sightings
J’s
minions
G
and
J
with a group of Scottish twentysomethings at Marquee and Bungalow 8. When the city empties out, you’ve got to be creative
in finding party buddies!…
J
by herself in the dressing room of
La Petite Coquette
in the Village, surrounded by heaps of discarded lingerie, eventually just pulling out the black AmEx and buying it all.
And that’s all the news from my sources on our favorite island. Any news from the
other
islanders? E-mail me! My iPhone works even in this far-flung destination (that I’m still not revealing).
your e-mail
q:
Dear Gossip Girl,
I think Thanksgiving is just a barbaric, absurd holiday where you have to eat crappy food surrounded by people who don’t even
like each other. It’s like, each year, my parents make me come with them to visit my Grandma Ethel in Greenwich when all she
does is hate on me. Is there any way to, like, heal the intergenerational gap?
—SAD
a:
Dear SAD,
Vodka gimlets are usually helpful for smoothing the generation gap. If that doesn’t work, try taking out her old photo albums, and turn the tables by asking
her
questions about her shady past.
—GG
giving thanks
No matter who you are or where you’re celebrating, Thanksgiving is one day to just appreciate the little things and let it all hang out. Wear that comfy magenta Juicy tracksuit that everyone is guaranteed to make fun of but that you love. Enjoy the Muppet movie marathon with your little brother. Eat the pumpkin-gorgonzola-and-bacon risotto your cook made and forget your commitment to vegetarianism, not to mention your diet. Just have fun today, and be thankful that no matter how much you embarrass yourself, no one will know—because I’m taking the day off.
You know you love me,
gossip girl
Rhys quietly closed the door to the bathroom on Thursday morning, hoping he wouldn’t wake up the other guys. It was early,
but he’d barely slept all night. The villa hadn’t exactly been quiet last night. Owen half-talked in his sleep, sounding a
bit like he was picking up girls. Even worse, Riley hummed in his sleep. At one point, Rhys had thrown a pillow at him, causing
Riley to break out into “More Than a Feelin’.”
The question is,
who
does he have more than a feeling for?
Rhys had already taken a shower, shaved, and changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a white linen shirt. He didn’t want to
look like he was trying too hard, but he also didn’t want to look like crap.
“Dude, where are you going?” Owen groaned, rolling over on the bed in the corner.
“Couldn’t sleep. Getting food,” Rhys whispered.
“Can I come?” Owen asked, already standing on the cool slate slabs of the floor. He was wearing a pair of boxers with little
sailboats printed on them.
“Sure.” Rhys shrugged. In truth, he sort of wanted to slink by the girls’ villa in case Avery was awake too. They’d sat on
the beach yesterday until the sun had set. Avery had talked most of the time, telling Rhys about how she’d always wanted to
live in New York City and that now that she
did
, it was so different from what she’d imagined. She’d talked about how her grandmother had been named to
Vogue
’s best-dressed list every year in the sixties, how she’d always had a fabulous winter ball in her town house, how she’d given
her jewels from her ex-husbands to her staff since she thought it was bad luck to keep them. Or something like that. Rhys
hadn’t taken notes or anything, but he’d loved how Avery’s blue eyes lit up, how she talked with her hands, how she wasn’t
afraid to show her enthusiasm.
Finally, they’d gone to meet everyone for dinner at the restaurant in the main hotel, where they’d sat on opposite ends of
the table, occasionally catching each other’s eye through the flickering candles. Everyone had gone back to the villas and
had swum in the pool, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her alone again, because Owen was there.
“Wanna grab some food by the pool? I bet there’s already a lot of girls there. They always get there early to put out their
towels and stuff,” Owen said knowledgeably as he picked up his gray Nantucket Beach Squad T-shirt from yesterday and pulled
it over his head. Rhys wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t understand how
anyone
could wear the same clothes two days in a row.
“Sure, pool’s fine.” Rhys shrugged as he slid open the sliding door. Together, the two guys walked out into the bright sunlight.
“I’m actually glad that we left before Riley got up,” Owen confessed as he began walking down the shell-encrusted path that
led to the resort proper. “Something about him just seems weird. Do you think he was being flirty last night?” Owen asked.
“Well, you
are
irresistible,” Rhys cracked as he pushed his Ray-Bans down over his eyes. Ahead of them was the sprawling, two-story hotel,
which looked like it was almost sitting on the blue water. He was
so
glad he was here instead of WestSea Manor, his uncle’s drafty country cottage that sat by itself on the middle of a hill
in Dorset.
“Asshole.” Owen punched Rhys good-naturedly in the arm. “I meant Riley seemed flirty with
Baby
.”
They walked inside the palatial lobby, which was decorated in woods and steels. Teak ceiling fans circulated the muggy air.
The concierge nodded to both of them as they made their way through the center of the lobby and toward the pool.
“He seems fine, dude. You’re on
vacation
. Baby can handle herself,” Rhys reasoned. Baby and Riley
had
seemed friendly last night, but the real problem was Owen. It must have been hard to suddenly be expected to bond with his
mom’s boyfriend, not to mention her boyfriend’s daughter and
her
boyfriend. But Owen had such a chip on his shoulder when it came to Remington that he was biased against the whole group—he’d
barely spoken two words to Layla, and now he seemed to be obsessing over Riley. Rhys didn’t know how to tell his buddy to
just chill out. Maybe Owen
did
need to find a girl here, to take his mind off the whole family situation.
They walked onto the patio surrounding the expansive, amoeba-shaped pool. Scattered around were green-and-white striped cabanas,
as well as blue lounge chairs.
“Here good?” Rhys asked, gesturing to a cabana by the far edge of the pool.
“Sure.” Owen pulled off his shirt and threw it in a messy heap on one of the bamboo chairs. Rhys surveyed the area. The pool
was empty, except for a toddler curiously examining a turtle fountain by the edge while his mom watched. It
was
only 10 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning.
“Sirs, can I help you?” a waiter asked. Even the waitstaff’s white linen shirts reflected the resort’s laid-back but still
posh atmosphere.
“I’ll have a mimosa,” Rhys said. “He’ll have one too,” he added, ignoring Owen’s snort. “You need to lighten up,” he said
when the waiter walked away.
“Mimosa?! You are such a chick,” Owen laughed. “Speaking of chicks, we need to get started on our little mission. So, what
do you look for in a girl?”
Rhys shook his head, annoyed that Owen was insisting on going forward with this whole plan. It was enough he was getting hourly
texts from Hugh asking about his progress. “Well, I think you know what I like in a girl,” he said pointedly. Instantly, the
tips of Owen’s ears reddened. Good. That oughta shut him up.
“Sorry, man.” Rhys shrugged. “Is this the age-old ass-or-chest question again?” The swim team discussed it at least once a
week. The team was pretty evenly divided, with Chadwick Jenkins stating that he couldn’t decide. As if the skinny, terrified
ninth grader actually had girls falling all over him.
“No. I mean, I like girls who know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it,” Owen said, furrowing his brow as if he
were really thinking it through. The waiter came back with two mimosas garnished with strawberries. Owen chuckled at the berry
and drank half the glass in one gulp. He was more of a beer guy.
Rhys racked his brain. What
did
he look for? He’d loved Kelsey’s hair, her eyes, her slightly crooked incisor, and her artsy sense of style. Then there had
been her enthusiasm and her coral pink lip gloss…. It was weird, but the harder he thought about it, the
less
he remembered. They’d dated for so many years, and known each other for so long, that it was hard to remember what exactly
had attracted him to her in the first place.
Meanwhile, he knew precisely what he liked about Avery. He loved her silky blond hair, the way he could tell she’d really
spent time on her outfits, certain that everything was wrinkle-free and matching, the way she seemed so self-assured—it was
even cute when she bossed Owen and Baby around, because at the end of the day it was out of love. And yet, despite her in-charge
attitude, Avery seemed a little vulnerable. She was wistful for the glamour of another time. She was, in the truest sense
of the word, a romantic.
“Fantasizing?” Owen’s sarcastic voice pulled Rhys out of his reverie.
“Only about you,” he teased. In truth, the more he thought about Avery, the more he knew he
had
to see her. Even if she
was
Owen’s sister, even if he’d promised himself that for now they’d just be friends. She hadn’t said what she was doing today,
and he wanted to catch her before she went horseback riding or deep-sea fishing or any of the other “family fun” activities
Remington had suggested last night at dinner.
“Ha ha.” Owen surveyed his friend. Rhys was gazing into his mimosa glass as if it held the secret to the universe.
“I’m going to go,” Rhys said suddenly, bolting up off his lounge chair. “Catch you later.” He half-jogged off.
“Hey, what about meeting girls?” Owen called to Rhys’s retreating back. What the fuck? He picked up Rhys’s unfinished mimosa
and drained it. Maybe he really
wasn’t
over the Kelsey breakup, and talking about other girls made him jumpy. But if so, wasn’t the best way for him to get over
it to find another girl?
Short answer: Yes. But maybe not the girl he thinks.
Owen leaned back, enjoying the sun on his face. Already, he wanted to go back to sleep. Why had they gotten up so early? And
on Thanksgiving, no less. They had plans for a big family dinner, but nothing scheduled for the day. Maybe he could just sleep
until dinnertime, right here—
“’Ello, luv! You awake?”
Owen opened one eye. A girl was leaning over him, her tiny, rainbow-colored bikini top just inches from his eyes. Was he dreaming?
It was possible he was. Her voice sounded just like the girl’s in
My Fair Lady
, Avery’s favorite movie when she was little. “Oi! Anything in there?” She tapped a long, acrylic fingernail against Owen’s
head.
“Sorry, er, hi.” Owen pushed himself into a sitting position, blinking his eyes open. The girl had sort of crooked front teeth
and short brown hair. Her skimpy bikini showed off her tanned body. Owen sat up straighter.
“Would you mind if I sat ’ere with you? Me mate’s ’avin’ a lie-in this morning. She had a busy night. ’Onestly, I think everyone
round ’ere is mingin’. I’d much rather be in Ibiza, like last year. Instead, I’m here with me mum, so who’m I to say anything?
Except that she’s bleedin’ tedious.” The girl pouted as she perched her bony ass on the edge of Owen’s chair.
“Uh, yeah,” Owen said dumbly. He had no idea what the hell she’d just said. “I can understand about the family stuff, though.”
He shrugged. It was true.
“I’m Elsie.” She extended a hand toward Owen. Owen took it and shook it awkwardly, noticing as he did that her rainbow-colored
bathing suit had shifted, exposing part of her boob. For being skinny, she certainly had a huge chest.
So does this mean he’s not an ass man?
“Owen. I’m from New York.” He tore his eyes away from her chest and focused them on her brown eyes. They were the same color
as Chance’s, his dog in Nantucket, who they’d left with neighbors when they moved. She was kind of pretty and looked like
she was Owen’s age, or even a year younger. Maybe he couldn’t understand half the words out of her mouth, and maybe she seemed
like she’d already had a mimosa or two today. But he was on vacation. Why
not
hang out with her?
Because of the language barrier?
“D’you fancy going into the hot tub?” Elsie asked as she accidentally-on-purpose let the strap of her bikini top fall halfway
down her shoulder. She had glittery eye makeup all around her eyes, as if she hadn’t bothered to wash her face the night before.
Elsie was smiling devilishly at him. Owen smiled back. He’d always known girls found him attractive, but usually they were
much more discreet and just flicked their hair and played with the straps on their tank tops when they talked to him. This
was almost
too
easy. “Sure.”
Owen took off his shirt and stood. Already, Elsie had scampered over to the oval hot tub that overlooked the ocean.
“So, I have this buddy, Rhys,” Owen said as he slid onto the bench of the hot tub. “He’s from New York too, and I know he
wants to meet new people. You mentioned your friend, who was sleeping in. Is she—”
“Oh my God, Issy’s a right tart. It’s brilliant! They’ll love each other. And then we can also do… whatever you’d fancy.”
Elsie grinned mischievously.
Owen wasn’t totally sure what Elsie was saying, but it sounded suspiciously like she was already whoring out her bestie to
Rhys. A little more forward than he was used to, but wasn’t that the vacation spirit? He looked down and saw a rainbow-colored
piece of fabric floating in the hot water. Elsie grinned at him, like they were sharing a secret. Had she just taken her
bathing suit
off? This was the Caribbean, not Europe—was that even allowed?