I was so involved in my newly busy summer, in fact, that I didn’t even remember to call my dad to check in. He had to call me.
We were at the beach when my cell lit up with an incoming call from Dad.
“Hey, Dad!” I chirped with an amount of excitement that astonished even me. I’m not exactly what you’d call perky, but suddenly I sounded like a cheerleader hopped up on cotton candy and Pixy Stix.
“Hey there, kiddo,” he said. With his Chicago accent, it sounded more like “Ey dere, kiddo.”
“Whatcha up to?” he asked.
I looked around. Jeff lay on his back on our huge beach towel, napping. I traced the lines of his body with my eyes, admiring the muscles I was growing to know so well. He had that thing some super-buff guys get (I don’t know what it’s called, I haven’t taken anatomy yet) when a couple of their lower abdominal muscles make this sort of V shape that points directly to—
Well.
Anyway.
That’s not the sort of thing you tell your dad.
“I’m not up to much,” I said, turning my attention to my toes, which had been painted pale pink a few days before during a spontaneous mother-daughter pedicure downtown. I’d been wandering around killing time, waiting to meet Jeff after his golf game, and I ran into my own mom outside a salon. She suggested we get our toes done, so we did. It was kind of nice and she only annoyed me, like, twice in thirty minutes. That’s got to be a record for her.
“No time to call your dad, though,” Dad said a little gruffly. “I’m used to hearing from you at least once a week when you’re over there.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I guess I have been kinda busy. Hanging out with friends and stuff.”
“Friends?” He sounded surprised. “Since when do you have friends at the beach?”
“Since, I don’t know. This year. It’s not as lonely.”
“You still reading that SAT book?”
“When I have time,” I lied. The truth was that other than our late-night study session that so surprised my mother, I’d largely been ignoring my SAT book. It was just that there were always other things to do, like hang out with the girls or go night-swimming at the beach with Jeff or go biking around the neighborhood with Jeff or go hiking on some of the old horse trails with Jeff. There was also frequently dinner at Jeff’s house with his post-divorce-depressed mom, who always seemed to perk up when I was around. And at night—especially at night—there were other things to do with Jeff.
I talked to my dad for a few more minutes about the summer basketball camp he was running, the classes I had signed up for the first semester of senior year, what was happening in the neighborhood back home—stuff like that. Then he asked the question he always asks on these phone calls, maybe to be polite, or maybe because he actually still cares about her in some way.
“How’s your mother?” he asked, clearing his throat.
Usually, I respond with “She sucks” or something similarly hostile, and then he gives me a mini-talk about how I’ve got to be nice, or at least patient, and that the summer will be over soon and I won’t have to see her again until Thanksgiving. But this summer was kind of different, and so was my answer.
“She’s okay,” I said. “She’s all into her company going public, so she’s in the city a lot. Mostly she stays out of my way, but I see her sometimes, and it’s not too bad.”
“Wow,” my dad said, sounding surprised. “I think that’s the best report I’ve ever gotten from you, kiddo.”
“Well, it’s not like I like hanging out with her,” I said defensively. He laughed.
“It’s okay to not hate your mother,” he said.
“Whatever,” I said, a little irritated. I’m not used to feeling irritated with my dad, so I figured I’d get off the phone before I said something crappy.
We exchanged a few more words, and I told him I loved him, and then the call was over.
“No mention of your hot summer lover?” Jeff said without opening his eyes.
“Ewwww,” I said. “‘Lover’ is such a gross word.”
“Lover,” he said, sitting up and grinning at me. “Lovaaaah, lovaaah, lovaaah.”
“Oh, nasty,” I said, punching him lightly in the arm. He grabbed me and started tickling me, shouting “lover, lover, lover” over and over again while I cracked up. I had just started fighting back and was tickling him in slightly inappropriate places when I heard someone walk up. I looked up, and there was Jacinta Trimalchio, carrying a vintage-looking robin’s-egg blue parasol with pretty white ruffles.
Because Jacinta Trimalchio could never wear anything run-of-the-mill, she was sporting what looked like a 1920s bathing costume—a long black tank with little shorts attached, seemingly made of a jersey cotton instead of Lycra or Spandex or whatever is usually in bathing suits these days.
“Do you ever say to yourself, ‘Hey, I think I’m just gonna go for a subtle look today’?” Jeff asked, teasing her. I looked at his dimples and almost melted.
“No,” Jacinta said seriously. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” Jeff said. “To fit in?”
“Fitting in is overrated,” Jacinta said simply. She turned her attention to me.
“Delilah’s at a model agent’s in Manhattan today,” she announced, apropos of nothing. “Ford Models. They’ve launched the careers of so many of my favorites, I can’t even count.”
“Oh,” I said. “That sounds nice. Yeah, I haven’t really seen you girls for a couple of days.”
“A break in your busy tea party schedule,” Jeff said.
“We’ve been . . . ,” Jacinta began, and then her porcelain face flushed. She was opening her mouth to say something else when another girl wandered up. This girl was short and curvy, with breasts so large that they almost appeared aggressive in their need for attention. She wore a white bikini and white sandals and carried a white straw beach bag that probably cost more money than one semester of tuition at Trumbo. There was something about the tilt of her chin and the way she pursed her lips that made me immediately dislike her.
“What’s up, Olivia?” Jeff said lazily.
Great. Another pretty robot from Trumbo. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes and tried to act friendly.
“Not much,” Olivia said. She looked at me with slight interest.
“You’re Anne Rye’s daughter, right?” Her expression was hard to read behind her giant sunglasses, but I could tell she was trying to be friendly.
“Yeah, I’m Naomi,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” she said with a syrupy-sweet smile. “All I hear about at home these days is good things about your mom’s company.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“My parents are investors,” she said, as if that were a normal job to have. “And,” Olivia added, “they’ve been looking at your mom’s company.”
“Oh, that’s—that’s really nice,” I said. “Yeah, she, um—she works really hard.”
“Trust me, I know all about it,” she said with a friendly little laugh. “You should come over for dinner sometime. My parents would ask you about a zillion questions.”
“Is it weird for you that your mom has fans?” Jeff asked.
“Oh, they’re not fans, exactly,” Olivia said quickly, frowning at Jeff. “I mean they’re looking for a good investment.”
“That’s genuinely fascinating, Olivia,” Jeff said, and I tried not to laugh. He could be such a nonchalant asshole sometimes, and it was hilarious.
Olivia ignored him and turned back to me. “But really, you ought to come by sometime,” she said.
“Sure,” I said without enthusiasm. I’m not an idiot. I can tell when people are being nice to me just because they know who my mom is. Then Olivia turned to Jacinta, acknowledging her for the first time, and her demeanor completely changed.
“You’re Jacinta Trimalchio,” she said frostily, as if it were an accusation. Jacinta smiled warmly.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “And I know who you are, love. Olivia Bentley. Young Hamptons. I adore your blog.”
“I’m sure you do,” Olivia said nastily. “I see you using my party photos all the time.”
“Oh, I hope that’s all right,” Jacinta said apologetically. “I always give credit and link back to Young Hamptons.”
“I noticed,” Olivia said. “I get more traffic from your blog than from anywhere else.” You could tell she wasn’t so much grateful as bitterly resentful.
I looked at Jeff. He looked at me.
Catfight! he mouthed, grinning. I widened my eyes and nodded in agreement.
It was more like a cat-puppy fight than anything. Olivia had her claws out, but Jacinta clearly just wanted to make friends and play.
“We should collaborate sometime!” Jacinta suggested brightly. “Cross-posting features, or writing a post together, something like that. You have the best Hamptons coverage of anyone, year-round.”
“I can tell you think so,” Olivia said. “I mean, based on how often you post about things that I’ve just posted about.”
Jacinta looked at her in surprise. I think it was just beginning to occur to her that Olivia might not have the best intentions. Jacinta was kind of mysterious and possibly a liar or at least a major exaggerator, but she was not a bitch. I don’t think she had a mean bone in her entire long, skinny body.
“So you’re European, right?” Olivia asked, popping her sunglasses up on her head.
“Yes,” Jacinta said a little cautiously. “Well, partly. My mother’s family is from Montana. My father’s family is Spanish.”
“That’s funny,” said Olivia. “Because ‘Trimalchio’ is an Italian name. Isn’t it.” She raised an eyebrow. She was acting like a cop who was just beginning to interrogate a perp on SVU or something.
“Spanish by way of Italy,” Jacinta said without missing a beat.
“I’m sure,” Olivia said. “And where did you go to school?”
“Oh, all over,” Jacinta said. “Tutors, mostly. A bit of time in a Swiss boarding school.”
“Which one?” Olivia asked, widening her eyes with the fakest curiosity you ever saw. “My sister teaches in Bern.”
“In—oh, she’s in Bern,” Jacinta said. “Yes, well, we were out in the countryside—far, far away from Bern. Little boarding school. Only about fifty students. No one has ever heard of it.”
“My cousins all go to a little boarding school in the Swiss countryside,” Olivia said. “I wonder if it’s the same school.”
“Probably not,” Jacinta said.
“I think it’s so interesting,” Olivia said, “that you comment on all these parties and what everyone’s wearing, but you’re never actually at any of them.”
“Well, I’ve been traveling a great deal,” Jacinta said. “Living all over the world. This has just sort of been a hobby of mine.”
“Looking at strangers’ party photos and writing about their outfits,” Olivia said.
Jacinta looked her straight in the eye, with a level expression.
“Exactly,” she said firmly. “That’s how I have my fun.” Then she smiled brightly.
I could’ve hugged her. She wasn’t backing down in the face of this jerk’s attitude, and she’d dispensed with trying to win her over.
Olivia looked frustrated, and then she shoved her sunglasses back over her eyes.
“Well,” she said. “Nice talking to all of you.” Her tone indicated that it had been anything but nice.
“Lovely to meet you,” Jacinta said sweetly.
Without responding, Olivia turned on her heel and stalked off down the beach.
“She’s a real charmer,” Jeff said when Olivia was a safe distance down the beach.
“Jacinta, come sit with me,” I said, scooting over so that I was sitting in the middle of our giant beach towel. Jacinta gratefully plopped down next to me and gave me a little side-hug.
Jacinta asked Jeff about his most recent golf game, and he lit up and started talking about how he’d almost hit a deer on the back nine. Surprisingly, Jacinta seemed to know a lot about the big golf stars (I couldn’t have given a crap), and she and Jeff were trading facts about some guy named Graeme McDowell when something suddenly blocked the sun and cast an enormous shadow over the three of us. It was quickly joined by two slightly smaller shadows. I looked up and right into the eyes of Teddy Barrington.
“Hi, Naomi,” he said with a broad smile. “It’s so great to see you. Where have you been?” His two companions, who looked like less handsome carbon copies of himself, looked at me with curiosity.
I cringed inwardly. I hadn’t seen him since the night I caught him shoving Misti at Baxley’s. I could tell he was doing the “everything’s totally fine and completely normal” thing, and that I was expected to play my part.
“Hi, Teddy,” I said uncomfortably.
“Theodore,” Jeff said, reaching up.
“Jeffrey,” Teddy said, and bumped fists with him.
“Brock, Reilly,” Jeff said, bumping fists with each of the other guys in turn. It was like watching some weird male-bonding ritual. I felt like an anthropologist in the field.
“Guys, this is Naomi,” Teddy said, gesturing to me. “She’s friends with Delilah and special friends with Jeff.”
“We’re more like buddies,” Jeff said, slinging an arm around me. As awkward as I felt around Teddy, I couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth of Jeff’s skin against mine.
“S’up,” said Brock.
“Hey,” said Reilly.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “And this is Jacinta.”
Teddy raised his eyebrows, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “The Jacinta Trimalchio,” he said, peering down at her. She looked nervous and twisted her hands a little.
“Teddy Barrington,” he said, sticking out his big hand and shaking her delicate one vigorously. When he released his grip, I could tell by the way she flexed her fingers that they were a bit sore.
“Nice to meet you,” Jacinta said faintly.
“She’s Delilah’s new best friend,” he told Brock and Reilly. They nodded in tandem.
“In fact,” Teddy added, “they hang out so much, I feel like I barely see my own girlfriend anymore. At least not until the nighttime. But I guess that’s when it counts, right?” He let out a dry chuckle. Jacinta’s big eyes widened, and for a moment I genuinely felt worried. She looked like a tiny animal confronted by a huge beast. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you right away,” Teddy said, staring at Jacinta intently. “There are so many pictures of you and Delilah on Facebook now.”
She gave a light laugh. “Oh, not so many,” she said. “Ten. We were just playing dress-up the other day at my house. Doing our hair and makeup. Silly girly stuff.”
“Yeah, that’s what Teddy and I do when we hang out,” Jeff said.
“That reminds me of an episode of Oh, Those Masons!” Teddy said, a faraway look stealing over his eyes. “The brothers dressed in drag to get into a hot girl’s birthday party. I was in makeup for two hours. The director said I looked pretty in pink.”
“That’s kind of creepy, bro,” Jeff said, cracking up.
“It wasn’t creepy,” Teddy said seriously. “It was art. You know what I mean, right, Naomi?”
“Uh, sure,” I said. “Acting. It’s art.”
“Exactly,” he said, smiling down at me as if I had just said something truly profound. “See, your girl gets me, Jeff. Me and her, we’re on another level. She gets it.” He winked at me, and I pretended not to notice.
“You been hanging out with Delilah at all, Naomi?” Teddy asked.
“Sometimes,” I said cautiously. “I actually haven’t seen her for a few days.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “You should come over for dinner sometime. You can bring Jeff, too, if you have to.” He laughed as if he’d said something really funny.
“Thanks, bro,” Jeff said.
“Maybe one day you could let Delilah see her old friends,” Teddy said, looking pointedly at Jacinta.
“Oh,” Jacinta said, looking flustered. “You know Delilah—she does whatever she wants.”
“I do know Delilah,” he said. “I’ve known Delilah since we were in kindergarten.”
“That’s sweet,” Jacinta said. “When did you start dating?”
“You mean she hasn’t told you the whole story?”
“No, I’m afraid she hasn’t.”
“I thought boys were all girls talked about. Besides, you know, hair and makeup.”
“You’re such a feminist, bro,” Jeff said, squeezing my shoulder with his hand.
“Oh, we talk about all sorts of things at my house,” Jacinta said, twisting her fingers together. “But I guess mostly fashion and style.”
“I heard there was a wild party at your house the other week,” Teddy said. He turned to his companions. “You guys remember the fireworks, right?”
“Oh, shit,” Reilly said, suddenly becoming animated. “The party with the Ferris wheel. I heard about that. That was your place?”
Jacinta smiled and nodded with pride.
“Sounded badass,” Brock grunted.
“You better invite us to your next party, Jacinta Trimalchio,” Teddy said.
“How about tonight?” Jacinta asked.
I looked at Jeff. Jeff looked at me. We hadn’t heard anything about a party at Jacinta’s, and you’d think that since we were the only ones who were actually invited last time, she would’ve given us a heads-up.
“You’re having a party tonight?” Teddy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I am now,” Jacinta said simply. “You can come over, have some drinks, see where Delilah’s been spending her days.” The tilt of her chin and the way she pursed her lips almost made it seem like a challenge.
Teddy looked at Brock and Reilly. Brock shrugged. Reilly scratched the back of his head.
“Sure,” Teddy said. “What time?”
“Eight o’clock,” Jacinta said. “Delilah can show you how to get there.”
“I’m sure she knows the way by heart,” Teddy said.
“She does,” Jacinta said.
“Cool,” Teddy said. “Great. We’ll see you then.” He and his boys said their goodbyes and walked off down the beach.
“It’s one o’clock,” I said. “Can you really put together a party by eight?”
“I can if Baxley’s can cater it,” Jacinta said, whipping out her cell phone. She walked away from us for a few minutes, talking on the phone and gesticulating enthusiastically.
“I like her,” Jeff said to me in a low voice. “She’s great. But she’s super-weird, right? Like, it’s not just me.”
“She’s—different,” I said carefully. I knew what he meant, but I was suddenly feeling very protective of her.
Jacinta came back, triumphantly waving her cell phone in the air. “They said yes!” she said. “Which means I have to go to the bakery to get desserts, and to the florist to get flowers, and I’ve got to rent the chairs and tables—oh, I have so much to do, loves!” She wrung her hands but seemed more excited than nervous.
“Do you need any help?” Jeff asked.
“Just spread the word,” Jacinta said, gathering up her parasol. “Text your friends. I’ll email everyone, get the message out. This won’t be a huge party like last time—I’ll aim for maybe a hundred. And it’s a white party! Everyone has to wear white.”
“Ah,” Jeff said. “Only a hundred. All white. Got it.”
And then she was gone, swept away in a whirl of excitement.
“I guess we’re going to a party tonight,” I said.
Jeff put his arms around me and bent his head down to my ear.
“Then we’ve got some things to do in the meantime,” he whispered. “Your mom isn’t home, is she?”
“Nope,” I said. “Sailing with investors.”
“Perfect,” Jeff said. “I’ll race you to your house.”
And so we were busy for the next few hours.