The au pairs skinny-dipping (20 page)

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"Hi, Ryan," she said, blowing smoke in his face.

"I never would have believed it," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"You've become one of. . .
them?
he said, motioning to the crowd. "My sisters are bad enough, but you ... I always thought you were different."

"What do you mean by
that?"
Mara asked, but Ryan had already turned and was walking away.

Mara looked around, hoping someone else had heard their conversation and could confirm how totally out of line Ryan was, but there was no one near her, save for a waiter who didn't look exactly pleased to be there. She went back to sit next to Garrett and watched Ryan say hi to Eliza. Megan caught up with her, still holding a plateful of appetizers.

"Mar, I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to go home early," Megan said, looking deflated. "And I think I'll just take the earliest bus back to Sturbridge tomorrow."

Mara was still distracted by Ryan's words "You're just like them."
Like who?
Megan was talking, but Mara wasn't listening. "Um, okay, sure," she nodded, distracted.

"Mara, didn't you hear me? I'm going," Megan said.

But Mara only reached into her purse and handed Megan the keys. "The top lock sticks a bit--you have to turn it twice," she said.

Megan nodded, swallowing. "Well. Okay. I guess I'll see you when you get home at the end of the summer then," she said.

"Yeah," Mara replied, standing up to give her sister an awkward

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hug good-bye.
Just like them?
Who was
them--
Sugar and Poppy? What was so wrong about that? They were his sisters, after all. Mara looked at them and then back at herself. Sure, they were all wearing metallic sandals and asymmetrical minidresses, but that didn't mean they were the same.
Looks can be deceiving,
Mara said to herself. Ryan should have known that better than anyone.

"Is she gone?" Garrett asked, sidling up to Mara.

"Yeah," Mara said. "She was really tired."

"Good," Garrett said, rubbing her back.

Mara flicked the ashes off her cigarette into an empty wineglass since the ashtray was so far away. Across the room, she spotted Eliza and Ryan huddled in a corner with Ryan's friends. Eliza was sitting right next to Ryan, so that their thighs were pressed tightly against each other's, and Eliza was brushing his bangs out of his face--anyone who saw them would think they were a couple.

See, looks can be deceiving,
she repeated to herself again.

Then again, sometimes things are just the way they appear.

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i'll break your stupid

french face

ELIZA BUMPED INTO KIT, WHO WAS NURSING A DOUBLE

scotch, when she arrived at Dragonbar. "Hey, dude, what's wrong?" she asked.

Kit motioned to where Jacqui was huddled in a corner with a crew of glamazons.

Everyone else at the party was dressed like gilded lilies, but the true beauties--Jacqui included--were lounging in sweats and sneakers. Jacqui was sitting squarely on Philippe's lap.

"C'mon, let me buy you another drink," Eliza said. "Maker's Mark, right?"

Kit nodded, shaking the ice cubes in his now empty glass.

Philippe walked up next to them. He nodded to Eliza.
'"Allo.
I think we have met before, yes?" he asked flirtatiously.

"Yes," Eliza nodded, smiling.

Philippe was still wearing makeup, which looked totally goofy up close. He nodded to the bartender and ordered a cosmopolitan.

"Philippe, this is my friend Kit. Kit, this is Philippe. He's one

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of the au pairs this summer at the Perrys'," Eliza explained.

"Hey," Kit said, watching as Philippe took a big slurp of his girly cocktail. The model in eyeliner was a pink-drink man. "You with that girl?" Kit asked, motioning to Jacqui.

Philippe cocked an eyebrow. "What if I am?" he asked.

"Well, she's a friend of mine," Kit said, trying not to let his voice betray more anger than he was feeling.

"Oh yes?" Philippe raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. And if you break her heart, I'll break your stupid French face," Kit snarled, poking a finger at Philippe's chest and sloshing the pink drink down his silly MODELS SUCK T-shirt.

"Merde,"
Philippe cursed, turning away without a response, wiping at the pink stain on his T-shirt as he walked away.

"Don't worry about it, baby," Jacqui said, when he sat back down. "We'll get you out of that T-shirt soon enough."

213

eliza does the relationship math

IT WASN'T THAT HE DIDN'T INTRODUCE HER TO HIS

best friend from prep school--Matt Hooper, whom he'd mentioned a couple of times. He certainly did. He'd said, "Hey, Matt, this is Eliza." And Eliza had smiled up at Matt, and Matt had said, "Yo," and taken a seat. That was it. He didn't give her the special

once-over or the subtle nod that said,
So, you're my buddy's girl.
Eliza was just Eliza. Just some chick sitting next to Ryan at a club.

They'd been hooking up for more than a month now, and while she didn't expect Ryan to introduce her as his girlfriend ... she wasn't
not
his girlfriend either. When they'd first gotten together, she'd still thought of Ryan as Mara's boyfriend. But since Mara was so obviously Garrett's new girlfriend, that made Ryan ...
her
boyfriend? Eliza mentally calculated what Ryan had done for her--picked her up from the club so she wouldn't have to drive, called her every evening, never made plans to see her on the weekend because it was already assumed that he would, of

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course, see her on the weekend. He'd even given her that necklace before they left Palm Beach. Maybe Eliza was crazy, but it sure sounded like girlfriend status to her.

And if she was his girlfriend, why didn't he say so? Why didn't he tell his friends about her? Why didn't any of them realize that she wasn't merely Ryan's date for the evening, or Ryan's friend, but the girl he went home with every night? Suddenly, Eliza stopped feeling confused, and started feeling incredibly ...
dissed.

"Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?" Eliza asked.

"Sure, babe," Ryan nodded, smiling.

"I mean, just the two of us?" she clarified.

Eliza led him to a corner of the club. "What exactly do you think we're doing?"

"Having a drink?" Ryan shrugged, still smiling warmly at her.

"No, I mean . . . the two of us . . . you know."

"Oh." Ryan's face went blank for a second; then he realized that Eliza was looking at him intently. "Well, the way I see it"-- Ryan waggled his eyebrows, obviously trying to make light of the situation--"we're like friends ..."

Uh-huh.

"... with benefits. You know . . ." He shrugged his shoulders and tried a winning smile.

"Benefits? What kind of benefits?" Eliza demanded. She knew the term, but she was angry enough to demand that he give her his explanation of it.

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"You know . . . we're friends who like . . . hook up and stuff." Ryan grinned. "C'mon, let me get you another drink."

Where the hell did Ryan Perry get off being so casual about them? "So that's all I am? A hookup? A booty call?" Eliza spat.

"E, don't be that way," Ryan said, putting his arms around her to calm her down. "C'mon, it's not what you think. Don't be mad. You knew what we were doing, right?"

"Fuck you, Ryan!" Eliza blinked back tears. She wasn't cheap, but that's exactly how she felt like right now.

"Eliza . . . wait. . . Eliza!" Ryan stammered. "C'mon ..."

Several heads turned in their direction, watching the lovers' spat that was obvious to all. If any of Ryan's friends
had
thought Eliza and Ryan were just friends, then the sight of her throwing her drink in his face made it quite clear that they were anything but.

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love is blind, but maybe

mara had sunglasses on

"WHAT WAS
THAT
ALL ABOUT?" MARA ASKED, GESTURING to Ryan, who was following Eliza out of the club. She had watched the whole thing--and although she couldn't hear anything they'd said, it was pretty clear that Eliza and Ryan had been fighting.

Fighting the way only two people who had gotten naked and trembly together could fight.

Sugar sniggered into her drink. "Don't you know?" She licked the side of her martini glass and smiled at Mara innocently.

Poppy elbowed her sister.

"Eliza and Ryan hooked up in Palm Beach. I've heard they've been hooking up all summer. He's at her house, like, all the time," Sugar told Mara, in a matter-of-fact voice.

Eliza . . . and Ryan? Together? Her best friend! And her boyfriend! Okay, her ex-boyfriend! And fine, her ex-best friend! But . . . Ryan! And Eliza! In Palm Beach! Together! And all summer, too! How could she have not known?

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How could Eliza not understand the first commandment of friendship:
Thou shalt not hook up with your friend's crush, boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend.
Or the second commandment:
Thou shalt not lie to your best friend.
But Eliza had spent all of last summer skulking around the Hamptons, lying to all her old friends about moving to Buffalo and being an au pair. Maybe she'd had been wrong about Eliza all along.

"Sweetie--we thought you knew," Sugar said, with a light hand on Mara's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Poppy asked, looking concerned. She handed Mara a cocktail napkin. "You're not crying, are you?"

Mara shook her head and forced herself to smile. "I'm all right, really."

But really, she wasn't.

218

jacqui is the victim of nokia interruptus

A MOTEL KEY.

That was what Jacqui slipped into Philippe's jeans pocket at Dragonbar when he wasn't looking. "I got us a room," she explained when he found it. "It's in Montauk, not far from the beach."

Screw Anna and her ultimatums. Philippe was worth the risk.

The motel was an old ramshackle fifties-style beach resort, with clean rooms and wall-to-wall carpeting. It wasn't the Bentley, but it wasn't something out of
Psycho,
either. Jacqui disappeared into the bathroom. They were finally together--alone, in private, and away from the eyes of Anna Perry. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, still not used to seeing her hair so short, and slipped into the Agent Provocateur ensemble she'd bought especially for this occasion.

Philippe was lying in bed, under the covers, already naked when she came out of the bathroom. He grinned when he saw her. "Ah, the Agent Provocateur," he said knowingly.

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Hmm.
Not quite the reaction Jacqui had expected. She believed a real compliment was, "You look beautiful in that dress," not, "Your dress is Chanel," but maybe Philippe was just super fashion-sawy because he was French.

She pulled the blankets aside and slid in beside him.

"Ooof! Your feet are freezing," Philippe complained when she snuggled next to his body.

"Sorry!" she said, rubbing her ankles on the sheets. "The tiles were cold in there."

Philippe calmed down and began to kiss her. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands move across her body, pulling at the delicate bows holding her lingerie together. Philippe suddenly propped himself up on his elbow and looked around the room.

"What?" Jacqui asked.

"My phone," he said, jumping out of bed and running to the corner, where his backpack was buzzing. He kneeled down and unzipped the front pocket, where his phone was lit up and vibrating.

Jacqui fell back into the bed, sighing loudly, but Philippe was already talking into his Nokia. "No, no, I'm not doing anything," he was saying. He hung up and looked at Jacqui. "I'm sorry. . . . I have an, uh, emergency," he said.

Jacqui watched, speechless, as Philippe put his clothes back on. When he ran to the bathroom to wash his face, she lunged for his backpack. Who the hell could be so important that

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he'd leave her--
naked
--in the middle of the night? She scrolled feverishly down the menu. The last received call:
Perry House.

Anna.

Of course.

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that's why they call it the walk of shame