Anne grabbed her purse and ran for the door, excited to see her dad and check out her new room. But when she tried to open it, the door was locked. So she knocked. But nobody answered. “Dad?” she called, knocking even louder and ringing the bell.
“He’s probably not home yet. Here, use the key,” Jake said, tossing her a shiny gold key.
“But he’ll be home soon, right?” she asked, opening the door to an expansive foyer filled with tropical plants and freshly cut flowers.
“Doubtful. They were having problems on the set, and he said he didn’t know if he’d make it home tonight. But I’m sure he’ll call you later.”
“You mean I’m supposed to stay here by myself?” she asked, feeling more than a little panicked.
“Yeah. You can totally party. But if I were you, I’d just lie down and take a nap,” Jake said, setting her bags on the travertine-tiled floor.
“Well, where are you going?” she asked, suddenly dreading his leaving. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone in the big unfamiliar house.
“Hittin’ the beach. There’s six-foot swells out there.” He smiled.
“But, don’t you have more work to do? You said in the airport that you were on a time crunch.” She hated herself for sounding so needy.
“I didn’t want to miss the surf. You were my last chore.” He shrugged.
“Thanks a lot,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You know what I mean.” He turned and headed for the door. “See you around,” he called over his shoulder.
“Whatever,” she said, standing in the foyer, watching him leave.
When the door closed behind him, she was left with nothing but an overwhelming loneliness and complete silence. I better get used to it, she thought. Then she grabbed her bags and walked down a long hallway in search of her new bedroom.
chapter three
Ellie weaved her long white-blond hair into a single braid that cascaded all the way down her back, landing just short of her bikini bottoms. She wriggled into her wetsuit and looked at the clock one last time. It was already five forty-five and there was still no sign of them.
Grabbing her surfboard, she headed out, closing the glass sliding door slowly and carefully behind her. The last thing she needed was to wake up her brother, who had come in late the night before, or even worse her dad, who was on her case for just about everything these days.
She made her way down the stairs leading from her house to the beach, and scanned for her friends, hoping they were already out there, but secretly knowing better.
After a few stretches and beach sprints to warm up her tired muscles, she headed into the water, dropped her board, and began paddling out. When she got past the break, she lay resting, with her chin propped against her folded arms, enjoying the mellow sway of the water and the quiet solitude of an empty beach. She loved getting out early and watching the ocean change from a moonlit sparkly sequin to a sun-warmed velvet. But even though she liked having the waves to herself and not having to wait in a never-ending lineup, she still missed the company of her best friends, Lola and Jade.
It had started last spring. The early-morning surf ritual that had bonded them all through elementary, junior high, and well into their freshman and sophomore years of high school began to gradually taper off. First to three times a week, then two, and now, by early September, she was lucky if they surfed together on a random Saturday. And even then, by the time they showed up practically all of Laguna Cove was in the lineup and it took all day just to get a turn.
But Jade and Lola didn’t seem to care. Suddenly, they were content to just lie on their towels reading fashion magazines and checking out all the guys, just like all the other beach Barbies they used to make fun of, and Ellie just didn’t get it. For one thing, the guys they were looking at were the same old totally immature, unfocused bros they’d known since grade school. And Ellie knew for a fact that not one of them was worth talking about, much less missing waves for.
Well, except for Chris, who was not only amazingly cute, with his aqua-blue eyes (the same color as the Fiji waters on a cloudless day), tanned skin, and shaggy, sun-streaked hair that was constantly falling into his eyes, but also incredibly smart (he was in all the same advanced-placement classes as she) and an accomplished surfer, maybe even the best in Laguna Cove (well, after her older brother, Dean).
But nobody knew how she felt about Chris—not Jade, not Lola, and definitely not Chris! To him, they were just good buds who went way back, and that’s the way it would have to stay. Ellie couldn’t afford to waste time obsessing over some guy. She had to stay focused on the important things, like maintaining her perfect 4.0 GPA, her position as Surf Club president, and taking first at the upcoming San Onofre Surf Fest competition so she could get noticed by the sponsors she’d been dreaming of for too many years to count.
With her five-foot-nine, slim, toned frame and long blond hair pulled back into its usual braid or ponytail, exposing her perfect face, there was something so graceful and delicate about her, people often assumed she was a model or ballerina—that is, until they saw her surf. In the ocean, she was a strong and fearless competitor who could carve up the face of a wave with both elegance and aggression.
Guys also came easy to Ellie, always drawn first by her looks, then later by her brains and talent. She had a handful of good guy friends she could always count on as a last-minute prom date or emergency flat-tire fixer. But she never allowed any of these friendships to go further than a quick peck on the cheek or, even more likely, a brief hug. That she could have pretty much any guy she wanted was merely a fact that didn’t mean much to her. Especially since she only wanted one.
But even Chris, awesome as he was, could not get in the way of her dreams. She had a lot to live up to, and it was like her dad always said: “Go after your goals with absolute tunnel vision!” “Allow nothing to get in your way!” “You have to name it before you can claim it!”
Okay, the last may have been Dr. Phil. But whatever. The bottom line was she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted. No matter what.
She scanned the empty beach, looking for her friends even though she knew they wouldn’t show; then, feeling the water beginning to rise and swell beneath her, she started paddling, jumping up on her board with the strength and assurance of someone more comfortable in the ocean than anywhere else. But as always, on her first wave of the day (especially when no one was watching), there were no fancy tricks, no special maneuvers to impress the judges. It was just Ellie, her board, and the ocean all blending in harmony for that one perfect moment. She allowed herself one soul surf a day, but she refused to admit it was always her favorite.
After several decent waves, she checked the tide watch her dad had bought her for Christmas last year and realized she barely had time for one more before she had to head back home, change, and meet her trainer for her two-hour gym workout.
Jumping up on her board, she sensed that this last wave would be the best of the day, as she expertly cranked it around, catching the lip and slicing through the cool, green curl. If this was the Surf Fest, those sponsors would be double-checking my name right about now, she thought.
But just as she was going for a really big finish, she spotted another surfer paddling out. Sun-streaked hair, tanned skin, perfect body, and even though she couldn’t exactly see them from this distance, she knew the eyes were clear, like blue topaz. And just as she was thinking about those eyes, she lost focus, wiped out, and swallowed salt water right in front of him.
“You okay?” Chris called, just before duck-diving under a wave.
But by the time he resurfaced, she’d already untangled the seaweed from around her legs and retrieved her board, as though nothing had happened. Giving him a casual over-the-shoulder wave, she headed toward the cliff stairs, glad that her back was now to him so he couldn’t see that her face was bright red with humiliation, embarrassment, and anger at her own lack of focus.
She opened t
he little gate that led to the limestone terrace and leaned her board against the low fence. Reaching back to unzip her wetsuit, she looked up and saw her father sitting on a lounge chair by the Jacuzzi, drinking an orange juice.
Oh, great. How long has he been there? she wondered.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, casually squeezing salt water from her braid and hoping he hadn’t seen her wipe out.
“That’s quite a spill you took out there,” he said, eyeing her carefully.
“It wasn’t that bad, really.” She grabbed a towel and headed for the sliding glass doors that led to the living room, hoping he wouldn’t follow.
“Tell that to the judges,” he said, right behind her now.
“Well, did you happen to see any of the waves I had before that?” she asked, trying to sound neutral so he wouldn’t know how upset she was by his criticism. She wiggled out of her wetsuit and hung it on a hook by the door. “Because some of them were really good.” She turned to face him briefly, taking in his towering six-foot-four frame, the hair that despite the slight thinning was still as blond as hers, the tanned face, and the deep lines that fanned away from his clear green eyes that were also just like hers.
“All of them have got to be good, Ellie, not just some of them. You think your brother won NSSA by one or two merely decent waves?”
Ellie reached for the door handle and rolled her eyes. But her back was toward him, so it’s not like he could see it.
“And don’t roll your eyes at me. I can see your reflection in the window, you know.”
Leave it to my dad to find a maid that does windows! “Okay, so I slipped a little. Trust me, it’s no big deal. I’ll get it straight before the contest, so you don’t have to worry,” she said, hurrying up the stairs to her room, where she could finally escape his never-ending scrutiny.
“Ellie?”
Jeez, what now? she thought. She was just outside her door, so close to freedom.
“This is for you.” He handed her his platinum credit card. “Stop by the mall later and get yourself whatever you need for school tomorrow.”
Taking the card, she looked at him, immediately feeling guilty for everything she’d just been thinking. But it was always like that. He’d pile on the pressure to the point where she was just about to scream, then quickly follow it up by an act of extreme kindness or generosity. She knew he meant well, but sometimes he really got on her nerves.
chapter four
Anne woke to the sound of a persistent high-pitched ringing. Assuming it was there to accompany the incessant drumming in her head (it was beginning to sound like a really bad garage band in there), she lay in her new bed with her eyes shut tight, promising to whoever might be in charge of these things that if they would just put an end to the incessant pounding, the cotton mouth, and the nausea, then she would never, ever drink red wine (or anything else, for that matter) again.
Ever!
Well, at least not until her twenty-first birthday.
Really.
She wasn’t just saying that.
When the ringing abruptly stopped, her eyes popped open. Could it be? But when it resumed a moment later, she realized it was the phone, not her head, that was making all that racket.
Tossing the covers aside, she stumbled out of bed, wondering where the phone was located. In her old room in Connecticut, she’d had a cordless with her own private number, a cell phone with a different number, a laptop, two e-mail addresses, and a BlackBerry that they could all be forwarded to. And it was all within easy reach of her big, comfortable canopy bed. Communication with everyone who mattered had always been right at her fingertips.
But here, in her dad’s strange new digs, she didn’t even know where to start. Since she had fallen asleep not long after finding her room the day before, the rest of the house had so far remained a mystery. Sprinting out of her room, she headed down the hall and toward the kitchen, partly because it seemed like the logical place to start, and partly because it was the only other room she was familiar with.
“Hello?” she said, picking up the receiver of a brand-new silvercolored phone designed to look retro, but with all the modern conveniences.
“Did I wake you?” her dad asked from God-knows-where.
“Kind of. Where are you?” She settled onto a teakwood stool at a long, narrow table, the kind design magazines always refer to as a “breakfast bar.”
“Still on set. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you yesterday. Things got a little hectic around here. But I should be back by tonight,” he said, not sounding very convincing.
Should be? “Oh, okay,” she said, feeling completely annoyed with him, yet cringing at the high-pitched whininess in her own voice.
“See you then?” he asked, obviously in a hurry to hang up.
“Dad, wait. What exactly am I supposed to do here? I mean, I feel kind of stranded,” she said, looking around the unfamiliar kitchen, feeling like she’d broken into her own house.
“Call Jake if you need anything. His number is on the pad next to the phone. Or ask Christina; she should be there by noon.”
Christina? Jeez, he was freshly divorced, new to the neighborhood, and he already had a girlfriend? What was with her parents? The way they played musical partners, they were worse than the kids at school!
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but it only intensified the throbbing. “Dad, do you think you could … ?” She stopped, noticing the absolute silence on the other end. Oh my God, did he already hang up? “Hello? Hello?” she said, staring at the receiver. He was gone. Just like that. No good-bye, nothing. How’s that for a warm welcome? she thought, slamming down the phone.
Hopping off the stool, she opened the fridge and peered inside, searching for something to cure what appeared to be her very first (and definitely last) hangover. She grabbed a carton of soy milk and swigged straight from the container. But she didn’t get as far as the swallowing part before running straight to the sink where she gagged and spit and rinsed her mouth with tap water until that thick, nasty soy taste was no more than a bad memory. Gag. Was her dad turning into some kind of California hippie health freak? Or was it Christina’s fault that the fridge was full of weirdo organic stuff she wasn’t used to?
Anne glanced at the clock on the stove. Another hour until Christina would be guest-starring in what would surely be her most challenging role to date: that of eager new companion to handsome, newly single dad and his hung over, sulky, resentful (but ultimately well-meaning) daughter.
Anne had a tendency to view her life in movie terms, as though all moments were taking place in front of a live studio audience, and lately there had been no shortage of big, dramatic moments. She always assumed it was just a natural side effect of having a big Hollywood exec for a dad, but lately she wondered if it wasn’t just plain weird.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wondered what the Ingenue, a.k.a. Christina, would look like. Let’s see, her dad was so upset with her mom these days, it was safe to assume he’d go for the complete opposite. Like maybe a Kate Hudson meets Meg Ryan type—the kind of sexy/wholesome L.A. hybrid that can make an entire career out of lame, formulaic romantic comedies.
Though, it was kind of creepy picturing her dad with someone like that. Someone so different from her mom’s own look of sharp, sleek, elegant New York City attorney who ultimately cheats on her husband and destroys her family. Yeah, her mom was definitely more the femme fatale, film noir type.
But Anne didn’t like thinking about her mom any more than her dad probably did. It was because of her that they were both living here in this dreadful, sunny place. And even though Anne knew firsthand just how much it sucked to be constantly ignored by her work-obsessed dad, the truth was she was dealing with it, so why couldn’t her mom? After all, they were the adults! They were the ones who took the vows!
They were also the ones who taught her all about “honoring your commitments,” and all kinds of other values that they themselves ap
parently didn’t practice. It’s like, ever since the divorce it seemed they’d conveniently forgotten all the lessons they’d taught her, and the line between parent and child had become extremely blurred.
Grabbing a banana from a silver wire basket, she headed out the sliding doors and onto the flagstone terrace overlooking the beach. She walked to the railing and leaned against it, peeling the banana skin and squinting into the sun toward the ocean. There were five, maybe six surfers all lined up, floating on their boards, laughing and joking while they waited their turn.
She finished her banana and left the peel lying on the railing, then walked down the stairs and sat on the very last one so she could get a closer look. The beach was a perfect little cove, with light, clean sand dotted with beachgoers’ umbrellas, two wooden lifeguard stands, and what looked to be a much-used volleyball net at the far end. And even though she was determined not to like it here, the fact was she couldn’t believe this beach was actually hers. Well, not hers exactly—there were plenty of other families in the neighborhood. But still, it was hers in the way that it was right at her fingertips, right at the bottom of her stairs.
She watched the surfers catching waves, one after another, some gliding gracefully to shore, some wiping out and pounding sand. But as much as she loved the water and loved to swim, she was way more comfortable in a pool than the ocean. It was the smell of chlorine, not salt water, that got her excited. She really hoped her new school would have a diving team.
Stretching her long legs out in front of her, she wondered if it was weird to be sitting outside in the hot sun in her pajamas. But since her pj’s consisted of a thick white ribbed tank top and royal-blue boxers with white flowers, she decided they didn’t look so out of place. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, enjoying the way the sun warmed her face.
“Hey, did you sleep it off?”
Anne opened her eyes to find that annoying Jake guy standing right in front of her—hair stringy with salt water, lips cracked and chapped, beat-up surfboard held under his arm. Something about his ultra-cool, laid-back way totally got on her nerves. He was sooo California. It’s like he came right out of central casting or something.