Beach Lane Collection

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Oh my God.” She clamped her hands to her mouth and looked around nervously. She looked at the photo again. Oh my God. Suddenly, images from last night began flooding back, making her head pound harder. Dancing on the table. Yelling at Ryan. Calling Eliza a bitch. But even worse—that awful picture in the paper!

  She’d thought Lucky Yap was her friend. Some kind of friend he turned out to be. There it was, right in the middle of the Page Six column—underneath the headline THE NEW TARA REID? was a photo of her from last night. Mara Waters, the nice girl from Sturbridge—or at least that was how she’d always thought of herself—hanging over Garrett, his nose in her cleavage, her boobs literally popping out of her Gucci corset. Good Lord, one nipple had actually escaped from the tight bodice of the neckline!

  Mortified didn’t even begin to describe her feelings that morning. It was one thing to lose control for an evening and quite another to have it broadcast around the world. Mara hurriedly stuffed the newspaper into the garbage can, hoping nobody would see it. Especially not Ryan. It was just too embarrassing. The new Tara Reid? Even Tara Reid didn’t want to have Tara Reid’s reputation.

  Mara blushed. A little part of her had always felt that even though the Perrys were wildly rich and privileged, there was nothing to be envious of, because they didn’t have what she had—a great, solid family, with parents who had instilled in their three daughters the importance of integrity, honesty, and decency. But with the publication of that photo, she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Neither Sugar nor Poppy had ever been captured in such a compromising position, although there had been that close call with Sugar’s ex-boyfriend, who’d videotaped one of their steamy encounters. But Kevin’s law firm and a hefty bribe had made that go away. Maybe Mara had been wrong about herself. Maybe she was just like everyone in the Hamptons—someone who’d do anything for attention and fame.

  “Mara, didn’t you hear me? There’s someone at the door for you,” Laurie said, walking into the kitchen.

  Mara froze, feeling apprehensive. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Was it against the law to get your photo taken? Were the nipple police here to get her? But when she opened the door, it was only a brown-uniformed messenger. “Sign here!” he said, pushing a clipboard under her nose.

  She scribbled her name, and he thrust several oversize shopping bags into her arms. The bags contained three more gorgeous Shoshanna dresses, as well as a selection of pastel cashmere cardigans. Mara finally found a handwritten note on expensive card-stock stationery: Excellent coverage in the Post! Keep it up! Hugs, Mitzi.

  The errant nipple aside, Mara understood that in Mitzi’s view, the photo was a roaring success. The article in Page Six had named every brand she was wearing.

  She gathered the bags just in time to see Ryan Perry pull up to the driveway. She froze, rooted to the spot. He climbed out of his car and walked toward her. He was bleary-eyed and still wearing the same clothes from the night before. Against her resolve, Mara’s heart sank.

  “Oh, er . . . hi, Mara,” Ryan nodded, turning crimson.

  “Morning.” She nodded. It was so obvious he’d hooked up with somebody last night. Mara felt sickeningly jealous. It seemed that Ryan Perry would never lack for a girl in his life, and even worse, she would never be that girl again.

  happiness is a full sail on a strong wind

  THERE WERE MANY ADVANTAGES TO KNOWING KIT Ashleigh—his sense of humor, his steadfast loyalty to his friends, his many expensive playthings. But the one that was most important was his ability to have fun, no matter where he was. Kit was instrumental in rounding up all the kids, convincing William he’d let him steer the sailboat, letting Madison bring her friend, telling Zoë they would see dolphins, and carrying Cody to the car. They all piled into his Mercedes-Benz CLK convertible (Jacqui had left the keys to the Toyota underneath the doctor’s suntan oil), and he drove them to Sag Harbor, where his sailboat was docked.

  “It’s really not much,” Kit said of the Sunfish. “But it’ll fit all of us, and maybe we can get the kids to learn how to sail. My dad taught me when I was a kid.”

  “This is it?” William asked, not impressed with the fifteen-foot craft. “My dad’s is, like, three times as big.”

  “It’s not all about size, my friend,” Kit said, unfurling the sails and unhitching the ropes. “C’mon, give me a hand with this. You too, Madison, Zoë—everyone can help.”

  With Kit giving directions, they were able to cast off, and Kit steered them up to the dock next to the JLX Bistro, a trendy French restaurant on the water.

  A waiter came right up to the boat and took their order, and a few minutes later, several bulging bags of cheese, prosciutto sandwiches, Caprese salads, and bottles of sparkling water and cider were passed over on the starboard side.

  Jacqui was impressed. Kit steered them back out to sea.

  “Can’t we go any faster?” William whined.

  “Here, let me show you,” Kit said, jumping up. They caught a breeze and everyone was quiet. The water was calm and smooth, and the sailboat ran swiftly over the waves. It was a relaxing and thrilling at the same time. Jacqui unwrapped their picnic lunch, passing around the sandwiches.

  “God, this is so queer,” Madison’s friend Angelica complained. “We should have stayed on Georgica. Those cute guys my cousin knows were supposed to be there today.”

  Madison, who seemed to be enjoying the ride so far, hastily agreed.

  “You’re not going to eat that, are you?” Angelica asked, as Madison spooned a slice of tomato and mozzarella onto her plate.

  Madison quickly put it back.

  Jacqui watched the exchange silently. She wanted to say something to Madison about how girls like Angelica, who were too skinny and privileged for their own good, just masked their own insecurities by making fun of everyone else, but she knew she would just embarrass the girl, so she kept her mouth shut.

  Instead, Jacqui heaped her own plate with cheese, salami, bread, and pickled vegetables, and made a show of eating every last bite, to the fascination of both preteen girls, who couldn’t believe anyone who looked like Jacqui could eat like that.

  Angelica had already tried flattery to get Jacqui to like her, but since Jacqui hadn’t responded, the girl had taken to calling Jacqui “the au pair” in a snotty voice. Jacqui was relieved when the two decided to make the most of the day and sunbathe quietly on the deck.

  Jacqui looked around at the kids, who were all entertained, and at the glittering water and bright sun. She leaned back on the deck and felt the wind in her hair. She was glad to have a friend like Kit.

  it’s so much easier to lie on the phone

  ELIZA DABBED A SPLOTCH MORE FOUNDATION ON HER neck. The hickeys from Ryan had bloomed overnight. She looked war-ravaged, with little purple and yellow love marks all over her chest, collarbone, and underneath her chin. It was more than a little distressing. She couldn’t go to work looking like she’d just been mauled, hence the bottle of Bobbi Brown foundation. Thank God for perfect-blend makeup.

  Okay, so that was a little weird—hooking up with Ryan again like that. What about Jeremy? Was she cheating on him or something? Were they even together? Eliza felt confused and a little sad. And Ryan—what was up with that? She didn’t like Ryan, did she? Ryan was like, her friend. Like, her brother—okay, so not like her brother exactly.

  That morning, he’d woken her up and carried her to her bed. “I gotta go. I don’t think your parents will be so thrilled if they see us in the living room,” he whispered, kissing her nose.

  “Okay.” She’d nodded sleepily.

  “See you later,” he said, tucking her in.

  Eliza smiled at the memory, dabbing a smidge more green-tinted concealer to mask a hickey, when her cell rang.

  “Hi, ’Liza, it’s me.”

  “Oh,” she said, holding a compact powder in midair. Mara. Shit. Had Ryan told her something?

  “Listen . . .” Mara started.

  Eliza sucked in her stomach.r />
  “I’m really, really sorry about last night,” Mara said. “I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never been that drunk before.”

  “Oh.” Eliza exhaled. “It’s nothing—don’t worry about it.”

  “I just want you to know I would never ever do anything to get you in trouble,” Mara said. “I know how much your job means to you.”

  “No, really, seriously, don’t worry about it,” Eliza said, wanting nothing more than to hang up. Mara was being so nice, it was hard to take. It would be so much easier if Mara was a real bitch, but she wasn’t.

  “Well, I really feel awful about it,” Mara insisted. “And in front of Ryan, too!”

  “Mar—I really gotta go,” Eliza said, cutting her off. Even though she and Ryan had agreed that last night was a fluke, just as Palm Beach had been, and nothing whatsoever was going on between them at all, Eliza couldn’t deal with the guilt. Even if Mara had Garrett Reynolds now, it didn’t make Eliza feel any better.

  “Oh, okay. Maybe we can go get coffee later this week or something?” Mara asked meekly.

  “Yeah, I’ll call you, ’kay?” Eliza replied quickly.

  “Okay,” Mara answered, but Eliza was already stabbing at the END button.

  * * *

  Mara hung up the phone in the kitchen, feeling blue. Eliza was still totally pissed off, she could tell. She opened the patio doors and was surprised to see Philippe sun-bathing on a raft in the middle of the pool, smoking as usual. She’d thought he’d gone away to the city. He was supposed to be one of the au pairs, but they rarely saw him since he’d been relocated to the main house.

  “Your sister called earlier,” he said, tapping his ashes into the water. “Laurie was looking for you.”

  “Which one?”

  Philippe shrugged.

  It had to be Megan. Maureen had three kids and was too busy to call. Mara wondered why Megan hadn’t phoned her cell, but then, she didn’t get a great signal in the Hamptons. Mara went back to the kitchen and dialed Megan’s number at work.

  “Hey, Meg? It’s me,” Mara said.

  “Mara! Our star!” The cheerful voice of her sister vibrated down the line.

  “Oh my God. You saw it? The Post?”

  “Of course I saw it. Hello, it’s Meg you’re talking to, remember? I saw you in Us Weekly the other day, too. You look cuter on Page Six. A little risqué, but cute,” Megan said authoritatively. Mara could hear the sounds of blow-dryers and scissors clicking in the background.

  “You really think I looked good? Did Mom and Dad see it?” Mara asked, looking out the window where Philippe was floating in circles. Anna Perry walked out to the terrace, wearing a white bikini and transparent high heels. She stepped gingerly into the pool, and Philippe helped her situate herself on a similar raft. They glided to the other end, where the water spilled over to a waterfall and a Jacuzzi.

  “Mara, are you listening?” Megan asked.

  “Oh, no, sorry,” Mara said. “What did you say?”

  “I told you that I hid the paper from them—if they’d seen it, you’d be back home in like, ten seconds. You know what Dad’s like.”

  “Thank God. I owe you.”

  “No kidding. That’s why I’m coming down to visit you in two weeks. I want to see where my famous little sister hangs out!”

  “That would be awesome!” Mara replied.

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t wait for an invitation,” Megan said.

  “What do you mean? You know you’re always welcome!” Mara protested.

  “That’s why I’m coming to visit. Anyway, I gotta go. I was supposed to rinse Mrs. Norman ten minutes and now her hair is going to be lavender. See you soon!”

  Mara hung up the phone, feeling better. Her favorite sister, Megan, was coming down to visit! It would be so great to have Megan around—they could do some normal stuff, like get burgers at O’Malley’s in East Hampton and maybe have a lobster boil on the beach. Mara could use a little break, and there was nothing like family to bring you back down to earth when you’ve had too much champagne.

  garrett reels in a catch

  THE RICH WERE DIFFERENT. MARA HAD UNDERSTOOD THAT ever since last summer, when she met the Perry twins, who didn’t think anything of spending eight hundred dollars on a designer dress but drew the line at paying for their own cocktails, and Ryan Perry, who drove a custom-made British sports car but filled the tank with unleaded to save a few bucks. Only a family like the Reynoldses would build a saltwater pool—a giant fish tank you could swim in—a mere thirty feet from the ocean. Garrett invited Mara over to check it out, since it had just been stocked with fish. The water was warm and soothing as Mara stepped inside.

  “Another one?” Garrett asked, wading in with a pitcher of mango margaritas.

  “I’ve already had two,” Mara said, waving it away. “Maybe I should cool it a little,” she said. “My sister’s coming to visit soon, I don’t want her to think—”

  “Think what?” he asked, drinking straight from the pitcher and smacking his lips.

  It was a beautiful warm night, and the crickets were chirping.

  “I don’t know, like I’m some kind of party girl or something. I do have a job, you know,” she reminded him. “What if the kids saw me in Page Six?” she agonized.

  “You know what? You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s just a photo in a newspaper. You know what people do with the newspaper?” Garrett asked, waving the pitcher around, accidentally sloshing its contents into the pool.

  Mara shook her head, wondering if the alcohol would hurt the fish.

  “They throw it away at the end of the day. In London, they wrap french fries in it to soak up the oil!” He laughed and set the pitcher by the side of the pool. He swam up, splashing her with water. “I like you, Mara. You’re fun. Be fun!”

  Mara glowed. He liked her. He’d said it out loud. With his hair all wet, he looked so cute, like a sleek, dark seal. He smiled at her, and she touched his face, liking how nonjudgmental he was. Ryan Perry probably thought she was the biggest hoochie in the Hamptons, but Garrett Reynolds thought she was fun.

  A school of orange-and-white clown fish darted around the nearby coral, and Mara refilled her glass. It was delicious, and besides, hadn’t Megan wanted to come to the Hamptons to experience all the glamour? Who wanted to go get lobster rolls in Montauk when you could hang out in the VIP room at Seventh Circle with movie stars?

  Garrett threw her a pair of goggles and a snorkel and switched on the underwater lights. She dipped her head underneath and looked around. The water was a bright, cerulean blue, as clear as daylight, and populated by colorful sea creatures of every size and shape. There were sea turtles and moray eels, brilliantly stark zebra fish, angelfish, rainbow fish, and blue-finned emperor fish.

  “This is amazing,” she told him, stopping to take the snorkel out of her mouth.

  “Why go to St. Barths when you can bring St. Barths to you?” Garrett asked, adjusting his goggles. “That’s the problem with the Hamptons: there’s no good scuba.”

  A school of black stingrays floated by their knees. Mara watched them glide toward the reef, marveling at their smooth and graceful pace.

  Garrett held her hand as they floated across the pool, pointing out transparent jellyfish and pulsating starfish. He swam toward an imitation grotto, a man-made cavern in the middle of the pool, and gestured to Mara to follow.

  Mara held her cocktail above the waves, ducking into the cave. She’d thought the Perrys lived well, but this was a whole other level entirely. The Reynolds house was like Versailles and, well, SeaWorld all rolled into one.

  “This is my favorite spot,” Garrett said, pulling her closer to him. “Have you ever been to Capri?”

  Mara shook her head. Apart from the Hamptons, she’d never really been anywhere.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Some day I’ll take you there,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Mmmm,” Mara smiled, li
king the idea of that.

  She wondered what Ryan was doing right then, but shook the thought out of her mind.

  The dark cavern made Garrett’s dark hair gleam with blue-black highlights, and his eyes glittered with mischief. “Bet you can’t hold your breath underwater longer than I can,” he challenged.

  “Oh, ho! Bet I can!” Mara disagreed.

  Mara inhaled and bent down, puffing her cheeks with oxygen, determined to prove him wrong. Garrett reached out to hold her hand as they sank underneath the water. Then he was kissing her, breathing into her mouth, salty and slick, hot and wet, and Mara surrendered to the novel sensation of being electrified by his touch, because for the longest time, she hadn’t thought anyone but Ryan could make her feel that way again.

  do two kind-of boyfriends equal one whole one?

  EVERY SUMMER SINCE ELIZA COULD REMEMBER, THE Meadow Club in Southampton held an amateur tennis tournament for its members. Over the years, the two-day event had grown from a private, low-key country club match to one of the most important stops on the tennis circuit, complete with an official corporate sponsor, and had since been dubbed the Rolex Invitational. The tourney was able to attract tennis stars like Andy Roddick and Lindsay Davenport, as well as former luminaries like Pete Sampras and Ivan Lendl, to compete for the grand prize, a silver plate and a ten-thousand-dollar check. However, this year, none of the players were famous or internationally ranked, much to the chagrin of the club, which counted on the publicity the stars garnered.

  At the end of the week, everyone turned out to watch the men’s and women’s championships. A well-heeled crowd in Lacoste polos and cheerful madras prints watched as Philippe double faulted against his opponent, a hulking Swede.

  Jacqui sat in the back with the kids, whom she’d bribed with ice cream bars. She knew how badly Philippe wanted to win the championship, but this was not going well. In the front box, Jacqui noticed Anna Perry watching the game with interest as well. Even though Jacqui knew she had to stay away from Philippe, there was something about watching Anna watch him that made her want him more. She still remembered the way he’d kissed her on the pool table. As much as she tried, Jacqui couldn’t shake the memory.