“Okay. So now what?” she asked. They seemed like a pair of ordinary sunglasses to her. Did they give her Superman’s X-ray vision? Not as far as she could tell.
“Look around. Look at me,” Dex directed. “That should be enough.” He removed them from her face gently. Then he took a wire that led from the computer and slid the jack into a hidden slot on the hinge of the frame.
“It’s a camera,” he explained. “A video camera. We’re hoping to do this thing on YourTV where people can videotape their whole lives. Every person you’ve ever met. Everywhere you’ve ever been. It’s called lifelogging.” He typed in some keystrokes and called up a video on the screen in front of him. It showed the room as A. A. had seen it, and Dex’s smiling face, as well as a date in the corner. “They’re not available to the public yet. Some kind of issue with the battery. But one day . . .”
“That is so ace,” A. A. said.
“Thanks. I built it,” said Dex modestly. He pushed up his sleeve, and A. A. noticed a Speed Racer tattoo on his forearm.
A. A. hitched herself up on the desk, crossing her long legs and feeling more and more comfortable in his presence. “Lauren said she’s known you since she was little.”
“That’s ’cause I’ve been working with her dad since I was eleven,” Dex told her, swiveling back to the row of screens. “Back when he was still just getting his PhD.”
“So you’re a computer geek,” teased A. A.
“Hey—I coach the Gregory Hall lacrosse team! I wasn’t too bad myself when I was there,” Dex protested. “Not bad for an old guy.”
“You’re not old. You can’t be more than what—twenty?” A. A. guessed.
“I was kidding. I’m actually only seventeen,” said Dex. “I just graduated in the spring.”
He didn’t seem to mind her hanging out, but A. A. didn’t want to impose any longer. Besides, she really did need to pee.
When she returned to the main cabin, the lights were dark and the girls were watching a new movie that hadn’t even been released yet. Another YourTV perk, she guessed correctly.
“Where did you disappear to?” Ashley whispered.
A. A. shrugged. She was still thinking about what Dex had told her. He was seventeen years old, not twenty as she’d thought. He coached the lacrosse team. He had a Speed Racer tattoo on his forearm. He was super computer-savvy. Okay, so maybe fixing a virus on her home page wasn’t the same thing as inventing the world’s coolest video camera. And tons of guys liked Speed Racer. And played lacrosse.
But when she’d told laxjock she had to postpone because she was going out of town, he’d admitted he was relieved because he would be away that weekend too. But if he was laxjock, how come he didn’t recognize her from her online photo? Maybe because it was in black-and-white and she wasn’t wearing a ton of makeup right now? Or maybe he didn’t expect to meet “hollabackgirl” among a group of preteens.
A. A. thought of how hot Dex looked with his sharp white button-down shirt tucked into his straight-leg jeans. He was exactly what she pictured laxjock would look like. But it was ridiculous. Dex couldn’t be laxjock, could he?
Could he?
19
ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS
SO THIS WAS WHAT HAVING friends was like. Lauren felt warm and cozy as she sat wedged in between Lili and Ashley, not quite believing she was finally in their company at last. They were sharing a tub of buttery, salty-sweet kettle corn, eyes glued to the screen where the dazzling hero of next summer’s huge blockbuster was saving a screaming girl from several monstrous beasts. A. A. finally returned from the bathroom. Lauren was glad. A. A. had been gone for so long she was worried that she’d fallen out of the plane or something.
“Doesn’t he look just like Billy Reddy?” Ashley asked, during a lull in the movie.
“Totally,” agreed Lili, her cheeks full of popcorn. That girl was small but she could eat, Lauren thought.
“A bit,” A. A. said, a faraway look in her eye. “Or maybe Dex. Don’t you think he kind of looks like Dex?” Which was an odd thing to say, since the star onscreen was dark-haired and dark-eyed and looked nothing at all like Dex. But Lauren could spot a Dexaholic a mile away. The girl was definitely smitten. Too bad Dex already had a girlfriend and didn’t mess around with jailbait.
“A. A., you’re delusional as usual,” Ashley snapped. “We should call Billy,” she suggested. “Tell him what he’s missing. You guys are such good friends, right, Lauren? You should have invited him to join us today.”
Lauren froze. “We can’t use our cell phones up here,” she said quickly. “And Daddy doesn’t like us to use the air phone. I could get in trouble. Besides, Billy doesn’t like to shop.” Lauren had no idea if that was true, but she figured most boys hated shopping, so it was a safe assumption.
Ashley pouted but didn’t push it, and Lauren felt relieved. For a while there, when she and A. A. had bonded over their love for dark chocolate and Lili had complimented her on her shoes, and even Ashley had made a point of sitting next to her, Lauren had felt that maybe they really liked her. But Ashley’s question brought that fantasy crashing down to earth. They were hanging out with her only because Ashley thought she would introduce them to Billy Reddy—a prize Lauren intended to keep dangling just out of reach.
Once Ashley met Billy, Lauren had the distinct impression that Ashley would have no more use for her and would kick her off the top of the social ladder. Besides, what if she took them to his lacrosse game and Billy had no idea who she was? Sure, he’d invited her to come see him play. But maybe he invited anyone he met. He was probably just being nice. She would have to stall their meeting for as long as she could.
“What’s Billy’s favorite movie?” Lili wanted to know. They had lost interest in the onscreen adventure once their favorite topic of discussion came up.
“Uh . . . Nightmare Before Christmas,” Lauren said, because it was Dex’s favorite movie.
“Aw. That’s so sweet.” Ashley sighed. “Quick Q. Do you think he’d prefer strawberry or mango?”
Lauren shrugged and thought it was safe to say she had no idea. “You guys, you’re missing the best part,” she said, motioning to the movie. The girls turned to the screen for one second, registered that the handsome hero was professing his undying love to the hapless heroine, and quickly turned back to one another.
“Why do you want to know?” asked A. A. “Are you sending Billy a fruit basket?”
“So I know what lip gloss to wear when he kisses me, duh!” Ashley cackled. A. A. laughed, but Lili made a face that showed she thought that was totally gross. Lauren was glad to see that someone else felt just as conflicted about kissing boys as she did. Ashley had said she couldn’t imagine being thirteen and never-been-kissed, but Lauren thought she could probably wait at least that long.
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend, right, Lauren? You told us he didn’t,” Lili said in an almost accusatory tone.
She had told them that, not knowing whether it was true or not, and apparently it was the wrong answer—the grapevine had it that Billy was dating some Reed Prep freshman—but Lauren had thought it was better to say Billy was unattached, so the Ashleys would think they had a chance with him and keep Lauren around for longer.
“No, no girlfriend. I told you he broke up with her,” Lauren said, keeping her fingers crossed behind her back.
“Everything okay in here? Everyone having fun?” asked her mother, popping in again for the hundredth time, her hair now perfectly coiffed. Lauren wished her mom wouldn’t act so eager to please.
Like that bit about calling Dex by his full name earlier, something Trudy never did. Her mother was just as nervous about hosting the Ashleys as she was, and Lauren wished she would relax. That was the impossible thing about the Ashleys. Even if you secretly hated them, you still wanted them to like you.
So far, everything seemed to be going well enough. They did seem like they were having fun, and they were impressed by every
thing so far. At least A. A. and Lili were. It was hard to tell how Ashley felt. Lauren had felt a little left out earlier, when the Ashleys showed up for the day all wearing the same thing. They were like the world’s corniest girl band. Why did they all have to match all the time? Lauren was relieved when they took off the coats and sunglasses and she saw they were all wearing different things underneath—Ashley in a pale cashmere sweater and wool shorts, Lili in a tunic blouse and roomy oversize cardigan over leggings, and A. A. in a simple black turtleneck and black pants.
“We’re going to be landing soon,” she told them, zapping off the television screen and making an effort to tidy up the discarded candy wrappers, empty chocolate boxes, and half-eaten bags of chips that littered the floor. She noticed that none of the Ashleys offered to lift a finger. Ashley had even put her riding boots on top of Lauren’s dad’s cherished cherrywood coffee table. Lauren wished she could tell Ashley that no one put their feet up on the table, but she didn’t have the courage.
“We’re here?” asked Ashley. Lauren noticed her nodding meaningfully to the other two.
“Could you excuse us for a sec?” Lili asked. Lauren watched as the three of them grabbed their Proenza bags and matching Louis Vuitton carryalls and disappeared to the back of the plane. Should she join them? But she wasn’t invited. But wasn’t it her plane? Lauren felt stymied once again. Every time she thought she had finally cracked the Ashleys’ code—looking perfect, check, having cool stuff to show off, check, acting like the whole world revolved around you, check—they added another clause to the rulebook.
A few minutes later the Ashleys emerged. Gone were the thick sweaters and warm boots. Ashley was in a tank top with an A-line miniskirt and Prada flip-flops, Lili was wearing an airy spaghetti-strap sundress over a tissue-thin T-shirt and cork mules, and A. A. wore a Lilly Pulitzer polo with Bermuda shorts and Chloé flats. Even their complexions looked different—they looked tan.
“Did you guys find a tanning booth back there?” Lauren joked, trying not to feel too excluded. She wished she’d remembered to keep her spray-tan appointment last week. Maintenance on her new look was a lot of work, and she had a hard time keeping up. Already her roots were growing in curly—the horror!
“Tan in a can,” explained A. A., showing Lauren the aerosol sunless tanner. “Here, you want some?” she asked, spritzing a thick mist on Lauren’s face before she could reply.
Lauren coughed and waved A. A. off, but it was too late. She felt her face turning orange.
“You just can’t wear San Francisco clothes in L.A.,” Lili declared as she folded up her bulky clothes. “It’s not just a different climate, it’s a different style sensibility.” She expertly powdered her cheeks with bronzer to cover up any streaks.
“Totally,” A. A. agreed, stuffing the self-tanner back into her purse. “It’s, like, year-round summer. But you can wear your San Francisco clothes in New York.”
“Duh,” said Lili.
“Do you mind if we just leave our things here?” Ashley asked. She gave Lauren the old up-and-down, taking in the belted jumpsuit and the thick-soled boots. “Aren’t you going to be hot in that?” she smirked.
Lauren hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those eighty-eight-degree SoCal days. She kicked herself for not thinking to bring a change of clothes like they had. Then again, they could have been nice enough to tell her what the plan was.
But that was the thing. The Ashleys weren’t nice. They weren’t her friends. She’d gotten past the velvet rope at the front of the club, but she had yet to make it inside the VIP room. She wasn’t one of them. At least, not yet.
20
GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN
IT WAS ONLY AN HOUR to Los Angeles on a private plane, but for Ashley, it couldn’t end fast enough. She’d had to take a backseat while onboard, since she was a guest on Lauren’s plane. It wasn’t like she could stop A. A. and Lili from making total fools of themselves, stuffing their faces full of chocolate and chips and oohing and ahhing over everything inside that tacky flying McMansion. Now that they were back on the ground, Ashley felt more like herself again. In command.
“Where are we?” A. A. asked, shielding her eyes from the glare on the tarmac. It was a beautiful, cloudless, blue-sky day. A soft wind whispered through the gently swaying palm trees.
“Santa Monica,” said Lauren, a thin sheen of perspiration on her face already, Ashley was glad to see. “It’s the nearest private airport to Beverly Hills.”
“Ladies,” Dex announced, opening the door of an immaculately preserved cherry-red vintage Cadillac convertible that was parked by the airplane.
“Great car,” Lili gushed.
“Thanks,” Lauren said. “My dad’s a bit of a car freak. He bought it from some famous actor. He wanted to send a limo for us, but I thought you guys would like this better. It’s really hard to find a vintage Caddy in great condition.”
Ashley was still determined not to be impressed by anything Lauren showed her, but now her resolve was weakening, especially at the sight of the beautiful red car. So what. It was only a car. “Isn’t vintage just another word for ‘used’?” Ashley asked.
Lauren looked relieved when A. A. immediately began asking about the doodads on the dashboard, and she showed them how the old-fashioned radio worked.
Ashley climbed into the backseat next to Lili and Trudy while Lauren and A. A. sat up front. She noticed A. A. was paying Dex a lot of attention. He was definitely a cutie, but, hello, a little old for them, she thought. But then, A. A. was supposed to be experienced, so maybe she could handle it.
Dex drove smoothly through the streets of Santa Monica, past the boardwalk, where Ashley could see the waves cresting and armies of people gathered on the beach. There were families having picnics, couples riding bikes, groups of friends tossing Frisbees. A giant Ferris wheel towered over the whole scene, and the air smelled like hot dogs. Lauren was still blabbing on and on about how the actor had given her family a tour of the set of his latest movie, and A. A. and Lili were totally eating it all up. How long did she have to listen to this girl yak?
Not very long, she decided, spotting a shaggy-haired guy in a loose-fitting top walking on the sidewalk and gasped. “Look! It’s that guy from The Hunger Games!” she shrieked, bringing Lauren’s monologue to a halt. “The cute one!”
“Omigod. Is it?” Lili asked, standing up from her seat as well.
“Not a chance. Fooled you.” Ashley laughed, glad to have caught their attention. In retaliation Lili pelted her with yogurt raisins she’d taken from the plane.
“Are we going to see any celebrities?” A. A. asked eagerly, craning her neck around madly.
“A. A., you see celebs all the time,” growled Ashley. Did she have to remind A. A. that her mother was practically a celebrity herself?
“Those are just San Francisco celebrities,” A. A. replied, with an eye roll of her own. “Some romance writer and some geezer actor. I want to see Daphne Shepard and Venice Westin.”
By then all three Ashleys were standing in the open-top car, and they began to attract a lot of attention in the slow-moving traffic. Ashley started waving and blowing kisses to anyone who beeped at them, and Lili and A. A. soon followed suit. Lauren, Ashley was glad to note, was sitting rigidly and looking like she was not quite sure what to do.
“Hey, it’s the StripHall Queens—turn it up!” Ashley ordered as the radio began blasting the popular song with the heavy bass line. The three girls immediately began their synchronized dancing, the result of years of dance-team dominance. The Ashleys had made nationals last year.
“Who’s sexiest girl in the whole . . .,” they yelled, each pointing to herself during the chorus. “Who’s the sexiest girl in the whole . . . world?”
“C’mon, Lauren, dance,” A. A. said, pulling her up to stand. Lauren danced, but she didn’t know any of the moves and settled for bobbing her head while the Ashleys mimed taking their clothes off. There was a frenzy of beeping and whoop
ing when A. A. accidentally showed a little more skin than she intended to the crowd on the sidewalk during a vigorous over-the-head sequence.
“Girls, sit down,” Dex ordered, as the girls fell backward when the car lurched forward at the green light. “I’m going to get a ticket.”
“Aw, let them have their fun,” called Trudy from the backseat. “You’re only young once.”
True enough, Mrs. P., Ashley thought. Although you’d never think it from the way you dress.
Ashley sat back down, fanning her face with her hands, energized by the impromptu showcase. The song had ended and traffic began to move again. She noticed that they had left the streets of Santa Monica and had entered Beverly Hills proper.
“We’re on Rodeo,” she said, elbowing Lili. The glittering avenue was famed for its high-end retail emporiums and was one of Ashley’s favorite places in the world. The storefronts were as polished and sleek as the shoppers walking on the sidewalks.
Dex drove up to a building with jaunty red canopies over the windows. “Barneys. Your stop, ma’am,” he said to Trudy, who climbed out of the car.
Ashley prepared to follow her out, but Trudy had already slammed the door. “You girls have fun now. Dex is going to keep an eye on you. Lauren, honey, don’t spend it all in one place, okay?” Trudy instructed, handing her daughter a platinum credit card.
Then Dex revved up the engine and they were on their way again. Ashley looked back longingly at the store, wondering why they weren’t going there. They drove past a host of elegant boutiques. Bulgari. Louis Vuitton. Tiffany. Gucci. Versace. Valentino. Then they were out of Rodeo Drive entirely.
Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t we stopping here?” she asked plaintively when they passed Saks Fifth Avenue.
“We’re not going to Rodeo Drive,” replied Lauren.
“Oh? Why not? I thought we were shopping in Beverly Hills,” Ashley said with a toss of her head.
The Ashley Project Page 9
