Beach Lane - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,10
Mara replied.
“No,” the other girl said.
“Oh-kay.” Ryan laughed. “Eliza, Mara, Mara, Eliza. We’re all really glad you’re both working here this summer. God knows Anna has been totally freaked out the past couple of days.” He drove off the highway into a road with a Private Property: No Trespassing sign. Seeing the concerned look on Mara’s face from the rearview mirror, he said, “Oh, don’t worry. The Mortons let us use it all the time. The traffic’s so bad here, everyone has to use the back roads to get anywhere.”
“Don’t I know it,” Eliza agreed.
Mara nodded. But her mind was still on what Ryan had said earlier. We’re so happy you’re both working here? Huh. Looked like there was more (or a lot less) to this Eliza girl than she had first thought.
mara is the odd girl out on lily pond lane
THEY DROVE PAST A PRACTICALLY UNENDING LINE OF ten-foot-tall hedges—Mara could barely see the roofs of the houses. Ryan steered the car steadily down the one-lane back road, occasionally calling out hellos and waving. Several groups walked on the side of the road, carrying surfing or water sport gear. Others pedaled on English Raleigh bicycles, shopping bags from Dreesen’s tucked in their baskets. Practically every other car was a convertible. Eliza spent the entire time glued to her cell phone, making calls to various friends and updating them on her plans for the evening.
“Hey, was that . . .?” Mara asked, turning around so quickly she almost gave herself whiplash.
“Yeah, that’s Steven Spielberg. They have a house near us on the pond. We always see him at Nick and Toni’s,” Ryan mentioned offhandedly. His dad had a standing table at the restaurant, one of the most popular gathering spots for bold-faced names.
“Oh.” Wow. Mara tried not to look too impressed. “I saw Tom Hanks once,” she offered.
“Really? Where?” Ryan asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.
“The airport,” she said sheepishly. “He gave my sister an autograph. She chased him all the way to the men’s room.”
Ryan laughed.
“Tom and Rita used to come to your mom’s fund-raisers all the time, didn’t they, Ryan?” Eliza lifted her chin from her phone and asked in an extremely bored voice.
Mara felt slapped in the face.
They drove up to another row of hedges into a private driveway that snaked up to a white mansion with huge Grecian columns. In the driveway were a Mercedes SUV, a Range Rover, a vintage Corvette convertible, a Porsche Cayenne SUV, and two motor scooters. Talk about an auto show.
“Here we are,” said Ryan, bringing the car to a stop on the gravel drive.
A stretch Hummer limousine with rims that spun in reverse even when the car was stopped was parked out front.
“Oh my God! Look at that!” Mara hooted. “What a dumb car.”
“It’s an H2 stretch. Top of the line,” Eliza said in an irritated tone.
A chauffeur emerged from the front seat and walked the four car lengths to the back to hold the door open. A pair of mile-long tanned legs that ended in white furry sheepskin boots swung out. Jacqui Velasco certainly knew how to make an exit, or an entrance, if you will. She let the newcomers take in her presence, then turned around and hitched her hip to the side, kneeling on the car door to say good-bye to her patron.
“Obrigado,” she said, a little unsteadily from the numerous cocktails on the ride.
“No, thank you, bellisima.” Rupert Thorne winked, pulling her in for a kiss.
“Naughty boy,” Jacqui said, wagging her finger when Rupert licked rather than pecked her cheek.
“I’ll see you around,” he promised.
Not if I can help it, Jacqui thought grimly. She straightened up, slammed the door, and found Ryan, Eliza, and Mara watching her, all with different expressions on their faces. Ryan looked amused, Mara intimidated, and Eliza impressed.
“Kick-ass boots!” Eliza said to Jacqui.
Apparently boots in summer were okay after all, thought Mara.
“Thank you,” Jacqui said with a slight accent. “We just got them in from Australia the other day.” She smiled at Eliza. “Jacqui Velasco.”
“Eliza Thompson. That’s Ryan Perry, our boss.” She snickered. “And, uh . . . I forgot your name. Mary, right?”
“Mara,” Mara said with steel in her voice. She wasn’t going to Blondie here push her around. “Mara Waters, nice to meet you.”
“So did you have to go on a wait list or something to get those? I’ve been dying for them!” Eliza said, falling in step with Jacqui.
The two headed inside the house, chatting about footwear, their nearly identical wraparound