by Zoey Dean
Fifteen
10:01 P.M., PST
“Two hours till midnight!” The Giraffes’ lead singer yelled into the microphone. “Lemme see you people par-tay!” The band went into another hard-pounding tune. From the rooftops of buildings surrounding the circus set, silver confetti rained down on the crowd.
“This is so awesome,” Adam told Anna over the cacophony. “I heard there’s going to be fireworks at midnight. So, would you like to dance again?”
Anna hesitated. Adam was a truly decent guy. But she had a date. A date she hadn’t seen in twenty minutes. Where was Ben?
“I think I’d like to just go find something to drink.”
“I’ll get it for you. What do you want?”
“Flat water with lime would be great.”
He laughed. “It’s New Year’s Eve and you’re not drinking?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Back in a jiff. Don’t move a muscle.” He took off like a man on a mission.
Anna edged her way to the outside of the center ring, still looking for Ben. The party was fun in an over-the-top kind of way, an appropriate follow-up to the over-the-top wedding. It certainly wasn’t the kind of party she’d normally go to. The problem, however, was that she wasn’t really having all that much fun. She and Ben had hardly spent any time alone the entire evening. Wildly attracted to him as she was, she still barely knew him.
She felt the vibration of the cell phone in her little evening purse and plucked it out, holding one finger in her ear to help her hear. “Hello?”
“Anitscyn!”
Anna couldn’t hear at all. “Hold on a minute!” she yelled into the phone, and backed into a small alleyway, partially shielding herself from the band. “Again, please?”
“Anna? It’s Cyn!”
“Cyn!” Hearing her best friend’s voice made her feel better instantly. “Happy New Year!”
“The stroke of midnight was a blast. I wanted to catch you before your witching hour. Are we having fun yet?”
“Well, I’m at a party at Warner Brothers,” Anna replied.
“Really? With?”
“His name is Ben. He goes to Princeton—I met him on the plane.”
“You shameless hussy!” Cyn exclaimed, laughing. “I am so proud of you.”
Anna smiled. “I’m wearing my mental WWCD bracelet. What Would Cyn Do?”
“Speaking of,” Cyn said. “I didn’t. With Scott.”
It took Anna a moment to understand, and then her heart leaped. “No? Maybe … you’re not ready.”
“Ha! Even as we speak, I’m locked in a bathroom at this off-the-hook loft party in SoHo that is showing zero signs of ending. I’m wearing this amazing Betsy Johnson dress and the world’s sexiest underwear. Think how great I’ll look when Scott undresses me by the dawn’s early light.”
To Anna’s dismay, that image still twisted her heart around. She heard a pounding noise over the phone.
“Take a hike, I’m sick in here!” she heard Cyn yell. “Anna? Some asshole is banging on the door. I’d better go.”
Anna held the phone tightly. “I’m so glad you called, Cyn. Have a great time tonight!”
“You too. I miss you insanely. Hey, I hope what’s-his-name turns out to be the guy of your dreams, Anna. You deserve it.”
They said their good-byes, and Anna slipped her phone back into her bag. Everything was so mixed up in her mind. How could she still care whether or not Cyn had sex with Scott? And why was it that when she was with Ben, she didn’t think about Scott at all?
And where the hell was Ben?
Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Excuse me, but my friend and I were just saying that you are by far the best-looking woman at this party,” said a bald man with a salt-and-pepper goatee, which gave him the odd appearance of having his head on upside down. He waved toward the crowd to indicate where his “friend” was.
The Cyn-making-out-with-a-middle-aged-guy-whose-name-she-never-got moment flew into Anna’s head. Why couldn’t she do something like that? She damn well could, if she wanted to. She looked Middle-Aged Goatee Man in the eye. And the idea of kissing him made her want to puke.
“Thanks,” Anna said. “I’m flattered.”
“Gerard Maxwell. I’m a producer. Call me Jerry. I’m sure you’ve seen some of my films.”
“I don’t go to the movies all that much,” Anna said politely. She looked over the man’s head, hoping to see Ben in the crowd. No such luck.
“No bullshit,” Jerry said, stroking his goatee. “You got it going on.” His gin-soaked breath wafted in Anna’s direction. It was everything she could do not to wave her hand in front of her face to try to disperse the odor.
“Nice to meet you, Jerry. Excuse me, please.” Anna began to edge past him.
“Wait, wait, just a second. Seriously.”
Anna sighed and turned back to the man. “What?”
“I’m rich,” Jerry announced.
“How nice for you,” Anna said in her frostiest Jane Percy tone. “And now I really have to—”
“I just want to ask you one thing.”
Anna was trying to conjure up a What Would Cyn Do-type “fuck off” when the producer leaned close and asked, “How much?”
Anna had zero idea what he was talking about. “Sorry?”
“For the night. For me and a friend. Together.”
Suddenly Anna understood. And felt like a total idiot for not having caught on sooner. This boor thought she was a hooker.
“Name your price, baby,” Jerry went on, raising his voice. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and I got the money, honey!” He pulled a fistful of bills from his pocket and waved them in Anna’s face. People around them snickered.
For the first time Anna thought how slutty she must look in her ridiculous vinyl leopard pants and heels. What had been so funny and sexy with Ben was now just trashy and embarrassing.
“Come on, baby,” Jerry wheedled. “That other chick told us you were up for anything.”
Anna bristled. “What ‘other chick’?”
“Red curls, body that won’t quit?”
Anna knew instantly. Cammie Sheppard. Cammie had told this walking pond scum that she was a hooker. In the Hustler store outfit she was wearing, she could see how he’d believe it.
Did Cammie really think this would help her get Ben? Or was it personal now, and she just wanted to humiliate Anna one more time? It was all such a massive waste of time and energy. Maybe she should take up tae kwon do, or kickboxing, or something that would allow her to simply kick Cammie’s ass so that the girl would stop playing all these mind games.
Well, no time for that now. She’d have to kick her ass mentally. WWCD?
“Tell you what.” Anna dropped her voice confidentially. “You go tell the girl with the red curls and the body that won’t quit that if she’s in, I’m in. That is, if you can handle both of us.”
Jerry grinned widely. “Now you’re talking.”
“Give her the money. She and I are very … close. What’s mine is hers. If you know what I mean. So, we’ll meet you at”—she racked her brains for the name of a Los Angeles hotel—“the bar at the Century Plaza. At midnight.”
“Oh yeah, baby, I am down with that.” Jerry was practically drooling as he pushed into the crowd to get back to Cammie.
Asshole. Anna hoped some flying Wallenda on the trapeze would swan dive onto the idiot’s head. She took off in the opposite direction but didn’t get more than thirty feet before Sam grabbed her arm.
“Where’s Ben?” Sam demanded. Anna noticed that the charcoal she’d smudged around her eyes was gone.
They both heard Ben’s voice. “Right here.” He edged toward them, three drinks in his hands. “With refreshments.”
“You mean to tell me you left Anna alone all this time?” Sam asked, as if Anna were her very best friend in the world.
“I’m very sorry,” Ben said. “I plan to make up for it. Ready to call it a nigh
t?”
Anna snuck a look over her shoulder at Jerry, who’d been joined by a fat friend. They were now working their respective mojos on Cammie at the bar. Excellent. “I’d be happy to call it a night.”
“You’re leaving?” Sam asked, trying to cover her dismay. “It’s not even midnight yet.”
Ben kept his eyes on Anna. “There’s someone I need to see.”
“Funny,” Anna said, staring back at him. “There’s someone I need to see, too.”
“But it’s a party. It’s New Year’s Eve,” Sam insisted.
“Exactly,” Ben said softly. “Anna? There’s someplace I’d like to take you. Someplace special. Okay?”
She nodded. “More than.”
Ben gave Sam a good-night kiss on the cheek and then led Anna back toward the main entrance. Sam watched them depart, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. By the time Adam returned with Anna’s flat water with a twist of lime, he found only forlorn-looking Sam.
But Sam rallied and asked Adam to go add whiskey to the water. If she couldn’t have Ben tonight, she might as well drown her sorrows with Adam. Because Sam Sharpe would be damned if she’d spend New Year’s Eve, and the night of her father’s wedding, without a boy to kiss at midnight.
Sixteen
10:55 P.M., PST
Anna watched the twinkling lights of the sprawling San Fernando Valley disappear behind them as Ben powered down the 405 freeway.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Anna asked.
A smile twitched at the corners of Ben’s lips. “Marina del Rey.”
Anna knew the area. Years ago, her father had dated a woman who lived in one of the endless high-rises between the ocean and the marina. He’d taken Anna to her penthouse for lunch. Anna remembered hating the food, hating the modern Swedish furniture in her apartment, and especially hating the woman.
“Anywhere special?” Anna probed.
“It’s a surprise.” Ben flicked his eyes to her, then back to the road. “I’ll tell you this much: It will give us a chance to be alone and talk. Good?”
“Excellent,” Anna agreed. That was what she wanted more than anything.
Twenty minutes later they turned off 405 and headed west toward the ocean; it wasn’t long before Ben found the parking lot he was looking for, near the water. They parked by a sign for a restaurant called Joe’s Clam.
“We’re going to a restaurant called Joe’s Clam?” Anna teased.
“Patience is a virtue, my beauty.” He opened Anna’s door and helped her out of the car. Then, hand in hand, Ben led Anna into a sprawling marina, past dozens of sailboats and pleasure crafts. Their footsteps on the wooden planks echoed across the still waters of the inlet.
Ben paused. “This is it.” He made a sweeping gesture toward a yacht that glistened in the moonlight. “Welcome to the Nip-n-Tuck III. Or, as I like to call it, my father’s excessive plastic surgery earnings put to excellent use.”
“It’s nice,” Anna said. The truth was, she’d been on many larger vessels. Cyn’s father kept one at Amagansett that made the Nip-n-Tuck look like a rowboat. But Anna had never been impressed by the measure of a man’s watercraft. What she cared about was the measure of the man.
She kissed Ben softly. “In fact, it’s beautiful.”
“He’s planning to buy a bigger boat next year,” Ben said. “The Botox.”
“I’m hoping that’s a joke.”
“Too true to be funny. Come on.” He helped her aboard. “I want to get out on the water before midnight.”
Ben began flipping switches, untying lines, lifting canvas canopies, and priming pumps. “Is there anything I can do?” Anna asked.
“Sure. Climb up top.” He indicated the second level of the vessel. “Open the green cabinet on the left side of the bridge—by the captain’s wheel. You’ll find a CD player and music. Pick your poison. If you’re chilly, there are some fleece jackets in there, too. I’ll be up in a sec.”
Anna followed Ben’s directions and was pleased to learn that Dr. Birnbaum’s musical taste ran to classical and jazz. She selected a CD of Charlie Parker’s Bird Returns, which seemed a perfect companion to the bracing night air and the rhythmic slap of wavelets against the hull.
To the accompaniment of Bird’s complex jazz solo, she made her way to the bow and stood there, inhaling the night air. She was still there when Ben eased the Nip-n-Tuck out of its slip. He gently accelerated, and they cruised at no-wake speed until they were clear of the marina. Then he opened up the engines and cranked the music. Anna felt salt air whip against her skin. Behind them were Marina del Rey and Los Angeles and then the vast expanse of America … ending at a tiny island called Manhattan. Ahead of her, she realized, was a world of possibilities that she could not anticipate any more than she could have anticipated that she would be on this boat, with this boy, at this moment.
She turned and joined Ben at the tiller. “This is incredible,” she told him.
“Glad you like it.” He put an arm around her and softly kissed the back of her neck.
Anna leaned into him. “When do you go back to Princeton, Ben?”
“I don’t even want to think about that now.”
He was right. She needed to learn to live in the moment, Anna reminded herself. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. “Did you know that Charlie Parker kept live birds at Birdland, but they all died from secondhand smoke inhalation?”
“I can’t say I did,” Ben replied, finding a new spot on her neck to kiss.
Anna laughed at herself. “I’m a font of little-known, utterly useless knowledge. It’s a curse—I remember what I read.”
“Do you remember this?” Ben asked. Then he gave her the softest of kisses.
Her whole body tingled. “Yes,” she whispered, her forehead against his.
“We told everyone at the party that we went to the beach the night we met,” Ben said, “and watched the sun rise. Well, this was as close as I could get.”
Anna was touched. “It’s lovely.”
“You’re lovely.”
“Even if I’m still dressed like a reject from a bad disco?”
“You’d look beautiful in anything,” Ben said. “Or nothing. I’m using my imagination here.”
She wondered what it would be like to be naked in front of him. Embarrassing? Thrilling? The only male she’d ever been naked in front of was her doctor, which hardly counted. Would she feel self-conscious? Or was this the boy who would finally show her what it was that everyone was always screaming about? And was she ready to find out?
She honestly did not know.
For a long time they stood together under a canopy of stars, feeling the smooth power of the engines pull them out into the Pacific and the night. Only when they were well offshore and could see the coastline all the way from Santa Monica down to Redondo Beach did Ben turn down the music and ease back on the throttle.
“So, Anna Percy,” he began. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Let’s start with my friends, who were incredibly nasty to you. Especially Cammie—”
“You don’t have to do this, Ben.”
“I want to. This isn’t … You aren’t …” Ben ran a hand through his hair and then sighed. “Pretty funny. Me, at a loss for words. It’s like this. Cammie and I dated last year.”
“I gathered.”
“We broke up months ago.”
“Okay.”
“I have zero interest in her, Anna.”
“Fine.”
Ben scrunched his brows together. “Why are you being so reasonable?”
Anna turned and regarded the coastline. The lights of the marina twinkled brightly. Just to the south, she could see a jet roar west from LAX into the heavens. Out here on the water things seemed so peaceful. And she liked it that way. “I suppose I could scream and tear my hair. But honestly, this moment, being out here with you—it’s too great to bother.”
>
He folded his arms and cocked his head at her. “Or you’re not that interested in my song and dance because … you’re not all that interested.”
“I’m interested,” she said quietly.
“Good.” Ben throttled back the engines further. The Nip-n-Tuck slowed, then stopped. “Feel free to move about the cabin.”
Anna went to the starboard rail, which had a better view of the coastline. She held up her hair, enjoying the night air’s caress on her neck. Ben joined her. Anna pictured him with Cammie; they certainly made a gorgeous couple. Then she pictured Ben making love to Cammie. She didn’t like that picture at all.
“Did you love her, Ben? Cammie, I mean.”
“No, never.”
“Did she love you?”
“It was more a physical thing. For both of us.”
She glanced at him sideways. “If you recall, that’s exactly how we started. Fourteen hours ago, to be exact.”
He shook his head. “It’s different. Cammie is like … like something I had to get out of my system. She’s a player. She likes it that way, believe me.” He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes till the new year. Want champagne?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Everything is perfect.”
“Yeah. I agree.” He stared out into the inky void as a gentle swell rocked the boat. “Princeton seems really far away right now.”
“Do you like it?”
“Most of the time.” He grew thoughtful for a moment. “It was kind of intimidating at first. Princeton’s not exactly a party school. Not unless you want to flunk out, which I don’t.”
“Do you think you’ll go into medicine, like your dad?”
Ben made a disparaging sound in the back of his throat. “I think of my father as the anti-role model.”
“Funny. I feel that way about my mother.”
“Yeah?”
“She lives life by the book. The This Is How We D$$$[MS PAGE NO 74]$$$o Things Big Book, East Coast WASP edition. It’s all just so … so prescribed. Such a narrow, safe, sheltered existence.”
“And that’s not what you want?”
“No.” She looked at him sideways. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here with you. Girls who live strictly by the aforementioned WASPy Big Book do not date boys named Ben Birnbaum.”