Chapter Fourteen
Cousin Hugh had come for a visit.
As usual, there was no notice given. Hugh had simply shown up one afternoon in the middle of the day, in a sleek red convertible with the top down, his Chanel luggage piled precariously into the back seat. He might stay a month or be gone the next day; with Hugh, one never did know.
Saoirse was delighted to see him. Hugh was her only cousin, but even if she’d had two dozen, she was sure he’d still be her favorite.
They set up court by the pool, basking on lounge chairs, lathered in baby oil, foil reflectors poised delicately below their chins, twin Long Island iced teas sweating on the table between them.
“So why didn’t you tell me your new nanny is a dish?” Hugh asked, taking a sip of his drink.
Saoirse rolled her eyes. “Who, Ana?”
“Uh-oh, I know that tone,” Hugh said. “Is she a total bitch? She looked more Wendy Darling than Cruella de Vil.”
“It’s not that,” Saoirse said. “I just can’t seem to get rid of her.”
“Oh,” Hugh said. “So you’re the bitch.”
Saoirse laughed. She’d been called worse.
Hugh set his drink down and picked up his foil again. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” he said.
“You mean it’s not to see moi?”
“Well, there’s always that,” Hugh said, reaching over and giving her an affectionate tap on the tip of her nose. “But this time, the impetus was far less cheerful. Parker and I broke up.”
The smile slipped off Saoirse’s face. “Darling, I’m so sorry,” she said. “What happened?”
Hugh fell in love often and indiscriminately—male or female, young or old, rich or poor. But he rarely stayed in love for long. Saoirse had trouble keeping up with his dalliances.
“I don’t know,” Hugh said. “I’m sure he explained it to me, but the trouble was, I wasn’t really listening, and he always said me not listening was a pet peeve of his, so I didn’t have the heart to ask him to repeat himself. So I came here to mope and drink copious amounts of alcohol.”
“I have something better,” Saoirse said.
“Better than a martini?” Hugh asked doubtfully.
“A distraction,” Saoirse said, a self-satisfied grin on her face.
Hugh sat up. “Go on.”
“I’m throwing a party for my birthday,” Saoirse said. “And not just a party; I want it to be the party. Something people remember. Something people talk about. The bigger, the better. And I could use your help. You’re a genius at this sort of thing.”
“Ransom knows about this?” Hugh asked, skeptical.
“Of course he knows,” Saoirse said. “He’s the one footing the bill.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Hugh said.
“I know,” Saoirse said. “I think he feels guilty. And he should.”
“There should be burlesque dancers, for starters, and a champagne fountain,” Hugh said, sitting back in his chair. “I know a guy; I can put you in touch. Obviously, a caviar and raw bar is a must, and—oh—synchronized swimmers in the pool. How do we feel about exotic animals?”
“Yeah, I’m not big on the whole ‘subjugation of animals for people’s amusement’ thing,” Saoirse said.
“Fair enough,” Hugh said. “Guest list?”
“Two to three hundred,” Saoirse said.
“And, dare I ask, is His Dickship invited?”
Saoirse made a face. They had special names for her ex, Teddy Mountbatten.
It was a game they played between just the two of them—who could come up with the most creative, derisive nickname.
His Dickship. Lord Fuck-Face. Sir Ass-Wipe.
They rarely used the same name twice. It amused them, and it helped to blunt Saoirse’s pain.
Even thinking about Teddy was like pressing on a bruise, tender and sharp.
“Honestly, I haven’t decided,” Saoirse said. “On the one hand, I don’t want him to think I care enough about him to not invite him. On the other, if I do invite him, then I have to see him.”
“Yes, but think of it this way,” Hugh said.
“How many of us get to design, down to the smallest detail, the first moment we see an ex after a breakup? There you’ll be, at your party, dressed to the nines, surrounded by all your friends, everyone there to celebrate you.
You’ll have to see him sometime. What better opportunity than this? ”
Saoirse sighed. She set her sun foil down and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to think about it,” she said.
But it was all she could think about now: Teddy Mountbatten. As if she had summoned the specter of her hurt to haunt her again, had released it from that box in her chest where she had tried to keep it locked away.
Saoirse had first met Teddy Mountbatten at a yachting club in Newport the summer she turned fourteen.
She would always remember the first time she saw him.
He was beautiful: blond haired and blue eyed, with honeyed skin, stuck somewhere between a boy and a man.
He was sixteen then, tall and slender, with dimples that dipped into both cheeks when he smiled, something that made Saoirse’s stomach drop when she first saw it.
He was standing on the pier, one foot on the bottom rung of the railing as he looked out over the water, talking to a group of kids around his age.
Saoirse noted the way they were all slightly turned toward him.
He was wearing leather Top-Siders and a soft pink Lacoste shirt, his golden hair blowing in the wind.
Her friend Tessa Montgomery, whom she’d be staying with all summer, introduced her.
“This is my cousin Teddy,” Tessa said. “Teddy, this is Saoirse. She’ll be rooming with me at Choate in the fall.”
“A Choate girl, huh?” Teddy said.
“Teddy’s at Andover,” Tessa explained.
“My brothers went there,” Saoirse said. “Well, Theo didn’t make it past his freshman year. He got kicked out for detonating a cherry bomb in the faculty bathroom.”
Teddy’s eyes flashed at her, full of interest. “Theo Towers is your brother?” he asked.
She could see the gears turning in his mind, and she wanted to kick herself. If Theo Towers was her brother, then Teddy knew she was one of those Towerses. Why couldn’t she ever just be Saoirse, first and foremost? Her family name trailed her like a shadow she could never step out of.
“Yes,” Saoirse said, “but my family is the least interesting thing about me.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Teddy said.
Saoirse quickly learned that back at Andover, Teddy Mountbatten had a girlfriend. She was seventeen and looked like Christie Brinkley, big chested and thin waisted, with wavy blond hair. Teddy kept a picture of her in his wallet. But that didn’t intimidate Saoirse. She liked a challenge.
On the beach, the girls spread out their towels in the sand and lay down to tan, their Cosmo magazines splayed out in front of them. When the boys started to divide themselves into teams for a game of touch football, Saoirse sprang up to join them. Teddy paired off to guard her.
“Don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you,” he said.
Saoirse rolled her eyes. Nothing put a fire in her belly more than a heavy dose of misogyny and being underestimated.
When the play broke, she feinted left and then went right, darting out of Teddy’s grasp. She sprinted down the beach, her arms open, calling for the ball. The quarterback tossed it to her, and she ran it all the way past the makeshift goalpost they had set up in the sand.
When Teddy caught up to her, he was winded. “You’re faster than you look,” he said.
Saoirse shoved the ball into his chest, hard. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll try and go easy on you.”
At the midpoint of the game, they took a break, and Saoirse retrieved her water bottle from her towel in the sand. Teddy sat down next to her.
“Thought we could talk strategy before the next half starts,” he said.
“You’re not on my team,” Saoirse said.
Teddy lowered his voice, leaned close to her so only she could hear. “I’m a double agent,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Ah, that makes a lot of sense, actually,” Saoirse said. “I thought you were just really bad at this. Now I see it’s all an act.” She took a swig from her bottle and let the liquid burn down her throat, warm her stomach.
“Yeah,” Teddy said, scratching his chin. “But, I was thinking, it might be a bit too obvious at this point. So maybe in the second half, you let me get a run in, just to throw people off our trail.”
“Mm,” Saoirse said.
Teddy glanced at her water bottle. “Can I have some of that?” he asked, and Saoirse reflexively handed it to him, forgetting for a moment that it was filled with vodka, not water.
Teddy took a sip before she could warn him. His eyes got big for a second, and then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and screwed the cap back on.
“All right, then,” he said as he handed the bottle back to her. He had a look in his eye like he was reappraising her.
“Stop fraternizing with the enemy, Mountbatten,” one of his teammates called.
Teddy stood up. “I’m just buttering her up so she’ll go easy on us, is all,” he said. He winked at her so only she could see. “Don’t worry—I’ve got her right where I want her.”
When Saoirse’s team won, Teddy bought her an ice cream, and they walked along the pier together, feeding pieces of her sugary cone to the seagulls and talking.
“Has anyone ever told you you have the most amazing eyes?” Teddy asked. “Like, they’re really quite large. Like saucers. They’re stunning.”
Saoirse laughed. “You make me sound like the wolf in ‘Little Red Riding Hood,’” Saoirse said. “Why, Granny, what large eyes you have.”
“No, not like a wolf,” Teddy said. “Cuter than a wolf. Like a meerkat. A mongoose.”
“Oh my God,” Saoirse said, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself, calling her a mongoose.”
Teddy shrugged. “It’s a compliment. It’s all in how you say it. My little meerkat. My little mongoose.”
Saoirse laughed and threw a piece of her cone at him. “Please stop talking now,” she said.
There was rarely a day that summer that they didn’t spend together, always in a group, but somehow, they always sought each other out.
At an outdoor concert, Teddy lifted Saoirse onto his shoulders so she could see the stage, and the bare skin of her thighs burned where he held on to her.
She could barely focus on the song the band was singing, even though it was one of her favorites.
Another time, in the air-conditioned room of the town’s dark theater, Teddy sat next to her, his arm laid out next to hers on the armrest, just barely touching.
Part of her wished she could go back in time and warn that skinny, knobby-kneed fourteen-year-old version of herself. She’d take her by the shoulders and shake her. Get out while you still can, she’d say. This isn’t the sweet young puppy love you think it is. You don’t know what’s coming.
The thing was, no one knew the real truth about her and Teddy, the full extent of it. She’d never even confided it to Hugh. It was a secret both too shameful and painful to look at. So she kept it wedged beneath her rib cage, next to other dangerous things.