“I wish we could be there for the opening of Rosie’s Fish Tacos,” Angelica’s voice came over the phone. “Dirk and I are having dinner with an executive from Bravo. They’re making a reality show about a British movie star falling in love with an American actress; maybe they’ll choose us!”
“As long as they don’t check Dirk’s passport to see if he’s really British,” Rosie said out loud, pressing the mute button.
“I ran into Colby Young at Whole Foods,” Angelica continued. “He is so sweet: he wrote my parents a thank-you card for the party. He asked when your fish taco store is opening.”
“He remembered?” Rosie balanced the phone on her shoulder while she wiped the counter for the tenth time.
“He’s crazy about fish tacos,” Angelica replied. “I told him the grand opening is Saturday, and he said he’d try to drive up the coast. He was with his manager, Ryan Addams. I think Ryan is sweet on you. When Colby mentioned your name, Ryan nudged Colby in the ribs.”
“I met Ryan at the Fourth of July party,” Rosie recalled. “They were talking to Ben and Mary Beth. Ben and Mary Beth probably told him terrible things about me, like I was an axe murderer or just spent a month in rehab.”
“You’re being paranoid. Ryan had a starry look in his eyes,” Angelica insisted. “I think he’s sexy in an earnest Hollywood-exec way. He reminds me of those other cute Ryans: Ryan Seacrest and Ryan Gosling. It must be something in the name.”
“I have to prepare a hundred tortillas, sauté ten pounds of cod, and make twenty pounds of guacamole.” Rosie glanced at her watch.
“You’re going to sell out in the first hour.” Angelica blew kisses into the phone.
Rosie hung up, feeling guilty she hadn’t told Angelica about Josh. But Angelica would have told everyone she met at the Coffee Company and Whole Foods. Their romance was too young to be turned into instant Hollywood gossip.
In two hours the store would open and Rosie’s first customers would walk through the door. The past five days she had worked feverishly: timing herself until she could prepare a taco in three minutes, passing out “buy one get one free” flyers, and stopping by every store on East Village Road to invite shopkeepers to a post-opening party at the Pullman estate.
* * *
“It’s not a movie premiere or a book launch.” Rosie frowned when Estelle suggested holding a grand-opening party. They were in the Pullmans’ kitchen and Estelle wore her gardening slacks and a wide straw hat.
“What better way to build local support than to host a soirée!” Estelle sipped a cup of Earl Grey tea and nibbled a macaron.
“Mrs. Pullman is having her annual post Fourth of July letdown,” Morris groaned, polishing silverware at the kitchen table.
“If I am, there couldn’t be a better cure than holding a party.” Estelle finished her tea and placed the cup in the sink. “We’ll serve sangria and Peg’s Mexican chocolate cream pie. I’ll buy chocolate fruit cupcakes from your friend Rachel, and we’ll have centerpieces of my peach-colored roses.”
* * *
“It is a good idea,” Josh agreed when Rosie told him about Estelle’s plan to have a party. She brought him a plate of macarons and sat in the garage while he tuned Oscar’s 1969 BMW. “If you get the support of other business owners, you’ll have a terrific start.”
Rosie watched Josh work and felt the familiar sexual tug. Since their dinner date, they had been inseparable. Rosie rose early so she could meet Josh at Butterfly Beach. She ran the length of the beach while he surfed. Then they ate scrambled eggs at the Village Diner or grabbed smoothies and bagels from the Orange Juice.
In the evening they shared deli sandwiches and Josh worked on Oscar’s cars while Rosie checked her to-do list. Late at night, they crept to Rosie’s cottage and sank under the down comforter. After they made love Josh kissed her forehead and quietly got dressed. In the morning, she found his imprint on the pillow.
* * *
Now Rosie tied her apron around her waist and glanced around the fish taco shop. Estelle had stopped by early in the morning with a vase of roses. Morris presented Rosie with a painting of a girl perched on a surfboard, drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola. Josh brought her a cup of milky coffee and promised he’d return in the afternoon with a pack of hungry surfers.
Rosie turned on the stove and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. What if she had invested all her money in the shop and it sank like an albatross. She was surrounded by people who believed in her: Estelle, Morris, Rachel, Josh. What if she had been coasting on Ben’s genius for ten years and alone she was a failure?
She remembered when she and Ben took their movie to Sundance. The day they arrived in Park City they strolled down Main Street and ate truffle mac and cheese at Robert Redford’s restaurant, Zoom, and even attended an after-party at O.P. Rockwell, where they drank craft whiskies and tried not to gape at James Franco and Keira Knightley.
But on the night of their movie’s screening, Ben was suddenly too nervous to leave the hotel room. He sat hunched on the bed, flipping through the program and drinking cups of stale coffee.
“You haven’t showered yet.” Rosie opened the door.
She had gone out to buy a pair of stockings, and when she returned Ben was still sitting on the bed. They had spent almost their entire savings on the trip and their room was the cheapest in Park City. The bed filled the entire space and there was a space heater and a chipped mini fridge.
“I didn’t realize so many films were scheduled at the same time.” Ben waved the program. “What if no one comes to the screening?”
“Of course people will come.” Rosie sat cross-legged next to him. “It’s the best film you’ve done.”
“I know that and you know that, but it’s being shown at the same time as films by Sofia Coppola and Paul Rudd.” He sighed. “We’ll go back to LA without a buyer and never afford to make another film.”
The vintage Pucci dress she had saved up for was hanging over the shower. She slipped it on and hurried out of the room.
Rosie sat in the lobby bar of the Waldorf Astoria and fiddled with a glass of water. It was where all the A-list actors and producers stayed, and there was that incredible buzz of money and power and fame. Ron Howard and Brian Grazer of Imagine Entertainment sat in one corner, and she was sure she had seen Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson.
Her hands were clammy and she wondered if this was going to work. But then she pictured Ben sitting on the bed like a boy who was afraid to ride the school bus because no one would talk to him and picked up her phone.
“Please tell Mr. Cameron that’s a very generous offer, but Mr. Ford can’t make any decisions until after the screening,” she said loudly into the receiver. “I did see how many zeros were in the offer but that doesn’t change his mind. And no, I can’t reveal the identities of the other potential buyers,” she said with a little laugh. “Surely Mr. Cameron knows how important discretion is in Hollywood.” Rosie glanced around to make sure people were listening. “Mr. Ford will make his decision after the screening tonight. He’ll be at Ben Affleck’s party at the Riverhorse on Main. Please thank Mr. Cameron for the champagne and caviar he sent over, it was very thoughtful.”
Rosie pressed end and wondered if she had gone overboard with the champagne. Would James Cameron send champagne to an unknown director because he wanted to buy his film? It was too late now. All she had to do was get Ben to put on his suit and go to the screening of his own film.
* * *
“Did you hear the audience when the final credits came up?” Ben asked. It was almost two a.m. and they were finally walking back to their room. It had been an incredible night. The screening was packed and Rosie had recognized Barry Levinson and Javier Bardem. When the lights came on, Ben got a standing ovation and people flocked around him for his autograph.
“It felt like doing an endless loop on Space Mountain at Disneyland. And the after-party was insane.” He turned to Rosie. “That was us, Rosie, talking to George Clooney. And I’m pretty sure Imagine Entertainment is making an offer. Brian Grazer said we would hear from them in the morning.” He paused. “Brian did say something strange. He asked if James Cameron really sent over champagne; he only does that with the hottest new directors. I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“I may have let it drop that James Cameron was making an offer,” Rosie said casually.
“You did what?” he asked.
“You were afraid that no one would come,” she answered. “I ran down to the Waldorf Astoria and pretended I was taking a call from James Cameron’s assistant.”
Ben wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
“You’re amazing, Rosie,” he said when they parted. “I’m nothing without you.”
“It’s the film that is amazing,” she said, and her smile was as wide as the mountains. “I just made sure everyone would come and see for themselves.”
* * *
But now she was selling her own fish tacos and what if no one liked them? Rosie dribbled olive oil onto a skillet and inhaled the pungent fish smell. She sliced tomatoes and shredded heads of lettuce. She added more cottage cheese to the guacamole, the tension rolling off her shoulders. The next time she glanced at the clock an hour had passed and she felt excited and ready. She washed her hands and stood at the front door.
“Are you sure you don’t want to throw up a ‘gone fishing’ sign and quit before it’s too late?” Rachel appeared at the door holding a paper bag. “This is for you.”
Rosie took out a golden horseshoe and turned it over. She looked at Rachel and was puzzled. “What’s this?”
“It’s an old Jewish tradition,” Rachel explained. “You put it over the door and it brings good luck to all who enter.”
“Aren’t you talking about a mezuzah?” Rosie asked.
“I’m trying to make my traditions more universal.” Rachel sighed and walked into the store. “There’s no reason why Catholics and Jews shouldn’t share the same ideals.”
“Is this about the meeting with Patrick’s grandmother?” Rosie asked. “Did she grill you about whether you eat kosher and celebrate Hanukkah?”
“Not quite, but she did ask what I thought of the names Christian and Mary,” Rachel groaned. “Then she made me promise if Patrick and I got married I would not have our son circumcised.”
“You just started dating.” Rosie smiled.
“I felt like I was making a pact with the devil.” Rachel sat on a stool at the window. “She was about to make Patrick pull his pants down so I could see the lovely foreskin on his penis.”
“I’m trying not to picture that,” Rosie giggled and closed her eyes.
“He does have a lovely penis,” Rachel mused. “But not displayed over tea and scones with his grandmother.”
“Is it bad to feel sick to your stomach at the opening of your own store?” Rosie sat on the stool next to Rachel. Her eyes scanned the counter and she admired the old-fashioned napkin holders and the bottles of salsa.
“When I opened Gold’s Chocolates my hands were so sweaty, the chocolate melted before I could ring it up,” Rachel recalled. “The store looks great. I love the roses and the advertisement for Coca-Cola.”
“Morris said it was ‘retro-chic,’” Rosie said. “I don’t even sell Coke or 7Up, but it was sweet of him to bring a gift.”
“You’ve got a great team behind you.” Rachel nodded. “How are things with Josh?”
“We’ve been together every day this week,” Rosie said slowly. “But I’m still afraid he’s going to wake up and realize he can’t do this.”
“Sometimes it just takes the right woman,” Rachel replied. “Look at Matthew McConaughey or George Clooney. They were Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors and now they’re married with children.”
“What if the shop is a failure and I have to move back to LA and work at a movie studio?” Rosie asked.
“I don’t worry as much as you and I’m Jewish.” Rachel hopped down from the stool. “I have to go. You’re going to do great. Break a leg!”
Rosie watched Rachel walk down the street to Gold’s Chocolates. Tourists wandered in and out of art galleries. A young mother pulled a toddler in a red wagon. Rosie took a deep breath and flipped the sign to OPEN.
* * *
Rosie stared glumly at the cash register. She had imagined this day for so long: sunburned tourists clutching cold sodas, children dragging in buckets of sand. They would leave with sizzling fish tacos, and a new line of customers would take their place. It was almost one o’clock; the lunchtime “rush” was over. She hadn’t sold a single taco.
“Excuse me, what can I buy with ten dollars?”
Rosie looked up and there was a girl with straight hair and brown eyes. She was about ten years old and wore a pair of denim shorts and a halter top.
“You could get our lunchtime special: two fish tacos and an Italian soda,” Rosie offered.
“Does the soda have bubbles? I only like drinks with bubbles.” The girl walked to the counter and swung herself onto a stool.
“The sodas are in the fridge.” Rosie waved behind her. “Pick any flavor.”
“My mother always gives me money when she and my father get in a fight.” The girl waited while Rosie filled her order. “She digs in her purse, hands me a bill, and says ‘get yourself something, honey, while your dad and I work this out.’”
“Tell her you had a delicious lunch.” Rosie handed her a white paper bag with the words ‘Rosie’s Fish Tacos’ in red letters.
The girl unwrapped the taco and took a large bite. “This is really good!”
“I just opened today.” Rosie grinned. “You’re my first customer.”
“I want to own a jewelry store when I grow up.” The girl sipped her soda. “My mom said I should learn to support myself so I don’t have to rely on some guy to buy me stuff.”
“Luckily you don’t have to worry about that for a while.” Rosie chuckled.
“I’ll bring my parents here.” The girl finished her meal and hopped down. “They both love fish tacos; it’s one of the few things they have in common.”
“They have you in common,” Rosie said.
The girl stood at the door, smiling. “I’m going to tell my mom you have a cool shop, and you’re really nice.”
* * *
“Thank goodness we missed the lunch rush.” Estelle walked in as the girl left. “Dear, these are my friends from the garden club. I told them they have to try your fish tacos.”
Estelle was accompanied by four women who looked like they usually lunched at the Four Seasons. They wore floral dresses of different lengths, and broad hats with silk ribbons. Their shoes were Ferragamo and their purses were Chanel.
“We’ll have one of everything.” Estelle waved at the menu board behind the counter. “Marjorie’s daughter is head of the Boys and Girls Club in Montecito. She’s going to bring the children here for a field trip.”
“That’s wonderful!” Rosie beamed, assembling tortillas.
“And Portia is having a Mexican-themed engagement party for her son. It would be marvelous if you catered it.”
“Estelle always gives the best recommendations,” Portia said, taking Rosie’s business card. “I’ll be in touch.”
“We’re going to eat them in Marjorie’s garden. Her hyacinths are in bloom.” Estelle stood at the cash register. “Morris and Peg are scurrying around preparing for tonight’s party.”
“You didn’t have to throw a party.” Rosie handed Estelle warm tacos wrapped in wax paper.
“Peg is making tortilla soup and Morris is going to serve Mexican beer with lime wedges.” Estelle beamed. “Has Josh been in yet?”
“He’s coming after work,” Rosie answered. “He’s going to bring in a bunch of surfers.”
“If you have any tacos left,” Estelle said gaily. “Tell Josh we expect him tonight too.”
Estelle and the other women strolled down the sidewalk. Estelle moved like a benevolent queen imparting favors on her subjects. Rosie was so grateful for her support, she wanted to run into the street and hug her.
The rest of the day passed slowly. A group of teenagers ordered a dozen tacos and paid with quarters. A couple from Iowa told Rosie all about their vacation while she prepared their meal. A family with two screaming children left taco baskets piled on top of each other like Legos.
Rosie’s head throbbed and her feet ached and she hoped Josh would arrive soon. She wanted to go to Estelle’s party and drink chilled champagne.
“Still open for business?” A head poked in the door.
“Colby!” Rosie put down the empty taco baskets.
“I told Angelica we’d drive up.” Colby wore checkered board shorts and a black t-shirt. Sunglasses covered his eyes and a baseball cap hid his blond curls.
“You drove to Montecito for fish tacos?”
“This boy drove to the Oregon coast for fish tacos.” Ryan Addams walked in behind him. Ryan’s short brown hair was slicked back and he wore a chrome watch and leather loafers.
“Only once.” Colby grinned. “And they were awesome.”
“I’m honored.” Rosie walked behind the counter, trying not to blush. One of the biggest pop stars in the world was in her store to buy fish tacos!
“I’ll take any excuse to get out of town.” Colby leaned on the counter. “I’ve been in the recording studio for weeks.”
“How many tacos would you like?” Rosie asked, laying out tortillas.
“Four for me,” Colby said. “Two for Ryan; he’s a wimp.”
“I can’t eat too much or I’d have to spend all day on the treadmill like regular people.” Ryan punched Colby’s arm. “Colby has the metabolism of a whippet.”
“Ryan works me like a dog,” Colby bantered back. “I drive him crazy eating Milk Duds and guzzling Cokes.”
“Soda is terrible for the vocal cords.” Ryan shuddered. “It coats them with sugar.”
“Recording twelve hours a day is bad for your vocal cords,” Colby countered. “Mind if we eat here?”
“You have the counter to yourselves.” Rosie handed him two red plates. “You just missed a couple of kids who were on a search-and-destroy mission. This place looked like a two-year-old’s birthday party when they left.”
“Children are worse than puppies.” Ryan opened his fish tacos. “My mastiff puppy chewed up three pairs of Gucci loafers.”
“Get a regular-sized dog and he’ll stay away from your Guccis,” Colby said, eating his taco. He looked at Rosie and smiled. “Hey, these are great.”
“I’ve never owned a store before,” Rosie admitted. “I feel like I’m jumping off a high dive.”
“Did you know Colby owns restaurants in six states?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve always liked food,” Colby said. “When I was little, my mom let me play in the kitchen. I learned to play the drums on her pots and pans, but I also learned how to make polenta and curry.”
“What kind of restaurants do you own?” Rosie asked curiously.
“I was in Chicago on tour, and I couldn’t find a restaurant with a panini press. So I opened my own.” Colby shrugged. “I have a rice pudding store in New York, and burger joints in Texas and Florida.”
“I keep telling Colby to collect Matchbox cars or Star Wars figures,” Ryan groaned. “Do you know how much work goes into opening a successful restaurant?”
“Ryan is just chaffed because I’m not under his thumb twenty-four seven,” Colby said good-naturedly. “Once I snuck on a plane to New York to buy some of my rice pudding.”
“And caused a riot!” Ryan interjected. “Colby got stampeded at Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. The police had to arrive on horseback to pry the girls off him.”
“The police let me ride a horse!” Colby exclaimed. “It was cool.”
“I read what was happening on Twitter,” Ryan said. “And then I tried calling Colby but he was in the hospital ‘under observation.’ I sweated off three pounds before I could get through to him.”
“Ryan thinks I’m still fifteen years old.” Colby ate his second taco. “I love performing but I’m trying to grow as a businessman. I want to open a deep-dish pizza restaurant in Manhattan Beach. Have you ever tried to order deep-dish pizza in LA? It’s impossible. Makes me want to get on a plane to Chicago.”
“You’re not getting on a plane to Chicago without telling me,” Ryan protested. “Your insurance is going to double if you keep cavorting around the country.”
Rosie started to clean up and glanced at the clock. In fifteen minutes she’d flick the sign to CLOSED and Josh still hadn’t shown up.
The door opened as she put away tortillas. Josh stood at the counter with three guys wearing board shorts and Rainbow sandals.
“Sorry we’re late.” Josh’s damp hair stuck to his neck. “The swells were huge and I couldn’t drag these guys out of the water.”
“You almost missed out pal.” Colby turned around. “We were about to order everything she’s got.”
“You were?” Rosie asked.
“I told you they’re awesome,” Colby said to Rosie. “I love cold fish tacos for breakfast with ketchup and a glass of orange juice.”
“Josh, this is Colby Young and his manager, Ryan Addams,” Rosie introduced them.
“The singer?” Josh raised his eyebrows.
“Angelica’s a friend of mine. She told Colby about Rosie’s fish tacos, so we made a road trip up the coast from LA,” Ryan explained.
“You drove to Montecito for fish tacos?” Josh asked.
“We’re staying at the Four Seasons Biltmore,” Ryan continued. “It’s right on the beach and they have wonderful service. They even allow you to bring dogs.”
“There must be good fish tacos in LA.” Josh’s voice was tight.
“It’s great that they came, I’m so grateful.” Rosie stood next to Josh, squeezing his hand.
“We’d like to order.” Josh crossed his arms over his chest. “These guys are starving.”
“Are you local?” Colby inquired, leaning his elbows on the counter.
“Josh works at the Classic Car Showroom, and he takes care of Oscar’s cars,” Rosie said, laying out tortillas.
“Sweet!” Colby smiled his big, white smile. “I’m a huge car fan. I’ve got my eye on a silver Lamborghini.”
“You are not buying a Lamborghini,” Ryan piped in. “With the way you take curves, you’d drive straight into the Pacific Ocean.”
“Ryan drives like an old woman.” Colby rolled his eyes. “He thinks I should buy a Bentley.”
“Tough choices,” Josh said curtly. He grabbed the fish tacos and passed them to his friends.
“We better go.” Ryan glanced at his Rolex. “We promised Oscar we’d stop by and play him the new tracks.”
“Keep up the good work.” Colby gave two thumbs-up. He pushed his baseball cap lower on his forehead and hopped off the stool.
“Angelica said you’re staying in the guest cottage.” Ryan turned to Rosie. “Maybe we’ll see you later.”
* * *
Rosie turned back to the counter and finished cleaning up. She wrapped lettuce and tomato in plastic wrap, covered tortillas in aluminum foil, and wiped down the counter. She opened the cash register and counted crisp new bills. She exhaled slowly; the day had not been a disaster.
“How long were they here?” Josh asked tightly.
“I’m not sure.” Rosie smiled. “But they bought a lot of tacos.”
“They could buy tacos anywhere.” Josh’s eyes narrowed.
“It was nice of Angelica to tell them.” Rosie took off her apron. “Maybe they’ll spread the word.”
“I’m sure Angelica had her reasons,” Josh continued, sounding like a stubborn child who was trying to get his point across.
“What does that mean?” Rosie asked, surprised at Josh’s tone.
“Angelica thinks anyone who doesn’t live in LA is dead,” Josh answered.
“You think Angelica sent them to lure me back to LA?” Rosie demanded.
“Colby’s a sweet kid with about a hundred million dollars in the bank. His manager is pretty slick,” Josh said slowly. “They didn’t drive ninety miles for tacos.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying but I need as many customers as I can get,” Rosie answered. She ran a cloth over the counter and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go to the party, I’m exhausted.”
“I have to give these guys a ride back to the beach.” Josh nodded at his friends, who sat at the counter eating their tacos. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
* * *
Rosie stood on the Pullmans’ porch, her eyes glued to the driveway. She wore her red dress and her gold Manolo sandals. Her hair fell softly to her shoulders and her skin had a golden glow. She had been so excited to step out of the cottage and see guests beginning to arrive. But now the party was in full swing and she had the sinking feeling Josh wasn’t coming.
Estelle had transformed the lawn into a Mexican fiesta. There were stations of tortillas, refried beans, steak, shrimp, fresh baked chips, and salsa. Round tables were set with red and white tablecloths and vases held red and white roses. A piñata hung between two oak trees and a dessert table held the ingredients for ice cream sundaes.
“Dear, what are you doing?” Estelle approached her. She wore a long white hostess gown and gold sandals. “Everyone wants to meet the guest of honor.”
“I’m waiting for Josh,” Rosie mumbled.
“This is your night and you can’t let anything spoil it.” Estelle squeezed her hand. “Let’s pop into the kitchen and have a cup of tea.”
Estelle led Rosie into the kitchen and made her sit at the table. She put on the kettle and passed Rosie a plate of melba toast.
“Eat this,” she instructed. “And tell me what’s wrong.”
Rosie nibbled the toast and told Estelle how Josh showed up while Colby Young and Ryan Addams were in the taco shop.
“He acted jealous!” Rosie exclaimed. “Colby is barely twenty and I couldn’t be less interested in Ryan.”
“As I recall Ryan is quite handsome, and Colby is cute in that overgrown puppy way,” Estelle murmured.
“I’ve met them both once,” Rosie protested. “They came to try my fish tacos. It was sweet of Angelica to tell them, since she and Dirk couldn’t make it to Montecito.”
“One would think Angelica could attend her best friend’s grand opening.” Estelle pursed her lips.
“She had a meeting with a producer,” Rosie defended her friend. “Josh was so cold, I hardly recognized him.”
“Men have giant egos, even the sweet ones like Josh.” Estelle pulled out a chair. “He may have felt threatened.”
“Threatened?” Rosie asked.
“When Angelica comes home she throws around the names of her Hollywood connections. ‘I saw Mila Kunis at yoga this morning,’ ‘I ran into David Spade at Whole Foods, he’s much taller in person,’” Estelle explained.
“She does.” Rosie laughed.
“You lived in that world,” Estelle continued. “But Josh has always been in Montecito. Maybe he just didn’t want to listen to Colby and Ryan run on about the music industry. It’s all I hear when Oscar’s clients come to dinner.”
“But they just came to try my fish tacos,” Rosie said. “All they talked about was how delicious they were.”
“Josh will come around.” Estelle patted Rosie’s hand and stood up. “In the meantime, a couple dozen people want to meet you. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
* * *
Rosie followed Estelle onto the lawn and was immediately surrounded by guests congratulating her. She sipped a glass of sangria and picked at a side of refried beans. But the sangria made her head throb and the beans tasted like glue.
“You didn’t tell me Colby Young was going to be here.” Rachel approached her. Her dark hair framed her face and she wore a silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket.
“I didn’t know he had arrived,” Rosie replied.
“I just saw him near the pool,” Rachel gushed. “You have to introduce me. I have his poster above my bed.”
“You can’t be interested in Colby. He’s practically a teenager!” Rosie admonished.
“I used to have a mad crush on Justin Timberlake and the Jonas brothers. But they grew up.” Rachel sighed. “Colby has those puppy dog eyes and that clear voice. I get goose bumps when I listen to his music.”
“I barely know him.” Rosie wavered. “He’s here to see Oscar.”
“I gave you peanut brittle when you were depressed. I need his autograph.”
“What would Patrick say?” Rosie smiled. “He wouldn’t approve of you cavorting with a pop star.”
“Patrick is at the town meeting discussing zoning ordinances,” Rachel grumbled. “I want to have fun.”
“You win.” Rosie walked towards the pool. “But you can’t attack him and no French kissing.”
“Just one peck on the cheek,” Rachel promised, hugging her arms around her chest.
“Rosie!” Colby jumped up. “We didn’t know tonight was your party. I hope you don’t mind if we gate-crash.”
“I’m happy you are here,” Rosie replied. “This is my friend Rachel, she owns Gold’s Chocolates.”
“I’ll give you a lifetime supply of chocolate truffles if you write your name across my chest,” Rachel breathed, her eyes glued to Colby.
“What do you think, Ryan?” Colby’s eyes twinkled. “You know how I love truffles.”
“I’m Ryan Addams, Colby’s manager.” Ryan shook Rachel’s hand. “He’d love to give you an autograph, but he’s not allowed to write on skin.”
“There goes my career as a tattoo artist.” Colby winked. “We were about to go swimming. Would you ladies like to join us?”
Rosie shot Rachel a look, but Rachel was already nodding enthusiastically. “We’d love to, but I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“We got ours from the cabana.” Colby pointed to the tent beside the pool. “There’s a boys’ cabana and a girls’ cabana. The Pullmans stock everything: swimsuits, robes, slippers.”
“Really?” Rachel turned to Rosie for confirmation. “Let’s go, I’m dying to get wet.”
Rachel dragged Rosie into the cabana and threw open a chest of drawers.
“I don’t want to go swimming,” Rosie whispered.
Rachel held up a pink-and-green two-piece. “Oh my god, Colby is gorgeous. He’s my Seventeen fantasies come true.”
“You’re practically engaged to Patrick,” Rosie reminded her. “Remember Patrick’s lovely foreskin.”
“I don’t want to see Colby’s penis.” Rachel slipped out of her dress. “I just want to see him without a shirt. If I faint will you promise not to resuscitate me? I only want Colby’s lips touching mine.”
“I have to get back to my party,” Rosie protested.
“Please, Rosie. You’re talking to a girl from New Jersey,” Rachel pleaded. “I’ve never met anyone really famous. I’ll remember this night forever.”
“All right, I’ll go swimming,” Rosie gave in. “But only till Morris rings the dinner bell. I’m not missing Peg’s tortilla soup.”
Rosie found a black-and-white-striped two-piece with crocheted straps. She tied her hair in a ponytail and slipped on a pair of flip-flops.
“You look great in a bathing suit,” Rachel whistled. “Josh is a lucky man.”
“Josh isn’t here.” Rosie grimaced, remembering how curt he was at the fish taco shop.
“He wouldn’t miss your party.” Rachel tied the straps of her bikini. “He worked as hard on Rosie’s Fish Tacos as you did.”
“Josh and I got in a fight.” Rosie wavered. “I don’t know if he’s coming.”
“If he doesn’t come he’s going to miss a lot of great food and wine.” Rachel dragged Rosie out of the cabana. “Tell me honestly, should I suck in my stomach?”
“You’re beautiful. Your curves make you look like Venus de Milo.”
“You walk in front of me,” Rachel instructed. “So Colby sees your gorgeous legs.”
Colby lay on a chaise lounge by the pool. He wore blue board shorts and no shirt. Rachel gasped and Rosie tried not to giggle. Colby’s stomach was completely flat and his chest belonged in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Ryan lay next to him, dressed in patterned shorts and a yellow polo. His sunglasses were perched on his forehead and he wore loafers without socks.
“Ryan doesn’t like to get his hair wet.” Colby grinned. “I’m trying to convince him to go swimming.”
“The water is cold,” Ryan protested, and combed his hand through his hair.
“It’s perfect!” Colby jumped in, splashing water outside the pool.
“I’ll sit out too,” Rosie said. “My head throbs and I drank too much sangria.”
“I’m coming in.” Rachel jumped in the water. “The water is divine.”
Rosie sat next to Ryan and watched Colby and Rachel duck in and out of the water like sea lions.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m Colby’s keeper,” Ryan said. “Last night he jumped off the Santa Monica pier at midnight.”
“He’s very sweet.” Rosie smiled.
“He’s a fireball,” Ryan answered. “I’m only thirty-three, but when I’m around Colby I feel like an old man.”
“Do you mind that he gets all the attention?” Rosie wondered aloud.
“It’s my job to make sure he gets attention.” Ryan shook his head. “I’m not big on the spotlight. I like to work behind the scenes.”
“I was like that with Ben. I enjoyed being the silent partner while he got all the acclaim. It worked well,” Rosie mused. “Until Mary Beth offered him a bigger spotlight.”
“In my opinion Ben traded down,” Ryan replied gallantly. “Mary Beth Chase is an overinflated Barbie doll. Her breasts look like defense weapons.”
“Thanks,” Rosie giggled. “I’m not very good with men. I think I scared the guy I’m dating away.”
“Then he’s crazy.” Ryan turned to Rosie. “Colby whistled like a schoolboy when you appeared in that bikini.”
“Hey, you two!” Colby called from the pool. “Come join us. We want to play Marco Polo.”
“I better go in.” Ryan took off his shirt. “Colby will crack his head open and I’ll have to cancel his tour.”
“I’ll come too,” Rosie said. Suddenly the cool blue water looked inviting. Estelle was right. Tonight was her party and she wasn’t going to let Josh spoil it.
* * *
“Oh my god!” Rachel rested on the pool steps and clutched her neck. “I lost my necklace. Patrick gave me the locket. He’ll kill me.”
“I’ll find it.” Rosie pushed her wet hair behind her ears. “I’m good at holding my breath underwater.”
They had been swimming for almost an hour, giggling and splashing like children. They swam relay races and played a heated game of Marco Polo. Rachel refused to be “it” because she didn’t want to close her eyes and miss a second of Colby’s dreamy body.
Rosie dove underwater and found the necklace stuck in the drain. She tried carefully to dislodge it, conserving the air in her lungs. It wiggled free and she shot to the surface, bumping her head on the diving board. The pain hit her like a hammer. She gasped for air and struggled to the side of the pool.
“Are you all right?” Ryan crouched next to her. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
“I think so.” Rosie touched her head. Her vision was blurry and there was a bump swelling under her hair.
“Let me look at it.” Ryan guided her to a chaise lounge and helped her lie down. He leaned close and rubbed her head. “Does that hurt?”
“A little.” Rosie nodded, closing her eyes.
“Colby got a concussion once.” Ryan felt the bump. “Open your eyes and tell me how you feel.”
Rosie slowly opened her eyes. There was a man standing by the cabana. He wore navy slacks and his blond hair curled behind his ears. He was frowning and his mouth was set in a firm line. Rosie closed her eyes and when she opened them again he was gone.
Rosie jumped up unsteadily and stumbled to the lawn. She maneuvered through the tables, bumping into guests who were sitting down to dinner. She chased Josh to the driveway but he was walking too fast, and she slipped on the gravel. Her vision blurred and blood pooled on her knee. There was the sound of a car door closing and Josh’s car roared down the driveway. She tried to get up, but her knees gave out and she sank onto the pavement. Then she closed her eyes and fell back on the pebbles.