The Perfect Boy Read online

  But this summer would be different, Ciara promised herself. No grueling internships: instead, she would get a part-time job and save money for college while still having time for fun. She would put the difficult, disastrous past few months at Westwood Prep behind her and focus on making friends, checking out great music, and getting a killer tan. Just thinking about it lifted the cloud of stress and misery that had accumulated around her like the dense LA smog. She reminded herself that nobody in Santa Barbara had seen her since she was thirteen. They didn’t know about her escapades in upstairs bedrooms at parties or in the backseats of Hummers in the student parking lot. She’d be far away from all of that—and from that big empty house in LA she’d come to feel so lost in lately.

  Ciara laughed to herself as she thought of all the lame guys she was leaving behind at Westwood. Maybe they grew them different in Santa Barbara—the fresh air and proximity to the ocean had to be worth something, didn’t it? Wind whipped her hair through the open window, and she pictured legions of ripped dudes on surf-boards just waiting to show her how deep, broad, and cool the SB dating pool could be.

  Perfect town, perfect job, perfect summer, perfect guy…Ciara’s mind reeled with the possibilities. She could leave behind the mess her life had become in LA and unveil a new Ciara who did everything right. And then…well, why go back home at all? Why not just stay in Santa Barbara with her dad and her new, perfect life? She was being handed a chance to change on a silver platter—and she was determined to make it work.

  As the miles sped by under the wheels of her Jetta, 100.3 started to get staticky and fade out. Ciara hit browse on the radio, letting it flip past country and Latin stations. A familiar beat caught her ear, and she almost swerved out of her lane when she realized what it was.

  Why was “Still Not a Player” on the radio again?!

  Ciara tried to rationalize that maybe it was Big Pun’s birthday or the anniversary of his death or something. Why else would a song from nearly ten years ago be in such heavy rotation? But a nagging voice in her head told her that it was more than a coincidence: it seemed like a sign. She had to admit that she’d been up tossing and turning for much of the night before, and not just in anticipation of the trip to Santa Barbara. Em’s statement that people were talking hadn’t stopped echoing in her head.

  It wasn’t so much that she liked cultivating an endless string of random hookups. In a way, she was jealous of Em and Tim’s relationship. It might be nice to have someone be there no matter what—someone who could be a best friend as well as a warm body and a pair of lips. It was just that she had never met a guy who seemed worth taking things further than that magical first kiss. She had always joked with Em that the perfect guy would have to be as driven as herself and hotter than Bow Wow…and good luck finding that at Westwood Prep!

  Still, something about her “love-’em-and-leave-’em” approach wasn’t working the way that it used to. With every guy she kissed, the high was shorter and the nasty post-hookup feeling more intense. Now that rumors were starting to follow her around, maybe it was time to stop being a player after all.

  The thought made her hands go clammy on the steering wheel. It would be a challenge to change her ways—she was a natural flirt and loved attention. On the other hand, the emptiness she felt afterward was getting harder and harder to bear.

  Rounding the bend heading toward Mussel Shoals, Ciara made a vow to herself to curb her hookup habit until she found someone worth taking things farther than the first kiss. This summer, she would either get with the perfect guy or no one at all.

  Ciara pulled into the driveway of the simple white house nestled onto a hillside, overlooking the picturesque town of Santa Barbara and the glittering ocean beyond. Her dad was out the door before she had even fully emerged from the car. “Baby!” he exclaimed, sweeping her into his arms for a huge hug.

  “I thought you’d be at work,” Ciara said, stepping back to look at him. His strong, dark face and broad shoulders were as powerful as ever, although the divorce seemed to have taken a toll on the skin around his eyes, which was crossed with tiny lines. It had also sent gray streaks through his close-cut, wiry black hair.

  “And miss the triumphant return of my only daughter? Never. I came home to make you lunch, but I have to go back to the office this afternoon.”

  “You’re so sweet.” Ciara laughed as he helped lug her suitcases from the trunk of her car into the house. Coming home from work to make her lunch was exactly the kind of thoughtful touch her dad had always been a pro at. It often seemed like her parents had a reverse marriage: her mom always off at work while her dad took care of the house and family. It wasn’t just their attitudes that were different: her mom was tiny and Peruvian while her dad was tall and black. Even physically, they had always seemed like kind of a mismatched pair.

  “I sautéed some crabs,” her dad said as Ciara sat at the kitchen table, admiring the cheery blue-and-white-tile counters and the picture window overlooking the bay. “Fresh from the ocean—via the fish market, of course.”

  “They look delicious.” Ciara tore the leg off one and dug inside for the meat.

  Her dad sat across from her, beaming. “I’m so glad you decided to come up for the summer,” he confessed. His smile faltered. “It’s been kind of lonely without you.”

  Ciara noted the tiny bolt of pain that flitted across his face. “I’ve missed you too,” she said.

  “How’s your mother?” he asked, not meeting her eyes. She could tell just thinking about his ex-wife was difficult. Ciara knew from listening in on hushed phone conversations between her father and his lawyer in the early stages of the divorce that the marriage had ended because of more than just incompatibility. When her mom started her all-night work sessions, her dad had gotten suspicious that she was doing more with her coworker Clyde than just drafting ad pitches. It turned out he was right—she had been carrying on a secret affair behind their backs. Even though she’d never admitted to either parent that she knew, Ciara felt like her trust in her mom was totally shaken. Finding out that the beautiful, smart, and ambitious woman she’d looked up to all her life could do something like that to her own family had been overly harsh. That was part of the reason it was such a relief to get up to Santa Barbara and spend the summer with her dad.

  “She’s fine,” Ciara said. “Still busy with work.”

  Her dad winced, and she wished she’d said even less. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before he asked Ciara if she had any plans lined up for the summer.

  “I was thinking of getting a job,” Ciara told him. “You know, learning fiscal responsibility and saving for college and all that. Know of any openings?”

  “As a matter of fact”—her dad’s eyes twinkled—“I noticed the other day that the café at the beach club is hiring waitstaff. How are you at taking orders?”

  “I can always learn.” Ciara grinned. She couldn’t help thinking it sounded perfect: the beach club café was on a deck overlooking the ocean, so she’d get to breathe fresh sea air all day and maybe even run into some of her old friends. She finished the last of her crab and tossed the empty claw into the large ceramic bowl in the middle of the table. “Guess I’ll head down there and look into it right now.”

  “Don’t you even want to unpack first?” Her dad chuckled.

  “Unpacking can wait,” Ciara said, giving her dad a quick peck on the forehead as she breezed out of the kitchen. “I’m ready for my summer to begin!”

  Chapter Three

  Dear baby you the picture of perfection

  Straight from your million-dollar smile

  To my attraction to your complexion

  —Tupac

  The beach club café looked exactly the way Ciara remembered it from three years before: weathered wooden tables painted white and shaded by enormous green-and-white-striped umbrellas and a tiny seating area inside for rainy days. At three in the afternoon, the place was quiet, only a few of the tables occupied.
r />   The hostess was bent over a fashion magazine spread across her small podium, so Ciara could only see the bright platinum hair on top of her head.

  “Excuse me,” Ciara said politely. “I’m here to see the manager about applying for a summer job.”

  The hostess looked up. As soon as their eyes met, both girls started shrieking.

  “Heidi!” Ciara squealed as the hostess ran around from behind her podium to give her a hug. “I was hoping I’d see you this summer. I didn’t even recognize you with blond hair!”

  “Do you like it?” Heidi asked, twirling a strand of her shaggy Ashlee Simpson bob around her finger. “I had it done a couple of days ago.”

  “It’s really cute,” Ciara assured her. “Way different than three years ago.”

  “I know.” Heidi wrinkled her nose. “But long and brown gets boring after sixteen years. I decided to go for a whole new look this summer.”

  “I like it,” Ciara said, even though it seemed a little extreme. Heidi had been the picture of conservative, only wearing plain one-piece swimsuits while everyone else paraded around in string bikinis. She was the quiet one in the group, but Ciara had bonded with her over how much they both loved Harry Potter books and taking long walks to the Italian-ice stand at the other end of the beach. Even though she hadn’t thought about Heidi much since she’d gone back to LA, she was suddenly overwhelmed with happiness at seeing her again.

  Heidi flashed a wide, sunny grin. “So you want to work here this summer?” she asked. “That would be so great. I tried to convince AJ and Kevin to get jobs here too, but they’re all busy with this rap group they started.”

  Ciara remembered AJ and Kevin, the sweet, gawky young guys who formed the male contingent of her beach club posse. She was psyched to hear that they were still around. But…

  “A rap group?” Ciara screeched. “Last time I saw them, they were all into vintage Star Wars memorabilia. I can’t exactly picture them sporting bling.”

  Heidi giggled. “They’re actually pretty good,” she said. “I mean, I was surprised. You should come check them out tonight—they’re playing at this new place in Ventura.” Heidi disappeared behind the podium for a moment to rustle around in her bag. She pulled out a flyer photocopied on bright pink poster board and handed it to Ciara.

  “The B-Dizzy Crew?” Ciara read.

  “That’s them. They call it that because AJ says the music is so good it makes you be dizzy.”

  Ciara laughed. “I’ll definitely check it out,” she said, carefully placing the flyer in her own bag. “You’ll be there?”

  “Of course,” Heidi said as the doors to the kitchen swung open and the manager emerged. A portly guy in his early thirties, John Carson had limp, pale blond hair and a belly that flopped slightly over his waistband. “How’s business?” he called cheerfully to Heidi.

  “Just got better!” she replied. “I think we have a new waitress.” She introduced Ciara, and John squinted at her through his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “You look familiar,” he said. “Do you belong to the beach club?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ciara said, striving to make her voice sound friendly and professional, like the kind of person he would want to hire. “But I haven’t been here in two summers. Last year I had an internship, and the year before that I volunteered at a day camp.”

  John’s face lit up, and Ciara smiled inwardly, glad she had managed to impress him. But instead of commenting on her qualifications, he pointed a finger at her and squinted one eye. “Chicken salad on pumpernickel, hold the mayo, Cherry Coke?” he asked, smiling.

  Ciara had to laugh. “Yup, that’s what I always ordered,” she said.

  John chuckled. “It was the ‘no mayo’ that always killed me. You know how much mayo is in chicken salad anyway? Sure, I remember you. You’re hired. Can you come in tomorrow at ten so we can start training you for the lunch shift?”

  “Absolutely,” Ciara said. Even though she was happy to have the job, she was kind of disappointed that John hadn’t asked to see her résumé—she’d created her own format for it on Microsoft Word and printed it out on the ivory marbled résumé stock she found in her dad’s home office.

  “Great.” John reached out to shake her hand. “See you tomorrow, then.”

  “Right,” Ciara said as he retreated back to the kitchen. She turned to Heidi. “And I’ll see you tonight at the show.”

  “Yay!” Heidi said. “And then I think there’s a house party we can hit afterward.”

  Ciara left the beach club smiling. In less than an hour, she’d managed to line up a summer job, a hip-hop show (even if it was just dorky AJ and Kevin geeking out on a mike), and a house party. Not a bad start!

  Ciara glanced at the MapQuest directions she’d printed out and swung into a parking lot flanked by garages and warehouses. As she pulled into an empty spot, she watched a shaggy-haired guy in a Green Day shirt zoom along the sidewalk on a skateboard. He leaped the curb and hovered in midair for a moment before crashing down on the asphalt with his legs splayed in two directions, pieces of asphalt flying around him as his board clattered to the ground several feet away. Ciara winced and got out of her car.

  She approached the venue, which was marked with a small sign over a large black metal door, and handed the guy at the entrance five dollars. He stamped her hand with a little LEGO guy in green ink. The inside of the building had clearly once been an auto body shop, with hydraulic car lifts converted into booths for sound and lighting and license plates and old gas station signs decorating the walls. OutKast blasted over the sound system, and Ciara was surprised at how full the room was: apparently, the B-Dizzy Crew already had quite a local following. High school girls in tight jeans, slick curls, and hoop earrings stood clustered around the walls, giggling and checking out the scruffy local guys from UCSB in oversized striped T-shirts and dirty Pumas. A group of skinny, dreadlocked boys high-fived each other and crowded around a small digital video camera, whooping over the image on the screen.

  Ciara looked around for Heidi and finally spotted her by the bar, sipping a Mountain Dew and wearing the tiniest miniskirt Ciara had ever seen on anyone besides Paris Hilton. As she got closer, she noticed that Heidi had also lined her eyes in heavy black kohl pencil and was wearing a low-cut tank top with a glittery pink kitten on the chest.

  Ciara had decided to dress down for the event, sticking with her favorite Diesel jeans and a vintage baseball shirt from some long-defunct team with a ribbed tank top underneath. But next to Heidi, she suddenly felt dowdy. It was almost an exact reversal from three years before, when she’d paraded around the beach club in a series of short, fluttery sarongs while Heidi had only removed her oversized terry cover-ups to dive in the ocean.

  “Nice outfit,” Ciara said, hiding her surprise at the transformation as she joined Heidi. “Looks like you’ve really revamped your look.”

  Heidi nodded. “I’m trying to get in touch with my wild side,” she said. “I’ve been doing the good girl thing for years now—I’m kind of sick of being a little angel. This summer’s all about being bad.”

  Ciara couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was that Heidi was trying to do the polar opposite of her. Just when she’d decided it was time to chill out on the naughty behavior, Heidi was going all-out Lindsay Lohan.

  “Well, you definitely look the part,” Ciara assured her. “With an outfit like that, you might get arrested.”

  Heidi looked concerned. “Not by the fashion police, I hope?”

  “Nah—skin is in these days,” Ciara assured her. “Besides, it’s summer.”

  “Heck yeah, it is!” another female voice chimed in. Ciara turned to see Marlene, another of her old friends from the beach club, coming toward them. A spunky redhead, Marlene was as outspoken as Heidi was quiet and shy, always leading the group on adventures to check out the live squid in the tank at the Korean grocery or break into the abandoned swimming pool at the park. “Ciara Simmons!” Marlene yelled, wrapping her in
a hug. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

  “Here to see the ex?” Heidi asked her. Marlene nodded.

  “Ex?” Ciara wondered aloud.

  “Oh, I guess you were already gone by the time I started dating AJ,” Marlene said. “But we got together pretty soon after that, and we just broke up a couple of months ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ciara said. She couldn’t picture über-nerdy AJ dating anyone, but apparently everything had changed while she was gone.

  “It’s cool—we’re still friends.” Marlene shrugged. “But it needed to happen. Plus, I love their music.”

  Ciara was still deciding whether it would be cool to ask why it needed to happen when the lights dimmed and the canned music faded out.

  “Ooh, they’re about to go on!” Heidi squealed. “Let’s go up front.” She grabbed Ciara’s hand and began pulling her through the crowd, Marlene following close at their heels. Just as they got to the front of the stage, Kevin came out and took his place at the turntables. Ciara was relieved to see he’d grown several inches taller in the last three years since he once confessed to her that he was afraid of turning into, as he had put it, “your stereotypical short, dorky Asian.” He didn’t look as dorky either—his shoulders had widened to fill out the loose-fitting Adidas shirt he wore, and he’d traded his glasses for contacts, although his eyes were still partially obscured by a blue visor.

  His brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted some levels on the mixer and then moved to one of the turntables and dropped the needle on the record. A booty-shaking beat came bouncing through the speakers, followed by a vocal line that sounded like it was sampled from an old seventies soul song. Kevin scratched a few times, building the music to a crescendo before AJ leaped onto the stage, landing in the middle of the spotlight and grabbing the mike.