Ooh, Alexa thought, intrigued. She’d been dying for a chance to get into one of those fabulous retroglam hotels, especially after enduring almost a full day at the Flamingo. Brushing her teeth in the teensy hallway bathroom that morning had been anything but fabulous.
They put on their flip-flops, stuffed their towels into their beach totes, and trekked over to the boardwalk. Alexa spotted a sign for a hotel called the Oceania and pointed it out to Holly. Behind the sign lay a winding path that led off the boardwalk. Alexa and Holly exchanged a quick glance, then, in silent agreement, stepped off the boardwalk and onto the path to the hotel.
The path led to an elaborate, palm tree-bedecked fence. The fence door opened easily from the outside, so Alexa and Holly simply slipped in, and found themselves inside a jaw-dropping pool area. In the center was an L-shaped, bright blue pool with painted tiles on the bottom. Alexa remembered the mildly gross pool at the Flamingo and wanted to die. Here, reedthin women in gold lamé bikinis floated in the glimmering water on inflatable rafts, sipping fruity cocktails and dozing. Around the pool were an array of hammocks and cushioned lounge chairs where other lucky, pampered guests munched on hors d’oeuvres brought to them by uniformed waiters. The whole area was surrounded by giant palm trees and exotic plants, which gave the place a tropical, rainforest feel.
Alexa and Holly exchanged another glance, and this time they were both grinning. Alexa had arrived at her South Beach fantasy. This was where she should have been staying. And, by the looks of it, Holly was just as enchanted by the scene before them.
“Forget the beach,” Alexa whispered excitedly. “Let’s hang out here!” She wanted to dip her toes in the cool, chlorinated water, and have one of the waiters bring her frozen grapes on a platter. Her hangover seemed to have magically disappeared. All I needed was a little luxury, Alexa thought.
“We can’t use the pool!” Holly protested. She glanced over her shoulder, paranoid, as a waiter sauntered past bearing a tray with hummus and pita wedges. “We’re not guests here, Alexa. Besides, I thought you just had to go to the bathroom.”
“The trick is to act as if you belong,” Alexa replied, pushing her shades on top of her head and striking a supermodel pose. She took Holly’s hand and led her past the pool. “They don’t know we’re not staying here. Come on, let’s go inside and find the little girls’ room, and then we’ll come back.”
The hotel itself lay straight ahead—a multistory pink-and-white confection. The rooms all opened up onto delicately latticed terraces that overlooked the pool. As Alexa and Holly neared the hotel, Alexa imagined what those rooms must look like inside: spacious and light-filled, with crisp, king-size beds, plush sofas, plasma TVs…Next time, Alexa told herself. Next time I’m in South Beach, this is where I’ll stay.
But, for now, sneaking in would do just fine.
They walked up a short flight of stone steps and were about to open the hotel’s double doors when a dark-haired skinny boy in swim trunks burst out of the hotel, his shoulder knocking against Holly’s. Holly’s stomach tightened and she stopped in her tracks, glancing sideways at him.
“Diego?” she whispered, hardly able to believe it. Would she really find him so easily?
The boy stopped and brushed his straight hair off his forehead. Holly saw he had narrow green eyes and his nose was larger than Diego’s. But she could’ve sworn…
“Sorry,” the boy said, shaking his head. “Rodrigo.” Then he ambled toward the pool, shooting a confused glance back at the girls.
Alexa took Holly’s arm and dragged her into the hotel. “Who’s Diego?” Alexa asked. “Could you not humiliate us like that?”
“No one,” Holly sighed as they entered the airconditioned, carpeted lobby. She felt like a humongous fool. Why would Diego be here, in a hotel? He lived in South Beach! I’m an idiot, Holly thought.
Numbly, she followed Alexa through the lobby, past a tinkling fountain and gilt-framed paintings of seascapes. Why am I obsessing so much? Holly obsessed. I’m thinking every boy I see is Diego. She waited while Alexa politely asked the concierge where the restrooms were. Then, as they left the concierge’s desk, Holly noticed a phone booth nearby. On a shelf beneath the phone sat a thick white-pages directory. That’s it, Holly thought, suddenly relieved. She’d look up Diego in the phone book. That was the mature, logical thing to do—much more practical than hoping she’d bump into him at random.
But I’ll do it later, Holly thought as they walked into the restroom. Not with Alexa around. Before leaving Oakridge, Holly had briefly mentioned to Meghan and Jess that she hoped to reconnect with her First Kiss boy on this trip. They’d thought it was a romantic mission. But Alexa would probably tease Holly mercilessly for harboring a crush on a guy she hadn’t seen in three years. Maybe it is borderline pathetic to look for him, Holly reflected. But I won’t forgive myself if I don’t try.
The ladies’ room was just as deluxe as the rest of the hotel, complete with gleaming chrome surfaces, sinks in the shape of swans, a fully stocked table of grooming products, and an attendant handing out towels and mints. After Holly and Alexa were finished (and Alexa had tipped the attendant), they strolled back into the lobby.
“Pool time!” Alexa said gleefully. She’d reapplied her lip gloss and dabbed powder under her eyes and was now feeling much more up to snuff.
“Uh…give me a minute?” Holly said, tugging on her tote. “I need to call my parents.” In truth, Holly did need to call home—her dad had already left her two messages that morning—but she wanted to do a little Diego detective work first. And she was sure that the mere mention of parents would get Alexa out of her hair, for the time being.
“Oh, totally stay here. You do not want to make that phone call outside,” Alexa said. “If someone overheard you saying ‘Hi, Mommy, how’s New Jersey?’ that would give us away instantly.”
“I don’t call my mom Mommy,” Holly muttered. Could Alexa be any more condescending? And just when Holly was starting to almost tolerate her.
“Right. I’ll go outside to snag us a prime spot,” Alexa said, walking toward the double doors. She waggled her fingers back at Holly. “If you come out and find me kissing a boy in the pool, don’t bother me!” she added, then flounced off.
Perfect, Holly thought. She glanced around furtively as she made her way back to the phone booth. There were guests strolling in and out of the lobby, and waiting to speak to the concierge. Holly tried to act natural as she slipped inside the booth and reached for the white pages. What was it Alexa had said? Act as if you belong.
Holly opened the directory and turned to the “M” section. She tried to tune out the loud, obnoxious woman at the concierge desk. Wearing a silken head wrap and a flashy diamond choker, the woman was berating the poor concierge about delivering her package to the wrong room. “Don’t you know who I am?” she shrilled.
Who cares? Holly fumed silently, struggling to focus on the task at hand. She scanned the page in front of her. Unfortunately, there were several Mendietas in South Beach. Ana Mendieta, Carlos Mendieta, Juan Mendieta…no Diego. But if he were living with his parents, Holly realized, he wouldn’t be listed under his own name. Holly tried to remember the name of Diego’s father or mother, but came up blank. For some reason she could only think of her own parents’ names, Lynn and Stanley. At the thought of her parents, Holly felt newly determined. She certainly wasn’t going to be hooking up back in Oakridge. She’d better act now, while she had some modicum of freedom.
Holly pulled her cell phone out of her tote and started punching in the number of Ana Mendieta. She’d just go down the list and call everyone, asking to speak to Diego. Holly’s heart was in her throat as she pressed the last digit. Am I being brave or crazy? she wondered. But it didn’t matter either way. In a few seconds, she might be hearing Diego’s smooth, mellow voice. Her spring break romance was just a phone call away.
Out at the pool, Alexa casually set her straw tote on one of the lounge chairs and patted h
er thick blonde bun to make sure it was still in place. She removed her sunglasses, slid off her flip-flops, and strode toward the pool, wiggling her hips as she walked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw boys watching her with interest, and she felt her spirits lift. She was sure she didn’t look tired anymore.
Alexa glided down the tiled steps into the water, which was just the right temperature: cold enough to wake up her skin, but warm enough to feel relaxing. She submerged herself completely, sinking into the water’s cool embrace. Then she drifted back up, happily drenched, and swam a few paces into the deep end. Alexa, unlike Holly, was not a great swimmer, but she adored pools—the gentle caress of the water, the other half-naked bodies so nearby. An empty inflatable lounge floated toward her, practically begging her to climb on. How could she resist? Alexa put her hands on the float and hoisted herself out of the water. She slid onto the lounge slowly and, she hoped, seductively.
She’d just gotten settled when a mustachioed waiter near the pool’s edge caught her eye and smiled.
“Can I get you anything, miss?” he asked, nodding toward the pad and pen in his hand.
It’s working! Alexa thought. Nobody doubted that she belonged here. This really had been a brilliant plan.
“I’d love a Bellini,” Alexa replied without missing a beat. She’d never had that drink before, but had always liked the sound of it: white peach nectar with sparkling white wine.
“Anything else?” the waiter asked, scribbling down her order. “Black olive tapenade on toast points? Hummus dip with whole-wheat pita? Blue corn chips with homemade guacamole?”
I should probably get some food in my stomach, Alexa mused. To help my hangover and all.
“I’ll have the tapenade,” she said, trailing her foot through the water.
“Very good.” The waiter walked away, and returned shortly with her Bellini and a miniature platter of toast points with black olive spread.
Alexa nibbled on a few toast points, then left the platter by the side of the pool as she drifted away on her float. She wondered, fleetingly, how she was going to pay for the food and drink once the waiter returned with the bill. She was sure that most guests at the pool simply charged the food to their rooms. Using her credit card would be way suspicious, and she didn’t have any cash on her—she’d spent it all on coffee that morning, and needed to hit an ATM. Alexa shrugged, and her concerns flitted away. She’d come up with something. She always did. She lifted the champagne glass and took a long sip, savoring the chilled, peachy flavor and the undercurrent of white wine. Just what the doctor ordered.
“Good choice.” The man floating on an inflatable lounge beside her spoke up. “Bellinis are my favorite daytime drink.”
Alexa cocked an eyebrow as she turned to look at her neighbor. Was he hitting on her? He looked to be in his twenties, and was definitely hot, in a Ken-doll way: blond hair, blue eyes, sparkly white teeth. His swim trunks, she noted with approval, were Calvin Klein. Alexa gave him her most radiant smile. Here was a classy guy. She wanted to cringe at the memory of last night’s frat boys.
“It’s yummy,” she replied, delicately licking her bottom lip and lowering her lashes.
Ken-doll smiled. “So are you enjoying Miami? I come here at least once a year. It’s a great city.”
“Sort of,” Alexa said with a roll of her eyes. “My friend and I went to this trashy place last night and I’m just so over that beer-guzzling scene.” She gave him a long, meaningful look that said you and I are different.
Ken-doll nodded sympathetically. “There’s a lot of that here,” he said. “But there are also some fantastic night spots.” His face lit up. “I don’t know what you were planning for tonight, but I’m going to a Cuban place in Little Havana called Esta Noche. It’s a restaurant, but at eleven the bottom level turns into a very sophisticated dance club.”
Alexa’s heart raced as she took a gulp of her Bellini. He was asking her out for tonight? This had to set a record for world’s fastest pick-up, and he was totally smooth about it. This was exactly the kind of guy she’d been looking for!
“That sounds incredible,” Alexa said softly. She remembered reading about Esta Noche in her guidebook—it was supposedly Little Havana’s best new spot for Latin dancing. Alexa had been to the real Havana once—a couple years ago, with her dad, when he’d gone for architectural research. Their trip had been one of Alexa’s most fascinating journeys yet, and had piqued her interest in Cuban culture. She imagined herself and Ken-doll, in a dark, chic club, salsa dancing.
“You should join us,” Ken-doll said, waving toward someone poolside. “Luis and I will be getting there around ten.”
Luis? Alexa thought, following Ken-doll’s gaze to an extremely handsome, brown-skinned man who was toweling himself off near the pool. The man lifted his hand and smiled at Ken-doll.
“Careful, honey,” Luis called over. “You look like you’re getting a little pink.”
“Am I?” Ken-doll asked in response, looking down at his fair chest.
Oh no, Alexa thought, comprehension dawning. Ken-doll wasn’t hitting on her at all. He was gay. And, obviously, had a very hot boyfriend.
Alexa’s face flamed. He’d just been making friendly conversation, and she’d practically thrown herself at him! How out of it could she be? Was she turning into Holly? Or maybe, a nagging voice sounded in her head, you’re so self-centered that you always assume every guy is into you.
Just then, she saw Holly approach the pool, looking as wan and depressed as Alexa herself was feeling.
Holly padded over to where Alexa floated, and kneeled by the edge of the pool. She had called all the Mendietas in the phone book and gotten a bunch of busy signals, a few answering machines, someone who couldn’t speak any English, and a grouchy man who said he knew no Diegos. Worse still, she had then called her parents, who kept asking specific questions about Grandma Ida. And then she’d had to call Grandma Ida, to make sure all their stories were straight. Holly felt depressed and drained. She noticed Alexa looked kind of limp, too.
“What’s wrong?” Holly and Alexa asked each other at the same time. They smiled.
“You go first,” Holly said.
“Well…” Alexa hedged. Ken-doll was still floating nearby. She couldn’t exactly explain the whole humiliating incident to Holly now.
“Hi there,” Ken-doll said to Holly with a little wave. Then he looked at Alexa. “Is this the friend who suffered through the trashy place with you?”
“Yup,” Alexa replied, careful not to make eye contact.
“Well, you girls should most definitely investigate Little Havana tonight,” he said. He paddled the water with his hand and his float drifted off in the direction of Luis. “Nice chatting with you,” Ken-doll called to Alexa.
“Nice chatting,” Alexa repeated dazedly.
“Little Havana?” Holly asked Alexa. Her eyes lit up at the mention of the Cuban neighborhood. She kicked off her flip-flops and swung her legs over the pool’s edge, dangling her feet in the water. “What’s there?”
“This dance club called Esta Noche,” Alexa replied, sipping her Bellini.
Holly let out a big breath, newly hopeful. Diego was Cuban American, and she had a vague memory of him offering to teach her Latin dancing. Of course, at thirteen, she’d been too timid, and had declined. But now, Holly was feeling bolder. Was there a chance that Diego might be at Esta Noche tonight? After her unsuccessful sleuthing, she was willing to try another tack.
“We should go!” Holly exclaimed. “Little Havana’s kind of far. I mean, we can take a cab, but that might be expensive. Maybe Grandma Ida would let us borrow her car or something…” She was babbling, she realized, but this new opportunity seemed very promising.
Alexa observed Holly’s glowing face. She didn’t get it. Why was Holly getting so bubbly about Little Havana? She’d looked suicidal two seconds before.
“Would Ida really let us use her car?” Alexa asked. A set of wheels would certainly
afford them a new kind of freedom. Alexa had just gotten her driver’s license, and thought of her yellow VW Bug back home with a pang of longing.
“Definitely,” Holly replied. “She said we should call her if we needed anything, right?”
“True,” Alexa said, warming to the idea. “I’ve been Latin dancing a couple times before and it’s a lot of fun.”
“And we already know someone who’ll be at the club!” Holly enthused. “That guy you were just talking to. He seemed nice.” She smiled at Alexa and dropped her voice. “Too bad he’s not into girls, right?”
“Wait, you knew?” Alexa asked, almost falling off her floating lounge.
Holly shrugged. “It was pretty obvious.” She gave Alexa a look that clearly meant I’m not as dense as you think. Then she pointed to the Bellini in Alexa’s hand.
“Did you order that here?” Holly asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Alexa said. “And that.” She gestured to the platter of toast points next to Holly. She didn’t mention the tricky issue of payment.
“I’m kind of hungry,” Holly said, looking around for a waiter. She needed sustenance after her phone ordeals.
“Holly?” Alexa began apprehensively, but then the same mustachioed waiter who’d served Alexa appeared at Holly’s side, pen and pad at the ready.
“Do you have a burger or something?” Holly asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the waiter. She just wanted ordinary food—nothing fancy.
The waiter blinked in shock, as if Holly had cursed at him. “We do not,” he said snippily, then rattled off the same options he’d given Alexa.
“The chips, I guess,” Holly said with a shrug. “And a Diet Coke.”
The waiter cast his eyes up and down Holly, and his lip curled. “I assume you are staying at the Oceania, miss? The pool staff only caters to hotel guests, as I am certain you are aware.”
“Uh—me? Staying? Here?” Holly stumbled over her words, glancing frantically from the waiter to Alexa. She’d forgotten that she and Alexa were supposed to be posing as guests.