The Daughters Break the Rules

by Joanna Philbin

  They spent the next hour mixing together. She’d line up each record on the turntable, and then watch as Alex dropped the needle and turned the dials, coaxing beats out and into the song that was already playing, so that the two songs were actually playing at once, supporting each other, complementing each other. Alex seemed to know exactly what the crowd wanted. When he mixed in the wamp-a-wamp-a bass funk of “Brick House” over the disco beat of “Rich Girls,” the crowd screamed and began to jump up and down. And when he went from “Brick House” to “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough,” people cheered. Carina wasn’t a dancer, but she almost wanted to get out there on the dance floor and join the crowd. She’d never had this much fun when Matty Banks was spinning at one of her dad’s parties.

  “Okay, you were right!” she finally yelled over the music. “You are good at this. Are you free December twentieth?”

  “So you want me?” he said, grinning.

  “You’re hired. But there’s one thing we should talk about,” she said, pausing. “It’s a benefit. Which means you’d have to do it for free.”

  “No problem,” Alex said, dropping another album onto the spinning turntable. “As long as you introduce me to some cute girls.”

  “Sure.” This was surprising. Especially because of all the hand-touching. “If you’re into those snobby Upper East Side chicks,” she added.

  “I don’t get it, though,” he said, holding up one headphone to an ear. “You were gonna ask Matty Banks to work for free?”

  “My dad’s kind of a friend of his,” she said. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Who’s your dad?” Alex asked.

  Carina riffled through the albums in the milk crate. It was always the same dilemma: lie and say she was someone else, which she could never bring herself to do, or tell the truth, and know that the person she told would never see her the same way again. Usually when people found out who her father was, they either liked her a lot less or a lot more. She wasn’t sure which one was worse.

  “Karl Jurgensen,” she said casually, looking straight at him.

  “What?” Alex exclaimed. His brown eyes almost popped out of his head. “And you can’t pay people?”

  “This isn’t a party for me,” she said. “It’s for a charity.”

  “Didn’t he make, like, two billion dollars last year?” Alex asked.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped.

  “Just that I’d think he’d be helping you out, that’s all.”

  “Well, he’s not,” she said. “So don’t assume stuff like that, okay?”

  “Fine,” Alex said moodily. “But you are going after your dad’s friends to work this thing.”

  “Because the girl who’s in charge wants me to,” she said quickly. “She wants the best DJ, the best food, the best flowers. And she thinks I can do that for her because of my dad.” Even though I let her think that, Carina thought.

  “Just tell her that the party doesn’t have to be fancy to be fun,” Alex said, picking out another album. “I mean, look at this place. It’s a hundred times more fun than Luxelle. Because nobody’s trying to be something they’re not. There’s no attitude. People are just free to be themselves and have a good time.”

  Carina surveyed the happy, dancing crowd. She knew exactly what Alex meant. But she also knew that Ava would think this place was frowsy, not fun. Still, she was beginning to come around to Alex’s way of thinking.

  “Would you be into helping me with this?” she asked cautiously. “Just… suggesting some different ways to do stuff?”

  Alex shook his head. “Do I look like a party planner?”

  “You wouldn’t be planning it. You’d just be giving me some inspiration. What’s your number? I’ll give you a—” She stopped. Carter. She’d completely forgotten about him. She checked her watch. It was almost nine thirty. “Oh my God!” she started, bumping her hip into the turntable and skipping a record. “I gotta go! I’m supposed to meet someone.” She reached down and grabbed her bag. “Sorry!”

  “Well, before you rush off, take this,” Alex said, pulling a business card out of a little black box on the turntable. “That’s my cell,” he said. “Most of the time I pick up.”

  She looked down at the card. Above his cell number the card read DJ ALEXX in block letters.

  “You know, just between you and me, I’m really not into the second x,” she said.

  Alex cocked his head. “What are you, my manager?”

  She grinned and stepped into the crowd. “I’ll call you,” she said.

  She pushed her way through the dancing hipsters, still grinning. She’d finally gotten her DJ, and she had no doubt that she’d picked the right one. Alex was blunt and kind of a smartass, but he was also talented and kind, and something told her that he might even turn out to be a friend.

  As soon as she’d fought her way through the club and out the door onto the empty street, she dialed Carter’s number. It rang as she walked to the subway, the damp wind whipping her hair.

  “Hey, this is Carter,” went his voice mail. “Do your thing.” Beeeeep.

  “Hey, Carter, it’s Carina,” she said. “I’m soooo sorry I lost track of time, I’m just leaving my friend’s thing, and I’m still waaaay downtown, and I guess it’s a little late—”

  There was another loud beep, a click, and then a strange staticky hum.

  “Dumb phone,” she muttered, flipping it closed. She could call him back, but that felt too desperate. She could text him, but that might be overkill. Maybe she’d just do nothing. Tomorrow she could explain everything.

  As she put the phone back in her bag and crossed the street, she realized that she wasn’t even that disappointed. DJing with Alex had been the most fun she’d had in weeks, maybe even more fun than watching a movie with Carter.

  Just before she walked down into the subway, she looked back at the unmarked door to Club Neshka, hidden in the middle of the dreary street. She felt like she’d discovered a whole new New York tonight. All because of Alex. She hoped she’d see it again.

  chapter 16

  For the rest of the week, Carina avoided Ava. It was a full-time job. Whenever she’d see Ava coming down the hall—curls bouncing, kilt swinging, gabbing with Ilona and Kate and Cici, who surrounded her like adoring bridesmaids—Carina would turn into the nearest empty space, which was sometimes a classroom, sometimes the girls’ bathroom, and, once, the janitor’s closet. Hudson and Lizzie thought she was crazy, but Carina knew that she needed to buy some time. Before she made up a story for Ava about why Filippo couldn’t help her out, she needed to find the perfect alternative to his pricey mac and cheese. And hopefully an alternative that she came up with herself. Alex’s card was still in the pocket of her bag, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was stubbornness. Or maybe, she thought, it was actually some kind of work ethic.

  On Saturday morning, Carina had Hudson and Lizzie over for brunch. A yummy brunch at Sarabeth’s was out of her price range now, so Carina had decided to make it herself. And hopefully get their advice on the appetizer dilemma.

  “I could take cooking classes,” she said, deep in thought as she cracked an egg against the rim of a mixing bowl. “Or just follow a recipe. I mean, seriously, how hard can that be? Making some food by myself?”

  “Really hard,” Lizzie said next to her. Her hands and fingers and red curls were already dusted with spilled pancake mix. “Brunch for three people is one thing. Finger food for two hundred is another. And I think you just got some shell in there.”

  “Don’t do it, C,” Hudson warned, pouring a bag of frozen blueberries into a glass dish. “Just be honest with Ava. And why can’t she just do Ruffles and Diet Coke like everyone else?”

  “Because it needs to be ‘Times-worthy,’ ” Carina said in her best snooty accent as she started to whisk the batter. “Maybe I should just quit. Except I really want to go on that trip. I think Carter’s forgotten abou
t me. All I got this week were a few quick waves in the hall.”

  “Maybe he was just really busy,” Lizzie said, pouring orange juice into tiny glasses.

  “Or maybe he thinks you don’t like him,” Hudson said, pulling a strand of black hair behind her ear as she put the dish of frozen blueberries in the microwave. “Especially because you kind of blew off your date the other night.”

  “I didn’t blow it off, I just lost track of time,” Carina argued.

  “Well, it’s probably for the best,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got enough on your mind with Ava. And I don’t think Carter McLean’s that much of a catch. I just don’t.”

  Carina felt a flicker of annoyance as she went back to whisking. What kind of a comment was that? “How’s Todd, Lizbutt?” she asked, deciding to ignore it. “What’s up with his dad?”

  “They let him come home after he made bail, thank God, but now he’s under house arrest. And his mom flew in from London, so it’s all been a little stressful for Todd.”

  “That’s too bad,” Carina said, unable to sound too upset about it.

  Lizzie jumped up and sat on the edge of the marble countertop. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Does it bother you that he hangs out with us a lot?”

  “What?” Carina stopped whisking and glanced up at her. “No. Why?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “Sometimes when he’s around, you get a little quiet.”

  “I do?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what Lizzie was talking about.

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Well, that’s weird, ’cause I love Todd,” Carina said earnestly. “I totally do.” Carina could feel Hudson looking at her.

  “You sure?” Lizzie gave her a searching look with her hazel eyes. “Because if he’s annoying you or something, then let me know. I don’t want to be one of those girls who falls in love and then drags her boyfriend around with her everywhere.”

  “Wait. Did you say in love?” Hudson asked, her perfect bow-like mouth hanging open.

  Lizzie nodded excitedly. “Yeah. I think I am, you guys.”

  “Already?” Carina blurted out.

  Lizzie’s face crumpled. “Is that a problem?” she asked, sounding more hurt than angry.

  “No,” Carina said quickly, turning back to her bowl. “I just didn’t know that you guys were so… hard-core.”

  Hudson shot Carina a warning look.

  “We’re not hard-core,” Lizzie said testily, jumping off the marble counter. “We’re just really into each other.”

  “That’s great, then,” Carina said quickly, opening the microwave and taking out the berries. “I think he’s a great guy.” He and Lizzie had just started going out. And now they were in love? She dumped the warm berries into the batter.

  “C, I think those need to be rinsed,” Hudson said.

  Carina looked down. The pancake batter had turned a bright blue. “Oops. Do you guys mind eating blue pancakes?”

  Just then there was an earsplitting chime from Carina’s antique phone on the counter.

  “Oh my God, C!” Lizzie said, holding her ear. “Get rid of that thing!”

  “I wish I could,” Carina said, flipping her phone open.

  Meant to check in yesterday. Where are we with Café Luz?

  Are they doing the food??? Want an update ASAP. A

  “Who is it?” asked Hudson, ladling some batter on the piping-hot griddle. “Carter?”

  “Ava. Asking where ‘we’ are with the food.”

  “Just be honest,” Hudson repeated. “Tell her you don’t have anything yet.”

  “Right,” Carina said. “Because she totally won’t freak out.” She hit Reply and started typing.

  Found AMAZING new place! Undr-the-rdr. Will tell you Monday.

  “At least this gives me the weekend,” she said, pressing Send.

  “But she’s gonna want to know where the place is!” Lizzie said.

  The phone chimed again a few seconds later.

  Let’s do a tasting tonight. Your place. Six o’clock.

  “What’s a tasting?” Carina asked.

  “It’s when you sit down and try out a bunch of sample appetizers from a caterer,” Hudson explained.

  Carina snapped her phone shut. “Then I need food for her to taste by six o’clock.”

  Lizzie pulled at a curl. “What are you gonna do?”

  Carina paced the kitchen, listening to the pancakes sizzle. She was officially out of ideas. And maybe Alex was as creative with food as he was with music.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and taking the steps to her room two at a time. She just hoped he’d pick up.

  In her room she turned her bag upside down. The DJ Alexx business card fell to the ground along with her well-used MetroCard and some peppermint candies. She crouched down, picked it up, and, using her landline, dialed the 718 number.

  “Hullooo?” It was Alex, and it sounded like he’d just woken up.

  “Alex?” she said. “It’s Carina. The party planner.”

  “Hey,” he said in a groggy voice. “What’s up?”

  “Remember how you said to be less fancy with this party?

  “Yeah.”

  She sat down. “Well… I need some yummy party food. By tonight. For, like, no money. Can you help me? Like, now?”

  *

  Carina crossed Sixteenth Street and hurried into Union Square, trying not to trip over dog leashes and baby strollers. The unusually mild weather had driven most of New York outside, and the Saturday Greenmarket was packed with people buying fresh bread and bags of just-picked apples. Alex had told her to meet him on the Fourteenth Street side of the Square, and she zigzagged past idling shoppers, determined not to be late. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but she’d felt better as soon as she’d hung up the phone. Alex seemed like the sort of person who could get you through any kind of emergency, even one involving food and Ava Elting.

  After rushing past an African dance troupe performing under the Gandhi statue, she reached the steps that looked down over the plaza in front of Fourteenth Street. This area became a skate park on the weekends, and sure enough, some guys were gliding up and down over the concrete, practicing their ollies. Her eyes swept the crowd sitting on the steps, looking for Alex’s spiky dark hair, when she heard someone yell her name.

  “Hey, Park Avenue!”

  She looked up to see one of the skateboarders waving just before he leaped up on his board, gripping the sides, and did a perfect turn. So Alex wasn’t just a music nerd, she thought. He was a skater guy. So much for her theory about artsy guys not liking sports.

  “Not bad,” she said as she walked down a few steps to meet him.

  Alex pressed on his board with his toe and flipped the board upright. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorta out of practice.”

  “So, is this what you do every Saturday?” She looked over her shoulder at the largely female audience on the steps. “Try to impress the ladies?”

  “No, just you,” he said, grinning. Then he rolled his eyes. “Kidding. So, tell me why this is such an emergency.”

  She couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Why wasn’t he into her? At least a little bit?

  “The girl—Ava—wants to do a ‘tasting’ tonight,” Carina explained. “Naturally, she’s expecting food from a five-star restaurant. Which I don’t have.”

  “No problem,” he said, walking toward the corner. “Let’s go to Trader Joe’s. The cheapest food you can buy.”

  “Trader Joe’s?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

  He gave her a look that said please. “You sure you’re not a snob?” he asked her. “Trust me.”

  They waited at the corner, watching the taxis race past. “So, besides being a skateboarder and a DJ, what else are you into? Do you have a girlfriend?” It hadn’t been the subtlest question, but she was curious.

  One of Alex’s inky brows shot up. “Not at the moment,” he said. “But to answe
r your other question, I guess you could say that I’m really into New York.”

  “New York?” she asked.

  “Living here. Appreciating it. Taking advantage of all that it has to offer.” He stepped onto his skateboard as they crossed Fourth Avenue. “I mean, look at that guy,” he said as they passed a dogwalker walking a Great Dane, a wheaten terrier, a Yorkie, and a sour-faced pug all at once. “Where else would you see something like that?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Every weekend, I try to do one thing I’ve never done here before,” he said. “Just one thing.”

  “It must get pretty expensive,” she said.

  “Not really,” he said, hopping up onto the curb. “There’s tons of stuff to do here for free. You just have to know where to look. I mean, skateboarding for one,” he said. “And biking up the West Side Highway. And Rollerblading through Central Park.”

  “You’ve just named three things that you can’t do in winter,” she pointed out.

  “And getting free food,” he said, turning toward the automatic doors that led into Trader Joe’s.

  “Free food?” she asked, suddenly interested. “Where do they serve food?”

  “Now I can tell you’ve never been to Trader Joe’s before,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Come with me.”

  They walked inside, and he pulled her down an aisle. At the end was a small kiosk where a balding man in an apron made some kind of stir-fry on a stove.

  “You mean, people just cook here in the store?” she asked in awe.

  “Yep,” Alex said, leading her over to the collection of Dixie cups lined up on a tray and stuffed with yummy-smelling noodles.

  “Lo mein,” Alex said, picking up one of the cups and sniffing. “We scored.” He grabbed a fork from a nearby pile and took a bite. “Awesome.”

  Carina grabbed a Dixie cup and scooped out the lo mein with her fork. “Hmmm, you’re right.” she said, chewing. It happened to be delicious. “Do they always have this?”

  “They always have something,” he said. “If I’m low on cash and need a quick snack, this place always does the trick.”