by Kate Brian
Lindsee laughed.
"Wait. Why isn't just one of them shopping for a new dress?" Brooklyn asked.
"I'm sorry, were we talking to you?" Lindsee snapped.
Teagan opened her eyes and caught Brooklyn's look of instant ire, then watched her control it and go about her business. She knew better than to snap back at Lindsee. If she did, she'd probably be fired. Of course now she was ripping her fingers through Teagan's hair like she was trying to bald her.
"Neither of them wants the other's sloppy seconds," Teagan told Brooklyn, if only to her to chill out before she was scalped.
Brooklyn widened her eyes and blew out her lips like, "That's some world you live in."
Like you wouldn't kill to be where I am, Teagan thought.
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After getting conditioned and having the sealant worked through her hair, Teagan was feeling decidedly more relaxed. The second mimosa went a long way toward helping the situation as well. Soon she found herself in that massage chair she had been daydreaming about, bumping around as the mechanism worked the kinks out of her shoulders and back. Her feet soaked in a warm bubble bath full of peppermint salt as one of Michel's manicurists buffed away at her fingernails.
"You'll never believe who I bumped into out on the street with the homeless people," Teagan said to Lindsee, who was getting shaped and polished in the next chair. Lindsee raised her perfect eyebrows. "Shay Beckford," Teagan said.
"Omigod. Why am I not surprised?" Lindsee replied. "Is he homeless now?"
"No. He was just helping them raise money," Teagan said.
"You mean helping them beg for cash so they won't have to get off their lazy asses and get a job," Lindsee said with a laugh. "I can't believe he's DJ'ING your party."
"Well, he is the best," Teagan said, trying not to squirm as the woman working on her hands tugged at her cuticles. If there was one beauty regimen Teagan could never keep up, it was her nails and cuticle beds. Twenty-four hours after every manicure, they were destroyed again. She just couldn't get herself to stop picking at them.
"Mother says if I have a sweet sixteen party, she'll call in a favor and get Coldplay to perform," Lindsee said, rolling her eyes.
you didn't cave, did you?" Teagan asked, sitting up a little straighter. If there was anyone in Upper Sheridan capable of outdoing her on a sheer extravagance scale, it was Lindsee Hunt. Her parents were not only hugely successful cardio-surgeons but
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were rolling in old-family money. Plus they had worked their bypass magic on several entertainment bigwigs and were always being invited to Manhattan or out to the Hamptons for swank parties that appeared in In Style and New York magazine. The only reason Teagan had even attempted to throw the party of the century was because Lindsee had sworn she didn't want one. Therefore, Teagan was sure she couldn't be outdone.
"Please. No," Lindsee said, as if the idea of a huge bash in her honor was repugnant to her. "It was just her latest attempt at bribery. She wants to throw me a party so she can invite all her stuck-up friends and have an excuse to get drunk on Taittinger's and eat caviar all night. No, thank you."
"So we're still going to Cabo?" Teagan asked, relieved.
"Bien sur," Lindsee said. "I just talked to the travel agent yesterday. All I want for my sweet sixteen is to be lying on a beach with my best friend getting a massage from some hot guy named Miguel."
"Sounds like heaven." Teagan sighed, leaning back again.
"So, are you getting anything good for your birthday?" Lindsee asked. "I mean aside from the sweet ride your father bought you."
"My father had almost nothing to do with that," Teagan reminded her. "He left me the brochures from the three companies he decided I could choose from and I went shopping with Jonathan."
"A gift in and of itself," Lindsee said. "Remember that time we caught him changing in the pool room?"
Teagan blushed. Jonathan's had been the first live-and-in- 3D male anatomy she had ever seen. "How could I forget?"
"I dreamt about that for months," Lindsee said.
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"Seriously," Teagan said.
"Anyway, speaking of gifts, what do you think Max is getting you?" Lindsee asked, raising her eyebrows. "Something . . . sparkly, perhaps?"
"I just hope it's not a gag gift like last year," Teagan said. "I mean, who does huge teddy bears anymore? It's so seventh grade."
"Well, if I had a boyfriend, I'd definitely want him to get me something sparkly," Lindsee said, absently toying with her gold necklace.
"Don't worry, Lins. I'm sure by the time your birthday rolls around, you'll have a man who'll buy you whatever you want," Teagan said, reveling again in the fact that she had a boyfriend and Lindsee did not. There weren't many facets of life in which she excelled over her gorgeous, stylish, smart best friend.
So sue me if I like to bring it up as much as possible, Teagan thought.
"I know I will," Lindsee shot back, a little snappish.
"Jeez. Defensive much?" Teagan asked.
Lindsee cast her a sidelong glance, then suddenly switched from bitter to boisterous. She turned in her chair slightly as soon as her manicurist finished her second hand. "Okay, but what do you really want for your birthday?"
Instantly Teagan's thoughts turned to her mother. She had a dim recollection of her sitting in a deep, cushy chair at some random birthday party of Teagan's when she was a kid. She remembered the way she had smelled when she pulled Teagan in for a hug. Like roses and cinnamon.
"Teagan? What're you thinking about?"
Teagan's heart skipped a startled beat. "Max."
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Lindsee blinked, then her lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Oh, really?" She lifted her mimosa to her lips and took a long swallow.
"Yeah, I'm thinking about having sex with him tonight," Teagan said nonchalantly.
Lindsee instantly spit out an entire mouthful of mimosa, showering the woman who was draining the tub at her feet. Flecks of champagne hit the mirror on the wall across from her and dotted the woman's arms and face. Teagan cracked up laughing.
"Ugh!" the woman shouted, then hurried out of the room.
Lindsee pressed her fingers delicately to her lips and coughed.
"Nice work," Teagan said.
Lindsee wiped her bottom lip with her fingertip, being careful not to smudge her nails. "Hang on. Are you serious?"
"Totally," Teagan said with a nod. "I'm thinking that once I'm done getting wasted at the open bar, I'll grab Max and take him back to one of those private suites at the club. You know how crazy I get when I drink."
"I do have a dim recollection of a little table dance incident at Maya's post-winter-formal party," Lindsee said, narrowing her eyes. "But won't your father freak?"
"Like he'll ever even know," Teagan said, taking another swig of her mimosa. Just thinking about her father made her bitter, and suddenly the bumping and grinding of the massage chair seemed positively medieval. She reached for the remote and shut it down. "Who needs this chair when I have Max to give me a full-body rubdown?" she said, adding a luxurious sigh for good measure.
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Max --with his broad shoulders, his year-round tan (Teagan was the only one who knew he had an open account at LA Tans), that sideways smile he reserved just for her--had been dropping hints about his sexual needs for weeks. These hints grew less and less subtle by the day and Teagan figured that losing her virginity to him would be the perfect birthday present for both of them. If she could get up the guts to just do it already.
Lindsee downed the rest of her drink and grabbed the first passing employee to order another.
Teagan smirked at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair was slicked back behind her ears, just waiting for Michel's magical touch. Her brows had been plucked into slim arches and her skin shone from the deep-pore-cleansing mask, highlighting her high cheekbones. For the moment she was makeup free, but her green eyes shone as she pondered a night of passion with Max. Thin
king about him was a lot better than ruminating about the party or her father or her birthday without her mom. Instead she focused on the mental movie of last Friday night, when Max had come over for a little one-on-one and he and Teagan had come closer than ever to doing the deed.
Teagan's father, as always, was off on a business weekend in San Francisco, (with Karen, of course) so there was no one to ask questions when Teagan suggested she and Max head up to her room. She had been thinking about surprising him with a condom and an invitation, but at the last minute she had chickened out. Max had insisted they leave the lights on and Teagan had panicked about how her fully naked body might look to her FHM-obsessed boyfriend. Instead Teagan had made sure most of the action stayed above the clothes, but by
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the time Max had finally pulled himself away, every single part of her anatomy had been pounding, aching for more.
So maybe tonight, if she didn't eat a morsel of food--which she wasn't planning on doing anyway in order to look hot in her custom-made Vera Wang--and if she kept the lights dim, maybe tonight would be the night.
"Teagan Phillips, you are so bad," Lindsee said with a grin. Teagan gulped down the rest of her drink. "Was there ever any doubt?"
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Upcoming Sweet Sixteen Party
Transcript 1, cont'd.
Reporter: Melissa Bradshaw, Senior Editor, Rosewood Prep Sentinel
MB: What about makeup? Will you be doing your own?
TP: (laughs) Missy, please! This is the most important night of my life! Sophia Killen and I have been working all year to perfect my color palette. She designed a line of cosmetics especially for me and is coming to my house to personally apply my face.
MB: It's Melissa.
TP: Right. Sorry. You just seem like a Missy. No offense.
MB: None taken, (clears throat) And Sophia Killen is ... his
TP: Omigosh! Only one of the biggest up-and- coming makeup artists in all of New York. She apprenticed at Bobbi Brown for years! Now she's breaking off to form her own company. I hear she's even stealing some of Bobbi's most important clients.
MB: I see. So there were no makeup artists in
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the greater Philadelphia area who were up to snuff?
TP: Everyone knows that all the best people in fashion and beauty are in New York. If not, then LA, Paris, or Milan.
MB: (audible sigh) Okay, now that we've imparted that piece of highly valuable information, what about your boyfriend? I believe you're dating . . . (sound of papers rustling) Max Model?
TP: I think everyone is aware that Max and I have been a couple since last year's Spring Fest.
MB: Will Max be escorting you to the party?
TP: Of course he will. I've already picked out his tuxedo. It's the sleekest little Hugo Boss. It was made for him. Literally.
MB: (pause) You had your boyfriend's outfit made for him?
TP: A girl has to make sure her accessories are impeccable. They are the first thing people notice, after all.
MB: Could you excuse me for a moment? I think I just tasted bile, (sound of fumbling)
END OF TAPE 1
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"Have all the flowers been delivered?" Teagan barked into her cell phone as she checked her reflection in the full- length mirror inside her walk-in closet. "Yes, miss," George Lowell answered in his ever-placid tone. As the manager of the most prestigious country club in the area, he always maintained his composure. Emotions were far too crass for a man in his position.
"And what about the stages? Have they all been set up?"
"The carpenters put their finishing touches on the runway a few hours ago, miss."
"And the drapes?"
"Draped."
"The velvet ropes?"
"In place."
"The wind machine?"
"Blowing like a hurricane."
"Well, I don't want a hurricane," Teagan snapped. "I want
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an evening breeze on the beach. That thing messes up my hair and it's your head."
"Yes, miss. I'll tell the technicians to subdue the wind machine," George Lowell said.
"And what about the -- his
"Everything is in order, miss. I would stake my reputation on it."
"It better be," Teagan said. "I've worked my ass off on this thing."
"I'm sure you have, miss."
If only that were literally true, Teagan thought, turning to the side and scrutinizing her backside. Although she had to admit that her custom-made Vera Wang did a great job of masking her humongous butt cheeks. It should have. The price tag had been ginormous. Teagan smoothed down the slippery light blue material, and the asymmetrical hem swished around her thighs and knees, tickling her skin. She had chosen the color as a homage to her mother, who was heavy into astrology. She had once told Teagan that the signature color of her birth sign, Taurus, was pale blue. Her mom dressed her in it almost every day as a kid and she had to admit, it was really quite becoming. She could totally see Keira Knightly wearing this exact dress to a premiere. But wait, did her arms look fat from this angle? Ugh! She was going to have to remember not to let anyone important see her from the side.
"Now, Miss Phillips, if I might ask ... Is it absolutely necessary that I wear this . . . ensemble you've chosen for me?" George asked.
Teagan heaved a sigh. "What's the problem?"
"It's just a tad formfitting for my taste," he replied.
Teagan glanced at the clock on the wall of her closet. It
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was already 7 P.M. She couldn't believe he was bringing this up now. She had sent him the black Dolce turtleneck and pants last week. If he had a problem looking chic and stylish instead of frumpy as he usually did in his tux and tails, he should have told her then.
"Well, let me ask you this, were you expecting a tip tonight?" Teagan asked.
"I . . . oh . . . well . . . it's customary for the special events manager to receive some sort of special compensation from clients, yes," George stammered.
"Then wear it with pride."
The doorbell rang and Teagan's heart did a twirl. Max was here. It was all starting. The biggest night of her life was about to begin.
"Gotta go, George," Teagan said into the phone. "Make sure your guys are out there with golf umbrellas when my limo arrives. I am not walking into this party looking like I just went down a log flume."
"Yes, miss. And might I take this opportunity to wish you happy bir--was
But Teagan had already hung up. She shook her hair back from her face, then fluffed it with both hands. The layers fell perfectly around her cheeks and chin, as smooth as silk. Michel really was a miracle worker.
"You look sensational and the party is going to be killer," she told herself. "This is going to be the best night of your life."
With a resolute nod to her reflection. Teagan turned and opened her bedroom door. Her breath was nearly taken away by the sight of Max standing there in his full tuxedo, holding a small silver box in both hands. His shaggy blond hair had been waxed and mussed to Brad Pittian perfection. His light hazel
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eyes betrayed not a hint of the hangover he must have spent all day fighting. His dimples were deep enough to swim in and his tight lacrosse-star bod had never worn anything so flattering.
"Hey there, princess," he said with a coy smile. "Happy birthday."
I am so going to have sex with you tonight, Teagan thought.
"What do you have there?" she asked, eyeing the gift as he stepped into her room.
"Just a little something for the most beautiful girl in the room," Max said, offering it to her with a slight bow. He really was in rare form.
"I'm the only girl in the room," she pointed out, taking the box.
Max blinked and stood up straight. "Good point."
Teagan ripped open the wrapping paper and fumbled with the black velvet box inside. When she finally got it open, she let out a little gasp. Sitti
ng in the center of the box was a small open heart of tiny, sparkling diamonds. It hung on a delicate, almost invisible white gold chain.
"Max! It's beautiful," Teagan said.
He stepped closer to her. So close she could actually taste his recently applied cologne.
"You already have my heart, but I figured you might like one you could wear," he said in a husky voice.
"Nice one," Teagan joked. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"
Max's expression instantly changed. "God! Can't a guy get a little romantic anymore?"
"What? Come on! I'm just saying! It sounded like a line!" Teagan said.
Max shook his head at her and took the box out of her
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hands. Teagan had the distinct feeling she had just spoiled a moment. But he couldn't have seriously thought that didn't sound like it had been pre-written. She was just messing with him. What was the big deal?
"Here. Let me put it on for you," he said flatly.
Teagan turned her back on Max and lifted her hair, knowing full well that if she was going to salvage the night with him, she was going to have to apologize. He could be such a big pouty baby sometimes. She straightened the necklace and checked it in the mirror.
"It's beautiful, really," she told Max, putting on her most syrupy voice. "I love it." Then she turned to him and slipped her arms around his neck. "And I love you too."
"Yeah?" he said, the smile returning.
"Yeah."
He leaned in and kissed her and Teagan let his tongue play with hers for exactly fifteen seconds before she tried to pull away. He held her firmly, though, and she finally had to almost push him off.
"Max! It took Sophia Killen half an hour to get these lips right," she said, whirling for the mirror again.
"Sorry, babe," he said, whacking her on the butt. "Let's go downstairs. The guys are gonna be here any minute."
Max turned and walked out and Teagan quickly touched up her lip liner and gloss the way Sophia had taught her. She grabbed her small silver handbag and her oversized everyday purse, which was stuffed with all the supplies she'd need to keep herself looking photo-worthy all night long. She touched the tiny heart and smiled. Maybe she should tell Max that she was planning on losing her virginity with him tonight. That would definitely keep him in a good mood.
