Chapter 12
Lily was only slightly rattled by the exchange and didn’t dwell on it for long.
She was glad to have given Dorian a bit of a nudge on his untouchable high horse of fame and wealth.
It was only a nudge and she doubted whether it had any effect on him at all.
It wasn’t as if he was enjoying himself anyway.
He continued to show nothing but disdain for everything and everyone around him.
Lily, on the other hand, was determined to have fun and refused to let Dorian affect her enjoyment of New Year’s Eve, her favorite night of the year.
She was particularly looking forward to the talent show as this year she was assisting the judges.
Sheila, Sue, and Birdie-Round-the-Back routinely needed lots of help with keeping track of the acts, who was who, who performed what, and even which acts they liked.
It was with some dismay that Lily discovered Sue had come down with a migraine that afternoon and, as chief judge, Sheila had co-opted one of the glamorous cliff house occupants to take her place.
So in the many long minutes it took for Martin to set up the sound system, Lily distributed paper and pencils to Sheila, Birdie-Round-the-Back, and Judge Cecilia.
“Oh, thank you so much,” purred Cecilia. “I’d rather just make notes on my phone but”—she made a face—“I forgot it up at the house.”
Lily stretched a sigh into a smile. “Would you like me to go up and get it for you?”
“That’s so nice, would you? You are such a darling. While you’re there, can you grab another bottle of the sparkling water and also a champagne? This one. Not the other one, this one.”
“No worries,” Lily said as pleasantly as she could. “Anything else?”
“Get me a cushion,” put in Birdie-Round-the-Back. “I told you before, these chairs are murder.”
A Frisbee whizzed past, hit the tent post, and clattered to the ground at Lily’s feet. Lily laughed and waved as she flung it back to Theo.
“Watch it,” she warned him.
“Sorreee!” he yodeled back.
“New friends,” observed Cecilia. “Cute.”
“Yeah, they’re nice.”
“I hear you like a certain tall blond.”
“Who told you that?”
“I know things, okay,” Cecilia said. “Girlfriend to girlfriend, you know what I’m saying?” She leaned forward. “Alex King is as fake as these nails”—she brandished her manicured fingers—“and just as sharp. Don’t go there.”
Of course she was on Dorian’s side.
“Do you know him personally?”
“Honey, I don’t need to.”
“Then thank you, I can judge Alex King for myself,” Lily said.
Cecilia gave Lily the withering look of someone who wasn’t expecting a challenge and, in the face of one, had no answer.
“Just trying to do you a favor,” she muttered. “You’d better go, they’re about to start.”
Lily marched off to the cliff house, suppressing a smile at Cecilia’s audacity. Fake and sharp? As far as Lily could see, Cecilia’s nails fit right in with the rest of her personality.
Having watched almost every single Pippi Beach Talent Show in her lifetime and having entered a few herself, Lily knew from experience that the acts could be entertaining and excruciating in equal measure.
There was something about the abundance of wine and a captive audience that made most performers feel hugely funny and uniquely talented and therefore deserving of at least six minutes stage time.
Lily’s family was no exception. Martin, usually sullen and quiet, took the opportunity to perform an original rap about the environment that managed to be both dull and terrifying.
Rosie and Kat did what they did every year: chose an overplayed ’80s love ballad and half sang, half giggled into the microphone, backed up by the original version of the song to keep them on key.
Wilson, a last-minute entry, performed his stand-up “tight five” from notes on his phone, but most of his jokes appeared to be half-written and not many people laughed, which Wilson blamed on the audience’s lack of sophistication and knowledge of pop culture.
After four rosés, attention-shy Aunt Jane asked for the microphone, gave a rambling speech about staying safe tonight, then asked for a silent minute of gratitude, which lasted about four seconds.
All in all, the Pippi residents and regulars agreed that any lapse in quality was more than compensated by the variety, length, and sheer number of acts and the visitors ought to be pretty impressed. It was a good year.
Lily, who had loved every minute, felt less confident that the overall impression on the visitors was positive.
Dorian had watched the whole thing as though it were a murder trial.
Yumi and Cecilia clearly got through the experience by exchanging snide texts.
And Casey didn’t pay attention at all because he spent the entire time gazing at Juliet.
Then when the judges conferred, Cecilia had very little to offer outside of declarations that everyone and everything was adorable.
Finally, the winners were announced. Third place to an eleven-year-old princess with a truly beautiful voice who was visiting with her family for the summer.
Second place to weekend residents, a father and son, who did a magic act.
And first place to local boy Hanson and his older sister, who both did gymnastics and performed a dance-acrobatic hybrid routine.
And with that, the real party could begin.
Fire-Chief-Steve and Bob-with-One-Dog set up the stage (portable) and cleared the dance floor (grass); the band hooked up their sound system and punched the opening notes of a ’90s crowd-pleaser pop song.
Two minutes in, Nicola was already kissing a French backpacker, Lydia was flirting with Sheila’s husband, and Rosie was dancing with Kat.
When one of the Bobs hijacked Casey into a conversation about surfing, Lily claimed Juliet to debrief.
“Where’s Alex?” Juliet asked as they hung on the edge of the throng and sipped Aunt Jane’s Moet. In her bubble of happiness, Juliet had barely noticed who was there apart from Casey.
Lily shrugged. “I think this lot scared him off.”
“Dorian? No.”
“He has deputies.”
“Casey?”
“Cecilia. She actually told me to stay away from him!”
“That’s not good,” said Juliet. “She must know some-thing.”
“Did you ask Casey about him?”
“He said he didn’t know the whole story—that Dorian wouldn’t tell him—but he trusts Dorian.”
Of course he does, thought Lily.
“But who does she think she is,” Lily went on. “ ‘Warning’ me about a ‘bad man’? This isn’t 1813, I can judge for myself.”
“You didn’t really say that, Lily, did you?”
“Yup.”
“What if he’s dangerous, though?” Juliet’s face was anxious. “Maybe she was telling you because … I don’t know, girl code?”
Lily scoffed in derision. “Cecilia wouldn’t know girl code if it did the chicken dance in her face. She doesn’t even know Alex. She only knows what Dorian told her.”
“I’m just saying,” Juliet huffed, “Casey said it was pretty serious. You should look out for yourself.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” Lily assured her. “I’m not the one running around kissing strangers,” she added as Nicola joined them with a huge grin on her face and not a trace of lipstick left.
“Rosie and Kat are furious with me,” she announced. “Where have you been all night?” she asked as she fished lipstick out of her pocket and reapplied.
“Hiding from Wilson,” said Lily.
“Game over,” said Nicola. The three girls watched in dreaded anticipation as Wilson edged through the crowd toward them.
“I’m going to find Casey,” said Juliet, and she darted away.
“Nothing can save you now,” Nicola said solemnly.
“It was good while it lasted.”
Lily and Nicola steeled themselves for Wilson’s approach, but as he advanced, he happened to notice Dorian nearby, possibly attempting to escape. Wilson stopped him in his tracks.
“Dorian!” he exclaimed.
Dorian turned on him with a stony expression that Wilson either didn’t see or proceeded to ignore.
“It’s me! Wilson Collins! From Stacy Black’s LA office?”
Dorian was clearly unmoved.
“I’ve been trying to catch you since I got here!” Wilson continued. “I’ve heard so much about you from Stacy. How’ve you been, man? What are the chances we’re both here? Of all places!”
“This is a train wreck,” Lily muttered.
“I can’t look away,” Nicola agreed.
“Thank you so much for coming up to say hello,” Dorian said with the air of one who had no interest in saying anything at all. “But I really must be going.”
“Oh, okay,” Wilson replied, slapping Dorian on the back. “I’ll tell Stacy you said hi.”
“You do that.”
Nicola choked on her drink and Lily suppressed her laughter as Dorian disappeared into a clique with Cecilia and Yumi. Wilson approached with a huge smile.
“Dorian Khan,” he declared, “is such a nice guy. Do you want to dance?”
And as it was going to be easier to avoid conversation that way, Lily said yes.
The night was still young and there were more social blunders to be made.
Rosie flashed Theo (and everyone else on the dance floor).
Lydia twerked on both of the Bobs (at the same time) and took every opportunity to loudly point out Casey and Dorian, even once yelling, “Oh, yes, the good-looking one’s seeing my niece Juliet.
They haven’t kissed yet.” None of this was out of the ordinary—in fact, this New Year’s was quite tame considering that last year Nicola rode her bike off the end of the jetty.
It was just the right amount of crazy, barefoot fun.
But for some reason, Lily felt a little differently this year.
There was something about seeing everything through strangers’ eyes that made her self-conscious.
New Year’s Eve always got a bit loose, but it was still her favorite night of the year.
Drunk dads saying “Hold my beer and watch this” while Lydia flirted outrageously with anyone who stood still long enough was all part of it.
It was loud and messy, but these people were her family and friends.
With Dorian’s watchful eyes, Lily felt him judging the chaos.
His strong glare made her feel like everything about this night and everything about Pippi wasn’t good enough to be loved or enjoyed as wholeheartedly as she loved and enjoyed it, and she resented him for it.
The worst thing was that, at least in part, his judgment was justified.
In every conversation, she overheard little hints and exclamations and reminders that Pippi felt itself touched with stardust tonight.
Lily knew that Dorian saw it too. The entire Pippi community, so proud of being so far removed from the world of Hollywood, was playing to the audience of real movie stars, relishing in its newfound status and hungry for more.
“Bet you’ve never been to a New Year’s party like this!” declared Birdie-Round-the-Back.
Everywhere there was a lust for recognition. Nowhere more obvious than when Lydia squealed into the microphone after the midnight countdown: “Today Pippi, tomorrow Hollywood! We love you, Casey Brandon! They should have given you the Oscar!”—forgetting that he had never been nominated.
But despite all this, Lily was able to find a few hours of magic and commune with the real Pippi.
She wandered along the sand in the dark, climbed the bush path to the headland lookout to watch distant fireworks, and danced into the New Year with a heart full of happiness.
She unselfconsciously cheered Juliet and Casey as they kissed at midnight, and even managed to give Wilson a cheerful one-armed hug.
She and Rosie did a crazy rendition of a dance they had choreographed when they were eleven and fourteen to a synth-pop, slightly creepy love song by a teen-boy heartthrob.
Nicola held Bob-with-Two-Dogs’ beer as he stripped down to his boxers and backflipped off the jetty and then Lily held the beer as Nicola jumped in after him.
At three thirty, Lily, Juliet, Casey, Rosie, Kat, and Lydia stumbled home.
As Casey hugged Juliet and gave her a sloppy but sweet kiss on the cheek, Lydia insisted he join the family on their traditional hangover-curing New Year’s Day kayak.
He smiled, joked that he hadn’t been kayaking since last year, and said he’d love to come.
And with that, they tumbled into bed, just like the rest of Pippi, except for talent-show-winner Hanson and his mate, who danced wildly on the jetty until sunrise.