Days Of St Croix, Page 2

Two

  "I've got some news for you, Tib. Pretty exciting stuff." Oliver Richmond glanced back over his shoulder and grinned at Tibby. The Range Rover thrummed over the tatty pavement as they headed uptown past the skyscrapers and shimmering storefronts of midtown Manhattan. "I bumped into Etienne Girard again in Paris last week, before my flight back. You remember him? The director? He was down with us in Saint Tropez for a couple of days in August?"

  "Sure, Dad." Tibby couldn't remember, actually. She had met so many of her parents friends and acquaintances over the six weeks she had spent in France that summer, and most of them weren't the sort of people who usually needed to introduce themselves.

  "Well, he certainly remembers you, sweetheart. He asked me about you as soon as he saw me. He's making a new movie and he's casting around for a female part. Seems he was quite taken by Miss Tibby Richmond."

  Tibby sat up straight. She ran the name through her brain over and over again. Etienne Girard, Etienne Girard. Could he have been that short French guy with the wide open shirt and Speedo who had sat by the pool with three younger women? Tibby hadn't paid him any attention. He wasn't glamorous-looking. Or attractive. And who wears a Speedo with a button down shirt? Gross! Even if she had realized at the time that he was a famous director, she wouldn't have cared. Actors were more interesting to her, especially Jude Law, who had stopped by one evening for a cocktail with her parents.

  "He knows you've never acted, but he's excited about seeing you read some lines. Says you remind him of a young Catherine Deneuve. You've seen The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, haven't you?"

  Tibby thought so, but she wasn't sure. Her parents had a huge collection of movies, and they were always referencing obscure films, but if she was honest with herself, Tibby didn't care for Classic or Art House cinema. She liked blockbusters and romantic comedies. Her favorite movie was Almost Famous. She loved Cameron Crowe. She had met him once, when she was twelve, and he had given her his baseball cap. She kept it on top of her dresser in her bedroom; she wasn't about to wear some guy's sweaty hat.  Yeah, her taste in movies was pretty mainstream. Of course, she wasn't about to admit that to her father; this cool French director wanted her in his movie! Her heart started to flutter and she felt her stomach twist and turn with the thought of it. She instinctively closed her eyes and tried to be calm.

  "Anyway, he's going to be in New York for a few weeks and I thought maybe we could all go and have lunch together? If you're interested, that is. This could be a fantastic opportunity."

  "Definitely, Daddy!" Tibby couldn't stop grinning in the back seat as they pulled up to the temporary valet stand outside Amaranth on East 62nd Street.

  Walking into Amaranth with twenty-five hundred pills of Ecstasy in his jacket was another experience which Jas wanted to savor. He'd bought small bags of pot and the occasional pill before, but today he had enough pharmaceuticals in his pocket to get the whole of the Upper East Side loved-up, not to mention enough to get himself into serious hot water. But he wasn't buying this time, he was supplying, which was why he wanted to savor the moment. For Jas Genovese, managing this kind of risk was recreational: it was how he enjoyed himself.

  The girl in the green bikini had taken Jas by the hand and led him through the party at her Carmel beach house. In the kitchen, she had found a liter of rum and poured a pair of Cuba Libres into red plastic cups, handing one to Jas. Then she had stared at him over the brim of her drink for several seconds before speaking.

  "Your parents have that house just up the beach, right? I think I've seen you on the deck. This is my parents' place. I'm Paige." She had amazing eyes. Dark, sparkling, and slightly turned up at the corners. She looked exotic to Jas, vaguely Asian. Her hair was a short, scruffy jet black bob, and she swept her bangs across her forehead and tucked them behind her ear. Even in a bikini and trim white shorts she looked sophisticated to Jas. He stared back into her eyes before answering her; a technique he had developed over the last few years, which he believed gave him an air of maturity. His own hair had not been brushed for a few days, nor cut for weeks, but it always looked effortlessly trendy; wavy light brown and thick, shaggy without being untidy. He sipped his drink slowly, then held his hand out.

  "Jas. Yeah, that's my parents' house. We usually spend Labor Day weekend there before I have to head back east. I'm leaving tomorrow, actually." He gauged her reaction carefully, but noticed no visible indications of disappointment. Too bad, he thought, she's really hot.

  "Do you go to school?" Paige asked him, releasing his hand. It was the sort of question Jas got asked a lot. He wasn't quite sixteen, but he was tall and well-proportioned, and he dressed with extreme attention to detail. He knew he looked several years older. Even chilling out at the beach he made sure to wear a vintage sky blue Lacoste polo, Ralph Lauren deck shorts and well-worn pale brown top-siders. The overall effect looked effortless, but in fact Jas always gave his outfits a lot of thought.

  "Actually, I'm at a boarding school. St Croix. You know it?"

  "Of course. Doesn't everyone? Funny, though, I thought you were older." She looked impressed and a little surprised surprised. St Croix, after all, was where the super-rich sent their kids; if they could get them on the waiting list, that is. Exclusive didn't really describe St Croix. It was elite, out of the reach of almost everyone. It was a famous school, but Jas thought employing modesty would be wise if he wanted to impress this girl.

  "Well, it's just that it's kind of small. Not everyone has heard of it. At least, out here in California."

  "My brother is at Yale. A bunch of his friends went to St Croix. I guess they all still talk about it like it's this great institution." Paige put down her cup.

  "Do you ever visit your brother? Back east, I mean?" Jas imagined bumping into her in Connecticut after school started again. Maybe it was the rum, or the poignant end-of-summer vibe, but he was feeling drawn to her in a big way.

  "No, never, but it's funny you mention it. He called me today and asked if I would be able to come and visit. I guess he left something behind by mistake and he needs it really bad. He wants me to take it to him."

  "Can't you mail it to him?" Jas asked, not really listening to her. He was looking at her mouth and imagining touching his lips to hers. She was standing pretty close, and he thought he could feel her warmth. She smelled delicate, like ocean air and wildflowers. The perfume was vaguely familiar - maybe his girlfriend, Mills, had worn it once?

  "Nope. Not this. You definitely wouldn't want to mail it." She was looking at him strangely, like she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. What Jas was thinking about at that moment was how much hotter he found Paige compared to his girlfriend, Mills.

  "Uh huh. Why? What is it?" He asked, trying to pay attention. She stepped a little closer and took Jas's drink gently out of his hand. Then she leaned in and spoke softly into his ear.