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LACEY

"Lace!  Dinner!"

The boy playing beside me frowns and looks towards the voice that is about to pull me away.  "We didn't finish our castle..."

I glance back at my mom who is standing on the back porch of the beach house.  She stands with one hand on her hip, the other hovering above her big blue eyes to keep the sun out. Her beautiful long brown hair blows with the breeze.

"Can you play again after dinner?"

He drops his shovel and pail, turning towards his own house.  "Maybe," he mumbles with a frown.  "If my mom comes home, then no."

I'm guessing that's a no.

"She never comes home though." He shrugs, offering a little more hope for our play date to continue.

This is the first friend I have made since we got to the beach house this summer.  I'm not ready to let him out of my sight. 

As we stand, we both have sand cascading from our clothes.  The boy shakes his curly blonde hair and giggles as even more sand falls out. 

"Are you here all summer too?" I ask in my most hopeful voice.  Please say yes.  I want a friend this summer, and today was the best. 

A big smile comes to his lips, and he nods his head.  "We live here all the time!  I'll come out and play tomorrow.  What's your name, Pretty Girl?"

"Lacey!  What's yours?"

He smirks and begins to run back to his house, his bucket and shovel in hand.  "Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow!  Bye, Lacey!"

I watch him run to his porch where a man is standing and waiting for the boy. 

"Lacey!"

"I'm coming!"  I give my dress one more shake before I run back to my mom.  She takes my hand in hers. I can smell the coconut scent of her perfume, bringing me comfort.

"Who was that boy?" She glances back. "Is that Lucas Drake?"

"My boyfriend." I shrug.

"Your...your what?" My mom giggles with wide eyes as she bends down and swipes more sand from my legs before we walk inside.

"He's a boy..." I argue, feeling embarrassed.  "And he's my friend—I think.  So, he's my boyfriend. Right?  He didn't tell me his name. He's weird, but I like him.  We played princess and prince, and he made me a castle!"

"Lacey," she laughs with a bright smile.  "All boys are weird.  Don't call him your boyfriend though. Daddy will have a heart attack.  You're six, and he doesn't want you to have one of those for at least another fifteen years. More like twenty."

"What do I call him, then?" 

She takes her large sunhat off and places it on my head.  It's huge on me, but suddenly, I feel just as beautiful as my mom. 

"He's just a friendly boy, Lace."

"Lace... Lacey... Lace!"

"Five more minutes..."

"Lacey!"

If I ignore her, she will shut up and let me go back to my dream. I haven't dreamt about her in so long. I want to go back to the beach. I can smell it...

A pillow abruptly slaps itself across my head.

"Lacey!"

"Rachel!" I clutch the pillow and toss it back at her with as much force as I'm able. It's not very much. It simply bounces off her shoulder as she laughs.

"How's your head?"

I clutch my nose, attempting to keep the searing pain at bay. Way too much tequila. Way, way too much. "Fuck."

"You know it's like three in the afternoon. Right? Your phone has been ringing almost every hour on the hour."

I sigh, knowing that those calls are from my dad. I sort of abandoned him as soon as we pulled into town. I hadn't seen one of my best friends in over ten years. Rachel was a priority.

Rachel and I met when we were seven. We had a Hamptons beach house, and she lived here year-round. When we sold our house, she was the only one who continued to call me and keep in contact.

"Lace, don't fall back asleep!" The pillow, again, is thrown at my head.

"I used to like you."

"You look like ass. You smell like cheap booze."

I can't help but to laugh. I smell like cheap booze, because that's what I drank all night. It's not exactly as if I had another option.

"Sorry. Tonight I'll try and stick to top shelf only."

"Don't be a smart ass. You know I didn't mean it like that." She tugs my covers off of me and tosses my phone down so it's within my grasp. "And you don't really want to go out again tonight, do you? How can you possibly even think of drinking again tonight?"

That is easy—it's because I don't want to be here. I don't want to be somewhere that I used to love so much and not have the life that came with it.

"I just need to not think while I'm here, Rach. I don't even need to drink that much tonight. I have to go to that dinner with my dad and Mr. Drake, anyways. Tonight, I just want to dance and get laid. Is that too much to ask for?"

She laughs and nods her head with a yes, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder. "That's my type of night. Let's dance and get laid. I could use it. It's been months."

"A year." I point to myself. "That drought ends tonight."

"A year?  Seriously?"  Rachel's jaw falls open in astonishment.  Yep, that makes me feel better.  Not.

"There's no time with school.  I don't have time to think about guys."

"A man has not given you an orgasm in a year? So, since you broke up with Knox? Oh, honey, we need to fix this."

If only she understood.  "No guy has ever given me an orgasm.  Not even Knox.  Many have tried. All have failed.  I still enjoy sex—I just don't get off.  It's like my anxiety takes over, and I can't do it.  I go home and get myself off later."

Her eyes widen.  "Yeah, we need to find you a man tonight. That's not normal."

I roll my eyes and nod.  I never said it was normal. 

My suspicions were correct. As I pick up my phone, I notice five missed calls from my dad. I send him a quick message telling him I will be there for our dinner tonight, as planned.

"I need to borrow clothes."

"Lacey," Rachel sits beside me with a frown, "why are you avoiding your dad?"

I rest my head to her shoulder and sigh.  My dad and I have a complicated relationship. 

"I'm not avoiding my dad. I'm avoiding seeing the old beach house. It's been a long time. So, can I please borrow some clothes?  Hot ones—ones that will help me accomplish the goal?"

"Of course you can, but you're just avoiding the inevitable. You're going to see the house tonight when you're at the Drake's. Why did your dad want to stay there?"

"Because Drake offered. He knows dad is in a hard spot. We have the entire guest house, apparently."

I wasn't going to tell her that I was trying to avoid the Drake's house too. There are just so many memories here—good ones.  When we sold the house, everything changed. Rachel was my only friend who continued to speak to me into our adulthood. Our summers here were amazing. The last time I was in the Hamptons, seven years ago, I was fifteen.  We had sold the house three years prior, and it was a terrible trip. I'd like to avoid that again, if possible. 

"Alright, let's dress like the hoes I know we are. I know a great bar we can go to.  We will dance until our heels make us bleed and make some poor bastards carry us back to their places like queens, before tending to our sexual frustrations."

I burst into laughter. "Oh, Rach. I love you. Emphasis on the poor bastard part, okay?  I don't need a Hamptons boy between my legs. I'll get bored as he talks about his money—no offense."

"None taken. And, talking is not part of the deal tonight. Dancing and sex. No conversations. Now, shower! Shave everything!  We are going out!"

* * *

LUKE

"Where have you been?"

"Out." I attempt to avoid my dad at all costs. He was supposed to be in his office.  I thought maybe if I snuck into the main house mid-afternoon, he would be working. Apparently, today he is working from the kitchen.

Well played.

"Take a seat. We need to discuss this dinner tonight with Larry Mason."

"It's dinner, Dad. I'll eat. I'll be polite. He will go home. I don't care."

"Well, sit your ass down and start caring!" His glare warns. A warning I've come to know well. I return it, knowing it won't affect him in any way—unlike the way his does to me.

I'm stuck here for the summer. I give up and sit. I figure, if I'm going to argue with him for the next two months, I should probably not start pissing him off the first day that I'm here.

I fucking hate the Hamptons.

"Now," he begins. "It's time you started showing a little interest in the family business. You're inheriting your shares next year."

Ah, yes. Let's discuss how I will someday take over his legacy, once more. Because, who doesn't want a life of being known as the son of a man who invented a new diuretic-beta blocker combination drug? How very exciting!—my eyes roll hard.

"I'm in pharmacy school, just like you wanted. How is that not showing interest?"

My father runs his hand through his graying blonde hair, frustrated. It no longer looks tidy, making us look even more similar than we already do. Same height, same hair color, same jaw, same green eyes. As much as I would love to, there is no denying that I am the son of William Drake.

"Lucas, that is the extent of your interest. You need to start coming to some meetings. Pick up some business classes. You are about to become a shareholder of a major pharmaceutical company."

Lucky me.

"So, why do I need to be at this dinner with Larry? I have shit to do tonight."

I don't really. I'm just going clubbing with Justin tonight, but he doesn't need to know that. The less he knows about my summer plans, the better.

"He wants to sell his shares."

My brow lifts, piqued with interest. That is something I definitely find surprising.  Currently, Larry has fifty percent and so does my dad. If he sold those to someone outside the company, that person would have as equal of a say as Dad. 

"Why?"

"Well, if I'm guessing correctly, he's low on money. He needs a job, because he's trying to put Lacey through pharmacy school."

Lacey. I swallow hard at the sound of her name and nod my head. Of course she's in pharmacy school too. Her mom developed the drug with my dad. She will own just as much of the company as me in two years' time. She was my best friend for years—I was terrible to her the last time I saw her. That was almost eight years ago.  We were kids—stupid teens.

Good thing she isn't here with Larry.

I never wanted to be a pharmacist. I want nothing to do with the family business. I don't want this life. It's not me and never was. How do I tell my dad that I want to own my very own studio, become a choreographer and not some pill pusher in a suit the rest of my life?

"I'll be at dinner. I'll listen. Whatever."

I walk out, ignoring his angry pleas for me to sit my ass back down. I can't handle any more of this today.

Once I'm in my Jeep, I decide my night needs to begin early. I'm going to need some alcohol in my veins to tolerate this meeting tonight. My best friend, Justin, is my first call. My phone is pressed between my ear and my shoulder as I reverse out of the long drive and back to the private road.

"What's up?" he finally answers just as I was about to give up. 

"I'm heading to Blue now. My dad is planning my summer at Drake-Mason already. I need something to get my mind off of this business shit."

"Drunk and laid?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "How about drunk? I have a meeting tonight that I need to be overly intoxicated to tolerate. No time to get laid."

"Alright. You'll get drunk. I'll get laid. I'll meet you there in twenty."

"Deal."