by Tara Brown
“Not too bad.” I struggled with whether to tell her the truth or not. “The whole secret thing gets annoying. Cait likes to think we’re an underground society, but it’s less secret than you’d imagine. It’s just exclusive, and we don’t talk about it. The guys on the shore know the club exists, that if they want to have social options, they need to be part of it in some way. But they don’t know our rules. No one does. The rules and what happens behind closed doors are sacred.”
“How does it kick off?” She didn’t sound excited at all.
“Tomorrow night we’ll have dinner here, at the country club, with our families. Everyone who is anyone will attend. A lot of guys are brought for a sort of preselection introduction. Then the next night there will be a party at Cait’s, and everyone will be there. The guys will drink and have fun, and then they’ll be asked to leave, and the girls will choose one. You’ll ask him to be your date to the Spring Fling and a season of fun and festivities thereafter. The boys know if they want to be included in the most prestigious parties and events, they have to play along. Cait has all the power and hosts the best parties. Her dad’s the most important man on the beach, and one of the most important men in the city. Careers and lives are changed in his house all the time. People vie to have a seat at his table at every function, just for a chance to catch his ear for an evening. He’s always at her parties, rubbing elbows. And she keeps her parties exclusive to Fling Club.”
“So guys who don’t make Fling Club selection don’t get invited to anything?” Rachel asked.
“Not to the Fling Club–exclusive parties. Which there are quite a few. There are other events and whatnot, parties and galas hosted by the country club or societies that everyone gets to go to. But they’re never as fun. Cait’s parties are sort of forbidden fruit.” My answer made me feel weird now. “And the hottest girls on the shore are in Fling Club. The guys vie for a spot.”
“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.” Rachel gave me a look that suggested she was never going to be fully on board.
“I hate to break it to you, but the options are fit in or frig off, so you have to make that call for yourself. If you want a social life, this is it. Come into the fold, or get out of someone else’s way.”
“Holy shit.” She nudged me. “This is Mean Girls to the extreme.”
“You have no idea.” I decided to level with her. “Cait makes all three of the Heathers combined look like saints,” I whispered, looking around and making sure no one could hear me. “These are the worst people you will ever meet, and yet you will learn to tolerate them. Some you might even grow to like.”
“What’s a Heather?” She looked worried.
“The movie Heathers. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“We’ll watch it later. It’s old, but awesome.” I pulled Rachel to the foyer so we could leave and I could finally catch my breath. I was really starting to like her. She was different, and for the first time in my life, I was too.
Chapter Seventeen
WHAT HAPPENS AT FLING CLUB STAYS AT FLING CLUB
Ashley
“Mum, you’re going to have to level with me. How bad was it?” I paced in front of the massive brick fireplace that looked like it belonged in an old castle and didn’t suit the nineties building scheme at all.
“He was a right ass, if I’m being honest. He told the doctor in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested in more chemo and he would rather die with a bit of dignity instead of finish this last session.” She sounded angry, but I knew that wouldn’t last. She would be crushed with sadness later if he stood by this decision. She was a “cry in the shower like a winner” sort of lady. Fierce and formidable on the outside, but a delicate flower on the inside.
“Well, that’s not an option. He’s not even stage four, for God’s sake. He needs to man up and stop this nonsense.” His cancer wasn’t spreading, and the chemo was working; quitting now would be foolish.
“Oh, I know that, son. He’ll be round to the doctor on Monday for treatments, you mark my words. If I have to, I’ll knock him out and have one of the playhouse players carry him there—he’ll love that.” She laughed, and for the first time in the conversation, she sounded like my mom again.
“Good. Do you need me to come home?” I had to offer it. I wanted to go home. But leaving this job behind would be batshit crazy, unless of course my father decided he was going to let something treatable kill him. Prostate cancer wasn’t the death sentence it had once been.
“God, no. You’ve gone and gotten this amazing IT job, and you’re going to be able to take care of yourself for the year. That’s a huge burden off of ya, and not to be rude, but also us. Don’t be daft.”
“I love you both. Give him a hug for me.” I hated lying to her about the job I had, but telling her I was basically a gigolo wasn’t an option.
“I’ll kick him in the arse for ya,” she scoffed.
“That works as well. Have a good sleep.” It was well past one in the morning there, and she sounded too fired up to go to bed anytime soon.
“After my brandy. Have a good weekend, darling.”
“I’ll try. Night.”
“Night.” She hung up, and I stared at the phone.
I had but a second to contemplate my father’s illness and stubbornness before the front door burst open and Cherry shivered, hurrying inside.
“It’s freezing out there. The car said it was sixty degrees. If this is global warming, I’m going to start funding those celebrities who make the starving polar bear videos.” She shrugged off her jacket and held it for a second, like she was going to pass it to someone, before she slung it over the coat stand at the front door and came all the way in. Her heels clicked on the floor, and her lips and eyes glistened in the firelight. “Thank God the fire’s going. I need to warm up.” She stood too close to me, something that had been happening all week long. We got closer and closer. We sat beside each other, legs and the backs of hands touching. The sexual tension was so noticeable her younger sister assumed we were having sex. But neither of us had made the first move. A stalemate that was killing me.
“How was it?” I asked, getting increasingly nervous about the start of Fling Club and what it would mean for me, but trying to sound indifferent and cool.
“Awful.” She furrowed her brow, her eyes widening like she was reliving a terrible scene. “I barely made it out alive.” Her words were soft and strained like she was talking about going to war.
“But we’re a go for tomorrow night?”
“What?” She blinked and glanced up into my gaze, sucking me in with her haunted eyes. “Sorry. Yes. We’re good. Cait suspects nothing. The other girls have turned on the Barbie-zombie switch. And Rachel, the girl I told you about, the one my mom forced me to bring to Fling Club, is actually kinda awesome. Might even be helpful in these endeavors.”
“Really?” I couldn’t care less about the new girl, but I played my part, acting polite. Acting like staring at her as the flames kissed her skin didn’t make me want to grab her and kiss her as well. Her pouty lips coated in gloss called to me, but I knew shitting where you ate was always frowned upon. Kissing your boss resulted in early termination. And while she would be worth it, any detriment to my dad’s situation wouldn’t.
“Yeah, she didn’t like Fling Club at all. She thought Cait seemed like a tyrannical bitch. And she sounded like—” She tilted her head, toying with a grin. “You, actually. She sounded like you. She was sort of bitter and funny and not at all like me.” The grin won, spreading over her face and making my stomach tighten.
“Weird. Will she fit in?” I asked it in a hypnotic tone, stuck again staring at her.
“No.” She smiled wider. “She won’t at all. She seems like she would rather hang out with Ella than spend one more minute there. I might even tell her about our plan, see if she can help.”
“You should wait and make sure Andy thinks that’s
a good idea. He’s fairly focused on getting even. And Ella doesn’t come across as the sort of girl who would take lightly to you introducing a wild card.”
“I’ll wait and make sure she’s not one of them, bought by the limelight of being an ‘it’ girl and the subculture the club provides.” She stepped forward. “I want to thank you for this. I know it’s weird and unconventional and immature and twisted.” She laughed at herself, blushing and glancing down. “Tomorrow, you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’ll see all of it. And it will be shocking to you, but you need to try to blend in and take it in stride.”
She lifted a small hand to my arm and her gaze to mine, not realizing I could feel heat from her thin fingers through my shirt building in my entire body. “When you see it all playing out, please don’t think less of me.” She pressed her lips together, like she might even cry. “I really saw it all tonight for the first time, and I can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been.” She blinked, and a single tear left her glossy eye.
“Cherry.” I didn’t know why I said her name, but I did. I stared at that tear, wanting so badly to lift my hand and wipe it away, cup her porcelain face, and press my lips onto hers.
“Just promise you won’t judge me. I’ve done enough self-critique lately for the both of us.” She wiped her tear and looked at the fire, lowering her hand. “I should go. I need to shower and pack for home tomorrow. No help here and all.”
“Okay. Night.”
“Night.” She turned and left, going to her room even though it was only a little after nine.
Cherry was a problem for me.
She was too beautiful to not want, so adding the human qualities I’d seen all week and the intelligence and humor to her cold exterior was like being tormented by forbidden fruit.
I closed my eyes and exhaled for the first time in at least a minute, trying desperately not to let myself fall for the broken rich girl.
Chapter Eighteen
BATHROOM BREAKS AND BRAVADO
Cherry
Friday night, Andy, Ashley, and I made our way to my parents’ table at the country club. My parents and sister were meeting us there.
When we got to the table my mother smiled, glowing and laughing. She was clearly on her second bottle of wine, typical for her.
Rachel and her family were also seated with us, her dad becoming my dad’s new favorite person.
Glancing around the room, I saw them all, all my friends. I waved at the ones I should, including Cait. She smiled wide from her father’s table, acting genuinely excited to see me. I did the same, although I was smiling because I was imagining bludgeoning her with my Louboutins. The blood-red shoes wouldn’t even get ruined.
Griffin’s parents were at a separate table, but Griffin was notably missing. I had hoped he wouldn’t show his face, but was scared he would be here. It was my lucky night.
“Mother, Father, Mr. Swenson, this is Ashley Jardine, a friend from Oxford who is over for the summer. He and I met a few years ago when I was on the debate team freshman year.” Andy introduced him to the table. “Ashley, this is my sister, Ella; my mother and father; and our friend, Mr. Harold Swenson, and his daughter, Rachel, and son, Ryan. And you met my other sister, Cherry, in the limo on the way over.”
“Nice to meet you, Ashley.” Mr. Swenson stood with my father and Ryan as I sat, and Ashley pushed in my chair, lingering over me. Mr. Swenson nodded at Ashley. “We were just in Oxford last summer. Lovely town.”
“Quite. The campus is stunning, and the heritage is truly unique,” Ashley said with perfect British form.
Ignoring them all, I leaned into Rachel, whom I’d chosen to sit next to. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” She smiled wide. “So Cait is totally a Heather,” she whispered in my ear, making my beaming face glow. “I watched it last night, and I was dying. This is us and our life for the summer. And I seriously think your sister is Christian Slater.”
“I know.” I winked at Ella, who was scowling at Rachel and I whispering in each other’s confidence. “Rachel watched Heathers last night,” I said to Ella, who instantly started to snigger and glance about the room.
“I see,” she said, giving Rachel a scrutinizing stare. “I suggest you watch Cruel Intentions next.”
“Maybe we could all watch it together.” Rachel laughed.
“How was your semester?” My mother glanced my way, interrupting us. I’d avoided seeing her since I’d been back.
“The usual.” I shrugged.
“Excellent.” She sipped from her glass coyly while lightly resting her hand on Rachel’s dad’s forearm. “Cheryl goes to Wellesley.”
“How nice. Another school with a lot of heritage.” Rachel’s dad smiled at me, not taking notice of my mother still lingering in his private space as they both turned back to my father and Ashley’s conversation.
“Oh, God. My mom’s making a play for your dad,” I whispered to Rachel.
“What?” She sounded worried. “For real? She would do that? He’s not ready for that kind of thing.”
“I’m kidding.” I laughed. “She’s flirting, but don’t worry. She only sleeps with guys who are under thirty and do manual labor for a living. It’s gross.”
“Your mom has affairs, and you know about them?”
“Welcome to the Hamptons. Affairs are a way of life.”
“Seriously.” She gulped. “I miss Europe more and more every day. They have affairs, but at least no one talks about them.”
“And how was last night?” My father beamed. “Your first spring prom meeting?”
“It’s the Spring Fling dance, Dad.” I grinned at him. I was always going to be his little girl.
“Excellent.” He glanced to where Cait was kissing her dad on the cheek. “Well, if Caitlyn Landry is handling it, you know it will be magnificent.”
“Of course.” Ella rolled her eyes with him. She and our dad got it. He saw the Hamptons for what it was: a lot of bravado. I used to think he was cynical, but now I saw he was correct.
“What’s the Spring Fling?” Ashley cocked an eyebrow and pretended to be new.
“Spring Fling is the start of event season here, a party to kick things off. It’s like the gun going off for the beginning of summer. The Landry family always plans it. This year the elusive role of queen of clubs is Cait’s. Before her, her older sister ran it. Before that it was an aunt. And I think her mom did it too. I know her grandma was in charge. Her dad’s the chair of the club,” Ella explained quietly. “She and her family think they sit at the top of the food chain around here. Her dad’s a drunk tyrant and a bit pervy. He lets Cait and her siblings use his name to throw their weight around, while her mom is a vase.”
“Vase?” Ashley sounded lost.
“Very pretty to look at, but don’t ever touch it. It’s fragile and priceless.” Ella laughed.
“Creepy and entirely accurate.” Andy nodded along.
“Ella!” my mother snapped. She usually ignored what we said until Ella went too far. Then she gave a slight wave to someone as she muttered to us, “The Landry family is a perfect example of what we should all strive for. And the Spring Fling committee is important. Paulson Exeter Academy has a reputation to uphold, even for its graduates. You ladies don’t want to break tradition.”
“Of course not.” I lifted my glass of wine at Ashley, hoping he was following along. “Never.” My mother gave me a shocked look. I never spoke up about this sort of thing. But having Andy, Ashley, Rachel, and Ella seated around the table made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this anymore. Or even more importantly, like I didn’t care.
Ryan narrowed his gaze. “You sound like you don’t approve, even though you play along.” He hit me right in the stomach. A brutal blow by a newcomer.
“To be honest, I was fully invested for the past six years.” I could see him judging me. “This season, I’m more invested than ever, just in a different capacity. What’s everyone having for dinner?”
Andy folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head dubiously at me. “Cherry, stop trying to change the subject; the young man has questions. You know you have always loved being one of the ‘it’ girls, being part of something bigger than you. You aren’t a stranger to sacrificing self-worth for a place at the table next to the high queen, just like all the other good girls.”
Ella defended me, her eyes darting to our mother. “Survival of the fittest.” I could see this was an act, everyone doing and saying what they normally would, and as usual I was the butt of the torment.
Rachel’s father frowned. “Is it that cutthroat here?”
“Ask Rachel what her first meeting was like.” Ella glanced at her.
“Absolutely.” Rachel nodded, sipping her wine. “We are talking first-class assholes and arranged-marriages status.”
“Arranged marriages?” Her father made a face. “Did we make a mistake? Is the school horrible too?”
“It’s not so bad.” Ryan shrugged. He was the same age as Ella, a senior in high school. “Everyone’s been nice to me so far, but I’ve only met kids outside of school. Maybe it’ll be different when classes start again in August.”
“Don’t listen to my family.” My mother had joined in again. “This is the best school on the Eastern Seaboard. Ryan will benefit immensely from the year he will have here. And even the three months Rachel has in town for the summer will be of some help. The influence of the people in this very room can move mountains. Look around and you’ll see the future staring back. Leaders and their wives are seated around every table.”
“Their wives.” Ella snorted. “Mother, easy on the 1960s speech.” A bitter smile lingered on my sister’s face. She was never going to fit in here. I wished I didn’t.
Ella was like our dad, through and through. He might have grown up blue blooded, but he tried to be a regular guy in every way. When he stayed in New York during the week, he went to games, ate hot dogs, and wore jeans. His life was simple and real. The weekends here were the work.
And like him, Ella was hard and soft in all the right places. She would be a challenge for any guy who ever wanted to get close. She made boys work to get to know her.
