Laguna Cove (3 page)

“You okay?” Chris called, just before duck-diving under a wave.

But by the time he resurfaced, she’d already untangled the seaweed from around her legs and retrieved her board, as though nothing had happened. Giving him a casual over-the-shoulder wave, she headed toward the cliff stairs, glad that her back was now to him so he couldn’t see that her face was bright red with humiliation, embarrassment, and anger at her own lack of focus.

She opened the little gate that led to the limestone terrace and leaned her board against the low fence. Reaching back to unzip her wetsuit, she looked up and saw her father sitting on a lounge chair by the Jacuzzi, drinking an orange juice.

Oh, great. How long has he been there?
she wondered.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, casually squeezing salt water from her braid and hoping he hadn’t seen her wipe out.

“That’s quite a spill you took out there,” he said, eyeing her carefully.

“It wasn’t that bad, really.” She grabbed a towel and headed for the sliding glass doors that led to the living room, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

“Tell that to the judges,” he said, right behind her now.

“Well, did you happen to see any of the waves I had before that?” she asked, trying to sound neutral so he wouldn’t know how upset she was by his criticism. She wiggled out of her wetsuit and hung it on a hook by the door. “Because some of them were really good.” She turned to face him briefly, taking in his towering six-foot-four frame, the hair that despite the slight thinning was still as blond as hers, the tanned face, and the deep lines that fanned away from his clear green eyes that were also just like hers.

“All of them have got to be good, Ellie, not just some of them. You think your brother won NSSA by one or two merely decent waves?”

Ellie reached for the door handle and rolled her eyes. But her back was toward him, so it’s not like he could see it.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me. I can see your reflection in the window, you know.”

Leave it to my dad to find a maid that does windows!
“Okay, so I slipped a little. Trust me, it’s no big deal. I’ll get it straight before the contest, so you don’t have to worry,” she said, hurrying up the stairs to her room, where she could finally escape his never-ending scrutiny.

“Ellie?”

Jeez, what now?
she thought. She was just outside her door,
so close to freedom.

“This is for you.” He handed her his platinum credit card. “Stop by the mall later and get yourself whatever you need for school tomorrow.”

Taking the card, she looked at him, immediately feeling guilty for everything she’d just been thinking. But it was always like that. He’d pile on the pressure to the point where she was just about to scream, then quickly follow it up by an act of extreme kindness or generosity. She knew he meant well, but sometimes he really got on her nerves.

chapter four

Anne woke to the sound of a persistent high-pitched ringing. Assuming it was there to accompany the incessant drumming in her head (it was beginning to sound like a really bad garage band in there), she lay in her new bed with her eyes shut tight, promising to whoever might be in charge of these things that if they would just put an end to the incessant pounding, the cotton mouth, and the nausea, then she would never, ever drink red wine (or anything else, for that matter) again.

Ever!

Well, at least not until her twenty-first birthday.

Really.

She wasn’t just saying that.

When the ringing abruptly stopped, her eyes popped open.
Could it be?
But when it resumed a moment later, she realized it was the phone, not her head, that was making all that racket.

Tossing the covers aside, she stumbled out of bed, wondering where the phone was located. In her old room in Connecticut, she’d had a cordless with her own private number, a cell phone with a different number, a laptop, two e-mail addresses, and a BlackBerry that they could all be forwarded to. And it was all within easy reach of her big, comfortable canopy bed. Communication with everyone who mattered had always been right at her fingertips.

But here, in her dad’s strange new digs, she didn’t even know where to start. Since she had fallen asleep not long after finding her room the day before, the rest of the house had so far remained a mystery. Sprinting out of her room, she headed down the hall and toward the kitchen, partly because it seemed like the logical place to start, and partly because it was the only other room she was familiar with.

“Hello?” she said, picking up the receiver of a brand-new silvercolored phone designed to look retro, but with all the modern conveniences.

“Did I wake you?” her dad asked from God-knows-where.

“Kind of. Where are you?” She settled onto a teakwood stool at a long, narrow table, the kind design magazines always refer to as a “breakfast bar.”

“Still on set. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you yesterday. Things got a little hectic around here. But I should be back by tonight,” he said, not sounding very convincing.

Should be?
“Oh, okay,” she said, feeling completely annoyed with him, yet cringing at the high-pitched whininess in her own voice.

“See you then?” he asked, obviously in a hurry to hang up.

“Dad, wait. What exactly am I supposed to do here? I mean, I feel kind of stranded,” she said, looking around the unfamiliar kitchen, feeling like she’d broken into her own house.

“Call Jake if you need anything. His number is on the pad next to the phone. Or ask Christina; she should be there by noon.”

Christina?
Jeez, he was freshly divorced, new to the neighborhood, and he already had a girlfriend? What was with her parents? The way they played musical partners, they were worse than the kids at school!

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but it only intensified the throbbing. “Dad, do you think you could … ?” She stopped, noticing the absolute silence on the other end.
Oh my God, did he already hang up?
“Hello?
Hello?”
she said, staring at the receiver. He was gone. Just like that. No good-bye, nothing.
How’s that for a warm welcome?
she thought, slamming down the phone.

Hopping off the stool, she opened the fridge and peered inside, searching for something to cure what appeared to be her very first (and definitely last) hangover. She grabbed a carton of soy milk and swigged straight from the container. But she didn’t get as far as the swallowing part before running straight to the sink where she gagged and spit and rinsed her mouth with tap water until that thick, nasty soy taste was no more than a bad memory.
Gag.
Was her dad turning into some kind of California hippie health freak? Or was it Christina’s fault that the fridge was full of weirdo organic stuff she wasn’t used to?

Anne glanced at the clock on the stove. Another hour until Christina would be guest-starring in what would surely be her most challenging role to date: that of eager new companion to handsome, newly single dad and his hung over, sulky, resentful (but ultimately well-meaning) daughter.

Anne had a tendency to view her life in movie terms, as though all moments were taking place in front of a live studio audience, and lately there had been no shortage of big, dramatic moments. She always assumed it was just a natural side effect of having a big Hollywood exec for a dad, but lately she wondered if it wasn’t just plain weird.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wondered what the Ingenue, a.k.a. Christina, would look like. Let’s see, her dad was so upset with her mom these days, it was safe to assume he’d go for the complete opposite. Like maybe a Kate Hudson meets Meg Ryan type—the kind of sexy/wholesome L.A. hybrid that can make an entire career out of lame, formulaic romantic comedies.

Though, it was kind of creepy picturing her dad with someone like that. Someone so different from her mom’s own look of sharp, sleek, elegant New York City attorney who ultimately cheats on her husband and destroys her family. Yeah, her mom was definitely more the femme fatale, film noir type.

But Anne didn’t like thinking about her mom any more than her dad probably did. It was because of
her
that they were both living here in this dreadful, sunny place. And even though Anne knew firsthand just how much it sucked to be constantly ignored by her work-obsessed dad, the truth was
she
was dealing with it, so why couldn’t her mom? After all,
they
were the adults!
They
were the ones who took the vows!

They were also the ones who taught her all about “honoring your commitments,” and all kinds of other values that they themselves apparently didn’t practice. It’s like, ever since the divorce it seemed they’d conveniently forgotten all the lessons they’d taught her, and the line between parent and child had become extremely blurred.

Grabbing a banana from a silver wire basket, she headed out the sliding doors and onto the flagstone terrace overlooking the beach. She walked to the railing and leaned against it, peeling the banana skin and squinting into the sun toward the ocean. There were five, maybe six surfers all lined up, floating on their boards, laughing and joking while they waited their turn.

She finished her banana and left the peel lying on the railing, then walked down the stairs and sat on the very last one so she could get a closer look. The beach was a perfect little cove, with light, clean sand dotted with beachgoers’ umbrellas, two wooden lifeguard stands, and what looked to be a much-used volleyball net at the far end. And even though she was determined not to like it here, the fact was she couldn’t believe this beach was actually hers. Well, not hers exactly—there were plenty of other families in the neighborhood. But still, it was hers in the way that it was right at her fingertips, right at the bottom of her stairs.

She watched the surfers catching waves, one after another, some gliding gracefully to shore, some wiping out and pounding sand. But as much as she loved the water and loved to swim, she was way more comfortable in a pool than the ocean. It was the smell of chlorine, not salt water, that got her excited. She really hoped her new school would have a diving team.

Stretching her long legs out in front of her, she wondered if it was weird to be sitting outside in the hot sun in her pajamas. But since her pj’s consisted of a thick white ribbed tank top and royal-blue boxers with white flowers, she decided they didn’t look so out of place. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, enjoying the way the sun warmed her face.

“Hey, did you sleep it off?”

Anne opened her eyes to find that annoying Jake guy standing right in front of her—hair stringy with salt water, lips cracked and chapped, beat-up surfboard held under his arm. Something about his ultra-cool, laid-back way totally got on her nerves. He was sooo California. It’s like he came right out of central casting or something.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I slept well, thank you,” she said, looking right at him and hating the way she just sounded like the most uptight bitch on the planet.

But Jake was unfazed. “Awesome. Well, your dad wanted me to check in on you. Do you need anything?” he asked, flipping his wet hair a couple times and spraying Anne with water.

“Yeah. He just called; he wants you to leave me the keys,” she said, holding his gaze without blinking.

“Oh, yeah? What keys?” he asked, smiling.

“The keys to the Mercedes. I have errands to run.” She crossed her legs and pointed her toes toward the sand.

“Nice try.” He laughed.

Anne shrugged and looked down at her feet. She knew better than to push it; she’d get her hands on those keys eventually.

“Hey, nice ride, dude. I saw you catch some air out there.”

What the heck is he talking about now?
Anne thought, looking up to find this incredibly cute guy standing right in front of her, next to Jake.

“It was okay. It’s a little mushy out there,” he said, looking at Jake and then smiling at her.

Gorgeous turquoise eyes, straight white teeth, tight abs … . Uh, hello? You have a boyfriend,
she thought, scolding herself. Just because she moved three thousand miles away didn’t mean it was over with Justin. Just two days ago they’d promised they’d wait for
each
other, and now some cute local appears and she starts drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

“This is Anne,” Jake said, nodding in her direction.

“Hey, I’m Chris.” The gorgeous guy smiled and extended his hand.

Anne shook his hand briefly, then quickly pulled away.

“Do you surf?” asked Chris, still smiling.

“No,” Anne said, shaking her head and looking away.
God, what’s with him? It’s like someone told him he has nice teeth so now he smiles all the time.

“That’s too bad,” he said.

“Whatever.” She shrugged, knowing she was acting like a defensive brat, but not really willing to stop.

“What school are you going to?” he asked, seemingly unfazed by her bad attitude.

“Laguna Beach.”

“Me too. What year are you?”

“Junior,” she said, still looking at the water and not at him.

“Me too. So I guess I’ll see you Monday then,” he said,
still smiling.

“I guess.” Anne stood and turned to head back up the stairs.
God, is everyone here like this? Tanned and happy and smiley and friendly and gorgeous?
She sincerely hoped not.

And then she heard Jake say, “I’ll stop by later to see if you need anything.”

Anne turned, looking briefly at Chris and then at Jake. “I don’t need a baby-sitter. I don’t need anything,” she said. Then she turned and walked back up the stairs before either one of them could respond.

chapter five

“Lola? Is that all you’re having?”

“
Sí
,
Abuela.
I’m fine.” Lola looked across the table and smiled patiently at her grandmother. This was all part of the normal breakfast routine Lola had come to expect ever since her grandmother had come to live with them. And it was so predictable she was often tempted to walk into the kitchen, slap a tape recorder right next to her cereal bowl, lift her spoon, and push play.