Lucy seemed a little embarrassed. “Sterling thinks I should demand more, since I’ve been there since the start. And if not, I should quit.”

“Damn straight,” Sterling said. “You’re more than just the small screen. You should be in movies. With me. We’ll be the next Bacall and Bogart.”

“Who?” Lucy asked.

Sterling looked irritated. “How do you not know who Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart are? Do you not know the industry you’re in?”

“If you’re talking about some old Hollywood couple, I’m still catching up on my movie education,” she said. “My parents didn’t let me start watching the old-timey stuff until, like, three years ago.”

“Don’t remind me how young you are.” He knocked back the wine. I could not understand Sterling. He was twice Lucy’s age and seemed like too much of an adult to be playing house with a teenager. I couldn’t see the appeal, unless he liked reminding himself how much more life he’d lived than his girlfriend.

Lucy refilled his glass and poured a generous measure into another for me. Emily took one too, sniffing it heartily and taking a small sip before placing it on the table. Her hand bumped one of the tabloids Lucy had left open and she gave a cursory flick-through. “Oh look,” she said, pointing to a photo. “It’s you.”

“I love when paps get good angles of me,” Lucy said, gulping at her wine like it was grape juice. As much as she wanted to act like the lady of the house, I couldn’t shake the image of an enthusiastic child pretending to entertain her guests. “I bet they’ll print flattering ones of you today, Cass. Just because of your good deed.” She lifted the tabloid and scrutinized it. “Well, well, well.”

It was a candid from the MVAs, of Yumi in the foreground sipping a drink and me in the background dancing at a club. Merry must have taken the photo while I danced at the after-party, because there I was, illuminated in direct flash, arms over my head as Stephen bumped up behind me.

My pulse raced as I snatched at the page.

There was only one way the magazine could have gotten it: Merry had pushed the shutter button, and I had returned that roll of film to Alex the previous week.

21.

January 2002

Malibu

Cassidy

My throat hurt from swallowing its sudden lump.

I wished I hadn’t discovered Alex’s betrayal. “Do you have anything stronger than this?” I asked, shivering at the sweetness lacing my tongue. “Something with more kick?” The wine was not going to get me through this night.

Lucy pointed a finger at me. “Now you’re talking.” She rummaged in Sterling’s liquor cabinet, hauling out a glass bottle by its narrow neck, and drank a quick swig before pouring two more shots. We cheers’d before knocking the whiskeys back. It burned all the way down my throat and I could feel the outline of my stomach glow with warmth. I still wasn’t used to the heat of drinking: it hit me in the knees, making the bones around my shins feel strange and wobbly. I must have let out an involuntary “whew!” because Lucy laughed, a genuine, deep cackle.

I couldn’t look at the magazine again; the thought of Alex selling my photos to a tabloid made me thirstier. Tears stung at the edges of my eyes and I drank them down too.

Emily produced some weed and began rolling a joint. As the sky grew bruised with purple, then navy, the fog in my head grew cloudier. I could hear the surf over the disjointed laughter of the girls next to me. Lucy suggested that we play Never Have I Ever.

“How does that one go?” I asked, working thickly through the wall that was my tongue.

“What? How many parties have you been to?” Emily asked.

“Here, like this.” Lucy touched the cup to her lip as she thought, her eyes closed and thick lashes fluttering. “Never have I ever . . . adopted a dog today!” She opened her eyes and beckoned me to drink. “See? You say what you’ve never done hoping to get the other person to take a shot. You did adopt a dog today, so . . . bottoms up!” Even though she hadn’t adopted a dog, she gulped a drink and dropped the glass clumsily on the coffee table.

“I’ll be the fair and impartial judge,” Sterling said, tipping his neck back and laying his head on the couch cushion behind him. He gazed at us through softly slitted eyes.

“That’s no fun!” Lucy shrieked, her inebriation making her louder.

Now it was Emily’s turn. “Never have I ever . . . got it on with someone twice my age.”

Sterling laughed and poured Lucy a shot.

“Low blow,” Lucy said, and drank. “Never have I ever skinny-dipped in a hotel pool.”

I was beginning to feel as though I hadn’t even lived yet. It was my turn and I couldn’t think of anything edgy. Even though I knew none of this mattered, I didn’t want to look young and immature in Sterling Royce’s eyes. I thought hard and blurted, “Never have I ever graduated from high school.”

“Does getting my GED count?” Lucy mused aloud, but Emily and Sterling both took a drink.

“Joined the mile-high club!” said Emily. “Ooh wait. Joined the mile-high club in a private jet.” Lucy and Sterling drank.

“No fair,” Lucy groused. “If you’ve been on one, you kinda have to.”

I figured the best way to understand this strange relationship was to ask. “Never have I ever dated someone who was wrong for me.” And yet while I spoke, Alex’s face swam into my mind’s eye. Lucy waggled her finger tipsily. “That could be interpreted in so many ways,” she giggled. “But okay, listen. Sterling here is a good example. He’s a gentleman, but I’m jailbait.”

“But as soon as you’re eighteen, we’ll go public,” Sterling said conversationally, rubbing her shoulder unabashedly. “No one really cares if it’s on the down low.”

“My birthday is right before the Oscars,” Lucy said excitedly. “I’m gonna be his date. He was nominated, you know,” she added proudly.

Emily, seemingly bored, tapped her shot glass to resume the game. “That reminds me. Never have I ever had a crush on somebody that I shouldn’t,” she said, making a cheersing motion with her cup. I imagined two-toned eyes as I sipped. I must be drunk, I realized.

Lucy grinned slyly at me, and I didn’t miss her eyes flickering toward Sterling, making sure she had his attention. “You’re so innocent. You’ve had, like, what, two sips?”

She was already sitting next to me but she moved closer as she said, “Tell me, Cassidy. Never have you ever had sex?”

Although my face was numb from the alcohol, I felt a sharp rebuke in my chest. I grinned lopsidedly to cover my embarrassment and took a big gulp from my cup.

She scooted closer, our legs touching. “Never have you ever made out with a girl?”

Was this some sort of hazing? Emily just looked on, smiling serenely, high and content. Sterling was acting nonchalant and bored, but inebriated or no, I could tell that his interest was peaked; his half-slitted eyes were trained on us and he didn’t twitch a muscle as he waited for his entertainment to really begin. Is this what most kids our age do? Of course not, they don’t have access to gorgeous, thousand-dollars-a-night villas in Malibu and quality liquor. But if I had been hanging out on a college campus with Alex or Joanna or Edie, we’d probably do something like this. I was sure. Act silly, irresponsibly, experimentally. Make each other laugh. Inch a hand closer up a thigh.

She was so near. I realized I was leaning in, trying to focus on her face, but she was blurry from being so close. So close that her eyes became one green eye, her nose a shadowy slope. I could smell her breath, boozy and not altogether pleasant, but there was an underlying sweetness to it. She brushed hair out of my face, the strands sweeping softly against my cheek, and her fingers were gentle against my ear. And then she was on me, mouth full and wet.

My immediate thought was that it was different, and her chin rubbing against mine was too smooth without the stubble that scratched me when I kissed Alex. My lips worked slowly, drunkenly; the alcohol was hitting me faster and harder. Her hands were on either side of my cheeks, holding me in place, while mine were in surprised fists at my sides; I realized that my fingers hurt and I sent signals to my hands to relax. This isn’t the woman you should be kissing, my brain said, tapping softly at my consciousness.

I couldn’t hear anything else, anyone else.

Lucy’s lips parted from mine and she giggled. Sterling said, with a low chuckle, “Do it again.” But I forced a laugh of my own and shook my head.

Looking out, past the fence and toward the public beach, I wondered if there were barracudas of photographers out there, watching and snapping.

I AWOKE ON the slippery couch for the second time, a soft wet tongue lapping at my face as morning light streamed in through the giant windows. Sterling stood nearby, loudly cursing, a hunk of shit smeared on the bottom of a custom-made Italian loafer. My last scrap of sleep evaporated quickly when I saw his irritation. Apologizing, while shoving Emily awake, I grabbed Penny by the collar and we hauled out the front door before Sterling could lecture us.