“Hellooo . . .” one of the guys drawled, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. The girls looked up from their phones, and Hallie realized suddenly that they were the ones from the boutique in town. The dark-haired girl beside him smacked his stomach.
“Ignore him. Welcome to L.A.” She flashed a warm smile. She was wearing bright-pink lipstick, and a high-fashion swimsuit constructed from so many straps and cutouts and metallic rings that Hallie wondered how exactly it was held up at all.
“I’m Ana Lucia,” she introduced herself, moving close enough to give Hallie a faint air-kiss on each cheek. “And that’s Tai, Carter, Brie, and Meredith.” She nodded to each person in turn.
Hallie smiled back. “It’s great to meet you all.”
Carter turned to Brandon. “We were just heading out for a game.” He jerked his head toward the beach. “You in?”
Brandon looked toward Hallie, almost as if he were asking permission. “Go ahead,” she said quickly. “Please, I’m good here.”
“We’ll take care of her.” Ana Lucia laughed. “Come, sit.” She patted the lounger beside her.
“See?” Hallie took a seat. Brandon still looked reluctant, so she shooed him away. “I don’t need babysitting. Have fun!”
He nodded, still looking reluctant. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
The guys hustled off, Carter and Tai charging down the staircase with Brandon following slowly behind. Hallie settled back, feeling relieved she’d had such a warm welcome so far. The shiny TV shows had lied: nobody was throwing her into the pool and telling her, “Welcome to Malibu, bitch.”
“So, tell us about you.” Ana Lucia turned to Hallie with an inquisitive smile. She pushed a handful of hair back from her face; it slowly slithered over one shoulder in a move Hallie made a mental note to practice herself. “Where did you move from?”
“San Francisco,” Hallie replied, making herself comfortable. “We’re living with my mom’s cousin, Auggie Jennings, over in Beverly Hills.”
“He’s a producer, right?” Ana Lucia paused, brow furrowed.
“Yup. He makes movies.”
“TV movies,” the blonde called Brie corrected. She had a face that was all narrow angles, and she was wearing one of the designer dresses from Hallie’s red-carpet fantasy list — damp and crumpled over her bikini like it was a cheap cover-up.
“Oh.” Ana Lucia’s nose wrinkled, just a bit. “And your parents, what do they do?”
“My mom’s an artist,” Hallie answered carefully. “And, my dad is a stockbroker. Was,” she added dramatically. “He just died.”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” Ana Lucia gasped. There was a chorus of agreement from the other girls.
“That’s awful.”
“You must be wrecked,” Meredith added, eyes wide with sympathy.
“It’s been hard.” Hallie had, by now, perfected her “so brave, and yet so vulnerable” look. She gave a courageous smile. “But, it’s behind us now. I’m looking forward to making a fresh start out here.”
“That’s great.” Ana Lucia squeezed her hand. “So will you be BHH-ing it?”
Hallie stared blankly.
“Beverly Hills High,” Meredith explained. She was dressed the most casually of the girls, her hair caught up in a beachy braid, with a Missoni-style print bikini and long draped skirt.
“Oh, no,” Hallie said quickly. “I graduated in May.”
“Nice! Me too,” Meredith said. “Brie’s a year ahead, she just dropped out of UCLA —”
“I’m taking time out,” Brie corrected her. “I’ll go back soon.”
“Uh-huh.” Meredith shook her head slightly at Hallie. “Sure you will. Anyways, I start at USC in the fall, and Ana Lucia is a sophomore at Harvard.”
“Only because Daddy insisted.” Ana Lucia rolled her eyes. “He says I need a backup plan, in case acting doesn’t work out.”
“You’re an actress?” Hallie brightened. “Me too! You’ll have to tell me everything, I want to know all about the audition scene.”
“For sure!” Ana Lucia agreed. “Who’s your rep?”
Hallie was confused.
“Representation,” Ana Lucia explained slowly. “Agent? Manager?”
“Oh, I don’t have anyone yet.” Hallie shrugged. “Like I said, we just got here.”
“Huh.” Ana Lucia’s smile dimmed slightly. “Any credits?”
“Tons,” Hallie said quickly. “Theater mainly, but also some short films, TV . . .” Hallie didn’t add that the films were all shot by her friends, and the television spot had been more accidental than anything, but still, appearing in the back of a live news broadcast totally counted! “Why, do you have . . . reps?”
“Of course.” Ana Lucia flipped her hair back. “I’m with WME,” she said, naming the biggest and glossiest of all the agencies as if it were nothing. Their security hadn’t even let Hallie past the door when she tried to deliver her portfolio.
“Wow.” Hallie blinked. “That’s amazing.”
Ana Lucia shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m thinking about moving. They don’t seem to get my brand, you know?”
Hallie didn’t, but before she could reply, Ana Lucia saw someone across the party and suddenly brightened. “Oh, my God, they came!” she squealed, suddenly sounding like a starstruck teenager.
“Who? What? Ooh.” Brie exhaled.
Hallie turned. A group of guys had arrived on the other side of the deck: a mess of skinny jeans and leather jackets and artful rocker facial hair. Ana Lucia scrambled up, adjusting her many swimsuit straps for optimum cle**age display.
“I got, like, this close to talking to Reed at their show last week,” she said, breathless. “Come on.”
“You go ahead.” Meredith yawned, but Brie obediently followed her across the deck. Hallie watched as Ana Lucia tried to insert herself into the group — leaning in close to one of the tattooed rocker guys and bursting out with laughter. Interestingly, the guy seemed unconcerned; barely paying any attention to her, no matter how often she pressed up against him and flipped her hair around.
“Take Fountain,” Meredith explained. “They’re, like, this close to a major label deal. Ana Lucia’s been stalking them ever since they said no to playing her last birthday.”