Art Geeks and Prom Queens (22 page)

I take Kristi’s advice because even though she’s kind of a bitch these days, the truth is she really does know her way around. So when I’ve changed into some cuffed jeans, a sage-green, lace-edged silky camisole, and brown stiletto boots, she says, “Here, take this.” She removes the long hand knit scarf from her neck and wraps it around mine.

“Are you sure?” I ask. I mean, lately I can never tell if she’s trying to save me or sabotage me.

“Positive.” She smiles, adjusting her white sequined tank top and denim miniskirt. “It looks better on you anyway.”

By the time we get to Tyler’s I see everything Kristi said is true. There are so many people I have no idea which of them could possibly be related to Tyler, and from the sounds of the all the laughing and whooping, there’s definitely been some major alcohol consumption.

“What’d I tell ya?” Kristi links her arm through mine and laughs. “Just a bunch of rich old drunks with shiny new spouses half their age. I bet Tyler and all the hotties are outside on the yacht. Let’s grab some champagne and
go
find them,” she says, picking up a flute and dragging me out the door and onto the dock while Kayla and Jen Jen trail behind.

We spot Tyler on deck talking to some people and Kristi goes, “Parent alert.”

“That’s his mom?” I whisper, gaping at the platinum blonde in the low-cut jeans, silver stiletto sandals, and tight, black V-necked sweater.

“No, they’re not married yet. She’s still auditioning.” Kristi laughs.

“You know her?” I ask, wondering why she failed to mention that before.

“Yes and no. I mean, I didn’t know she was with Tyler’s dad, but she’s a friend of my stepmom and they go on these power walks every morning. She’s learning the tricks of the step-monster trade,” she says. “Anyway, you go play nice. We’ll catch up later.”

I watch them take off in the opposite direction, then Tyler waves me over and goes, “Rio, come meet my dad and his fiancee, Sienna.”

I shake hands with his dad. Chip, who looks like Tyler will look in thirty years if he gains thirty pounds and starts wearing lots of gold jewelry and Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirts, and I give a little wave to Sienna because that’s how she greets me. That is, after she looks me up and down a few times. But then again, Sienna doesn’t look much older than me, so I shouldn’t expect her interest to be very maternal.

“So what colleges have you applied to?” Chip asks, taking a sip of red wine and smiling.

“Oh, I haven’t yet. I’m still only a junior,” I say, smiling nervously and feeling kind of weird when I sip my champagne right in front of him.

“Gotta keep an eye on the future. Tyler here’s been working toward USC since day one.” He balls his hand into a fist and digs his knuckles hard into his son’s shoulder. “I’m an alumnus and I’m telling you it’s the best school out there. You can do anything you want with a degree from USC.”

I glance at Sienna who’s bored as hell and bouncing an empty champagne flute against her man-made breasts, then I look at Chip and go, “Oh, well my dad sort of has his heart set on Columbia. ‘Cause that’s where he went.”

Chip stops smiling and looks at me like I’ve said something horrible. And I just stand there like a total reject, knowing it took less than five minutes for me to blow it.

“Well, I better go make sure my house is still in one piece. You kids
have fun.” He slugs Tyler in the arm and smiles at me. But only with his lips, it never quite makes it to his eyes.

When they’re gone I turn to Tyler and say, “Oh, god, your dad hates me.”

“Who cares.” He shrugs. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

After going in and out of several amazingly, overdecorated rooms, we end up in this massive stateroom that’s bigger than most New York City apartments. “Jeez,” I say, looking around at the cream and gold walls and the painting of frolicking cherubs hanging opposite the bed. “This is really . . . something.”

“Isn’t it?” Tyler says, settling onto the elaborate gold-embroidered bedspread and holding out his hand for me to join him.

“What if someone comes?” I ask, standing in front of him, hesitating.

“Don’t worry, the door’s locked,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down next to him.

We’re lying on the bed totally making out, and even though I love being with Tyler, I can’t really relax because I keep thinking about how Chip is gonna hate me even more when he comes barging in and finds me in bed with his son. I mean, even though Tyler swears he locked the door, it’s still his dad’s boat so I’m sure he has a key.

But Tyler doesn’t seem to care about any of that since he’s already unwrapped Kristi’s scarf from my neck and thrown it to the ground. And now his fingers are heading straight for my zipper.

I open one eye and peer at the door, staring at the big gold handle, hoping it really is locked. Then I do what I always do when Tyler tries to get in my pants. I push his hand away, and get in his.

Usually when it’s over, he kisses the top of my head, hugs me tight, and tells me I’m beautiful. But this time he just pulls me up so we are face-to-face and says, “Rio, when do you think you’ll be ready for
more?
”

Oh, great. I close my eyes and snuggle into his shoulder so I won’t have to make eye contact. Because even though I’m totally into him,
the fact is I’m not in love with him. And it may sound lame, but I really wanted to be in love my first time.

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh, and says, “This really isn’t working for me anymore. It’s getting kind of old.”

But I just stay there, hiding in his shoulder, breathing in his musky scent, and not saying anything.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Either we’re taking the next step, or I’m gonna have to bail.”

Okay, I’m pretty sure that was blackmail. And I know I shouldn’t fall for it. But there’s no way I’m gonna risk getting dumped by Tyler, because being his girlfriend is a really big deal. So I take a deep breath and say, “My parents are going out of town next weekend.”

Then he hugs me and kisses the top of my head and says, “Perfect.”

After we leave the stateroom Tyler goes to get us more drinks and I head into the living room or salon (or whatever they call it in yacht-speak), where Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen are sitting on this cream-colored couch talking with some guys from school. Kayla’s sipping a beer and focusing all of her attention on Kevin, who she’s liked for awhile now, and Jen Jen, as usual, is flirting with everyone just to increase her chances. But Kristi’s just sort of sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone and looking completely bored. And it seems really strange how just a couple months ago she was the center of everyone’s attention, but now she can’t even get a date.

It’s like, from the outside nothing’s changed, because she’s still tiny and beautiful and totally perfect. But inside she’s grown harder, nastier, and bitchier.

And I wonder if it’s because of me.

I mean, before I showed up she was the undisputed queen of the junior class. But now it’s pretty obvious I’m wearing the crown.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks, crossing her tan bare legs and taking a sip of champagne.

“Tyler gave me a tour of the yacht.” I sit on the chair across from her.

“Did you christen the stateroom?” She laughs.

“How’d you know about the stateroom?”

“It’s not my first yacht, Brazil.” She rolls her eyes. “So did you?”

“Not exactly. I kept imagining his dad barging in on us. It was kind of a mood-wrecker,” I say, picking at a loose thread on the arm of my chair and avoiding her eyes.

“Tyler must be getting really tired of that,” she says, raising her perfectly arched brows.

“We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.” I give her a hard look.

“If you say so.” She taps the rim of her glass and stares at me. “So how’d it go with his dad?”

“Okay.” I shrug. I mean, no way am I telling her
how
I messed that up.

“You know his mom’s like a local celebrity. She was a USC song leader, and a backup dancer in some music video in the eighties. Did you meet her?”

“Is she here? I thought they were divorced?” I say.

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s inside the house sitting on her little stud muffin’s lap. And they’re definitely divorced but they try to get along for the sake of the children.’ ” She mimics that last part and rolls her eyes.

“What’s this stud muffin story?” I ask, when what I really want to know is how she knows more about Tyler’s family than I do.

“She’s dating this guy that waits tables at The Bungalow. I totally hooked up with him last summer at this beach bonfire. We smoked a joint and made out for a while. He’s pretty cute.” She laughs.

“I thought pot was for losers?” I say, remembering how it’s on our forbidden list, and wondering if that list is just for us, while she does whatever the hell she wants.

“It was that kind of night.” She shrugs, and glances around the room.

“Are you sure it’s the same guy?” I watch her finish her champagne and nod.

“Definitely.” She smiles.

“Poor Tyler,” I say, thinking how embarrassed he must feel.

“Welcome to Newport.” She laughs.

Tyler walks up with two glasses of champagne and when he hands me one and keeps the other, Kristi goes, “Hey, thanks. That’s real chivalrous of you.”

“Oh, sorry,” he says. “Here, take it. I haven’t touched it.”

She reaches for the glass then looks at me and goes, “So where’s my scarf?”

“What?” I ask, touching my bare neck.
Oh, no, I lost her scarf. I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Um, I don’t know. It must be around here somewhere.” I look around the room frantically, even though I’m sure it’s not here.

“It’s probably in the stateroom,” Tyler says, rubbing his fingers along my shoulder. “Down that hall, last door on the left,” he tells Kristi.

“Can you show me?” she says, standing and not bothering to fix her miniskirt, which is all creased and folded up way extra-high. “I’ll follow you.” She smiles.

Tyler looks at me and shrugs, then he leads her down the hall.

And as I watch them walk away I get this terrible feeling in my gut. Because something in that smile makes me wonder if I can trust her alone with my boyfriend. But then I feel guilty for thinking like that, because I know I can trust Tyler. Especially now that I’ve given him something to look forward to.

I’m really excited because I’m going to lunch with my dad, and it’s gonna be just the two of us, since my mom’s not invited. In fact she doesn’t even know about it, ‘cause my dad’s been so busy that I was actually forced to call his secretary to set it up.

I was talking to him on the phone when I said, “Dad, when you get back on Tuesday, do you think you could drop by my school and take me to lunch?”

And he said, “That would be great! Call my secretary and see if I’m free.”

So I did. And she informed me that he wasn’t free on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or even Thursday. So we made it for today, Friday. Which is good, since Kristi’s having one of her infamous parties tomorrow night, and I promised Tyler he could spend the night at my house since my parents will be up in L.A.

But now I’m getting kind of nervous about it, because when I originally told him that it felt like the right thing to say to keep him happy and get me through an awkward moment. And after a week of watching Kristi openly flirt with him, hang all over him, and even try to get rides from him (under the guise that her car’s in the shop even though there are four more in her driveway), I’m more determined than ever to go through with it. I mean, I really think it’s the final act that will totally seal our relationship. And I’m sure that the
second it’s over I’ll be totally in love with him, and I won’t have anything to regret.

But even though I’m getting used to the idea of moving forward, growing up, and finally losing my virginity, there’s still this part of me that wants to cling to the past and just hang with my dad, like I used to.

So the second the bell rings I run out of class and head for the parking lot. I’m wearing these gray wool pants, suede flats, and a V-necked argyle sweater with a white blouse underneath. It’s way more conservative than how I usually dress, but I know my dad likes this outfit and I want everything to go perfect.

He pulls up in my mom’s Jag, since she needed the Range Rover for yet another home-decorating expedition, and I climb in beside him and kiss him on the cheek.

“Hey, kiddo, I like your outfit,” he says, smiling and pulling away from campus.

“That’s why I wore it. Where we going?” I ask.

“I’ve made reservations at The Ritz. It’s over by Fashion Island.”

“Sounds good,” I say, crossing my fingers and hoping that Jas’s dad doesn’t own that one, too.

We pull into the parking lot and there are so many Bentleys, Ferraris, and Mercedes that it looks more like a luxury import dealership than a restaurant. My dad tosses the keys to the uniformed valet guy, and when we go inside it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The place is all formal-looking with dark wood walls and a deep burgundy paisley-print carpet. And on the way to our table we pass several booths filled with wealthy businessmen eating and deal-making, while a handful of trophy wife hopefuls giggle a little too loudly at the bar.