As she opened the wooden gate, it creaked loudly, and she carefully closed it back while covering it with dangling branches.
“Over here,” he said quietly, calmly. She liked his voice. It was so gentlemanly, so evolved, so not like men her age.
“I’m coming!” she whispered loudly, hopping on one platform espadrille as she pulled off the other. She walked with both shoes hanging from her two fingers as she moved along the pathway toward him. Before reaching the clearing where he was lying, she noticed the stars flickering above as the evening sky transformed the landscape into a hazy, Hamptons purple hue. She snapped a photo to be posted later. For sure.
“You smell delicious,” he muttered as he pulled her down toward him. He kissed her furiously for good measure, then, not too subtly, pushed her head down his torso to get on with it already.
Chapter Four
Preposterous Posing
“It’s not like we’re saving some hedge fund client in rough currents; they hardly need us here,” Luke whispered loudly to Kona. He was taller than his childhood friend, but much slighter in composition. He looked back at the lawn, which was as long as the five-par golf holes he used to caddy. “Let’s hold back a little, look at the line of cars arriving now.” He pointed at the never-ending driveway behind them. A dozen cars snaked along, while uniformed valets raced around to open doors as if they were saving children from a burning building. First rolled in a vintage 1970’s Mercedes convertible 280SL, then a Porsche Turbo S, and then an Aston Martin V12 Vantage.
“C’mon man, I’m hungry,” Kona yelled back to Luke. “‘A’ole pilikia. Stop sweating this. Let’s go crush the buffet.” For the first time, the men were able to check out the grounds of the famous Chase house, normally hidden behind twenty-foot-tall hedges. Only in the late autumn and winter, when the leaves fell and the green walls turned to barren branches, could anyone get even a glimpse of the landscaped Southampton estates filled with outdoor art installations, tennis courts, and infinity pools stretching out toward the sea. Like many of his neighbors, Jake Chase had labeled his home with a wooden plaque out front as if it were Windsor Castle on the English countryside. He fretted over the possibilities for months until he settled on Pine Manor. That many of these homes were contemporary in design or had titles that had nothing to do with the local landscape (no pine trees nearby) didn’t much matter. It was the aura of gentility and massive wealth that the monikers announced.
Kona and Luke passed an enormous sculpture that looked like a poodle made up of long balloons that clowns twist into shapes. Luke knew he’d seen that same image in pictures from a museum exhibit, but he couldn’t remember the name of the artist. He wondered if it cost over a million dollars, or over ten million, or possibly even more.
Just then, both men heard laughter on the other side of the hedge.
“Let’s start some trouble if you wanna wait,” said Kona, trying to peer through the bushes at a couple in the sea grass. “We’re going to find something we shouldn’t.”
He grabbed Luke’s shoulder and pushed him behind the pool shed so they could both get a better look. They cleared the brush from above a small wooden gate. Though the clusters of high sea grass obstructed their view, they could see a man was lying on his back. He looked older; they could make out grayish hair, with his elbow draped on his face while a young woman had her mouth bobbing up and down between his thighs.
“Check it out,” whispered Luke, who never wanted to follow Kona’s often disastrous lead. “He’s really getting worked on. And look at her, on her knees getting so busy. Check out his blazer, what is that, yellow flowers inside it? I told you they’d all be wearing stuff like that. You recognize the guy?”
“No idea.”
“Let’s go,” cautioned Luke.
“Nope,” replied Kona. “Stay here, we gotta nail this old asshole. She looks too young.” He waited a few more moments, and then yelled “Yo!” at the couple to get their attention and freak the older man out.
Suddenly from behind the pool shed on their side of the hedge, a muscled man dressed in a white polo shirt with Pine Manor stitched on the left chest tapped Luke’s arm with enough force to inflict a bruise. “Can we help you boys? Whom are you yelling at?” He elbowed his partner.
“No, uh, we were . . .” answered Luke, rubbing his arm.
“You were what?” The two security goons looked at each other, trying to divine if Luke and Kona were nosy guests or criminals. “Should we escort you up to the cocktail area, or is there a problem here we should alert Mr. Chase about?”