that was true enough. Not that it had done anything to change the kid’s personality. He was still a hyperactive little monster.

“Marvelous!” Anna shone. “Oh, Kevin, aren’t these girls perfect? They’re nothing like those other ones you hired. I’m so glad.”

The au pairs’ ears pricked up. They never did find out what happened to the “A Team,” as they had dubbed the first set of au pairs, and they were slightly worried they would be given the boot as well. Who knew what those girls did wrong? It wasn’t as if Mara, Eliza, and Jacqui were doing anything right. Except Anna and Kevin were so clueless or indifferent, it really didn’t matter.

Kevin handed out the fat cash-filled envelopes. “Thanks, ladies. Keep up the good work.”

He led Anna out of the den.

“Oh, darling, I forgot to tell you,” Anna said as they walked away. “The landscaper—or the gardener—he quit today. You’re going to have to find someone else in town who can take care of the azaleas. Such a shame.”

Eliza tried to catch Mara’s eye. But Mara turned away.

As the girls pocketed their cash, each of them took mental bets on who wasn’t going to make it to their final payday.

Mara: 5–1 it’s Eliza. The girl was a complete flake. Plus she didn’t have anything to stay for now that all her friends had abandoned her.

Eliza: 3–1 on Mara. She liked the odds on the small-town girl feeling homesick and quitting life in the fast lane.

Jacqui: 2–1 on herself. She wasn’t sure she could take this any longer. She certainly wasn’t having the summer of her life that the job ad had promised. So much for truth in advertising.





that money is burning a hole in eliza’s stella bag





THE NEXT DAY ELIZA FOUND HERSELF IN FRONT OF THE counter at Cartier. Even after everything that had happened, she felt like herself again inside its gilt doors. Now, this was living. She pondered the classics: interlocking trinity rings, sparkling diamond solitaires with the C emblem, the latest from the “nouvelle vague” collection of sturdy, minimalist gold cube rings that Hamptons housewives were collecting as casually as multistriped sailor shirts from LL. Bean.

“That one,” she said, pointing to an eighteen-karat-gold Panthère watch set with diamonds.

The salesgirl put the watch on Eliza’s tiny wrist. “It’s a beauty.”

Eliza held it up to the light, admiring how it glinted and shone. “I’ll take it,” she said. “And no need to wrap it up; I’ll just wear it out.”

The watch cost significantly more than the amount in the envelope, but Eliza asked the girl to put the rest on her well-worn Visa.

She deserved this watch! After everything she had to put up with. Maybe if she looked at it long enough, she would forget Jeremy’s disgusted expression, her friends’ scornful laughter, and the fact that she had to return to Buffalo at the end of the summer.

Eliza left the store and spotted Mara across the street, headed to a branch of the North Fork bank. She ducked down before Mara could see her. She didn’t feel like showing Mara the watch or speaking to her just yet.





someday mara will have saved enough to buy her own country





MARA LEFT THE TELLER WINDOW. SHE HAD APPROXIMATELY $6,300 in the bank! She would have had $6,666 if she hadn’t spent so much money on a dress and flip-flops on that fateful shopping trip. Maybe she could still buy that Camry if Jim found it in his heart to forgive her. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Ryan had made out or anything, she thought, with more than a little sense of regret.

She tucked her deposit ticket into her wallet and walked out the door. She saw Eliza across the street leaving Cartier with a small red shopping bag. Eliza was pretending not to see her. Just like on the first day when they had sat on opposite sides of the bench.

Mara started toward the Pilates studio to pick up the little girls.





jacqui just might win her own bet





JACQUI STOOD AT THE TRAVEL AGENCY COUNTER, BITING her lip. She had just enough to take her back to São Paolo. It was so tempting. What was she doing staying in town? She could be back on a real beach in sixteen hours.

She looked across the desk to the flight schedules on the computer screen. See, there was one leaving that evening from JFK.

But maybe running away wasn’t the answer? It was such a waste of money. There were only a few weeks left. Her grandmother would be surprised to see her back so early. There would be too much explaining to do, and Jacqui didn’t think her avó would approve when she confessed that she had spent her summer in the States just to be with a boy. Her grandmother had only allowed her to come to America because Jacqui had told her she had been chosen to participate in an “educational experience.” How prophetic.

After a month in the Hamptons, Jacqui had learned that thongs were not allowed on the beaches, that her breasts were not considered real, and that the best way to crash a party was to pretend you already belonged.

“Should I make the reservation?” The clerk sat back down at her desk.

“Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind,” Jacqui said.

Besides, she had promised Zoë she would teach her to read that book she had brought from home, with all the pretty pictures.

So she left the travel agency, her envelope of cash safely tucked inside her purse.





super saturday is turning out to be not so super after all





ON THE LAST SATURDAY OF AUGUST, THE ONLY GAME in town was a day-long shopping extravaganza to benefit ovarian cancer. Former luminaries who have cohosted the event include the late Princess Diana (who simply loved the discount de la Rentas), Donna Karan (who turned it into a themed carnival complete with rides), and, of course, the late and great founding chairwoman, Harper’s Bazaar’s Liz Tilberis. It’s a madhouse of billowing white tents, and designers from Calvin Klein, Jill Stuart, Kate Spade, Michael Kors and many more sell samples and overstock and leftovers for a fraction of the price.

Anna, who had been passed up for hosting duties at the last minute in favor of a more well-financed socialite, nevertheless courageously soldiered on to sponsor the booth for Edgardo DeMenil, a new up-and-coming designer who had debuted last fall with a collection of studded leather ponchos. Unfortunately, the world was not ready for studded leather ponchos, and the designer was trying to unload all the merchandise at Super Saturday. Anna was trying to talk up the “couture” items with her friends, all of whom were understandably taking a pass.

“Mara, can you take the kids to the petting zoo? They’re scaring away the clients!” Anna asked in a frantic tone.

“Eliza, will you do it? You forgot to pack Cody’s stroller and now I have to hold him all afternoon,” Mara said accusingly, although the truth was that there was something calming about having the baby rest on her hip.

Eliza, whose attention was distracted by all the incredible designer discounts, wandered over at the sound of her name. A pair of Yanuk jeans for $50! A Calvin Klein silk jersey dress for $120! If only she hadn’t bought that Cartier watch! She felt poor and irritable and was looking at six straight hours of misery. Nothing’s worse than coming to a sale with an empty pocketbook.

“So what? I took him yesterday. He puked all over my Foley and Corrina top,” she said, annoyed. “Where’s Jacqui?”

Nowhere, as usual.

When Jacqui waltzed back, sipping a frosty drink, Mara lost it. “You’re never around when we need you!” she accused in a whispered, hostile tone.

Anna and Kevin were mingling and kiss-kissing friends, randomly introducing a kid when he or she happened to be in the line of vision. Sugar was sitting looking pouty, sexy, and bored, as usual.

“Shhh! They’ll hear you!” Eliza warned, hastily wiping Zoë’s chocolate-covered mouth.

William decided it was great fun to hang on her hair, and he pulled her backward just as Taylor and Lindsay walked up, holding several bulging shopping bags.

“William! Please let go! Let go!” Eliza pleaded, trying to wrench the little monkey away from her head.

She looked up and saw Taylor and Lindsay by the Marc Jacobs booth, trying on pinstripe sundresses.

“What do you think?” Taylor asked, smoothing down the front of her peplum skirt. She caught Eliza’s eye and turned away in embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s Eliza. Hey,” Lindsay said, giving her a weak wave.

The two scooted away as soon as they had swiped their charge cards.

Eliza couldn’t decide what was worse—that her friends were ignoring her or that they obviously felt sorry for her.

“Excuse me, miss? Can you get me a drink?” Charlie asked, a twisted smile on his face.

“Can’t you see? She’s working right now.” Sugar laughed, getting up from her seat. “Hey, Bill, pull harder,” she told her little brother.

“I got ya!” William crowed.

“F*ck you,” Eliza said, looking directly at Charlie.

“Excuse me?” Charlie asked.

“Eliza, did I just hear you say the f word?” Anna asked primly. “You know we try to keep that kind of language away from the kids’ ears. Spoils their interactive development.”

“Sorry, sorry. I . . .”

“Here,” Anna said, expertly wringing William away and giving Eliza a doubtful look. “Now go play with the Kennedy-Cole kids. Over there, over there. Scoot!” she said to her stepson.

“Thanks,” Eliza said weakly, feeling a little humiliated to have been rescued by Anna of all people.

* * *

Mara found a quiet place by the outdoor restaurant to try calling Jim again. He hadn’t picked up his phone since Saturday night. She didn’t want things between them to end this way, and she wanted to get her story straight with him. It made her furious to think about what kind of lies Jim was probably spreading about her back home. What if everyone thought she was a two-cent hooker when she got back? She was class secretary, after all. She had a rep to protect.

She dialed his number again. Straight to the answering machine.

“Jim, it’s me, Mara. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you have to. You have to give me a chance to explain. I’m really, really sorry about what happened. . . .”

“Hey.”

“Jim, you’re there.”

“Yeah.”

“Look—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry I blew up at you on Saturday. It wasn’t right and I’m sorry.”

Mara was stunned.

“I don’t know what happened between you and that guy, and I don’t really want to know.”

“Noth—”

But Jim kept talking. “The thing is, I kinda knew you wanted the job to get away from here. And I guess I was mad at you for deserting me. But the thing is . . . well . . .” He sounded a little sheepish.

“What?”

“I think I’ve met someone else,” he admitted.

Mara exhaled. Now that, she hadn’t seen coming. She had mixed feelings about his admission. On the one hand, she was in the clear. On the other, what the hell? She’d been so worried about his feelings all summer, but apparently he wasn’t really thinking of her at all.

“Who?”

“Stephanie Fortuna.”

The head of the cheerleading squad. Mara had a vague memory of how the little curly-haired minx seemed to jump extra high whenever Jim got a tackle.

“I’m . . . happy for you,” she said, almost actually meaning it.

“Yeah, well. We had some good times, though, didn’t we?” Jim asked.

“We did,” Mara said softly. She and Jim had been dating for almost two years. It was the end of an era. It was the most anticlimactic end to an era that she could ever imagine. It was like the last sequel to The Matrix.

“Good luck with your job and everything. And I didn’t mean what I said . . . about the Camry. It’s yours if you still want it,” Jim added.

“Thanks,” Mara said simply. “You take care.”

“You too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Mara hung up the phone without saying “I love you” like they had every time they got off the phone for the last two years. It was weird, especially because she was pretty sure she really didn’t love him anymore. She felt unanchored. Free. She wasn’t Jim’s girlfriend anymore. She was Just Mara, but she wasn’t quite sure what Just Mara wanted to do next.

“Hey, Mar, can you lend me a twenty?” Eliza asked, coming over and holding up a cute black sweater. “Please?”

Mara stared at her blankly. Was she serious? Eliza sure had some nerve. They weren’t even officially talking to each other just yet.

“Are you still mad at me?” Eliza bit her lip. She wasn’t used to people staying mad at her. Being rude or out of line wasn’t new to Eliza, but having to take some responsibility for the things she did, was.

“Listen, I’m . . . I’m sorry about what I said the other day. It’s just with everything . . . and I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Eliza still wasn’t very good at this apology thing.

Mara folded her arms. “Well, you did.”

“I know. I suck,” Eliza lamented.

“Yeah,” Mara said, noticing that Eliza’s eyes were starting to mist a little bit. Now that was something she’d never seen before. “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Nothing, I just don’t want you to cry.”

Eliza giggled, and ran her finger underneath her lower eyelashes to wipe away any makeup. “So, can I borrow the money? Promise I’ll pay you back.”

“Oh, alright. I’m charging interest!” Mara joked.

Eliza hugged Mara impulsively. “I hate it when you’re mad at me. I kind of missed your nagging.” Eliza bought the sweater and they walked back to Anna’s booth, where Jacqui was handing out doughnuts.

* * *

“Here you go, Chloë,” she said, giving Zoë a chocolate-sprinkled one.

“Chloë?” Anna asked, looking up sharply from writing up a bill of sale for a particularly ugly poncho.

Eliza elbowed Jacqui. “Zoë.”

“Zoë . . . Zoë,” Jacqui sang, getting red from her slipup.

“Zoë’s been wanting us to call her by different names lately. This week she’s Chloë. Last week it was Julie. Right, Zo?” Mara asked.

Zoë nodded, rapturously eating her doughnut. She was only six, but she could be bribed.

When Anna turned her back, Jacqui apologized.

“Dios mio! I’m so, so sorry. I totally lost my head. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, looking completely wretched. “I don’t want to get us in trouble.”

“It’s okay. It could have happened to any of us,” Eliza said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon stalking a supermodel that the three of them were obsessed with. Mara and Eliza were just thinking how the day didn’t turn out to be such a washout after all as they piled the kids back in the car when Jacqui ran up.

Her eyes were shining and she was obviously very excited about something.

“I’ll catch you guys later! I just saw a friend of mine who invited me to this great party at Sting’s house!” she said. “Ciao!”

Mara rolled her eyes. “What is it with that girl?” She asked Eliza. Mara had had enough of Jacqui. She was getting paid just as much as the rest of them—for doing less than a third of the work. William pulled on a lock of Mara’s hair and then ran away. God, another pair of hands sure would be useful to wrestle that little boy sometimes.

Eliza felt extremely annoyed, too, but not about Jacqui ditching them. Hello, a party she didn’t know about? The reality of social ostracism was starting to set in.





jacqui is not a chick gone crazy





RUPERT THORNE SMILED A CATLIKE SMILE AT HIS quarry. He had never forgotten the girl he’d given a ride from the airport that day. Spotting her again at the Super Saturday benefit his wife always dragged him to was indeed a pleasant surprise.

He mentioned Sting was in town—a private concert—and would she care to join him?

They had started the evening by having dinner at The Palm, where Rupert ordered a seven-hundred-dollar bottle of Chateau Latour. “I’m celebrating something,” he’d explained to Jacqui. Afterward he had taken her to the bar at the elite Maidstone Club, which was legendary for its stringent exclusionary practices concerning its eighty-acre golf course. Bill Clinton hadn’t been deemed worthy enough to tee up during his 1999 visit. Rupert had broken several rules concerning women, foreigners, and Catholics just to impress Jacqui.

The Hummer into an enormous estate overlooking the sea. It was the hundred-thousand-square-foot mansion owned by a former investment banker-cum-techno-DJ (not Sting—Jacqui had misunderstood) who liked to throw wild, twenty-four-hour Vegas-style parties on the grounds, complete with showgirls giving lap dances. The house was frequently rented out for movie shoots, music videos, and twelve-hundred-person bashes like this one.

At the door a woman gave the two of them releases to sign, explaining it was being taped for television. Jacqui signed her name on the sheet without bothering to read it. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to sign a release at a party—some cable station or another always seemed to be taping something in the Hamptons. Rupert did the same and gave her his hand as they entered the party.

It was wild. Massive. This was partying on a grand scale. Hundreds of sweaty guests danced under a throbbing laser light show. A two-story-high ice sculpture of a vodka bottle melted in the middle of the fountain. The swimming pool had been turned into a massive grotto. Cocktail waitresses in corsets and tiny boy-shorts handed out free packs of cigarettes.

“Wow,” Jacqui said. “Where’s Sting?”

“Oh, he’s performing later,” Rupert replied. The truth was Sting had already bowed out of the event, citing a scheduling conflict, but word had it that he just wasn’t into this kind of scene.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we?”

Roaming camera crews dressed in CHICKS GO CRAZY! hats and logo T-shirts cajoled guests to flash their ta-tas to the cameras. Wait a second. Jacqui had seen these videos advertised on E! once when she was watching that disgusting pig Howard Stone, or whatever his name was.

“What about you?” a bearded, potbellied man asked Jacqui.

“No, no thanks.” She smiled, feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t quite the star-studded event Rupert had led her to believe she was attending. Where were all the big names? Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz? Sara Jessica Parker and Kim Catrall? Or at the very least, Tara Reid and Paris Hilton? It wasn’t an elegant A-list bash. In fact, most of the guests were cheesy guys in shiny shirts and polyester pants, and most of the women were overly tanned, silicone enhanced, and wearing cheap spandex dresses.

“Uh, I think I’ll just get a drink,” she said.

“Good idea,” Rupert agreed, licking his lips.

Rupert kept refilling her glass even when it wasn’t empty, so she wasn’t even sure how many drinks she had. In her growing anxiety Jacqui drank a lot more than she had intended. The piercing light of a filming camera suddenly flashed onto Jacqui. She squinted to see several hefty bodyguards and camera crews standing at the doorway.

The twenty-eight-year-old topless-video entrepreneur who was throwing the party took a bullhorn. “It’s that time of the night, ladies and gentlemen. Any woman who isn’t naked in five minutes better leave now.”

“What?” Jacqui said.

Rupert grinned. “Oh c’mon. It’s no big deal. Everyone knows these parties always end this way.”

“I didn’t!”

“Hey, you signed the waiver at the door. C’mon, let’s have a little fun,” Rupert said, reaching over to pull down the straps of her shirt.

“Wait! Wait!” Jacqui said, pushing his hand away.

Rupert scowled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “I show you a good time, I take you to dinner and the Maidstone, and this is how you thank me? C’mon, I just want to have a little fun,” he said, keeping his hand on her breast with a little too much force.

“Of course we’re going to have fun,” Jacqui said, her mind racing. “I just need to go to the bathroom and take care of a few things.” She winked, her heart pounding.

All around them women were stripping down and shaking their breast for the cameras. It wasn’t a fun, careless goof like Mara and Ryan skinny-dipping in the pool. This was business. This was frightening. This was not what she bargained for when she said she’d like to see Sting play a private concert.

“I’ll wait right here,” Rupert drawled.

Jacqui stood unsteadily on her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.

It was four in the morning and she was in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t have money for a cab, and she didn’t even know where she would call for one. No one at the party would take her home.

She found a phone in the hallway and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Luca! It’s me—I really need your help!”

“Who is this?” a sleepy female voice demanded. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Jacqui. Can I talk to Luca?”

“He’s sleeping right now. What’s this about?” the suspicious voice asked.

No use. Jacqui dialed another number.

“Leo! It’s me, Jacqui. I really need your help.”

“Jacqui?” Leo asked. He was still awake, having played fifty-four straight games of John Madden Football on his PlayStation. “The girl who said I was just a mercy screw?”

“Leo—please.”

But he had already hung up.

Jacqui was in tears. In a few minutes Rupert would storm out looking for her and God knows what she would do then. She dialed the last number she could remember.

The phone rang and rang, and Jacqui had almost resigned herself to walking down the four miles of the Montauk Highway when Mara’s voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Mara. It’s Jacqui. I really need your help. Can you guys come and pick me up?”

Mara sat up in bed and looked at the clock. “What the hell? Just because you blow everything off, doesn’t mean we can just up and get—”

“Mara, please,” Jacqui said, starting to cry.

“What’s going on?” Mara asked, suddenly realizing something was wrong here.

“I’m at this party—Sting isn’t here—it’s just—I need to get away.”

“Where are you?”

Jacqui told her. “I’m really scared, Mara.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. I have to get Eliza up, I don’t know how to get there, but I’m sure she will. Hang in there.”

Jacqui put down the phone and tiptoed out the front gate. It was getting cold outside from the ocean breeze, but she would rather freeze than walk into that house again.





sometimes people actually forget that the hamptons is long island





A FLASH OF HEADLIGHTS AND A FAMILIAR CLUNKY RED Volvo pulled up to the front door. Mara threw open the car door. “Jacqui?”

Eliza lit herself another cigarette. God, talk about drama.

Mara had hastily explained why they had to get up and go get their lost roommate, but Eliza still wasn’t sure exactly why she had to leave her comfortable bed at four-thirty in the morning.

They found Jacqui huddled by the steps. When she spotted them, she burst into tears.

“Oh my God! What happened!” Mara said, fearing the worst.

“Nothing—nothing. I just didn’t know if you were actually going to show up,” Jacqui whimpered.

She was shaking and so upset, a totally different person than the confident, glacial, sophisticated South American who was so jaded about everything. In the moonlight she looked all of her sixteen years.

“I was stupid,” she said. “I should have known something like this would happen.” She told them all about Rupert, the bait and switch, the sketchy party, the leering guys, the video cameras.

“You’re under the age of consent,” Eliza said. “We could put them in jail.”

“I signed the release form,” Jacqui admitted.

“Who cares? That doesn’t matter. That’s never going to hold up in court.”

“C’mon, let’s get out of this place before they try to get new recruits,” Mara suggested.

Jacqui sniffed and wiped her nose with the palm of her hand. She looked at the car. “You guys took the Volvo?”

* * *

They drove west—all the way west—to the part of Long Island where it was more strip mall than stripper party. After all, it’s not all about the Hamptons. By now they were a little sick of the place, to be honest. All that posing, primping, and posturing. The constant need to match one’s bikini, sarong, handbag, and flip-flops. It took hours just to get dressed to go nowhere.

“Look, there’s a Denny’s,” Mara said. “I haven’t been to one in so long.”

“Anyone up for breakfast?” Eliza asked.

“Sounds perfect,” Jacqui agreed.

They found a corner booth by the window and opened menus.

“What can I get ya?” a waitress in a checkered uniform with a beehive asked them. She was so far from the sylphs who dole out minuscule plates of tofu at Babbette’s that the girls couldn’t help but grin at each other. This was exactly what they needed. A dose of reality.

“I have lumberjack special,” Jacqui decided.

“Three eggs, two pancakes, bacon, sausage, and ham?” Eliza asked in horror. There was absolutely nothing on the menu that was under her four-hundred-calorie-per-minimeal ratio.

“Sounds great. I’ll have the same,” Mara decided, snapping her menu closed.

“Two ’jacks, what about you, hon?”

Eliza contemplated. The bacon alone was three hundred calories. But she was really, really hungry. “Make it three.”

They wolfed down their greasy breakfasts and filled each other in on the latest news.

“And you haven’t even spoken to Jeremy since?” Mara asked after Eliza updated Jacqui on what happened.

“No.”

“You’ve got to find him and tell him how you feel,” Mara stressed. “It’s important. You guys can’t just leave things like this!”

“I know, I know.” Eliza sighed, spearing a fat brown sausage with her fork and popping it in her mouth.

“Jeremy—the guy who cuts the lawn?” Jacqui asked. “He’s really nice. I saw him looking for you the other day. Sorry. I forgot to tell you.”

“He was?” Eliza asked. “Oh my God.”

“See—I’m sure he feels the same way. But you’ve got to go to him first.” Mara had a major romantic streak.

“Okay. But only if you break up with Jim. You deserve so much better than that bonehead,” Eliza said. “And he is a bonehead.”

“We broke up already,” Mara said. “Yesterday, actually.”

“And you haven’t told Ryan?”

“No, why should I?” Mara said obstinately.

Jacqui and Eliza exchanged a look. “Only because he is so into you,” Eliza said.

“Is love,” Jacqui announced. “I know when men love. He is sick with passion. He can’t get enough of you. He’s so in love,” she said dramatically.

“No, he isn’t,” Mara said. “He has a girlfriend.”

“That Camille girl? She’s history,” Eliza said. “He told me the other day, he just wasn’t feeling it. He broke it off.”

“So what? It’s not like he would ever be interested in someone like me,” Mara said quietly. She knew how guys like Ryan felt about her—she knew it the first time she saw him—guys like that were so out of her league.

“What on EARTH are you talking about?” Eliza yelled, so loudly that the truckers having breakfast at the counter turned around. “You are a bombshell! Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Eliza asked, pulling Mara to look at her reflection in the glass.

Jacqui nodded vigorously. “In São Paolo we call girls like you consideravelmente.”

“You guys are really sweet, but you’re just blowing smoke up my butt,” Mara said as she turned. There was Eliza, the spitting image of Cameron Diaz, who even totally hung over still radiated that InStyle cover girl glow. There was Jacqui, the sultry, Latin sexpot. Then there was her. The plain one. But for once Mara took a good look at the reflection. The haircut Pierre had given her brought out the angles of her cheekbones, and the new blue shirt Eliza had helped pick her out made her eyes look bluer than they ever did. While running after the kids half the summer, she had even lost a few pounds. Were they right? Had she transformed into a hottie overnight?

“See,” Eliza said smugly. “Told you.”

“Now, you go get that boy,” Jacqui said. She was so happy to be just where she was at that moment. As she looked around at Mara, who was brushing her bangs away from her face with a wistful smile, and Eliza, who was motioning for a round of milk shakes (Hey, what else goes well with a lumberjack special?), Jacqui realized that after everything that had happened this summer, they really were friends.