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  “Excuse me? I call out over the noise of the busy garage. “I’m looking for Mr. Parkman, Mr. Billings sent me.”

  A guy in his mid thirties rolls out from underneath a sleek black Jaguar. “Oh hey, you must be Lane?” He wipes the grease from his hands before giving me a firm hand shake.

  “Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Parkman.”

  “Polite. I like that. But how about we let my father be Mr. Parkman and you just call me Vic, alright?” he says in a light friendly tone. “So, Mr. B says you’re good with cars?”

  “Uh, yeah I guess,” I say modestly. “I helped my grandpa restore a classic we found in the junkyard. Engines are my specialty.”

  “That’s cool. That’s how I got started fixing cars too, helping my dad out in the garage.” He gestures to the car he just rolled out from under. “Well, around here only the certified mechanics can do the tune ups.” I nod and follow Vic through a short hallway and into a large tiled room with drains on the concrete floor. “So, you my friend, will be washing and detailing the cars.” He hands me a clean rag and a bottle of Armor All with a grin. “Tips for detailing get split fifty-fifty between you and the valet. Cool?”

  Fine by me. As long as it keeps me in the back and out of trouble like Mr. Billings wants, and keeps the paychecks coming in, I’m all good.

  After being introduced to the rest of the mechanics, the detailing crew, and a few of the valet staff, I get to work detailing a sweet Mercedes SUV. I take my time to make sure it’s perfect before I pull it out of the garage for the valet to pick up.

  I work on four more cars before the garage starts to close for the night, and Vic seems pleased with my work.

  “Nice job today, kid.”

  “Thanks,” I say back while filling out my time card.

  “Hey, Lane?” A valet named Pete cranes his head around the doorjamb into the back office where I’m sitting.

  “Yeah?”

  “Dude, I need to bail out like right away, but that SUV guy isn’t back yet. Think you can stick around until he is?” he asks, but it sounds more like a plea. “You can have the whole tip.”

  I look at the clock on the wall. “No prob.” Luckily dish duty doesn’t start until tomorrow, and whatever he needs to do sounds urgent.

  “Thanks, dude, you rock. I owe you one.” Pete slaps his palm against the painted cinder wall before taking off. I hear him shout into the garage about a kegger at his house and it makes me laugh. Yep. Urgent.

  I sit around the office for another twenty minutes until the SUV owner is back and ready for his car. I pull it around front and do my best impression of a valet.

  “Sir,” I say, stepping out and taking his valet ticket. “May I help you with your clubs?”

  “No, that’s fine, thanks though.” He puts his clubs in the back then walks to the driver’s side and sticks his head inside. I assume to check my work. “Nice,” he says, discreetly handing me a tip. “It was a disaster when I dropped it off. Thanks, man.”

  “Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening.” I pocket the cash without looking at it until I’m walking back to my car a few moments later. I pull out the tip and come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the parking lot when I see a hundred dollar bill.

  “What the…” I stare at the bill in shock. This must be a mistake. Did he think he was handing me a ten and accidentally gave me a hundred? I turn to head back to the clubhouse, hoping to catch him before he leaves, when the shine of headlights temporarily blinds me.

  “Hey,” a guy calls out and when my eyes finally adjust I see it’s him. I knew it was a mistake.

  “Oh hey… sorry, man. I was just coming back to find you. Here you go.” I stick my hand in his window to hand him back the cash, but he looks at me confused.

  “Your money?” I say, jutting my arm in a bit further, so he doesn’t have to lean to grab it. “I figured it was a mistake, but I swear I just saw it or I would have handed it back right away.”

  “What? No, dude, no mistake. My car was a wreck. You earned every bit of that.”

  I pull my arm back out of his window slowly, trying to decide if he’s messing with me or not. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving me off, but not in a rude way. I shove the money back in my pocket and think about how pissed Pete’s gonna be when he hears I got a hundred dollar tip. “I just stopped to check out that ride.” He gestures behind me, and I have to step back to see what he’s looking at.

  “Oh, thanks, man,” I say and can’t help but admire it too.

  “That’s yours? That. Is. Sick.” He whistles like he’s cat calling a girl. “A ‘67 Cobra, right?”

  “No, it’s actually the ‘66 AC 427.”

  He pulls his car into the empty spot next to mine and gets out for a closer look. “Damn.”

  “Yours isn’t too bad either,” I say of his black G-class Mercedes SUV with the extra sport package and dual side exhausts. Perfect for off-roading if you dare take a hundred and twenty thousand dollar car out like that, which by the amount of mud I washed off of it earlier, he does.

  “Thanks, man, but she’s no classic like yours.” He runs his hand appreciatively along the side of her. “Do you ever take her out?” he asks.

  “Yeah, a few times I’ve pushed her hard up on Beach Bluff Road during the off season when the island’s empty.”

  “Oh, you’re from around here?” He sounds surprised. “I would have guessed you were working during summer break from college, like most of the club’s staff.”

  “Well, I guess technically I am. I’m headed for college in the fall.”

  “Yeah? Where to?”

  “Yale,” I say, then stand a little taller when he looks up in surprise.

  “Dude. No way! Nice work, Eli.” He reaches out to shake my hand, and I’m not exactly sure how to respond.

  “Uh, it’s Lane actually,” I say and that makes him laugh. It doesn’t feel mean spirited though, more like an inside joke I’m just not getting.

  “Man, I totally miss being a freshman.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “Hey, Lane, I’m Andrew. Sorry about that, Eli is just a nickname us Yalies call each other.” I must still look confused because he pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out once you get there, and hey, now you know someone who can help show you the ropes.”

  “That’s cool. Nice to meet you,” I say still embarrassed. “Hey, aren’t you going to the party?” I nod over my shoulder toward the clubhouse.

  “Yeah, I’m headed in. Parents wouldn’t let me out of it,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  “Well, it looks like it’s gonna be nice,” I say, walking to the driver side of my car. “I guess have a good time and uh, thanks again for the tip.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” He gives my car one last admiring look before pulling out a sport coat from the back of his car. “Hey, Lane, you busy tonight?” he asks, putting on the jacket and adjusting the sleeves.

  “Uh, no. Not really.” It’s a statement, but the way I say it, it sounds more like a question.

  “You should totally come hang out later. A bunch of us are going up to the bluffs after the club, kind of an after party. There’ll be a few more Elis there I can introduce you to and I know a few of the guys would love to check out your ride. Seriously, you should come by.”

  What I should do is decline. I don’t hang with the vacationers, I work for them. But it would be good to meet some more students, and this guy seems cool. What the hell? It is summer after all. And what’s the harm in a little party, even if it is with the Stays?

  “Yeah. I’ll swing by. Thanks, man.”

  Chapter 4

  Ashley

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Hey, yourself. Nice of you to show up, even if it is an hour late.” I smile, relieved he’s finally here. “And how was golf?”

  “We played a hundred dollars a hole, and I made nine hundred bucks, so I guess you could say it was pretty good.” He takes a champa
gne flute from a waiter passing by, and then nudges me with his elbow. “What’d you do all afternoon?”

  I scan the room making sure no one can hear me complain. “Mother set me up on a lunch date with Gregory, and he was …well, Gregory,” I say flatly. Andrew understands exactly what I mean.

  “Sorry, Ash, I would have joined you two as a buffer if I’d known before hitting the course. I actually talked to him earlier and he kept asking about you. I should have figured he was up to something.”

  “It’s alright. He’s harmless, but I do prefer when I have to hang out with him that it’s in a group. Less date like. The last thing I want is him getting the notion we might get back together.”

  “Speaking of groups, are you coming to the bluffs tonight?” He eyes the waiter passing by with a fresh tray of champagne then looks at me with a mischievous grin.

  I clearly know my brother too well. “Yes, I’ll be your DD tonight.” I take a sip of water to exaggerate my sacrifice. “But you owe me one.”

  “You’re the best, little sis.” Andrew grabs a new flute from the waiter then heads out to the balcony where a group of his friends are gathered.

  “Ashley, dear,” my mother calls from a nearby table. “Won’t you come say hello to Mr. Chase?” she says in a musical tone, although it’s not a question it’s a command.

  I put on my most well mannered smile before approaching the table where my mother, father, Mr. Chase and Gregory sit.

  “Mr. Chase, how nice to see you again,” I say as he stands up. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it.

  “Ashley, my dear, you have blossomed into the most beautiful young lady.” From the corner of my eye, I can see this pleases my mother immensely. “Don’t you agree, son?” Mr. Chase asks Gregory as he sits back down.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.” I force a smile and try to hide how uncomfortable I feel with everyone’s eyes on me, especially Gregory’s, by swirling the ice around in my glass. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up my drink,” I say, hoping to escape spending the rest of the evening stuck at the table.

  “I’ll join you.” Gregory stands and places his hand on my lower back making it stiffen. “If you’ll excuse us.”

  I think my mother’s face might crack in half she’s smiling so big at the way Gregory emphasized the ‘us’ and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

  “A water with lemon please,” I request from the bartender then try to turn my body away from Gregory’s lingering hand near my hip.

  “Greg, buddy,” Andrew says from behind me, clamping his hand on Gregory’s shoulder and turning him so I’m free from his touch. Thank you, Andrew. “Long time no see,” he jokes, considering they likely saw each other less than a week ago at school. “So, you all ready to hit it?” Andrew asks, tossing his keys in my direction, which I catch easily. “Let the old folks do their thing?” He laughs, and it’s clear he’s partaken in a few more flutes of the bubbly.

  We say a quick goodbye to our parents who seem pleased enough with our showing then head to the bluffs on the south end of the island.

  I pull off on one of the quiet country roads that dead ends here, and already at least a dozen cars are parked on the edge of the lookout where the red clay cliffs drop off sharply to the aqua water below.

  Andrew jumps out of the car the second I put it into park while I sit and observe the growing group, regretting my choice of clothes. The wind coming off the ocean is cool and crisp compared to this afternoon’s heat and my thin cardigan, and strapless sundress are hardly going to keep me warm.

  “Hey, man,” someone says, gripping the side of the unrolled driver side window and scaring me half to death. I let out a yelp before I turn to see which of Andrew’s friends is to blame when I’m taken aback to see it’s the hot waiter from lunch this afternoon.

  He looks at me with an equal amount of surprise on his face before he yanks his hands away from the window and takes a step back.

  “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he stammers. “I uh…thought this was Andrew’s car.”

  “No, it is Andrew’s car, I just drove him here,” I explain. I try to get my heart back to a normal speed but find it’s more difficult than it should be. I’m not exactly sure if it’s still pounding from getting scared or from who just scared me.

  Just then, like he could hear us, which is impossible unless I screamed louder than I thought, Andrew looks over from a few cars down.

  “Hey, Lane, you made it.” He jogs over and gives the guy, apparently named Lane, a fist bump. “I see you met my little sister.” Andrew nods his head in my direction before opening the car door for me to get out. I move to step down, but it’s no easy feat due to the car’s height paired with the cut of my dress.

  “Here.” Lane’s voice is low and gravelly as he wraps his warm hand around mine and helps me get down gracefully. I lift my eyes to meet his, and feel my face flush from both the unexpected gesture and the smile he’s giving me.

  “Thank you,” I say once my feet touch the ground and I find my footing. “I’m Ashley, by the way,” I say, looking up at him. He’s taller than he seemed earlier today, and his hair is messier than it had been too. If it’s possible, he’s even more gorgeous out of his waiter’s uniform. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans hung low on his hips, a fitted plain white tee shirt, and a light blue zip up hooded sweatshirt that matches his eyes exactly. I look away, worried I’m staring, when I realize I’m still holding his hand. I drop it like it’s seared my skin, then immediately miss the warmth of it.

  “I’m Lane,” he says and there’s a tightness in his voice, like he’s speaking through a clenched jaw.

  I wonder briefly if I’ve offended him somehow by letting go of his hand so abruptly until I feel the silky lining of a dress coat being placed over my shoulders. I can smell Gregory’s cologne, and it makes my nose wrinkle it’s so strong.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Gregory asks Lane from behind me, his hands resting on my arms.

  “Whoa, dude, what’s your problem? I invited him.” Andrew jumps in, looking back and forth between Gregory and Lane, confused as to what the problem is.

  “You invited the help?”

  “Dude, I’m outta here,” Lane says, turning to leave until Andrew stops him.

  “Don’t listen to him. I rarely do,” Andrew jokes, before he pulls Lane away and over to a cherry red convertible that I assume is his.

  I turn on my heel and level Gregory with my eyes. “You can’t speak to people like that.” I shrug off his coat and hand it back to him with some force.

  “Ashley, you can’t be serious.” I hear Gregory say as I walk away and over to where my brother, Lane, and a few other guys are now hanging out, leaving Gregory by himself.

  “Sorry about that guy. He can be a real dick sometimes,” Andrew says to Lane when I walk up. That’s an understatement. And I think after this afternoon, Lane is well aware of that fact.

  “No joke. That jerk got me fired today. Well, I guess technically it was my fault considering I cleaned his fork with my spit after all.”

  “You’re kidding?” Andrew says, nearly spitting his drink out from laughing.

  “No, it’s true, but I think he was more ticked off I made him look like an idiot in front of his date than anything else.” Lane glances in my direction for a split second before looking away again and I want to correct him immediately. It most definitely was not a date, but Andrew cuts in before I can say a word.

  “Oh man, I bet he was so pissed. He absolutely hates not getting his way.” Andrew leans against the car next to Lane and gives him another fist bump. “Nice.”

  The crowd around Lane’s car grows, as more and more people come over to admire it, until Gregory saunters over but is met with uncomfortable silence, which he tries to fill.

  “Whose car?” he asks nonchalantly, like it’s not obvious who it belongs to.

  “Nice, huh?�
�� Andrew says. “Fast.”

  Gregory looks it over before turning his nose up. “Maybe. But I doubt it’s as fast as mine,” he says with his shoulders pushed back and his chest puffed out. Guys.

  “How about we put it to the test?” Andrew crosses his arms as he looks at Gregory, but his smile tells me everything I need to know. If Andrew says it’s fast, I tend to believe him, and I imagine Gregory should too.

  “His car against mine?” Gregory gives a dismissive nod towards Lane’s car. “Sure, I’ll take that bet,” he says with an arrogant laugh, like Lane’s car, and Lane, by extension, is just some kind of joke.

  Lane looks behind Gregory and gestures to his car. “I assume that silver BMW M-5 is yours?” Then, under his breath, I swear I hear Lane say ‘figures’ before he plasters a smile on his face. “Then it’s a bet,” Lane steps into Gregory’s space, his posture issuing a challenge. “What’ya say? A hundred bucks?”

  “Oooooh, a hundred bucks. Big spender.” Gregory smirks as a few people laugh at his taunt. He pulls out his wallet and thumbs through the bills. “How about we make it five?”

  Lane flinches, almost undetectably, before he scoffs at Gregory. “Nah, man, I wouldn’t want to take your money, it’d be too easy.” Lane leans back against the side of his car with his sleeves pushed up and his arms crossed. Looking cool and indifferent, like Martha’s Vineyard’s very own rebel without a cause.

  Gregory doesn’t buy it; I can see it in his eyes. “Really?” He takes slow deliberate steps around Lane’s car, like a lion stalking its prey. “You don’t want to take my money? Because you’re raking in the tips at the Grille,” Gregory says condescendingly. “Or at least you were. Right, big guy?”

  Andrew leans into Lane. “Dude, you have to take this bet, you’ll totally smoke him.”

  I’m not surprised Andrew is trying to persuade Lane. My brother’s favorite pastimes are being persuasive and taking chances. My father always says Andrew would make the perfect politician or CEO, but I think Andrew rather likes to use his skills for more advantageous endeavors. Like gambling and girls.