Free Beach Lane by Melissa de La Cruz Page A

Pop?” Sugar asked. “We’ll see you later, Eliza.”
    “Night,” Eliza said, unsteadily slipping out of the car onto the crunching gravel underfoot.
    “Night,” the twins called, already halfway into the main house.
    Eliza made her way down the stone path and opened the door to the au pairs’ cottage ever so slowly. She was trying to be quiet. Really, she was. But she snagged her stiletto heel on the rug and went sprawling. She crashed into a bedside table with a loud thud.
    The light clicked on.
    “What the hell?” Mara asked, blinking like an owl without her contact lenses. She put on her glasses and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Eliza, it’s two in the morning!”
    “So what?” Eliza asked, heaving herself up from the floor and falling backward into her bed. “It’s early!”
    “For you, maybe,” Mara snapped. “Some of us actually worked today. What’s the deal with cutting out? Hey, are you drunk?”
    “God, Mara, get a grip.” Eliza moaned. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but we’re in the Hamptons —hello? The Hamptons. ”
    “I know that,” Mara snapped.
    But clearly she didn’t, thought Eliza.
    “Where’s Jacqui?” Mara asked.
    “I don’t know. Probably still having a lot of fun, unlike some people,” Eliza said pointedly. “You missed a great party.”
    “I wasn’t invited,” Mara replied.
    Right. Eliza looked uncomfortable. She had forgotten about that part. That was kind of mean of her, she realized, and she wasn’t a mean person—really. Just careless. But someone had to watch those bratty kids.
    She peeled off her tank top and struggled out of her skirt, pulling on her favorite silk camisole and a pair of Brooks Brothers pajama bottoms. She was still feeling high from her night and caught a glimpse of the pool reflecting in the garden pathway lights, giving her an idea . . . the six-pack Jacqui had found was still in the cooler.
    “Hey, Mar, what do you say we . . .,” she started to say, turning to her roommate. But Mara was already back asleep. Boy, Mara was one lame goody-goody.
    Eliza hopped into bed, hitting her pillow just as an all-too-familiar rumble geared up outside. No, it can’t be, she thought, bolting upright.
    “Get in!” she heard Sugar’s scratchy voice call.
    She scrambled to the window and watched as Poppy ran outof the main house, wearing a red, white, and blue tank top and white jeans, looking furtively over her shoulder toward the au pairs’ cottage. Eliza’s stomach dropped as the car backed stealthily away, the headlights sweeping the road only after they’d made it out of the driveway without the lights. I invented that trick, thought Eliza.
    They were going to the party after all.
    It was all well and good to hang out with her at a VIP room or two—but when it came to hitting the real action, she was just deadweight.
    The truth hit her hard, and for a minute she was back in her bedroom in Buffalo on yet another lonely Friday night. No one had asked her to be on prom committee even if it was obvious she had more style than anybody else in the class. They’d all thought she was such a snob when she turned up for her first day of school in a mink chubby. But hell, it was cold up there.
    This summer was supposed to be different—she was supposed to be back with the old posse, back in the limelight, back in the lap of luxury, where she belonged. She thought Sugar and Poppy were her friends.
    She thought back over the evening, looking for clues. So much had happened and she’d had so much to drink. It was mostly a fun, loud, Gucci-Envy-scented blur. But she did remember one thing: they hadn’t even thanked her for paying the valet.

A blistering day at the beach
    MARA SHOOK ELIZA’S SHOULDER. IT WAS ALMOST NOON and she was annoyed. Jacqui was nowhere to be found and Eliza had slept in all morning. Only Mara had shown up to feed the kids their breakfast in the main house (a grapefruit for Madison, gluten-free