Sun-kissed (Au Pairs, The) Page 4

  Jacqui had heard about the dreaded "five-year plan." A few seniors from last year's class at St. Grace had returned to the school for the same program. It was usually offered to dumb rich kids who had marginal brains but oodles of money. Jacqui couldn't believe she would be one of those people. First off, she wasn't rich. Who was going to pay for another year of her tuition?

  Of course, she could work for the Perrys again. She was sure Anna wasn't looking forward to breaking in a new au pair. But Jacqui had talked about NYU so much--she and Eliza were already planning on meeting up in October for Halloween, and

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  she'd had Mara promise that wherever she ended up, they would spend Thanksgiving together. She even had a roommate lined up--a friend from St. Grace who had been granted early admission to Tisch.

  Traffic finally let up, and the car deposited them in front of the barbed-wire gates in front of the Thirty-fourth Street tarmac. Anna and the rest of the family clambered out of the limousine, leaving Jacqui alone inside.

  With no one to notice, Jacqui brushed away a few tears. Madison Perry, twelve years old and even skinnier than last summer, stuck her head inside the car. "Jacqui? We need to go." She saw the look on Jacqui's face. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

  Jacqui smiled bravely. She wiped her face. "I just realized I'm wearing the wrong outfit for the helicopter. My skirt is going to be in my face from all that wind."

  Madison chuckled hesitantly.

  "You know, like Marilyn Monroe--poof!" Jacqui joked. She slid out of the car. This time Madison laughed in earnest.

  Jacqui forced a laugh too, holding down her skirt as they ran past the scissoring helicopter blades. But her smile faded as soon as Madison turned away.

  The girl from sunny Sao Paulo felt as cloudy as the New York sky.

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  when duty calls . . . blackberries vibrate

  RYAN TOSSED OVER THE CARDBOARD FEDEX BOX, AND MARA tore it open.

  "What the--?" she asked as out tumbled a vibrating BlackBerry.

  She tried to answer it. "Hello? Hello? Hello?" she yelled, twiddling the little knobs on the side.

  "I don't think it's ringing," Ryan said helpfully. "I think it means you have a message."

  "Right," Mara said, scrolling down the page and finding a blinking envelope icon on the screen. She tapped it open.

  "Oh no!"

  "What's wrong?" Ryan asked, climbing back into bed and kicking the FedEx box to the side. He knelt above Mara and nuzzled her neck. "Whatever it is, it can't be that important."

  "Shit! I'm so dead!" she gasped as she scrolled down the screen. She looked at her watch and cursed again. "It's eleven-thirty!"

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "Ryan--can you please--" Mara said, brushing away his hand and turning her head from his kisses. "It's my boss!" she wailed.

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  "She's the only one who knows the boat address. Anyway, there's a big benefit party at Cain tonight for some day-care center, and their society columnist is stuck at some royal wedding in Saint-Tropez." Mara swallowed hard. "She wants me to be there . . . and write a whole column about it!"

  Ryan sighed loudly against Mara's shoulder. "So?" he asked. "What's the big deal? You're supposed to write for them, aren't you?

  Mara blew out her bangs. "Not really. She said there was a chance I could do some writing--but mostly captions. Not a real article. You don't understand--I've never written anything like this before! The biggest event I've ever written about was the musical production of Mary Poppins at our high school! And she wants a column--with quotes from celebrities. How do I even do that?" Mara was terrified at the thought of actually sticking a tape recorder under a famous person's chin. Did she even own a tape recorder?

  "Easy. You just go up and ask a question," Ryan replied. "It's not a big deal. I see reporters do it all the time. Besides, you've been to, like, a million parties in the Hamptons. It's all the same thing every year."

  Mara freed herself from his arms. She wrapped her body in a bedsheet and ran out to the deck to fetch her luggage.

  "You're leaving?" he asked incredulously. "But we just got here!"

  "I have to," she pleaded, returning to the cabin with a suitcase

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  and a garment bag. "The party started at ten! I'm already so late! Lucky was supposed to meet me there an hour ago!" She unzipped the bag and began rooting in it for something to wear.

  "Relax. Nothing ever happens before midnight," he said. He remained silent as she fastened her push-up bra back on and wiggled into a tight-fitting Hollywould dress with a sexy cutout front studded with turquoise beads.

  "Zip me up?"

  Ryan sighed and propped himself up on his knees. Mara turned her back to him and he carefully zipped up the dress.

  She turned around to smooth out the front panels. "Do I look okay?"

  "You looked better before." He smirked and switched on the sixty-inch flat-screen television.

  "Why don't you come with me?" Mara asked, her face lighting up with the idea. She felt so bad to be leaving him in the middle of the night. She sat on the side of the bed to put on a pair of patent leather Pierre Hardy slingbacks, sneaking a glance in his direction. "It'll be fun," she wheedled.

  "Nah," Ryan said, falling against the pillows. "I'm beat--I had to drive down from New Hampshire and then drive out here. You go. Seriously. I don't mind."

  "C'mon, we'll dance a little, drink a few margaritas ..." she said seductively, hooking the straps around her heels.

  "Hypnotic margaritas?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  "Your favorite."

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  "Mmm . . ." He looked like he was about to leave the bed and put on some clothes but at the last second fell back against the pillows again. "I'm so beat, I don't think I can move. I really need to crash tonight."

  "I just want us to be together for our first night," Mara pouted.

  "I know, babe," Ryan said, leaning forward and putting an arm around her neck so that he pulled her back on the bed. He slipped a hand up her skirt and pulled teasingly down on her underwear. "We can be."

  For a moment, she relaxed against his grip, closing her eyes. She could feel him gently kissing the back of her neck, and it would be so easy to just surrender--to give in--to let them be together. But she put a hand on his hand and eased it out from under her skirt. Reluctantly.

  "I should really go. I don't want to, but I have to."

  "All right." Ryan sighed again. "I understand."

  She turned around to look at him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure." He nodded, but his eyes were bereft of their usual spark.

  She still looked uncertain, and part of her just wanted to stay in the bed and be with him forever--but another part was also extremely worried about her first magazine story. A bona fide assignment! She'd just have to overcome her natural shyness and get a few quotes from the celebrities in attendance. Ask them what they were wearing and who they were dating . . . and . . .

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  what? She had to fill a column--eight hundred words! She hoped she could pull it off.

  "I'm sorry," she repeated.

  "Don't be," he said. "We've got the whole summer ahead of us."

  Mara smiled. He was such a great guy. And what was one missed night? He was right--they had three glorious months ahead to do everything together.

  She held up his Ferrari keys. "Okay if I drive it to Cain?"

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  black hawk down!

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, OUR CHOPPER ISN'T HERE?" ANNA

  demanded, jabbing a finger at the chest of the beleaguered air traffic controller. "We're always slotted first for departure."

  "Sorry, ma'am, but you'll have to wait till they leave," the nervous technician explained, thumbing behind him. "Then your pilot can land and you can board."

  Anna looked over to where he had pointed and gasped. "What the hell is that? And what is it doing in our space!"

  In t
he Perrys' usual spot was a magnificent army-issue Black Hawk helicopter revamped with custom detailing and luxury finishes, boasting a veritable Pimp My Ride makeover, from the cushy leather bucket seats to the retractable step platform. It could withstand Iraqi gunfire but was currently used to ferry its owners from Manhattan to the Hamptons in under an hour.

  A boxy, behemoth, bright yellow Hummer barged into the terminal and pulled up next to the Black Hawk with a loud screech. The side door opened and three very cute young indie-rock-looking guys jumped out. One was tall and light-haired with a pleasant face and a quick, friendly grin. He was wearing a purple Atari T-shirt and baggy jeans. The second had neat dark

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  hair and black plastic square-rimmed glasses. A hipster nerd, good-looking in that bookish way. The third was lanky and laid-back, with messy brown hair and a fine set of sideburns. He wore a yellow polyester shirt with a seventies-style spread collar that spanned the length of his shoulders and a pair of loud checkered trousers. They looked like college freshmen lost on their way to orientation.

  Jacqui stood by the chain-link fence next to the Perry kids, holding Zoe's backpack and Cody's hand. She barely noticed the three guys. Cody was screaming that he had to go potty, and Jacqui had to tell him to wait until they got to the Hamptons because there was no bathroom at the helipad. He'd finally been toilet-trained at the grand old age of five, but the poor kid still had the occasional accident. Jacqui prayed he wouldn't have one now--or perhaps she could just let him go by the side of the road. He was just a little boy, after all, and it seemed cruel to let him suffer like that.

  While she debated on how to handle the toilet situation, her mind searched for an easy answer to her problems. She needed to think, and it was hard to concentrate with the sound of the helicopter engines and the Hummer stereo blasting and Anna's incessant complaining.

  The trio from the Hummer sauntered toward the Black Hawk.

  "Sorry we're late," the tall blond one said to the air traffic controller with a wicked grin. "Ben here had a little appointment

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  with Madame Cinq Doigt," he said, holding up five fingers and smirking.

  "Duffy, man, you know she's my best customer," said Ben, the one with the glasses. He shrugged easily and laughed.

  "Check it out!" the handsome one with the sideburns exclaimed. "Fucking A." He whistled, stalking over to the side of the chopper with smooth, catlike grace.

  Painted on the side of the helicopter was a cartoon hand holding up its index and third fingers in a crooked V. Underneath was emblazoned the words The Shocker!

  "Oh, man, Grant." Duffy suddenly raised his arms to the back of his head and looked pained. "Totally forgot I have to pick up my parents from the Vineyard in that thing tomorrow!"

  "Maybe they won't notice," Ben soothed, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the edge of his shirt. "You can always tell them it's a peace sign."

  "Yeah, right," Duffy said glumly as Grant punched him on the shoulder, trying not to laugh too hard.

  The three of them climbed up the steps into the helicopter, completely ignoring the Perry clan.

  Until they spotted Jacqui crouching on her knees, trying to calm Cody.

  "You can just go here, Cody. No one will see," she said as she helped the kid with his pants buttons.

  "Ten o'clock," Duffy said, alerting his friends to the direction where Jacqui was kneeling. "Hottie central."

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  Ben put his glasses back on his nose for a closer look. "Girls sure don't look like that at Harvard," he lamented.

  Grant nodded. "No wonder Latin American women always win Miss Universe."

  His friends looked askance at him. "How do you know that shit?" they ribbed.

  "It's called having sisters," Grant huffed. He straightened his winged collar and slicked back his dark hair.

  Jacqui didn't even notice the three boys staring at her with an intensity bordering on reverence. In the afternoon sun, violet highlights shone in her black hair, and her deep bronze tan glowed. The sweetheart neckline on her dress displayed her ample cleavage, and her slim, toned legs were taut from squatting to Cody's height. "There you go; that's a good boy," she said, relieved that the kid had been able to urinate. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, lifting and stretching her bountiful chest, which elicited a chorus of strangled cries from two of the Black Hawk's occupants.

  "Yo!" Duffy said, opting for a direct approach.

  "Excuse me!" Ben yelled, trying for a polite angle.

  Grant merely slumped back in his seat and regarded Jacqui thoughtfully. Girls usually came up to him, and he didn't see the need to make a fool of himself. Especially as the sounds of his friends' desperate mating calls were obscured by the din of the engine roaring into first gear.

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  "Who do you think she is?" Ben wondered aloud as the helicopter lifted them high up in the air and out of earshot.

  "A goddess," Duffy opined.

  "Relax, guys, we're going to the Hamptons. And believe me, they all look like that there," Grant assured them. But his two friends looked at him doubtfully. As far as they could see, there was only one Jacqui.

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  the first rule of party reporting: fabricate fun!

  IN THE HAMPTONS, EVEN A DAY-CARE-CENTER FUND-RAISER

  merited boldface names and a swishy crowd. The first person Mara saw on entering Cain was none other than Mitzi Goober-- the toxic publicist from last summer who had styled herself Mara's best friend and plied her with gifts, only to turn on her after a misunderstanding over a pair of misplaced quarter-million-dollar earrings that were supposed to be worn by J.Lo at the MTV Awards. But what was a lost PR opportunity among friends? To Mara's surprise, Mitzi greeted her with a shrill hello and immediately drew her in for a fierce embrace. It was like hugging a skeleton, Mara thought.

  Mitzi was tanner and blonder than ever. But while her arms were toned and muscular, she had a basketball-sized stomach owing to the fact that she was six months pregnant. She sported a tight tank top that blared Living the American Dream over a proud baby bump--the ne plus ultra of accessories that summer. "Yummy Mommies" were all the rage--fertility was very fashionable at the moment. Of course, once the children were born, they were quickly ushered offstage by a crew of nannies. The glamorous

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  crowd cooed over a chic pregnancy but beat a hasty retreat when faced with the reality of actually raising a child.

  "Dollink!" Mitzi cooed as she sipped on a thin red straw poking out of a blue-and-silver Red Bull can. Caffeine intake concerns? Not this mother-to-be.

  "Hi, Mitzi," Mara said, relieved to see someone she recognized. Where was Lucky? She hoped she would run into him soon so she could find out what exactly she was supposed to do at the party.

  "How are you? What's new?" Mitzi jabbered in her singsong voice. "I heard you're on staff at Hamptons this summer--that's beyond! We need to get you to meet our clients--we have some awesome things coming up this season. We're doing Sydney's opening--I see six-page spread!"

  "Um ..." Mara didn't know what to say. The idea that she would be making decisions on anything as important as a multi-page feature was absurd. She was a lowly intern.

  "We'll talk, okay? I'll send you samples. Bye-yee!" Mitzi gushed, assaulting Mara with a brush of her lips on each cheek.

  The minute Mitzi released her, several people whom Mara had met during the last two summers made their way to her side. They all knew she was working for Hamptons magazine. The same crowd who had shunned her at the end of last summer were now angling to get back in her good graces, reminding her of how they knew each other. Part of Mara was disgusted by their hypocrisy, but another part admired their tenacity. Some would

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  call it fair-weather friendship, but such was life in the Hamptons. In their own way, they were paying Mara a compliment. It was obvious from all the attention they were lavishing on her that they considered Mara a real player. Even Alan Whitman and K
artik, the co-owners of Seventh Circle, last year's hot spot, came over to pay their respects.

  Eliza's former bosses told Mara they were just back from Las Vegas, where they had opened Seventh Circle in the Desert, with an opening party that had included topless dancers re-creating the seminal dance scene from Showgirls.

  "But I'm telling you." Alan nodded. "You've got to check out our new place, Volcano. We've got real lava coming out of the fountain. It's intense."

  "Come over for dinner, on us," Kartik added, giving Mara a bear hug. "Mitzi'll call you. Hook us up!"

  Mara smiled in a noncommittal fashion. "Hook us up!" was the rousing chorus of the evening, with everyone from desperate socialites and their scheming publicists to coat-check girls and valet attendants pitching Mara items for the magazine.

  She spotted Anna Perry in the corner of the club, looking woefully overdressed and awkwardly out of place in a floor-length ball gown. While the benefit dinner had been attended by the A-list social crowd, the dessert-and-dancing after-hours catered to the younger set. Usually Anna left early with the other society wives, but there she was, perched on a tufted ottoman, balancing a drink on her knee.

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  Mara noticed that she was accompanied by one of the more famous Hamptons "walkers"--gay men who acted as escorts to married women who couldn't persuade their husbands to join them in the social whirl. Where was Kevin? She stopped by to say hello, and Anna greeted her warmly. "Did you see all the pictures of the kids? Aren't they so cute?" her former employer asked wistfully. "Cody's gotten so big! I miss having a baby around the house."

  "There you are!"

  For the first time at the party, Mara felt genuine happiness at spotting someone. Lucky Yap, the tart-tongued party photographer, was making his way toward her.