BROOKLYN

(leans across the table and kisses her)

There’s a lot I want to teach you. I want to be your first, Keats. You haunt my dreams. I love you.

Do I want to haunt his dreams?

No. Don’t want this to be a horror flick. Let’s fix that.

BROOKLYN

(leans across table and kisses her)

There’s a lot I want to teach you. Come back to my place. I want to make love to you, Keats.

Ha. That sounds so dorky. I’d totally laugh in his face if he said that.

My thoughts are interrupted by Kym. “So you’re going shopping with your ex-boyfriend to find an outfit to snare your next boyfriend? Oh, what a tangled web you weave. Best to leave this to the experts, though. Where are you going?”

“We’re grabbing some dinner on the beach, probably Buddy’s. Then going to The Undertow to listen to Damian’s band. It’s Twisted Dreams’ last gig.”

She nudges my shoulder and raises her eyebrows. “You already got him to ask you to dinner. You work fast!”

“It’s not a date or anything. Just friends, as usual. But I wanna look really hot. Like, sexy, but still casual, like I don’t care. Like I didn’t try.”

“You wanna knock his socks off!”

I laugh. “He never wears socks! Just flip flops.”

“Well, whatever—we need the perfect outfit. It has to have that casual I-didn’t-really-try-I-just-always-look-this-amazing look.”

“Exactly!”

“It’s a tricky combination. What about that cute Saucey t-shirt dress you ordered online? The one with the monkey on the front. You haven’t worn that yet, have you?”

“No, that would be cute.”

“We can add those embellished chunky Marni heels or maybe the short Burberry motorcycle boots, a bunch of your key necklaces, and some big hoop earrings?”

“I think the boots. Will you be here when I get back?”

“Yeah, I’m working on some looks for a couple interviews your mom’s doing next week.”

“You know, sometimes I think it’d be cool to be an actress, but then I don’t know if I’d wanna deal with all of that. Always having to look perfect. Having to look perfect every day at school is about to do me in and nobody is even taking pictures of me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with always wanting to look your best. Did you tell Tommy you want to act? Because I overheard him talking to someone about you for a role the other day.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. He just said you’d be perfect. That you’d light up the screen like your mom.”

I roll my eyes. “Doubtful.”

“Haven’t you seen pictures of your mom at your age? You look just like her. Well, except for those gorgeous eyes of your dad’s. He was such a hunk.”

“A hunk?”

“Yes, that’s what we used to call hot boys back in the Stone Age when I was in high school.”

Be still my heart.

2:30pm

I throw on a pair of hot pink Ralph Lauren skinny jeans, a royal purple polo shirt with a big pink pony, a multi-colored web belt, and some Haviana flip flops to wear shopping with Sander. I didn’t think about how my shirt would match his car until he pulled up in it.

When he got out of the car, I about fainted from shock. All Sander’s gorgeous perfectly highlighted brown hair is now a dark shade of chestnut.

“Ohmigawd, Sander! I would not have even recognized you. You look so different!” He grins at me as I study him closely. “But good. Like, damn good. Did they darken your eyebrows too?”

“Yeah, they had to. So, you like?” He holds his arms out and spins in a circle like the girls do when they put on their little fashion shows.

“I do. Wow.” The way he looks almost makes me wish I wouldn’t have broken up with him. “I may have to rethink this breakup.”

His smile dazzles me.

“No, no. I’m the brokenhearted one. You’re moving on, leaving me in the dust. Get in. Let’s go find me something a little less preppy.”

We hit some of the shops in the Malibu and find a great vintage-looking deep-brown leather jacket, skinny black jeans, black motorcycle boots, an assortment of solid T-shirts, and classic aviator sunglasses.

I look at everything we have piled at the cash register. “I think you’re going to look more like James Dean than Danny Zucko.”

He puts his hand to his chest. “Be still my heart.”

In case you couldn’t tell by his dogs’ names, James Dean is his idol. Except he doesn’t want to die young. He wants to be one of those actors who gets better with age. I can’t help but laugh at how dramatic he is.

“I’m starved. You’re gonna have to feed me before I can shop anymore.”

He turns to the sales clerk and says, “We’ll take it all.”

After a late lunch of my favorite fish tacos, Sander drops me off. I quietly open the front door in case the girls are down for a nap. I’m shocked to discover a bunch of people sitting in the living room. No one ever sits in the living room.

And Mom shouldn’t be home. She’s been working late and on weekends because they’re trying to get the film she’s working on wrapped quickly. She and Tommy are due to leave for Vancouver in August to start filming a romantic thriller together.

I don’t recognize two of the men in dark suits.

I freeze.

Mom is wearing the exact look she wore when she learned my dad’s plane crashed.

I feel like I’m eight again.

I put my hand to my chest and frantically scan the room for Tommy.

He’s nowhere.

Please don’t let him be dead.

Mom’s always telling him that he needs to slow down when he’s driving whichever one his exotic cars he chooses to drive that day.

Please don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let the girls grow up without their daddy.

Everyone is deep in a heated conversation.

James, my godfather and head of family security, speaks. “You’ve got to be able to do more. This is ridiculous.”

Someone sneaks up behind me and laughs in my ear. “What’s with all the suits?”

It’s Tommy!

“Tommy, I thought you were dead!” I jump into his arms.

“No way, baby. I’m too tough to die.”

I love Tommy. I really do. He and Mom seriously need to get married already!

All the heads in the living room turn toward us. Tommy extricates himself from my death hug, strides toward Mom, wraps her up in his arms, and kisses her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

James replies. “That fan of your mom’s got into her set trailer early this morning.”

“That’s creepy.”

Mom comes out into the hall, hugs me, and whispers, “It is kind of creepy. He always sounds super sweet in his letters, so it’s not like I’m that worried, but we’re pretty sure he stole one of my photos. It pisses me off that security is so lax that anyone could walk in off the street and get into my trailer, but now the studio is blowing it way out of proportion.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Hey, do you have plans for tonight? Tommy made reservations for that new fusion place. You and Sander want to join us?”

“Sander and I broke up.”

Mom’s eyes get huge. “Why? Are you okay, honey?”

“I’m fine. We’re still friends, and I’m sure he would love to go tonight, but I have plans with Brooklyn.”

Mom raises her eyebrows knowingly. “Is it a date? Is that why you broke up?”

“No, we’re just hanging out like we always do. It’s no big deal. You’re still planning on coming to the Undertow for Damian’s last gig, right?”

“Of course.” She gives me a smirk.

I can’t help but smile. “Fine. I maybe have a little crush on him.”

She laughs at me and walks back into the living room.

Wear a bikini and scream.

10:30 pm

The bar is packed. Twisted Dreams is halfway through their second set and Brooklyn and I are having fun.

At least I think we are.

Dinner was nice. We talked about everything, laughed, and had fun. We talked a lot about his future. About how he wants to start an adventure tour company someday. One where he would take people to all the best surf spots in the world. He also told me he’s thinking about going on the pro surfing tour and asked me what I thought about that.

I answered perfectly. Like I read it from a script. I said, You should always follow your dreams, wherever they take you. Which I thought was so super supportive. I’d be the best girlfriend ever. If he’d just let me.

Our evening so far has been relaxed and chill like usual.

Although, for me, it’s kinda been torture.

Because every time he leans in close to talk to me, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

Every time he touches my hand, I wonder if it means something.

Every time he looks at me, I wonder if he thinks I’m pretty.

Every time he glances down, I wonder if he’s admiring my legs or if he likes my outfit.

We’re standing near the crowded bar, sipping on beers, and singing along to some of our favorite songs. The dance floor is crowded, but he hasn’t asked me to dance yet.

I notice Mom, Tommy, Damian’s dad, and his wife, Marisa, squeezing their way up to a reserved table at the edge of the dance floor. We go greet them.

I grab a beer from the bucket that appeared on the table the minute Tommy walked in, excuse myself, and walk back to the ladies’ room. Of course, the place is packed, which means getting back there is crazy. Honestly, I’ve had to pee for a while, but I’ve been a little afraid to leave Brooklyn. Afraid I’d come back out and find him talking to some girl. I’m single, finally. He’s mine tonight.

Like, I hope.

Now that Mom and Tommy are here at least I won’t worry about some random girl hitting on him while I’m gone.

I work my way through the crowd and say hey to a few people I know. I’m almost to the long bathroom line when someone pushes me from behind and knocks me straight into a pair of strong arms.

I see a lime green polo, pleated khaki shorts, and an upscale version of a topsider. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I manage not to spill a drop of beer. As the guy pulls me up, I’m surprised to find myself face to face with the hot Armani guy from the beach.

He recognizes me and gives me the kind of smile that has probably bedded many a woman.

“Thanks. Vincent, right? From the beach?”

“In the flesh,” he says.

I get pushed closer into his broad chest when someone else bumps into us.

“I’m sorry,” I say. The poor guy. I’m practically in his arms!

He looks straight into my eyes, like he did at the beach. Like he’s searching them for answers to a question he’s yet to ask.

He puts his mouth by my ear and yells over the music. “I saw you standing next to your mom.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Look, I know you’re a fan. But if you want an autograph or something, you’ll have to be a big boy and go ask her yourself.”

“Already have her autograph,” he says, in a smart-ass way. “I don’t really know her, but we kinda run in the same circle.”

“And what circle is that?”

“The movie industry.”

“Oh, really? You a movie star?” He certainly is good looking enough. If I were to typecast him, I’d make him the guy you know you’re not supposed to fall in love with, but you can’t help yourself.

He laughs. “No, I finance movies.”

“Moneybags, huh?”

He blinks slowly. “Something like that.”

“Cool. Well, it was nice to see you again.” I make a move toward the bathroom.

He stops me. I look down at his muscular arm and read the now fully exposed scrolly tattoo.

It makes me laugh.

“Abby? Are you that big of a fan?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I dated a girl named Abby in high school. She left me for a guy with a Harley and unfortunately couldn’t take the tattoo with her.”

“Sorry,” I say, sort of awkwardly. I could picture myself getting a Brooklyn tattoo.

Once he finally tells me he loves me and all.

“You know, you’re stunning. Prettier than your mom. I’m sorry I keep staring at your eyes, but they really are remarkable.”

I can’t help but smile. “I have my dad’s eyes.”

Vincent lowers his voice. “He died a few years ago in a plane crash, didn’t he? I’m sorry.”

I nod my head. “Thanks.”

“You ever thought of acting? I could cast you in my next movie.”

I roll my eyes and smirk at him. “That line usually work for you in a bar?”

He touches my nose with the tip of his finger, cocks his head at me, and curls his lips into a smile. “You are a spunky one.” He clinks his beer bottle gently into mine. “Just how old are you anyway?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He replies with a hearty laugh. “Well, you look old enough here, but on the beach I would’ve guessed you to be too young.”

I put my finger up to his lips. “Shh, don’t tell.”

Then I work my way to the restroom.

When I come back out, he’s waiting for me by the door. He looks me over again.

I look at him like, What?

“Forgot to give you my card.” He pushes a business card into my hand.

I take it to be polite.