Skinny Dipping Page 11

  "Sure." Ryan shrugged. He didn't seem to want to be alone just yet either.

  Ryan sat back on the couch, and Eliza tiptoed out of the kitchen holding a bowl of micro waved popcorn and two bottles of Diet Coke. She popped the DVD in. It was so natural, hanging out with Ryan. He'd been in the background all her life. She remembered how when they were little, their families used to vacation together in the Bahamas at Christmas. They'd learned to ski together on the slopes of Aspen. Eliza remembered Ryan's mom-- his real mom, Brigitte--saying the two of them would make a good couple when they grew up. Back then, Sugar and Poppy were still called Susan and Priscilla, and they'd followed Eliza around like little puppies, competing with each other to be the one to brush her hair or be her ski-lift partner. The twins sure had changed, but Ryan was still die same--still here, still right next to her.

  Robert De Niro was beating up some guys on the screen, and Eliza leaned back on the couch, nestling her head on Ryan's shoulder. But when Ryan leaned down to say something, their lips met instead. She didn't mean for it to happen, but instead of pulling away, Eliza opened her mouth to his. He pulled up her sweatshirt and began to unbutton her blouse, unhooking her bra, kissing every inch of her.

  She was thinking it was wrong--that she should stop him-- but it felt so . . . right. It was just like in Palm Beach, exactly like

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  in Palm Beach--two broken hearts finding comfort in each other. That was all it was really, just hooking up. It didn't mean anything, she told herself.

  And then she wasn't thinking of anything at all, because Ryan was kissing her again, and whatever worries she had, whatever doubts about where this was headed (nowhere, she thought), and what it would mean (nothing, she hoped) were made completely irrelevant by the sweet insistence of his lips on hers.

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  the doctor is definitely out

  "WHERE'S MARA?" ZOE ASKED WHEN JACQUI ARRIVED to get the kids ready the next morning.

  "She's sick," Jacqui said grimly, helping the little girl tie her bathrobe. "It's only me, okay?" Mara had certainly looked green around the gills that morning. Mara had overslept again, and when Jacqui tried to wake her, she'd mumbled something about a killer hangover, which was turning into a frequent excuse. Philippe was gone on another errand for Anna, and Mara and Jacqui had agreed that if Jacqui dealt with the kids yesterday, Mara would take the kids today so Jacqui could study for her SATs. But of course, Mara had flaked again.

  "Where's Philippe? Where's Philippe?" William asked, alternately bouncing on his sneakers and gliding on the built-in wheels. Jacqui cursed whoever had invented the damn things-- they made William twice as fast and harder to catch.

  "I'm not sure," Jacqui said. "I think your mom needed him to do something for her in the city again." Laurie had told her that

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  some French papers Anna wanted translated needed a few more corrections. It sounded incredibly fishy. Since agreeing to Anna's ultimatum, she had kept away from Philippe as directed, which was a little hard to do since every time Philippe caught her alone in the house, he wanted to know when he could see her again. He'd even accused her of playing hard-to-get, which Jacqui found ironic.

  " I told you, she's not my mom!" William shouted in a deafening tone.

  "Okay! Okay! Calm down, please!" Jacqui said. "Merda!" she cursed when she realized she'd forgotten to put swimming diapers on Cody. The regular ones weren't waterproof.

  "Madison, are you coming with us today?" Jacqui asked. For the past month Madison had been standoffish with the au pairs, since they were technically not responsible for her anymore.

  "I'm meeting a friend there," Madison nodded. She was perfectly turned out in a pink bathing suit and a velour cover-up and was primping with a mascara wand in the mirror.

  "That's a lot of makeup for the beach, don't you think?" Jacqui asked, amused.

  "That bikini's a little revealing, don't you think?" Madison snapped back, applying a deep berry lip gloss.

  Jacqui felt a little hurt. She'd bonded with Madison last summer, and this year the child was a little beeyatch. And her stepmother didn't seem to care that the eleven-year-old walked around looking like a little tramp.

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  "It just gets a little hot on the beach, and it's bad for your skin," Jacqui said gently.

  "I don't care," Madison declared.

  Jacqui folded up Cody's stroller. He was getting way too big for it; his legs almost came up to his chin when he sat in it. The "baby" was four years old and he still preferred to ride rather than walk. Just yesterday, when she'd wheeled him out on Main Street, several women had asked her if her boy was "special," i.e., crippled. "Nope, just lazy!" Jacqui had said cheerfully.

  For all of Anna's hypervigilance about the kids' diets, academic goals, and spirituality, Jacqui had never seen kids who were so lacking in the basics.

  As she ushered them to the garage, they bumped into Dr. Abraham, walking out of a guest suite and munching on a banana. "We're off to the beach today? Hold on!" he said, and before Jacqui could disagree, the doctor ran out of his room carrying his tote bag.

  "Looks like I have you all to myself," Dr. Abraham joked, seeing that Mara and Philippe were nowhere in sight.

  "If you count the kids as nobody," Jacqui retorted.

  The only car left in the lot was the tiny little Toyota Prius, and between Cody's car seat and the doctor's girth, it was a bit of a tight squeeze. Jacqui drove them to nearby Georgica, where the kids dispersed--Madison to look for her friends, William to run up and down the boardwalk, and Zoe to collect seashells.

  "Don't go far! Only where I can see you!" Jacqui called out as

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  she planted her beach umbrella and spread out her towel. She tied her hair back with the Pucci scarf Mara had told her she could borrow.

  She stepped out of her cotton sundress and ignored the doctor's stares. She hoped tliat he would get the message and leave her alone.

  The SAT tutorial was a little hard to follow--they'd gone over the verbal part of the exam at the class she'd missed to play pool with Philippe the other week. Jacqui just didn't get the word problems. Rock is to mountain as feather is to A) wing, B) chickens, C) pillow, or D) all of the above. In Portuguese, rock also meant "foundation" as well as "soil." In that case, the answer could be A, since wings were made out of feathers--but then, feathers were also the foundation of most pillows, which pointed to C. It was all very confusing.

  "Man, that is a boring book!" a voice said from above her.

  Jacqui looked up from under her floppy Panama hat and grinned. "Hey, Kit, how are you?"

  "I'm good. A little bummed you didn't call the minute you got into town, but I lived," Kit Ashleigh joked, taking a seat next to her. He had a spiky blond crew cut, and he was so pale his nose was already peeling from the sun. He was one of Eliza's best friends, and Jacqui had gotten to know him better in Palm Beach. She knew Kit sort of had a crush on her, but she played it down. She liked Kit--but not in that way. Besides, there was her No More Boys rule, and so long as she was being forced to make it apply to Philippe, it had to apply to Kit as well.

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  "I'm sorry. It's been so busy, with the kids. ... I haven't had a day off," Jacqui apologized.

  "Who's the dork?" Kit asked, referring to the doctor, who was snoring underneath a paperback copy of Dr. Phil's Family First.

  "A falsificacao . . . like a ... duck doctor?" Jacqui had a hard time with American slang.

  "Quack?" Kit asked helpfully.

  Jacqui nodded excitedly. "Exactly!" Leaning down, she whispered, "I hate him."

  Kit nodded. "Let's ditch him," he said conspiratorially.

  "What do you have in mind?" Jacqui asked, one finely plucked eyebrow raised.

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  is mara the new tara?

  MARA WOKE UP WITH NO MEMORY OF WHAT HAD

  happened the night before. Her head was pounding, and she was so thirsty she walked to the bathroom and drank wa
ter straight from the faucet, cupping it with her hands. Lately, Mara was always waking up this way. It was almost noon, and as usual, Jacqui and the kids were already gone. She took a long shower, dried her hair, put on her most comfortable outfit--a terry zip-up hoodie swim cover-up--and hid her eye bags under a pair of sleek Oliver Peoples aviator sunglasses, all courtesy of the Mitzi gravy train.

  She walked toward the main house, noticing there was a new addition to the Reynolds Castle that morning: a pair of giant armored knight statues that stood guard at the gates. She walked to the kitchen and made herself a smoothie and was rinsing out the blender when the newspaper caught her eye. She leafed through the Post, going straight to her favorite gossip column, Page Six. That's when she saw it.

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  "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

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  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

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  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.

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  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 Zoe 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

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  and unhitching the ropes. "C'mon, give me a hand with this. You too, Madison, Zoe---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

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  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.

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  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.

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  "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.

  "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.