The au pairs skinny-dipping by Melissa de La Cruz Page B
Authors: Melissa de La Cruz
Tags: General, Juvenile Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Young Adult Fiction, Art, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, The Arts, Au pairs
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ridiculous. I've got clients waiting here."
"I'm sorry, do you want to try Alan on his cell phone to confirm? I can't do anything," Eliza apologized.
The woman threw her arms up. "This is bull! I am his mother! Now let me inside!"
Eliza held her ground. Alan's voice echoed in her brain. The List is God. It could be my mother out there, but if she's not on the list, tough luck. What if this woman was some kind of impostor? Although she did have Alan's receding chin and bug eyes. But rules were rules, and for once, Eliza didn't want to break them. It was too much fun to say no sometimes.
"Sorry. I can't help you," Eliza decided. "Please step to the side. You're not on the list. Next!"
"Hey, E," a familiar voice said, and a hand tapped her shoulder.
Eliza's heart leapt for a moment--Jeremy had arrived! But when she looked up, it was Ryan who was standing in front of the velvet rope. He was wearing his linen sweater that brought
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out the green in his eyes, and a pair of jeans. Totally not dress-code-worthy, but rules didn't apply to guys who were as handsome as Ryan Perry.
"Oh, Ryan, hey." Eliza smiled, nodding to Rudolph to unhook the rope.
"Crazy night, huh?" Ryan asked, motioning to the teeming, seething mass of people who stared angrily back since he was able to cut the line. Someone even threw a beer bottle, which smashed right in front of Eliza's feet, and Rudolph immediately hustled the frustrated civilian away.
"You have no idea," Eliza said, shaking her head at the mess. "What is it about nightclubs that bring out the worst in people? The regular people insist they're on the guest list, the guest list people demand VIP tables, the VIPs want. . . oh, God, well, they want everything. The other day I had to baby sit Naomi Campbell's fur coat. Apparently it needed a massage." Eliza laughed.
Ryan shrugged, grinning. "Ah, you can handle it."
Eliza handed him some free-drink tickets. "I guess." She rolled her eyes. It was nice to see Ryan again. They'd hardly seen each other at all since they'd gotten back, maybe because of what had happened in Palm Beach. Damn Palm Beach. Eliza wished, not for the first time, that she'd never even gone there.
"Eliza! Hey! Over here!"
Eliza turned and saw Mara and Garrett push their way through the crowd. She felt another burst of happiness at seeing a
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familiar face and waved back, ushering them to the front of the line as well.
Ryan turned around too, but his face clouded as soon as he saw Mara and Garrett. "I should go," he told Eliza, bumping a fist on her shoulder. "I'm meeting Allison inside."
"Where you going, Perry?" Garrett called.
Mara saw Ryan walk away without saying hello, and her heart ached. He looked so cute in that sweater. It was her favorite sweater. Last summer she'd borrowed it from him when they were on the beach and it got cold, and the sweater was so big, it reached down to her knees.
For two weeks, Mara had brushed Garrett off with excuses, saying she had to stay and watch the kids, or she was tired, or that she was busy with something else. But yesterday, she'd finally caved. She'd bumped into Ryan and Allison walking on the beach and then come home to the racks of fabulous clothes. It seemed a shame not to let them see the light of a paparazzi bulb. Wasn't that what she was supposed to do anyway? Wear the clothes and pose for pictures?
"How are you?" Mara gushed, giving Eliza a dramatic double air-kiss. "Where have you been?"
"I've been, um, good," Eliza said, feeling guilty about Palm Beach all over again. "I've been here. You know where to find me."
"All right, but seriously, we need to hang out!" Mara said. "Anyway, do you think we could get a table? My heels are, like, killing me."
119
Last summer Mara had lived in either Reeboks or flip-flops. Eliza noticed she was wearing a pair of shockingly high Manolo Blahnik sandals with two bands of sparkling rhinestone straps at the toe and ankle. The same ones Eliza had wanted, except they'd
"I'm sorry, do you want to try Alan on his cell phone to confirm? I can't do anything," Eliza apologized.
The woman threw her arms up. "This is bull! I am his mother! Now let me inside!"
Eliza held her ground. Alan's voice echoed in her brain. The List is God. It could be my mother out there, but if she's not on the list, tough luck. What if this woman was some kind of impostor? Although she did have Alan's receding chin and bug eyes. But rules were rules, and for once, Eliza didn't want to break them. It was too much fun to say no sometimes.
"Sorry. I can't help you," Eliza decided. "Please step to the side. You're not on the list. Next!"
"Hey, E," a familiar voice said, and a hand tapped her shoulder.
Eliza's heart leapt for a moment--Jeremy had arrived! But when she looked up, it was Ryan who was standing in front of the velvet rope. He was wearing his linen sweater that brought
117
out the green in his eyes, and a pair of jeans. Totally not dress-code-worthy, but rules didn't apply to guys who were as handsome as Ryan Perry.
"Oh, Ryan, hey." Eliza smiled, nodding to Rudolph to unhook the rope.
"Crazy night, huh?" Ryan asked, motioning to the teeming, seething mass of people who stared angrily back since he was able to cut the line. Someone even threw a beer bottle, which smashed right in front of Eliza's feet, and Rudolph immediately hustled the frustrated civilian away.
"You have no idea," Eliza said, shaking her head at the mess. "What is it about nightclubs that bring out the worst in people? The regular people insist they're on the guest list, the guest list people demand VIP tables, the VIPs want. . . oh, God, well, they want everything. The other day I had to baby sit Naomi Campbell's fur coat. Apparently it needed a massage." Eliza laughed.
Ryan shrugged, grinning. "Ah, you can handle it."
Eliza handed him some free-drink tickets. "I guess." She rolled her eyes. It was nice to see Ryan again. They'd hardly seen each other at all since they'd gotten back, maybe because of what had happened in Palm Beach. Damn Palm Beach. Eliza wished, not for the first time, that she'd never even gone there.
"Eliza! Hey! Over here!"
Eliza turned and saw Mara and Garrett push their way through the crowd. She felt another burst of happiness at seeing a
118
familiar face and waved back, ushering them to the front of the line as well.
Ryan turned around too, but his face clouded as soon as he saw Mara and Garrett. "I should go," he told Eliza, bumping a fist on her shoulder. "I'm meeting Allison inside."
"Where you going, Perry?" Garrett called.
Mara saw Ryan walk away without saying hello, and her heart ached. He looked so cute in that sweater. It was her favorite sweater. Last summer she'd borrowed it from him when they were on the beach and it got cold, and the sweater was so big, it reached down to her knees.
For two weeks, Mara had brushed Garrett off with excuses, saying she had to stay and watch the kids, or she was tired, or that she was busy with something else. But yesterday, she'd finally caved. She'd bumped into Ryan and Allison walking on the beach and then come home to the racks of fabulous clothes. It seemed a shame not to let them see the light of a paparazzi bulb. Wasn't that what she was supposed to do anyway? Wear the clothes and pose for pictures?
"How are you?" Mara gushed, giving Eliza a dramatic double air-kiss. "Where have you been?"
"I've been, um, good," Eliza said, feeling guilty about Palm Beach all over again. "I've been here. You know where to find me."
"All right, but seriously, we need to hang out!" Mara said. "Anyway, do you think we could get a table? My heels are, like, killing me."
119
Last summer Mara had lived in either Reeboks or flip-flops. Eliza noticed she was wearing a pair of shockingly high Manolo Blahnik sandals with two bands of sparkling rhinestone straps at the toe and ankle. The same ones Eliza had wanted, except they'd
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