Beach Lane (8 page)

“Luca?” she choked.

“Excuse me.” Luke van Varick smirked, turning to face her. His eyes widened and he blinked for a minute, unsure of what to do. Then he broke into a lopsided grin.

“Jacarei!” Luke said as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “What the HELL are you doing here?”

“I work here!” Jacqui laughed, so happy she was almost screaming. Luca! Here! In the Hamptons!

“Here?” he asked, motioning to the floor with the straw from his gin and tonic. He was swaying a little and Jacqui smelled the alcohol on his breath.

“No, up the road. I’m an au pair.”

“How cool is that?” Luke laughed. “I didn’t know you worked with kids. I thought you were just a shopgirl.”

This is making no sense,
Jacqui thought.
We haven’t seen each other in two months and all he wants to do is chitchat?
What about all the stuff they did in São Paolo?

“Listen, you wanna get out of here?” Luke asked as his eyes roamed around the room.

“Sí,”
Jacqui replied. That was more like it. She took his hand. She loved him. Her Luca! He could lead her anywhere.

* * *

A few minutes later Jacqui hung on as Luke sped down the Montauk Highway to his parents’ home in Bridgehampton. The place was as expansive as the Perry homestead, and Luke showed her his private entrance and the four-bedroom suite in his “wing.” It was a classic bachelor pad, with a vintage Foosball table, a Miss PacMan game console, dartboards, a basketball hoop, and dirty laundry strewn around the carpet. He pressed a button on a remote, and a sixty-inch television materialized from the floor.

Jacqui sat on the edge of his bed, looking around at all
of his things—his soccer trophies, his G4 computer, his bulletin board studded with photos from his travels around the world. So this was where he lived. This was where he slept. She drank it all in—intent to know as much as she could about the guy who’d finally opened her heart and made her feel all jittery inside.

Luke stood in front of her, holding an open bottle of Absolut in one hand. He took a swig. His other hand was underneath his shirt, scratching his stomach. He stared at her hungrily. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said, putting down the bottle and reaching for the light switch.

“What else do you remember?” Jacqui asked with a playful lilt.

With the lights snuffed out, Luke splayed himself spread-eagle on top of the goose-down comforter. Jacqui curled up next to him. He tossed an arm around her and she snuggled on his chest. She listened to him breathe, happy to be so close to him again.

“I remember this,” he said, tracing a finger on her cheek.

Soon she felt his hand move down toward her breast, cupping it over her shirt, then slowly inch its way down underneath the neckline. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and his fingers were cold on her skin.

“Oh . . . Luca,” she said, turning to kiss him fully on the mouth.

He pulled her up on him, holding her close so she could feel him getting excited.

They kissed, slobbering with open mouths, so quickly and
urgently that Jacqui could barely catch her breath. All the while Luke tugged at her top. Finally he pulled it over her head and threw it to the corner of the room.

She realized she was trembling a little—she’d missed him so much. It was everything she ever wanted and everything she had been yearning for when he left her in São Paolo.

She sat up, looking down on him. They held hands and stared at each other.

A trick of the moonlight lit up a photograph on his nightstand.

It was her Luca, smiling, with his arm around a girl.

Huh?

Jacqui stopped and released his hands. He reached up to touch her face, but she pushed his hand away. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing.

He craned his neck to see what she was talking about.

“Oh. Nobody.” He shrugged, gently laying the photo down. “Just someone I knew before I met you.”

Jacqui felt a little better. But somehow the moment had passed. She rolled off him and slid underneath the sheets.

He joined her, spooning her so that her back was pressed against his chest. He began to kiss between her shoulder blades, her most sensitive part. His hand awkwardly unbuttoned her fly. His fingers reached south.

“Not tonight. Okay, baby?” Jacqui asked, grasping his hand right above her waist.

“Uhmmmm?” Luke asked sleepily. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Mm-kay.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Jacqui listened to his soft breathing.

“Luca? I love you,” she whispered. It was something they never had time to say to each other during their two weeks in São Paolo.

But Luke was already snoring.

eliza is red, white, and definitely blue

“ELIZA—WE’RE GOING . . .,” SUGAR CALLED OVER,
interrupting the conversation. She stood outside the circle, tapping a kitten heel.

“We’ll meet you out front,” Poppy said, ignoring the fawning looks from the throng. The sisters stalked off, fully aware that all eyes were on their perfectly sculpted backsides.

“Sorry, guys. See y’all later?” Eliza asked.

“Where are you staying?” Lindsay asked, miming a phone call.

“My uncle’s place—uh, in Sagaponack. He’s not listed—but don’t worry, I’ll be in touch,” Eliza said, putting down her drink. “Sugar! Poppy! Wait up!”

She ran after them, catching up just as the twins stopped to pose for the paparazzi stationed outside the entrance. She waited hesitantly just out of flashbulb range.

“Hey—how ’bout one with your friend?” a photographer asked, noticing Eliza and shooing her into the picture. Eliza found herself wedged between the twins, giving them apologetic smiles.

“Beautiful! Three of a kind!” The photographers wolf-whistled their approval.

“That’s enough,” Poppy decided when the valet pulled up with their Mercedes SUV. He held open the door and handed her a ticket stub. “Oh no . . . I left my wallet at home,” she said patting her purse and looking around expectantly.

“Don’t look at me,” Sugar said. “You know I never carry cash.”

“Here, I got it,” Eliza offered, rooting in her Louis Vuitton Epi pouchette. “How much?”

“Forty dollars, miss.”

Holy . . . That was, like, half a day’s salary. Eliza paid the parking fee while Poppy slid behind the wheel.

“Shotgun,” Sugar called.

The girls piled into the SUV and Poppy started poking at the GPS screen. “I can never figure this thing out,” she muttered to herself just as Justin came blaring through the speakers. Sugar had dated him for a minute, and she liked to say this song was for her, even if it wasn’t true. Sugar stuck her hands through the sunroof and whooped loudly as they made their big exit.

“That was fun!” Eliza yelled over “Rock Your Body,” feeling drunk and giddy and happy to be back. After spending the spring locked in her room because she couldn’t bear another cold night in a wet field drinking Natty Light—the only thing that passed for a social life in Buffalo—Eliza finally felt like her old self again.

“That place was great!” she said.

“Are you serious? It was packed with nobodies.” Poppy sniffed.

“Did you see that troll in last-season’s Gucci?” Sugar agreed. “Totally D-list.”

Eliza surreptitiously tugged on her not-exactly-new mini. She vowed to hit the shops as soon as she got her fat cash-filled envelope in three weeks.

“So, what are we going to wear to P. Diddy’s party?” Poppy asked, zooming past a stop sign. “Oberon said it’s strictly red, white, and blue attire only.”

“That’s so corny.” Sugar yawned.

“It’s at the PlayStation2 House, isn’t it?” Eliza added.

“Isn’t that the place where J.Lo had her birthday party last week?” Sugar mused. “I don’t think it’s even open to the public.”

“Apparently even Brad and Jen RSPV’d.”

“Awesome!” Eliza leaned forward between the front seats. She was dying to see some real celebrities again. Back when she was still living on 63
^rd
and Park, she hardly ever noticed them. Spotting Julia Roberts hailing a taxicab or Sarah Jessica Parker pushing a stroller was just kind of the backdrop for her life. Good luck catching anyone
US Weekly–
worthy in Buffalo.

“This is your street, right?” Poppy asked, pulling into a private driveway a few blocks from the club.

“Uh . . . actually . . .”

“You guys rented out your house?” Sugar asked, eyes wide.

“Well . . . um . . .”

“What’s the deal? Spit it out,” Poppy ordered.

“I’m kind of staying with you guys,” Eliza said sheepishly.

“What?” Poppy exclaimed as Sugar nudged her sister hard in the ribs. Sugar turned around with a sweet smile. “Excuse my sister, she doesn’t know how to mind her manners. Of course you can crash with us tonight. You can borrow something. You’re a size zero like me, right?”

“No—it’s not that. I’m kind of . . . well . . . Kevin called my dad the other day. He asked me if I could help out Anna with the kids this summer,” Eliza finished lamely. “It’s no big deal.”

Except that it was. The twins remembered their father telling them about the Thompsons’ troubles, not that they had paid much attention back then.

“Oh,” Sugar said, putting two and two together.

“Excuse me?” Poppy asked, turning around in shock. The SUV jumped over a speed bump and the three of them flew up from their seats.

“Ow! Watch the road!” Sugar said, glaring at her sister.

“Sorry!” Poppy said. “You’re one of the au pairs?” she asked disbelievingly, looking at Eliza in the rearview mirror.

“Kind of,” Eliza admitted.

There was an ominous silence.

“Huh. Well, that’s gonna be fun, right? All three of us together again!” Sugar said cheerfully.

The SUV pulled up to the Perry homestead. Poppy pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. “We’re home,” she said brightly

“So, I’ll just run in and put on something patriotic and I’ll meet you guys back here?” Eliza asked, swinging her door open.

Sugar and Poppy exchanged a quick glance.

“You know what, I’m soooo pooped,” Sugar said, yawning.

“Me too,” Poppy agreed. “God, it’s been a really long night.”

“Yeah,” Eliza conceded.

“I think we’re just going to go to bed. We have tennis really early tomorrow, right, Pop?” Sugar asked. “We’ll see you later, Eliza.”

“Night,” Eliza said, unsteadily slipping out of the car onto the crunching gravel underfoot.

“Night,” the twins called, already halfway into the main house.

Eliza made her way down the stone path and opened the door to the au pairs’ cottage ever so slowly. She was trying to be quiet. Really, she was. But she snagged her stiletto heel on the rug and went sprawling. She crashed into a bedside table with a loud thud.

The light clicked on.

“What the hell?” Mara asked, blinking like an owl without her contact lenses. She put on her glasses and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Eliza, it’s two in the morning!”

“So what?” Eliza asked, heaving herself up from the floor and falling backward into her bed. “It’s early!”

“For you, maybe,” Mara snapped. “Some of us actually worked today. What’s the deal with cutting out? Hey, are you drunk?”

“God, Mara, get a grip.” Eliza moaned. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but we’re in the
Hamptons
—hello?
The Hamptons.
”

“I know that,” Mara snapped.

But clearly she didn’t, thought Eliza.

“Where’s Jacqui?” Mara asked.

“I don’t know. Probably still having a lot of fun, unlike some people,” Eliza said pointedly. “You missed a great party.”

“I wasn’t invited,” Mara replied.

Right. Eliza looked uncomfortable. She had forgotten about that part. That was kind of mean of her, she realized, and she wasn’t a mean person—really. Just careless. But someone had to watch those bratty kids.

She peeled off her tank top and struggled out of her skirt, pulling on her favorite silk camisole and a pair of Brooks Brothers pajama bottoms. She was still feeling high from her night and caught a glimpse of the pool reflecting in the garden pathway lights, giving her an idea . . . the six-pack Jacqui had found was still in the cooler.

“Hey, Mar, what do you say we . . .,” she started to say, turning to her roommate. But Mara was already back asleep. Boy, Mara was one lame goody-goody.

Eliza hopped into bed, hitting her pillow just as an all-too-familiar rumble geared up outside.
No, it
can’t
be,
she thought, bolting upright.

“Get in!” she heard Sugar’s scratchy voice call.

She scrambled to the window and watched as Poppy ran out
of the main house, wearing a red, white, and blue tank top and white jeans, looking furtively over her shoulder toward the au pairs’ cottage. Eliza’s stomach dropped as the car backed stealthily away, the headlights sweeping the road only after they’d made it out of the driveway without the lights.
I invented that trick,
thought Eliza.

They were going to the party after all.

It was all well and good to hang out with her at a VIP room or two—but when it came to hitting the
real
action, she was just deadweight.

The truth hit her hard, and for a minute she was back in her bedroom in Buffalo on yet another lonely Friday night. No one had asked her to be on prom committee even if it was obvious she had more style than anybody else in the class. They’d all thought she was such a snob when she turned up for her first day of school in a mink chubby. But hell, it was
cold
up there.

This summer was supposed to be different—she was supposed to be back with the old posse, back in the limelight, back in the lap of luxury, where she belonged. She thought Sugar and Poppy were her
friends.

She thought back over the evening, looking for clues. So much had happened and she’d had so much to drink. It was mostly a fun, loud, Gucci-Envy-scented blur. But she did remember one thing: they hadn’t even thanked her for paying the valet.