The Au Pairs
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"That's great and all," Mara said. "I mean, I'm really happy for you lize. But what are we going to do without you? Who's going to scare William into submission? Are we ever going to see you?"
"What are you talking about? We'll see each other all the time," Eliza promised.
Eliza turned into the Perry driveway, where several expensive cars were parked. The newest addition to the fleet was a shiny new Toyota Prius, a gas/electric hybrid car that was the latest Hamptons automobile obsession. Priuses were politically correct, environmentally friendly, and incredibly hard to find-- there was a six-month waiting list, and cars were selling for fifty percent over sticker price. Next to the Prius was Ryan Perry's Aston Martin. But since Ryan was a touchy subject, nobody said anything.
Laurie, Anna Perry's personal assistant, a frowsy-haired fortyyear-old woman who wore a cell phone around her neck on a leash and lived vicariously through her employers, greeted them at the front door.
"Girls! Welcome back! Eliza, what are you doing here? Anna and the kids arrive tomorrow morning from the city. They were supposed to come in today, but Kevin needed the heli for some emergency meeting in Connecticut, and Anna didn't want to sit in traffic. Ryan and the twins are around somewhere. Jacqui, Mara, you have the night off after getting the kids' rooms ready."
They all followed Laurie inside and found the Perry house
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the same as ever, with immense floral arrangements in every corner, the striped zebrawood floors polished to a high sheen, every room perfectly appointed and camera-ready for an Architectural Digest shoot. Laurie told them that the Perrys paid a skeleton staff to keep the house looking this way even in the dead of winter. It was important that the house be prepared for their arrival at any moment, even if months passed between visits during the off-season.
"What's that noise?" Mara asked. "Is that a cement mixer?" Her father was in construction, and she recognized the sound.
Laurie grimaced and put her hands to her ears. "It's the Reynolds Castle. They're not supposed to have construction after five. I've already told Anna we should report it to city hall."
The three girls scurried to the picture window and spied a humongous structure being built over a traditional Victorian house. The sprawling wood skeleton, complete with turrets, towers, and what looked like a moat, seemed to span the entire length of the property, all the way down to the beachfront. A huge crane was lifting up several gold-plated Grecian columns. They stared, fascinated, as a forty-foot-wide stained glass cathedral window was positioned on the top floor.
"It's a shame what they're doing to the old Rockefeller place," Laurie sniffed, as insulted as a true East Hampton blueblood. "It's a monstrosity!"
"Here, I'll help you guys with your things," Eliza said, grabbing Jacqui's makeup bag and Mara's magazines.
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The girls walked through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the terrace and garden. The grounds were pristine, the croquet set laid out for a game, and in the distance, the tennis and basketball courts shone with new paint.
"Oh my God. Who is that?" Eliza asked in a stage whisper, when they reached the pool patio.
Lounging on a raft in the middle of the infinity pool was the most beautiful boy they had ever seen. His entire lean, bronzed body was caramel-colored, from his honey-blond hair to his nutbrown tan. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip. He was wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a frosted cocktail glass with an umbrella in it.
"Bonjour," the beautiful boy drawled, trailing a finger on the water.
Jacqui's chest heaved. Had she said, "No more boys"? Did it count if he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen?
He raised his sunglasses to appraise them, a playful smile on his lips.
"Hi," Mara said weakly.
"Bonjour yourself," Eliza shot back.
"Boa tarde," Jacqui smiled.
"Je suis Philippe Dufourg. You must be my coworkers, two of you at least," he said, in a sexy French accent.
"Coworker?" Mara asked. "You're not..."
He grinned, puffing on his cigarette and flicking his ashes into the chlorine-blue waters. "Mats oui. I am the new au pair."
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aren't rules made to be broken?
LAURIE FILLED THEM IN AS SHE LED THEM TO THE SERVANTS'
cottage--Philippe was the French nephew of the kids' regular nanny, who took every summer off to go home to Cornwall. He went to school in London--hence the (almost) perfect English-- and had arrived just that morning. Philippe was an aspiring tennis pro and hoped to bolster his reputation by winning the Rolex Invitational, which took place in East Hampton each July. Besides babysitting the children, he was going to give them private tennis lessons.
"And as you can see, he's made himself quite at home," Laurie said, with a hint of disapproval. "Well, here you are," she said, throwing open the door to the tidy cottage.
Everything was exactly as they remembered it. Even the third step on the rickety stairs still squeaked. Their room was as plain and bare as a prison cell, but they hadn't expected anything more. There were a bunk bed and a small single bed, each with one flat pillow and scratchy wool blankets. Against the opposite wall were
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two bureaus, a ratty armchair, and a nightstand with a lamp that didn't work that well ever since Eliza had tripped on its wire one night last July. There was one new addition, though: a shiny white intercom/phone, which Laurie explained Anna had had installed so they could get in touch with with the push of a button.
Mara and Jacqui began unpacking, chattering about this exciting new development (the boy, not the phone) as they decided on drawers and beds. "Do you want the top bunk?" Mara asked Jacqui.
"Sure. Thanks. Where do you think they put the boy?" Jacqui nodded, pulling aside the curtain on the one small attic window.
Mara shrugged. She hadn't given Philippe a second thought-- she was still fixated on the Aston Martin, wondering if Ryan was on the grounds somewhere. Maybe he was in his room, or in the kitchen. Maybe she should do a little scouting... .
Eliza sat on the single bed, feeling a little out of place. She felt nostalgic for last summer, remembering all the wild times they'd shared together in this small space--sneaking smokes out the window and bottles of Grey Goose from the Perrys' liquor cabinet. She and Jeremy had first made out on the very bed she was sitting on. But the feeling ended when she spotted a row of dust bunnies underneath the nightstand and remembered her air- conditioned bedroom back at her family's summer rental.
"Hey--that's a nice necklace. Ryan has one just like it, doesn't he?" Mara asked, looking up from unpacking and noticing the
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leather string Eliza was holding between her fingers, lost in thought.
"Oh!" Eliza's hands flew from her neck. She looked around nervously. "Yeah. It's nothing, just this old thing I picked up."
"Did you guys hang out in Florida?" Mara asked wistfully. "You and Ryan? How was he?"
Eliza colored. "Excuse me?"
"I dunno, what did he look like? Was he with anyone?" Mara asked.
"Same as always," Eliza shrugged. "He wasn't around much. Anyway, what about that guy by the pool, huh? How lucky are you guys? What a hottie!" she said, to change the subject. She motioned to the two of them to come closer. "I heard French guys have the biggest..."
Jacqui and Mara giggled.
Just then, Philippe walked in, smelling of smoke and coconut suntan oil. Jacqui thought nothing smelled sexier. "Bon!" he said, rubbing his palms together. "Ca devrait étre amusant, trois filles et moi!"
"No way, you're not staying here are you?" Mara asked, realizing he was saying something about his room. Anna didn't seriously think to put two girls and one very hot guy in the same room did she? But then, Anna Perry wasn't really one for propriety. Mara was aghast.
Jacqui shrugged. What was the big deal? Obviously Mara had never backpacked through Europe. She was intrigued.
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Philippe was staying in the same room with them. How very... convenient.
"Oui," Philippe nodded. He rummaged in the top bureau drawer for a shirt and pants and began to peel off his trunks.
"Hold it! What do you think you're doing?" Mara demanded. She knew she was being a killjoy, but seriously, this was out of line. She didn't care if he was hot and French--she didn't want to feel awkward around him all summer. He would have to learn how to respect her privacy, even if he had no need for his own.
Eliza and Jacqui looked a little disappointed. That little slice of Philippe's perfect backside was tantalizing. They had been looking forward to the show.
Philippe shrugged. "Nakedness is not allowed? But I am in my room?"
Eliza and Jacqui watched, amused, as Mara marched Philippe to the hallway, holding his arms firmly to his sides. Now this was the uptight Mara they remembered. "In America, we change in private!" Mara insisted.
Mara walked back into the room, wiping her palms in consternation. "Can you believe that guy? Anyway, Jac, I guess he gets that drawer next to the bed. Huh. Well, do you want to share that closet then? And I guess we should see what Laurie needs us to do."
"Yeah--I guess I should go... ," Eliza said awkwardly, standing up and collecting her purse. It was weird to be back in the old room and not be able to stay. "Hey, what are you guys doing
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tomorrow night? Do you want to come over to my house and hang out? I don't start work till Saturday."
"Maybe," Jacqui said, realizing for the second time in only a few minutes that her plan to ignore all distractions and be a stellar babysitter was not going to be as easy as she'd hoped. "If we can put the kids to bed early."
"Don't worry, we'll be there," Mara assured her. If there was one thing Mara had learned last year, it was that they could figure out a way to take care of the kids and have a good time.
Eliza raised an eyebrow and smiled. Jacqui being responsible? Mara ready to party? Some things really did change. They hugged Eliza good-bye, promising to call her soon.
When Eliza left, her slides click-clacking loudly on the stairs, Philippe reentered the room, looking freshly shaven and wearing a starched white oxford shirt and perfectly pressed blue jeans.
"Better?" he asked Mara.
Mara nodded coolly. She had finished putting away all of her clothes, not having brought as many as Jacqui, who had already crammed the closet with her wardrobe. "I'm going to see what Laurie needs for the kids' rooms."
"I'll be there in a bit," Jacqui promised, not meeting Mara's eyes. She was fully conscious that Philippe had sprawled, emperor- like, on the single bed and was staring at her expectantly.
Mara shrugged her shoulders and left, thinking she might take a few unnecessary detours on the way to Laurie's office--say, the landing right by Ryan's room.
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"So, Jacqui, are you also needing to see to Laurie?" Philippe asked Jacqui. "Because there are still some, what you call it, piña coladas in the blender."
Jacqui stopped putting her clothes away. She knew that the right thing to do was to follow Mara and get everything prepared for the kids tomorrow. But Philippe was still smiling at her, a dazzling preponderance of shiny white teeth and blue eyes. He reached under the bed and brought out a half-empty bottle of Bacardi. "Help me finish this?" he asked.
"I guess I am kind of thirsty ... ," Jacqui allowed. She had sworn to herself that she was really going to be better this summer: she was going to keep her head down, she was going to help Mara take care of the kids, she was going to study for that uh, test, thing, S-A ... whatever was it called again... .
She exhaled loudly, squaring her shoulders, and looked straight into his eyes. "But you know what? I think I'll just catch up with you later," she told Philippe, running out of the room before he could say her name again in that sexy accent of his.
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by Morgan Burke
The party room is where all the prep school kids drink up and hook up. All you need is a fake ID and your best Juicy Couture to get in. One night, Samantha Byrne leaves with some guy
no one's ever seen before... and ends up dead in Central Park. Murdered gruesomely. Found at the scene of the crime: a school tie from Talcott Prep.
New York is suddenly in the grip of a raging media frenzy. And a serial killer walks amidst Manhattan's most privileged--and indulged--teens.
the
PARTY ROOM
From Simon Pulse
Published by Simon & Schuster
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