"Excuse me!" Jacqui yelled.
The tumbling abruptly stopped as all three boys looked her way, each wearing a goofy smile. She couldn't help but grin back. In the light of day, these boys were seriously handsome. This time, NYU completely faded to the back of her mind. Who needed to worry about college when there were hotties around?
"Greetings and salutations," Grant Kotack said, making an impressive leap from the air mattress to the ground in front of her. "If I'm not mistaken, I do believe we've met before," he said in his silky southern accent.
"It was a very short meeting--unfortunately," Duffy pointed out, taking huge steps on the billowing plastic and ending with a cartwheel onto the grass.
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"Almost broke our hearts," Ben agreed, following his friends out of the tumbling castle.
Jacqui wasn't embarrassed about what had happened during her midnight swim-- she was proud of her body and didn't think there was anything to be ashamed about.
"I'm Jacqui Velasco. I work for the Perrys," she said, offering a hand to the nearest boy, the shaggy-haired one with the sideburns.
"Grant Kotack," Grant smiled, pleased that she'd come up to him first. He kissed the back of her hand with courtly, old-fashioned grace, which was pleasing to see in a boy who wore painter's pants and an oversized T-shirt with a Reese's peanut butter cup logo emblazoned on it. "A pleasure."
"John Duffy," said the tall, lanky, towheaded one, interrupting their greeting. He was WB-star cute, with a square jaw, ashy-white blond hair falling in his eyes, and the kind of grin that grew slowly from his lips and lit up his whole face. "You can call me Duffy or Duff. Everyone does."
"Ben Defever." The third guy nodded. He'd put on a pair of thick black glasses and looked not unlike Rivers Cuomo from Weezer, one of Jacqui's favorite bands. "Can we help you?"
"Do you guys work for the Reynoldes?" she asked.
"The who?" Duffy asked with a wide smile.
"The uptight bastards who own this joint," Grant said, winking at Jacqui.
"We rented it this summer. It's insane. Do you know there's a saltwater pool stocked with tropical fish in the back? With a
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grotto?" Ben asked, adding shyly, "You'll have to check it out with us sometime."
"How about now?" Duffy suggested. "Now's a good time, right? I'll get the scuba masks!"
"Only if you want to," Ben assured in a sincere tone.
"Maybe later," Jacqui said, still smiling. Mara had told her all about it last summer. She blushed--Duffy was so cute and boyish, Grant the image of an indie rock guitar god, and Ben just adorable with those glasses. And there it was--a definite tingle up her spine, the feeling she'd been missing all year.
"What about a jump?" Grant asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the inflatable castle.
"Sure, but I've got a couple of kids here too--can they come?" Jacqui asked.
"Yours?" Duffy asked, looking perplexed.
"No, I'm the au pair." Jacqui laughed.
"Oh, good, because for a while there, you scared us," Grant teased, which let Jacqui know that Duffy had just been fooling with her.
"The more the merrier!" Ben offered. "Bring them on!"
Jacqui smiled her thanks and ran to tell the kids the good news. She brought them over, along with Shannon, whose eyes grew wide at the sight of the three cute boys.
"What's going on? Hi, I'm Shannon!" she said, smiling broadly at the three guys, her hands on her slim hips. "Cool castle!"
But when Jacqui was around, like all boys, Grant, Ben, and Duffy could hardly see, much less hear, anyone else.
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nobody ever said college humor was mature
SYDNEY MINX'S BOUTIQUE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EAST Hampton main street, lit up with two spotlights that beamed Sydney's initials into the sky. There was the typical crush of people attempting to gain entrance, waving their pink-and-gold invitations vainly at the phalanx of unsmiling PR girls who were only letting in the press and VIPs.
Mara flashed her pass and was immediately ushered inside. She spotted Jacqui at the bar, trying to get the attention of the bartender.
"Where's Eliza?" Mara asked, yelling over the blaring techno music. She looked around--for the party of the season it was surprisingly low-key, or maybe Mara had attended enough of these events over previous summers to finally feel jaded by them--a few socialites here, a few B-list celebrities there, a goodie bag . . . ho hum. All in all, it wasn't that much different from the standard boutique opening. It was possibly even just a teeny bit boring. Hopefully the fashion show would change that. In the middle of the store stood a raised runway covered in plastic.
Jacqui shrugged. She craned her neck and tried to catch the
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bartender's eye, feeling slightly irritated. She usually had no problem getting a guy's attention, but the bar was mobbed and Jacqui's request barely registered.
"Champagne, madam?" Duffy asked, suddenly appearing with a flute and placing it in Jacqui's hand.
"Oh, thanks! And one for my friend too?" she asked.
"Not a problem," Ben said, appearing with another flute. Jacqui passed it to Mara. They toasted quickly and took long sips from their respective glasses.
"There's more where that came from," Grant assured them, topping off their glasses with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot hidden underneath his arm.
"Where'd you get that?" Jacqui asked.
"We have our ways," Ben said mysteriously.
"Nicked it from the kitchen." Duffy grinned, revealing two more bottles underneath his canvas coat.
"With a healthy bribe to the bartender," Grant explained. "Hey, you two clowns owe me, by the way."
Mara and Jacqui giggled. The three boys formed a protective half circle around them.
"Guys, this is Mara. Mar, these are the guys," Jacqui said, introducing them. Mara smiled and thanked them for the drinks.
"Where's Shannon?" Mara asked. She'd heard the latest about the au pair's machinations concerning the bed and the closet but agreed with Jacqui that as long as Shannon had been responsible for Anna's change of heart, it was worth a few inconveniences.
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"Over there," Jacqui said, and Mara looked over to where the dark-haired girl was ferociously going through the racks of clothing one by one. Shannon reminded her of someone, Mara thought. Someone who shopped as if executing a military operation. It struck her--Shannon was a lot like Eliza. Or at least, shopped a lot like Eliza: as if her life depended on it.
"It's kind of hot in here, isn't it?" Jacqui said to no one in particular as she fanned the neckline of her vintage Oscar de la Renta dress.
"I'll take care of it!" Duffy exclaimed, quickly springing into action. He was so thrilled to have a task he almost knocked over a nearby mannequin. "Hey, buddy!" he called to the nearest cater-waiter. "Turn up the air, yo!" he called as he ran after the guy.
"Don't bother--I know where the HVAC is!" Ben argued, nudging Duffy to the side so he could fulfill Jacqui's latest request.
"Stay right here," Grant whispered, giving her arm a squeeze. "I know the guy who's running the party. I'll get it done."
"Who are they?" Mara asked when the three boys disappeared into the throng. "Your slaves?"
Jacqui laughed. "They're cute, aren't they?"
"Not bad."
"They're the guys who started DormDebauchery.com --there was a big piece in the Sunday Styles section about them a few months ago, remember? They started the web site their freshman year at Harvard, and last spring their IPO took them to, like, several hundred million dollars."
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Mara nodded in recognition. The web site was a paean to college humor--selling T-shirts screen-printed with slogans like the punch line to a famous SNL skit, "More Cowbell," and jokes concerning teenage abstinence, proclaiming, "I gave my word to stop at third." They were famous for their "Shocker" logo--a vulgar hand gesture (not the usual one) of two fingers held up in a crooked V, which they'd
made into the huge foam fingers normally found at football games. Ryan had once explained to Mara what "The Shocker" was, and she'd been disgusted for a day and then amazed at how dirty boys' minds could be. But what was most amazing was how young and rich they were. None of them was over twenty-one.
"Anyway, they rented out the Reynolds castle this summer. It's their first summer in the Hamptons, so I told them I'd show them around," Jacqui explained.
Mara raised an eyebrow. "All three of them?"
"I'm just having some harmless fun." Jacqui laughed.
"Oh, wait, there's Sydney. I should go--I need to get an interview," Mara said, spying the designer mingling in the crowd.
She passed her champagne glass into Jacqui's hand, almost running over a tuxedoed waiter bearing a tray of canapes as she chased the rotund designer around the crowded room.
"Sydney, hi! Mara Waters from Hamptons; we're doing a story on you. . . . Can I ask you a few questions?" she asked, thrusting her iPod voice recorder in his face. She'd bought it soon after finding out about the assignment.
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"Not right now," Sydney said, hiding his face behind his black fan. "As you can see, I'm extremely busy."
"I know, I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr. Minx, but if I could just get some quotes?" Mara asked, feeling intimidated by Sydney's imperiousness.
"Paige! Paige!" Sydney suddenly shouted, taking no notice of Mara. "Talk to my assistant, Paige. She'll take care of what you need. ..."
"Oh, okay. I guess," Mara said, defeated, as she switched off her recorder. "Do you think you'll have time after the show to chat?"
"Regina, darling! You look fabulous! Yes, thank you. It's crazy, right? And Cecily! You're wearing it! Love!" Sydney said, disappearing into a crowd of socialites congratulating him on the opening and taking no further notice of Mara.
Mara stood to the side, patiently waiting for him to finish his conversation. "Mr. Minx, do you think--"
"Can you move? You're blocking my light," Sydney ordered, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. "Paige!" he yelled. "What's the ETA on that dress?"
"Eliza said she'd be here any minute now," Paige assured him, looking harried.
"She better be," Sydney threatened. "The show starts in minutes!"
Mara felt upset and flustered. She'd been brushed aside like an inconsequential minion, like someone who didn't have her own
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column in the area's most popular magazine. Maybe Eliza could help get her on the inside track--but Eliza was nowhere to be found.
Mara tried not to panic, but if she didn't get an interview with Sydney, how on earth was she going to file the story?
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eliza turns main street into an haute couture
drop zone
MARA WAS STILL CHEWING ON HER NAILS, WORRIED ABOUT the fate of her assignment and wondering where the hell Ryan was. She'd tried calling him on the boat, but he hadn't picked up the phone. He really should have arrived at the party by now. She was contemplating calling him again when the lights in the store dimmed and the raised runway was illuminated in a pink glow. The guests' conversations hushed, and they clapped halfheartedly, manicured fingernails clinking against the crystal.
Runway-staple French techno music wailed from the overhead speakers, and the first model, dressed in a spray-painted tiger-print caftan, walked out of the back room and onto the platform. Model after model followed, each wearing a variation on the jungle theme, and Mara noticed that the clothes were actually interesting to look at. With their tie-dyed and spray-painted details, they represented a radical and slightly avant-garde departure for the Sydney Minx line.
Mara took copious notes while Jacqui chugged champagne.
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After fifteen minutes, the final model, wearing a tangerine tunic and turquoise hot pants airbrushed with gold flecks, abruptly stopped mid-walk. The music was suddenly drowned by an ear-splitting noise coming from outside the store. The audience turned away from the runway and crowded to the front of the store to look out the window to find out what had caused the interruption.
Hovering above the store was an ominous-looking black army helicopter.
"Is that our Black Hawk?" Duffy asked.
"Nah--no logo. Must be a rental."
Mara and Jacqui followed the crowd outside. A rope ladder was being lowered from the helicopter, and a familiar figure was climbing down toward the sidewalk.
"Oh my God! It's Eliza!" Mara gasped.
So it was. Eliza descended from the rope ladder wearing a daringly cut, shredded chiffon dress and thigh-high crocodile boots. She had several chunky interlocked gold chain rope necklaces around her neck. As the wind kicked up by the helicopter blades whipped the dress around, Eliza sauntered straight from the rope ladder to the sidewalk, into the store, and onto the runway stage without breaking her confident stride.
The photographers rewarded her with a shower of flashbulbs-- and the momentarily stunned crowd broke into enthusiastic cheers and wolf whistles. They had seen a lot of things in the Hamptons-- but a fashion show finale via helicopter was a definite first.
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Eliza grinned as she posed for the camera, bathed in the klieg lights. It had worked! She'd made it happen! She'd managed to track down Vidalia at the model's fifth-floor walk-up in the East Village. At first, she had planned on having Vidalia do the honors, but the model had been so hung over from the party the night before, there was no way she was going to look presentable for the fashion show. So Eliza put the dress on herself and thanked God she was a sample size. Then she chartered a helicopter flight on her new Marquis Jet Card (thank you, AmEx!) that took her from New York to the Hamptons in a snap. Those nifty little Black Hawks sure came in handy.
She looked toward where Paige and Sydney were standing in the corner. She couldn't see that well because the flashbulbs blinded her, but she was certain they were going to congratulate her on a job well done. She'd pulled it off all by herself--this was surely a spectacle that the Hamptons would be talking about for the rest of the summer.
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mayday! mayday!
"WE DID IT!" ELIZA CROWED, STEPPING OFF THE RUNWAY and holding out her arms to envelop Paige and Sydney in a hug. "Isn't this amazing?" she cried as the photographers continued to snap her picture.
Only when the flashbulbs died down did Eliza realize that Sydney and Paige did not share in her happiness one bit. She'd expected Paige to be a little jealous, sure, but wasn't she the one who'd told Eliza she had to "fix" it or else? Why couldn't she at least look a tiny bit happy that she'd pulled it off? Instead, Paige looked like she was going to vomit, and Sydney's eyes were murderous. Hello, had she missed something here?
The smile evaporated from Eliza's face. "What's wrong? Did you guys not like the helicopter? Don't worry, I've got it covered. I have a Marquis Jet Card. I won't charge it to the company--my treat."
"Paige, you know what you have to do," Sydney said ominously before turning his back without even acknowledging Eliza's presence.
"Eliza, can I have a word?" Paige asked coldly.
What now? She'd managed to save the evening--and they
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were acting like she'd done something terrible. As if she'd failed to deliver the goods instead of coming through with a bang. This was so not what she expected. She followed Paige to the back room.
"What's going on?" she asked. Her face glistened from the heat of the photographer's lights.
"You're fired," Paige said flatly. Eliza noticed Paige couldn't quite conceal a note of glee in her voice. Paige had wanted this all along. The little brownnoser, who couldn't style an outfit if you put a Bedazzler to her head, had just been waiting for Eliza to trip up. Eliza just wasn't sure how she'd managed to make such a mess of things. Something didn't compute.
"But I don't understand. ..."
"This night was about Sydney. Sydney Minx. And you know what's going on out there? What people are talking about?"
"What?" Eliza asked, still confused.
"You. That's who. Who's the girl from the helicopter? Who's the model who flew down? Who's the girl in the dress? Who's the girl. It's all about you. I had to teach a couple of reporters from the New York Post how to spell your name!"
Eliza almost said, "They know exactly how to spell my name at the Post!" She wisely kept her mouth shut. "C'mon, Paige, cut me some slack," Eliza pleaded. "Talk to Sydney. He listens to you. I mean, I got the dress back, didn't I?"
"You got the dress, but you took the press," Paige replied.
As if on cue, a tall reporter from the East Hampton Star gossip
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column tapped on the side door. "Hey--chopper girl. Can I get a quote?"
Paige rolled her eyes.
"Sure--be with you in a bit." Eliza smiled. When the reporter left, she grabbed Paige's arm. "You can't be serious. You guys can't do this to me. This is my internship for the summer. My parents will freak if they find out!"
Eliza was devastated. She had just found her passion, found that there was more to life than a MasterCard. She was really looking forward to learning more about the fashion industry. How could they take it away from her now?
"You're fired, Eliza. Please remove that dress and vacate the premises immediately."
And just like that, chopper girl went down in flames.
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in celebrity journalism, noncooperation is never a problem
THE PARTY WAS OVER, AND JACQUI AND THE THREE GUYS from the web site had departed to continue the hoopla at the Reynolds castle. Mara caught a ride with them and asked them to drop her off at the Starbucks a few blocks from the harbor. She could grab a double latte to fuel up, and the coffee counter was close enough to the dock that she could walk home.
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