“Here’s what we’re trying to accomplish at the East End Fest,” said Nina Montalban Sanders from across her cluttered architect’s desk. Her voice was slow and her words perfectly enunciated, and as she talked she petted her long, shiny black hair. “We want to celebrate the Hamptons’ history as an artists’ colony,” she went on. “To bring back the time when creative geniuses like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning and Andy Warhol lived and worked here. When this was a place of artistic refuge. Before it became a place about money and real estate and Gwyneth and P. Diddy.”
Rory noticed Nina’s perfectly manicured nails and her gold drop earrings in the shape of obelisks. As one of the directors of the East End Festival, a new nine-day festival of independent film, music, and digital entertainment, Nina was exactly the kind of Stanford alum Rory hoped she’d be one day—stylish, put together, but with a strong artistic soul. The application process to be her summer intern had involved multiple phone interviews, e-mails, and letters of recommendation, but now that Rory was here she knew that it had been worth all the work.
“That’s the whole idea behind the festival,” Nina continued. “Reestablishing the Hamptons’ artist cred. Getting back to its creative roots by featuring cutting-edge art and music and film.” Nina leaned back in her sleek postmodern chair. “Sort of like Coachella meets South by Southwest meets…”
“The Cannes Film Festival?” Rory offered.
“Exactly,” Nina said, holding up a finger.
Rory glanced up at the bulletin board behind Nina, where black-and-white portraits of Jean-Luc Godard, Patti Smith, and Samuel Beckett were tacked up among handwritten lists and bullet-pointed memos. She’d always meant to get into Samuel Beckett but for some reason had never gotten around to it.
“Opening night is August fifteenth,” Nina went on, “so we should have all the entries finalized by now.” She touched a key on her computer keyboard, and her screen lit up. “That’s funny. We don’t. Shorts has one more open slot.”
“Shorts?” Rory asked. “You mean short films?”
“Someone must have dropped out.” Nina blinked a few times. “Right now I have my hands full with the opening gala, so what if you select the last one?”
“Sure,” Rory said, so excited she could barely speak.
“Wonderful. And let me say something else. I know that summer internships can sometimes be disappointing for people. But you are not going to be sitting around answering phones and running to get coffee. You are going to be a vital part of the process here, Rory. We don’t have assistants, so our interns get to do everything. You’re going to learn a lot here.”
“Great,” Rory said. She couldn’t stop smiling.
“Good,” said Nina. “So a few technical things. Since I’m going to be in meetings for most of the day, I’d love it if you could answer my phone. If I get a call from my partner—his name is Troy—it always comes through.”
Rory scribbled Troy on her pad.
“And then I have a dinner reservation that I’d love for you to reschedule for later tonight at Nick and Toni’s. Around nine would be perfect.”
“I can do that,” Rory said.
“And, this is very important. At exactly noon today, I need to register for Revolution.”
“Revolution?” Rory asked.
“Oh.” Nina smiled gently—apparently this was a foolish question. “It’s a spin studio. You’ve never heard of it?”
Rory shook her head.
“Well, I’m kind of addicted to it,” Nina said delicately, placing a lock of hair gently behind one ear. “And so is everyone else around here. Which is why you have to register a week early to get into Kiera’s class on Saturday mornings. And the only time you can get in is when they put up the new schedule on Mondays at noon. I would do it myself, except I’m going to be in a meeting then. It’s really easy. You go to their website and type in my full name and password—it’s revolution—and you hit a button to register a bike. It couldn’t be simpler.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Rory said. She wrote down the words Revolution and twelve noon.
“Great,” said Nina, tapping her small hands palms down on the desk. “Well, then I think we’re all set. Oh, and one more thing. I heard that you’re staying with Lucy and Larry Rule.”
Rory tried to remember if that had come up in her phone interview with Nina. “Yes, I am.”
“They’re quite the power couple out here,” Nina remarked. It was unclear whether she was giving them a compliment.
“Yeah, I guess you could say they are.”
Nina’s phone trilled. Rory reached for it, but Nina held up her hand and answered. “Yes? Be right there.” She replaced the phone in its cradle. “Another fund-raising meeting,” she said with a knowing roll of her eyes. “Well, that’s it, then. Go get settled in.”
“Okay,” Rory said, standing up. “And I just wanted to say… I’m really glad to be here.”
Nina smiled broadly. “I’m glad you’re here, too, Rory. Good luck.”
Rory walked back to her desk and sat down. Her cubicle was cramped, but it had a decent desktop computer and her own landline. It also had a pair of futuristic-looking padded headphones that were already plugged into the monitor. Rory guessed that these were for watching the submissions. She’d never had a job before where she needed a computer and a phone, let alone fancy headphones. She thought for a moment about calling Sophie or Trish and chatting for a while, but she didn’t want to be caught slacking on her first day.
There was a creak as the person in the cubicle next to her wheeled his or her chair back a few inches. A girl a year or two older than her with curly auburn hair and deliberately large, tortoiseshell glasses faced her. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Amelia.”
“I’m Rory.”
“Are you actually doing anything here? Or just waiting for people to notice you?” Her stare was almost as blunt as her question.
“It’s my first day,” Rory said, “so I’m not sure yet.”
“I’ve been here since last week,” she said drily. “And I’ve been doing nothing. Nada. Unless you count the crossword. But then again, that’s how all these internships go. You think you’re going to be rolling up your sleeves and having an impact and all that, and you just end up sitting around texting all day.” She squinted at Rory. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” Rory said. “I just graduated.”
“First internship?” Amelia pressed.
Rory nodded.
“This is my third,” Amelia said.
“If they’re all so lame, then why do you keep doing them?” Rory asked.
Amelia looked this way and that and wheeled her chair closer to Rory. “I have a film,” she said in a half whisper. “A short. I heard that if an intern submits something they like, they’ll get behind it. Include it in the lineup.”
“Oh?” Rory said. Nobody had told her about this.
“They don’t really advertise it, but it’s sort of a known thing,” she said. “I figure a summer of boredom is worth it if it helps me with my career. But now I just have to get up the nerve to tell my boss that it’s on the server.” Amelia pointed behind Rory. “It’s Luis. He’s the one with the Che-Guevara-goes-Fifth-Avenue facial hair.”
Rory turned to see an attractive dark-haired man with a revolutionary’s beard and carefully coiffed hair sitting in a glass-walled office.
“I’m not sure he knows that I’m his assistant,” Amelia added.
“Well, good luck,” Rory said. “That’s really exciting.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“Nina,” Rory said.
“Oh, yeah,” Amelia said knowingly. “She’s the one in charge of shorts, I think.”
“Is she?” Rory said. She didn’t want to seem too knowledgeable about it.
The muffled chime of a cell phone could be heard behind the cubicle wall.
“Oh, that’s me.” Amelia wheeled herself out of sight, leaving Rory alone at her desk.
Rory clicked onto the server and opened the folder marked SUBMISSIONS—SHORTS . She scrolled down the list of titles and directors and found Amelia’s right away.
A slight wave of jealousy rippled through her. Even though her films were all documentaries, she still wished she could submit something. Looking at Amelia’s name now, she couldn’t tell if she wanted her film to be good, so that she could recommend it, or if she wanted it to be terrible, because of her less-than-pleasant attitude. She decided to watch some of the other shorts first, just to have some context.
The first one she watched was entirely silent and involved a man walking down a highway with a dog, trying to hitchhike. When it was done Rory dropped it in the REJECTION folder with only a shred of guilt. I could make something better than this, she thought. She went on to the second one, which was marginally better, but not by much.
There was another creak of wheels, and soon Amelia poked her head into Rory’s space again. “I’m gonna go out and get something to eat,” Amelia said. “Wanna come?”
“No, thanks,” Rory said. The less she was around Amelia’s negative attitude, the better.
Amelia got up and left. Rory went back to her movies. About five minutes later, she realized that she was hungry. She looked at the clock at the top of her screen: 12:10. Time for lunch, she thought. And then her eyes fell onto her notepad.
Revolution, twelve noon.
Her heart stopped. She’d forgotten all about Nina’s spin class.
With a few clicks of the keyboard, she found the website. She typed in Nina’s name and revolution to log in and clicked on the schedule. The Saturday morning class was full.
Rory picked up the phone and dialed the number on her screen.
“Hello, Revolution,” said the woman on the other end.
“Yes, hi, is your Saturday morning class full?” Rory asked, trying not to sound panicked.
“It is. Would you like to be put on the waiting list?”
“Actually, is there any way you could fit one more person in there? You see, my boss asked me to register her, and I totally forgot, and it would just be for this one time, not a regular habit or anything—”
“I’m sorry, but there’s only the waiting list,” the woman said. “Do you want me to put her on it or not?”
Nina didn’t strike Rory as the type of woman who liked to wait. Especially when there was a good chance that it would be for nothing. “That’s okay. I’ll call back.”
Rory hung up. It was her first day and already she’d done something wrong. She got up and slowly walked to Nina’s office. Through the glass wall she could see Nina and Luis deep in conversation. Great, Rory thought. There would be a witness to all this.
Nina waved her in. “What is it, Rory?” she asked.
Rory took a deep breath. Luis was staring at her.
“I started watching the submissions, and I… well… I forgot to register you for the spin class. I’m so sorry.”
Nina hesitated, as if the words were still sinking in. “I didn’t get into the class?” she asked in a toneless voice.
“I can’t believe I forgot. I got so wrapped up in watching those submissions I think it just slipped my mind.”
Nina was about to speak, when Luis shook his head quickly, as if signaling Nina to rein it in. The cloud passed from Nina’s face, and soon she seemed utterly content. “That’s okay,” Nina said nicely. “Really. No worries.”
Rory glanced at the photo of Samuel Beckett. His craggy, weathered face seemed to be looking down at her, furious with disapproval.
“Are you sure? I really am sorry.”
Nina held up her hand. “Completely fine. No big deal.” She looked at Luis and smiled. “By the way, this is our codirector, Luis Sandoval. Luis, this is Rory McShane.”
“Hello, Rory,” Luis said in a smooth baritone, extending his hand. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh, thanks,” she said, momentarily frazzled by his attractiveness.
“I’ve met Lucy and Larry Rule before,” Luis said. “But I doubt they’d remember me. I know how social they are.”
“Um, sure,” Rory said. She wasn’t sure why Luis was bringing up the Rules during this awkward moment, but at least he was being friendly. She turned back to Nina. “I’m really sorry, once again.”
“It’s okay,” Nina said, glancing at Luis.
“Nothing to be upset about,” Luis chimed in. “Oh, and tell Gregory I said hi. We have some mutual friends.”
“I will.” Rory backed up toward the door.
“I’ll let you know if I need anything else,” Nina said. She waved. “Bye, Rory.”
That had gone so much more smoothly than she’d expected. But Rory couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a reason for Nina’s easygoing reaction. A reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Isabel carried the last pair of black jeans from her closet to the bed, where she carefully laid them down next to the other five pairs she’d already bought. Even though she hadn’t started her job yet, it couldn’t hurt to get her uniform together.
“What’s all this?” Rory asked as she walked in.
“Tell me, which do you like better?” Isabel asked. “The ebony AG’s or the metallic black J. Brands?”
“Did somebody die?” Rory asked.
“I got a job.” Isabel tossed her hair over her shoulder and did a little happy dance. “You are looking at the Hamptons’ newest waitress.”
Rory looked shocked. “Really?”
“Yep. And this is my ugly uniform.”
“Wow,” Rory said. “What place is it?”
“The Baybreeze Café.”
Rory had no reaction.
“The place on Main Street?” Isabel prompted. “Near the movie theater?”
“Oh,” Rory said, clearly still mystified.
“It’s good practice for New York. I mean, all actors do in the beginning is wait tables.”
“Do you think you’ll need to do that?”
“Maybe,” Isabel said, annoyed. “I thought you wanted me to get a job.”
Rory lay back on Isabel’s pink duvet and covered her face with her hands. “Actually, I’ll switch with you. Right now.”
“What happened?” Isabel asked.
“My boss asked me to do one thing, and I messed it up.”
“What was that?”
“Register her for a spin class at Revolution. And I completely forgot.”
Isabel sat down next to Rory and pried her hands away from her face. “It was a spin class.”
“I know,” Rory said. She sat up on her elbows. “But she went to Stanford. I was hoping that she might be able to put in a good word for me with the film department. You know, help me get into some of the advanced classes.”
“Is that why you took the job?” Isabel asked, trying to keep a straight face. Rory could be too much of a goody-goody sometimes.
“No, of course not,” Rory said, blowing a stray dark curl out of her face. “But I thought it might help. Until I messed up the spin class.”
“Well, try to let it go,” Isabel said, patting her shoulder. “Pretty soon she’ll see what an awesome assistant she has for the summer.”
“Thanks,” Rory said.
“Wanna grab dinner tonight?” Isabel asked. “Just you and me?” She smiled. “I could tell you about my coffee date with Evan.”
“Yeah, sure—” Rory began, and then Connor appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room. “Can I come in, or are you guys talking about top secret girl stuff?”
“How ’bout knocking first and then asking?” Isabel said.
“Hey,” Rory said as she got up from the bed and went to give Connor a hug.
Isabel watched them kiss each other on the lips. It was still strange to see them together, and not just because Connor was her brother. Last summer Rory had been the one without a boyfriend, and she’d been the one having a passionate summer fling. Now it seemed as if their roles had reversed. Never in a million years would she have seen that coming.
“Hey, how was your first day?” he asked Rory in an intimate murmur.
“Not bad. I’ll tell you about it later. How was yours?” she murmured back.
“Pretty good. Just an orientation for the teachers.”
“I can’t believe you’re teaching sailing again,” Isabel broke in. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“At least I have a job, unlike some people,” Connor said.
“Au contraire, mon frère. I have a job. I got one today. At the Baybreeze Café.”
“Doing what?” Connor asked skeptically. “Eating?”
“Waiting tables.”
“But you don’t know anything about waitressing.”
“So? I’ll learn.”
“Mom is going to freak out when she hears about that.”
“What makes you think I’m going to tell her?”
Connor wiggled his eyebrows, as if to say Okay, fine, you win, and turned his attention back to Rory. “You wanna get some dinner tonight?”
“Oh, um…” Rory cast a glance over at Isabel. “What if Isabel comes?”
Connor hesitated.
“No, that’s okay,” Isabel was quick to say. “You guys go. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Rory asked. “I thought you wanted to go out.”
“No, it’s cool,” she said, walking into her closet. “I have to figure out my work wardrobe.” Yeah, I wanted to go out, but not with my brother, she wanted to say. She dug through her hangers, listening to them talk to each other in an annoying lovey-dovey tone. She was disappointed in Rory. Someone with a little more guy experience would have known that it was okay to say no to your boyfriend every once in a while.
When she was sure they’d left the room, she left the safety of her closet and sat down at her desk. She flipped open her laptop and began an e-mail to Mr. Knox.
So my parents want us to pretend to all their friends that they’re still together. Even though my dad has his own place and he’s never even here. And my friend Rory would rather spend every waking minute with my brother… just as I’d thought.
She paused with her hand above the keys. It sounded like she was writing in her journal, for God’s sakes. Mr. Knox wasn’t going to care about any of this. But he asked her to keep in touch. And he was, after all, her dad. Better start treating him like it, she thought. Before he drifted out of her life, too.
“So remember that other sailing teacher I told you about last summer? The one who’d talk about himself in the third person sometimes? Like he was a hip-hop star?” Flickering light from the votive candle between them made Connor’s eyes a deep indigo.
“Yeah,” Rory said, reaching for the bread basket. “Don’t tell me he’s there again.”
“Yup. The guy couldn’t tack if his life depended on it. His parents must have donated more money to the club.” He grabbed a piece of bread and dipped it in the dish of greenish olive oil on the table. “So now I gotta listen to him all day long.”
“Maybe you should start talking about yourself in the third person,” Rory joked. “Just to get him back.”
“Who says I don’t? Have you met C-Dog yet?”
Rory laughed. “C-Dog? Are you serious?”
“Totally. You should have known me in high school.”
“I’m starting to be glad I didn’t,” she teased him. She opened her menu. So far the tension that she’d felt between them last night seemed to be over, thank god.
“Man, I feel like a burger,” Connor said, reading his menu.
“I’m gonna have one. And I’m gonna have fries.”
“Good. Then I can steal some,” Connor said.
“Order some. You don’t always have to eat so healthy. It’s okay to have some fun once in a while.”
“Hey, I can have fun,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I can have a lot of fun.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, squeezing his hand right back. “So… I had my first day of work.”
“How’d it go?”
“Great. My boss is pretty awesome. She’s this really cool mix of stylish and artistic. And she wants to give me all kinds of responsibility, too. But I kind of messed up.”
“How so?” Connor asked, looking back down at his menu.
“She asked me to register her in a spin class. At some place where it’s so popular you have to do it, like, six days early. But I got so caught up in watching these short films that it slipped my mind. And then by the time I remembered, the class was full. I was so annoyed with myself.”
“Yeah, I can see why,” Connor mused, reading his menu.
“What?” she asked, wondering if she’d heard him wrong.
Connor looked up at her. “I just said, I can see why you felt bad.”
“So you think that was a stupid thing to do, then?”
“If she seemed upset,” Connor said, turning the menu over and scanning the desserts, “then I can see why you felt bad.”
“She didn’t seem that upset, weirdly.”
“That’s good,” Connor said. “I guess you got lucky.”
“But you think she should have been upset?”
“I’m not saying that,” he said. “But I can see why you felt bad. It’s kind of a dumb thing to do. Right?”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said.
“I’m not judging you,” Connor said. “I’m just saying that I can understand why you felt bad. I would feel bad.”
“Maybe that’s not what I want to hear right now,” she said. “Maybe it would be nice for you to say that I shouldn’t feel bad, and that it’s not such a big deal.”
Connor sighed and put down his menu. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just saying—hey, when did you get so sensitive?”
“And when did you get so… so…” She tried to think of the right word to describe it. “Forget it.”
Connor peered closer at her. “Ror. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Rory said, focusing on her menu. “Let’s talk about something else.” She remembered the time they’d been eating with his friends at USC and she’d mispronounced the name of the French critic Michel Foucault. She’d called him “Fu-KALT.” There’d been a pall over the table as Connor’s friends looked at one another, silently reacting to her naïveté. She’d known instantly that she’d made a mistake. But Connor didn’t rush to her defense or hold her hand. His manners seemed to go on pause as he looked at her from his spot across the table, slightly uncomfortable, and stayed quiet. It had been mortifying, infuriating. How could he do that? she’d thought. She felt the same way right now.
“I think I will have the burger,” Connor said, closing his menu.
“Great,” Rory said, too annoyed to look at him.
“What are you going to have?”
“What’s going on with you?” Rory asked, looking him straight in the eye.
“What’s going on with me?” Connor asked. “What’s going on with you?”
“Connor?” A female voice made them look up. A petite dark-haired girl with a fringe of bangs and doe-like brown eyes stood next to their table.
“Augusta?” Connor said.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “I thought it was you!”
She threw her arms around Connor, sending his face straight into her chest.
Rory watched as Connor tried to hug her back.
“What are you doing here?” Connor asked when she pulled away.
“My dad rented a place here for the summer—oh, it’s so fantastic to see you!” The girl’s voice held a faint English accent, which made Rory like her even less. “Guess who’s here with me! Caleb, Dylan, and Nico!”
“They all came out for the week! It’s like a reunion!” Finally the girl turned to acknowledge Rory.
“Oh, this is my girlfriend, Rory,” Connor said. “Rory, this is Augusta Rapton. We went to St. Paul’s together.”
“Hello,” the girl said as she offered Rory her small hand. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”
“Hi,” Rory said, feeling as dainty as a lumberjack as she shook this girl’s hand. Augusta was more put together than a model in Lucky. Her bangs, black vintage-looking dress, slouchy ankle boots, and oversize cardigan all screamed urban cool.
“So you guys aren’t living in London anymore?” Connor asked.
“My dad wanted to be in the States this summer,” she explained. “I think because he knows how much I like New York.”
“Augusta goes to Columbia,” Connor explained.
“Oh,” said Rory, pretending that this was fascinating information. Hopefully this chitchat wouldn’t go on much longer.
“Wait,” Augusta said. “Come join us! We have a huge table. What do you think?” Augusta’s heavily lined eyes stayed fixed on Connor.
“Uh… I don’t know… Rory? What do you think? It could be fun.”
Rory hesitated for a moment, and then she realized that Connor was serious. “Sure,” she said quietly.
“Great,” Connor said, standing up. “Lead the way.”
This isn’t happening, Rory thought as they got up. This was supposed to be our time.
“I haven’t seen these guys in almost three years,” he said to her over his shoulder. “Isn’t this funny?”
“Yeah, it’s really funny,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“You’ll love them,” Connor said.
“Right,” Rory said, pretending to smile. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t, if these people were anything like his college friends. At a table in the corner sat a group of two guys and a girl watching them approach. Rory took a deep breath and remembered her mantra from USC: No matter what, don’t look like you’re having a bad time.
“Hey!” Augusta called out to them. “Guess who’s joining us?”
“Hey, man!” said one of the guys. He wore a red-and-black-patterned Baja hoodie and had a well-manicured soul patch. “What is up?”
Connor leaned over to give the guy a bro-shake. “Hey, Caleb!”
“Connie!” said the other guy, who was smaller than Caleb with black hair. He wore a polo shirt.
“CR,” said the girl, who had long blond curls and a laid-back demeanor. “How’s it hangin’?”
The guy with the soul patch slapped Connor on the back. “Good to see you, man. How’s Cali?”
“It’s awesome. How’s Duke?”
“Forget Duke, I transferred to Brown, man,” said the guy, touching his soul patch. “It’s so much more my speed.”
“Rory, this is Caleb,” Connor said. “Caleb, this is Rory. My girlfriend.”
“Peace,” Caleb said, shaking her hand.
“Uh, peace,” Rory replied.
Rory watched Connor turn to the black-haired guy. “Hey, man, this is Rory,” Connor said, introducing her.
“Hi, Nico,” Rory said.
The girl with long blond curls burst into coarse laughter.
“Uh, that’s Nico,” Connor said, pointing to the blond girl. “He’s Dylan.”
“Oh, sorry,” Rory said. “Hi.” She turned to Nico. “Hi.”
“Heyyyy,” Nico drawled, touching Rory’s hand lightly before turning her attention back to Connor. “So what’s up, Connie? Are you still at USC?”
Before long, “Connie” was regaling them with stories about Hollywood hipsters, Santa Monica yoga worshippers, and the occasional celebrity sighting. Rory flipped through the menu and tried to keep her cool. So he ran into some friends, she thought. It’s bound to happen. This is his stomping grounds. Not yours.
But their unpleasant exchange about her job still lingered. Maybe she’d just been supersensitive. It was hard to know. Regardless, this was their third tense moment since she’d arrived. In nine months they hadn’t had one argument. Now after three days together, they seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves.
“Hey, Rory, did you hear that?” Connor asked, his face alight with laughter. “Caleb was saying that he has family in New Jersey.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said. “I think New Jersey’s cool, man. It gets a bad rap. But there are some awesome parts of it.”
Connor reached across the table and took her hand. “New Jersey has to be beautiful,” he said, looking into her eyes.
She smiled for all of his friends to see. For a moment, her doubts about them disappeared.
Then it hit her: Connor and I are just like his parents, she thought.Pretending to be the perfect couple, when inside, we’re really not.