Massie sniffled. “I’m so sorry I let you down.” She sniffled again. He smelled like the inside of a new leather handbag. “I know you waited all winter for this. And now you’re going to be stuck here, all alone, with a bunch of LBR horses… .”
The sob-heaves came fast and furious. Snot bubbles popped from her nose, and black mascara boogers gathered in the corners of her eyes. But Brownie just stood there patiently, allowing himself to get squeezed and snotted on while his best friend said goodbye. And that made Massie cry even harder.
She looked up at his white-blond, fur-covered face, her arms still wrapped around his regal neck. “Don’t worry about me, Brownie. I’ll be fine.”
Brownie stomped the hay-covered ground.
“I will, I promise. Kristen is staying in, taking some lame extra-credit course at OCD over the summer, so she’ll be around.” Massie tried to sound upbeat so Brownie wouldn’t worry. “Or I could meet up with Dylan in Hawaii or Alicia in Spain or Claire in Orlan-dull. I have a billion options.”
Brownie sighed again. Only an LBR would chase after her friends during the summer, and he knew that. But Massie had to stay positive for both of them.
Just then, there was a knock on the barn door.
“Your driver is here,” Lill announced from the other side of the stall. “You have exactly …” She paused, probably to check her wannabe-vintage, probably-fake-gold chain pocket watch. “… seven minutes before we escort you off the premises. Are you all packed?”
“No,” Massie called, trying not to sound like she’d been crying.
“Then you’d best get a move on.”
“I’d rather stay here with Brownie.” She squeezed her horse a little tighter.
“What about your clothes?” Lill countered.
Massie pictured her riding wardrobe—stacks of black velvet blazers, an array of earth-toned jodhpurs, and four pairs of shiny Hermès boots. Hardly a typical summer wardrobe.
“Keep them,” Massie insisted. “They smell like poo.”
“Spoiled brat,” Lill huffed as she crunched away, the worn heels of her old leather boots grinding against the pebbles on the trail.
“Old!” Massie whisper-barked. It was all she could manage under the circumstances.
She spent her last six minutes and forty-five seconds at Galwaugh Farms Riding Camp combing the braids out of Brownie’s hair and reassuring him that she would be fine. That she would visit every chance she could. That she would hold her head high. That she would never let on how much she was going to miss this place. That she would do something fabulous this summer. Something alpha fabulous. Something that would show the world she was still number one.
She just had no idea what.
With thirty seconds left, Massie pulled her new iPhone from her blazer pocket and sent a quick message to Glossip Girl, notifying them of her new summer address. Then she entered her State of the Union, hoping that someday soon she and Brownie would be able to look back on all of this, toss their glossy manes over their shoulders, and giggle.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION
INOUT
Horse Glue Summer GLUs
Bean Brownie
ME
THE BLOCKS’ RANGE ROVER BACKSEAT
LONG ISLAND, NY
Monday, June 8
1:56 P.M.
While Isaac was wrapping up his ah-nnoyingly long lecture on the importance of good sportsmanship, Massie secretly thumb-texted the Pretty Committee.
Massie: Got the hoof from galwaugh. Put glue on Fall-a Abdul’s saddle. :) Had no choice! Off 2 Hamptons house. Come spend the summer. Plenty of room & tons celeb parties. xox m
Seconds later her iPhone hummed.
Kristen: Sounds like a sticky situation. LOL. Can’t leave W-chester till summer classes r done. Miss you!
Alicia: Hola! If the glue fits, wear it! Can’t come. Just landed in Spain. Ah-mazing here! Call u l8r. I heart u!
Dylan: I always knew u were stuck up! LOL x10!!!! JK.Packing for Hawaii now. Aloha!
Claire: Come visit! Stay in r guesthouse. :)
Massie powered down. She rested her head against the cool window and stared at maple trees as they whizzed by.
Everyone’s summer plans seemed to be set, except hers. Like Selma’s pathetic, lumpy butt on the saddle, she was stuck and speeding toward a situation she didn’t know how to get out of.
THE BLOCKS’ SUMMER ESTATE
SOUTHAMPTON, NY
Monday, June 8
2:13 P.M.
Preparations for Kendra Block’s fifth annual summer charity ball were well under way. This year’s theme was “It’s Easy Being Green” and was all about recycling, reusing, and reducing. Although from the look of things, Kendra had not reduced a thing.
Service vans with logos that read GREEN WITH ENVY PARTY PLANNERS, SIMON SWINTON’S STRING QUARTET, NATURE’S CANDY CATERING, DIVA DOG GROOMERS, GREEN THUMB FLORISTS, BORN AGAIN CRYSTAL, And JERSEY BOYS VALET filled the tree-lined driveway that led to the six-bedroom Southampton estate. The staff bustled about, setting up burlap-covered tables, perfecting all-green exotic floral center pieces, and filling the infinity pool with floating soy candles. The grassy grounds buzzed with pre-party excitement, and Massie expected them to buzz even more now that she was home.
“Here we are.” Isaac opened the back door of the family’s silver Range Rover. Massie slid off the buttery tan leather seat and stepped onto the gravel driveway, her eyes fixed on the glossy white double doors of the stately mansion.
“Did you tell Mom and Dad what time I’d be home?”
Isaac looked away. His steely blue eyes were shaded by a black baseball cap, a casual accessory he allowed on sunny days to keep his balding head from burning.
A tsunami of disappointment swelled in Massie’s chest. “Why aren’t they waiting to greet me?”
“They must be extremely busy with the party.” Isaac dabbed his beading forehead with a linen hanky, then stuffed it in the pocket of his yellow gingham Brooks Brothers dress shirt. “Everyone RSVPed ‘yes’ this year.”
Massie lifted her tortoiseshell Diors and breathed in the salty Southampton air. “I’ll be ready to dress-shop in fifteen,” she told him, realizing she’d need a ground-goddess-chic ensemble for tonight’s festivities.
“I’ll be here.” Isaac smiled like someone trying to pretend he wasn’t concerned about something.
Massie turned the large brass handle on the glossy white front door and stepped inside. The black-and-white checkerboard floors were buffed to a high shine, reflecting the champagne pink chandelier overhead. The adjoining dining room contained a couple hundred tote bags, refurbished from Colombian coffee sacks. Massie couldn’t help but peek inside at the swag-bag goodies:
• Bobbi Brown beach-scented candle
• Tan baby tee that read USE ME on the front and REUSE ME on the back
• Jonathan Product Dirt Texturizing Paste
• L’Occitane Lavender Harvest Foaming Bath
• Juice Beauty Blemish Clearing Serum
• Philosophy Hope in a Jar Moisturizer
• Fresh Brown Sugar Body Polish
• A card good for ten free classes at Om Yoga in Southampton
• A raffle ticket for a trip to an eco-resort in Costa Rica (courtesy of Leo D!)
“Hullo?” she called toward the winding Gone with the Wind staircase. “I’m baah-aaack.”
Suddenly, the sound of acrylic nails speed-tapping on a keyboard echoed through the foyer.
“Bean!” Massie dropped to a squat and stretched out her arms. The black pug leapt into her embrace. She smelled like a mix of Massie’s dad’s coconut suntan oil and her mom’s sweet Cartier perfume. “I missed you soooo much!” Massie kissed the dog’s forehead.
“Don’t worry—we won’t be bored or lonely this summer. I know a ton of people out here. And we’ll probably be so busy suing Galwaugh for wrongful termination of an alpha rider we won’t have time to miss anyone … except Browni
e.”
Bean hyper-licked Chanel No. 19 off Massie’s neck.
Massie tossed her mint green quilted Marc Jacobs bag at the foot of the stairs, then quickly yanked off her dusty riding boots before any stable dirt could dislodge onto the cream-colored runner. Then she took a deep breath and headed up to greet her mother.
“Heyyyy.” Massie beamed as she entered the airy master suite, poised to reassure her probably concerned parents that she’d bounce back from the morning’s upsetting incident.
She padded past the lit gas fireplace and the gold silk duvet–covered canopy bed toward the open French doors.
Kendra, dressed in a tan Burberry tracksuit, was standing outside on her terrace. Like a queen overlooking her kingdom, she monitored the staff on the back lawn with intense concentration. “I am absolutely thrilled beyond thrilled.” She petted the back of her dark brown bob.
Massie playfully rolled her eyes, knowing she was seconds away from being mother-smothered. “I thought you would be.” She deposited Bean on the warm stone.
“Of course.” Kendra triple-snapped her fingers at someone on the lawn and motioned for them to move whatever it was they were holding a touch more to the right. “There’s nothing worse than a dripping ice sculpture. A gigantic portable freezer truck sounds perfect. Gracias.”
“Huh?” Massie muttered before Kendra turned toward her, revealing a tiny clear headset. She lifted the mouthpiece and fixed her hazel eyes on her daughter.
Massie, not wanting to spend one more velvet-wearing second in the sun, stopped at the grapefruit pink chaise by the open French doors. “Mom, I’m okay. Please don’t make a big deal about this. I’ll get over it. I was thinking a lawsuit or maybe—”
“Your feelings are the least of my concerns right now.” Kendra glared at Massie, then flip-flopped closer, her freshly pedicured toes separated by slabs of peach foam.
Gawd, what is wrong with everyone?
Kendra placed her hands on her narrow hips and sighed.
“What you did was awful. Do you realize how upset Selma’s parents are?”
Massie opened her glossless mouth to respond but was instantly cut off.
“And today of all days.” Kendra looked back over the balcony, then sighed angrily. “Ugh! To the left, Ronald. The left!”
Bean jumped down off the bed and bolted out of the room.
Kendra exhaled slowly, then continued. “Haven’t you ever heard of healthy competition?”
“Puh-lease.” Massie flopped down on the pink chaise. “Healthy competition is like those magazines that promise flat abs in two weeks. It doesn’t exist.”
“Mrs. Block.” Inez’s raspy voice beckoned over the small white intercom above the fireplace. “The sommelier needs his check.”
“Be right there,” Kendra answered, her eyes locked on Massie. “We’ll finish this conversation with your father. Assuming he can find it in his heart to get off the golf course and help me deal with this logistical nightmare.”
“Whatevs,” Massie mumbled as she stood. Her mother always stressed pre-party. This was nothing new. Tomorrow they’d be getting poolside massages from that hawt Swede Puff Daddy had recommended, and all would be forgotten. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m running out to Calypso to get a dress for tonight. Isaac is waiting—”
“You have dozens of dresses in your closet.” Kendra lowered her mouthpiece and stepped back on to the balcony.
“Yeah, those would be great if this was last year.” Massie rolled her eyes. Had her mother completely lost it? She hadn’t even hugged her hello.
“Well, they’ll have to do. You’re grounded and are not to leave this house,” Kendra snapped.
“Are you serious?”
“Dead!” Kendra shouted at the lawn.
“What?”
“Gavin, those irises are dead!”
“Whatevs.” Massie turned on the heels of her chocolate-brown-and-periwinkle argyle socks and marched out.
She stomped into her sea foam green–tiled bathroom, tore off her stuffy riding clothes, and jammed them in the trash. Gawd! When had wanting to be number one become a bad thing? She cranked on the eucalyptus steam shower. While it heated up, she tapped on her iPhone and went straight to shopbop.com.
Her mother had said she couldn’t leave the house. She’d never said she couldn’t buy anything. Within minutes, Massie had added every item from the site’s summer look book to her cart—all fifty-seven pieces. She entered her Visa number and then hit ACCEPT. Steam fogged the screen.
She wiped it clean with a lemon yellow Frette towel and—
“Ehmagawd!” She quickly cleaned her phone again.
But it still looked the same.
DENIED flashed in bold red letters. She tried her AmEx, her MasterCard, and even her Saks card. But DENIED kept flashing.
Camp, credit, and the cover of Horse & Rider magazine, all gone on the same day! Just like that.
Massie thought about crying, but her monthly tear-supply had been tapped that morning at Galwaugh. She considered pleading with Gawd for divine intervention, but He was ah-bviously still mad about earlier. She thought about running away but was suddenly too poor. The only thing she could do was disappear into the eucalyptus-scented steam and wait for a better idea to come along.
THE BLOCKS’ SUMMER ESTATE
SOUTHAMPTON, NY
Monday, June 8
8:33 P.M.
The Green Party was in full swing, and Massie was ready— at last—to make her entrance, thanks to an emerald sequined Chanel flapper dress she’d found in Kendra’s long-forgotten vintage closet. Behind locked doors, she had snipped off the dangling beads and unstitched the cap sleeves. And before her mom could say Project Runway, she was passing it off as last year’s Marc Jacobs. It wasn’t ground-goddess chic—it was just chic.
In homage to Brownie, she’d swept her reflective dark hair into an elegant side pony and dusted her body in iridescent powder. If the Pretty Committee had been there, they would have rated her a ten. Maybe even an eleven, since she’d practically made the outfit herself.
Pausing at the top of the spiral staircase, Massie peered over the wide marble banister. Three floors below, the front foyer was rife with East Coast millionaires and their all-too-familiar party noises—violins screech-humming, champagne flutes clinking, air kisses smacking, and ladies envy-shrieking about each other’s outfits.
An excited tingle fluttered behind Massie’s abs. No more hanging with hayseeds! She was at an AA party now—and adult alphas understood her need to succeed. They would support her lawsuit against Galwaugh.
“Ready to break hearts?” Massie lifted Bean and scratched the pug underneath her matching emerald silk collar, sending her hind legs into happy spasms as they began their descent.
Massie’s dad, William, was standing at the foot of the staircase, looking up at her—his bald head buffed to a shine. He wore a tan linen tuxedo with a hemp bow tie. It would have seemed ridiculous if Bono hadn’t worn the same one to the Emmys.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He took Massie’s hand, escorting her down the final two steps. She kissed her dad on the cheek. His face smelled like mentholated shaving cream.
“Enjoy the party,” he whispered in her Bailey Banks & Biddle diamond-studded ear, “because these are your last moments of freedom.”
Massie pulled away and grinned, pretending she hadn’t heard him. Her parents had never followed through on a punishment before. Why would they start now? She was practically a grown-up.
Bean let out a gentle yap. “She says you look very handsome,” Massie cooed, trying to charm her easily charmed father, just in case he was serious.
“Well, Bean …” William smiled, giving the puppy’s head a scratch. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” And then, just like Massie had figured, he winked and hugged her close. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Problem solved.
“And then I sa
id, ‘Puffy or Puff Daddy, or P. Diddy, or whatever your name is, why don’t you just admit it?’” Massie could hear Trini Neufeld’s high-pitched voice and Gertie Shelly’s snort-laugh long before her mother’s two summer best friends came teetering into view. “You did nawt invent the White Party! Kendra has been hosting a color-themed party in Southampton for …” She put her free hand on her hip and leaned against the banister. “How many years?” She waved Massie over urgently, her shockingly orange curly bob remained surprisingly still.
“Five.” Massie smiled politely, trying her hardest not to stare at Gertie, whose strapless green gown was inching its way down her Post-it-thin torso like a snake shedding its skin.
Trini took a huge gulp of fruit-filled sangria, then gripped Massie’s arm. “You’re just as gorgeous as ever. You simply must find my Ellie and say hello. She’s been going on and on about hanging out with Massie Block all night.” She plucked a grape out of her cocktail and deposited it on a passing tray of caramelized scallops. “You won’t believe she’s two years younger than you when you see the size of her chest. Poor old Roz Simmons almost popped an implant when she saw her earlier. I’m telling you, if jealousy was a penny, she’d Trump.”
Gertie burst into hysterics.
“Um, where did you say she was?” Massie asked, rubbing her arm. Trini’s coral talons were sharp, and Bean was starting to quiver in her presence.
“Last I saw, she was by the—”
“Great, thanks.” Massie hurried away, hugging her puppy close to her chest.
Weaving through the heavily perfumed crowd toward the open French doors, Massie set off to find some Hamptons GLUs in need of a summer alpha.
The night air was humid and still. It hugged Massie’s moisturized skin like a cashmere wrap. Giant leafy oaks twinkled with flickering star-shaped lights, and the thick pillars that flanked the patio were wrapped in fragrant green orchids. A dozen silver Priuses stood waiting along the circular driveway, their hired chauffeurs ready to drive tipsy guests home. Soothing sonatas played by a renowned Italian flautist drifted gently across the expansive lawn like a soft breeze.
Massie Page 3
