The Nannies by Melody Mayer Page B

count.” She gestured toward the blue floral bikini she was wearing. “This belongs to one of the moms, I’m not sure which.”
    “Not a problem, I loan you clothes,” Oksana said.
    Lydia would have preferred to zip off on a major shopping spree. But there was the little problem of money. As in, she didn’t have any.
    “So tonight,” Oksana went on, “we go to Koi for dinner. Then to De Sade, my treat. You are game?”
    “I am
so
game,” Lydia agreed.
    Was life great or what? It was about damn time.

10
    Lydia tried not to stare across the outdoor terrace of Koi, where a handsome guy with short cropped hair had just stood up from his table. So did the leggy girl with whom he’d dined.
    “That guy looks like Tom Cruise,” Lydia told Oksana.
    Oksana followed Lydia’s eyes. “That
is
Tom Cruise.”
    Lydia almost dropped her Coke. “No way. He’s so
short.
”
    “Is movie magic.”
    “I wouldn’t know,” Lydia confessed. “I haven’t seen any of his movies. I just recognize him from magazines.”
    Oksana’s perfectly plucked eyebrows headed north toward the terrace’s retractable rooftop. “No movies in jungle? I can’t imagine. What did you do for fun?”
    “I got really good at fishing for peacock bass using pig guts as bait. And there were the cannibals—there are a few left. They were always good for a few laughs,” Lydia mused. “And the witch doctors have a cool little show they put on where they drink sheep piss to give them extra strength.”
    “You are joking.”
    “Not.”
    “Amazing,” Oksana marveled. “This must be big change. Are you having good time?”
    Good didn’t begin to cover it. Lydia felt like piercing her lip with one of those long sticks that Amazonian women considered a fashion statement just to make sure that this wasn’t some big ol’ dream. Here she was, at Koi, surrounded by models, actors, and assorted beautiful people. More than that, from the smiles and approving looks she’d gotten on her way to the table, everyone thought
she
was one of them.
    Part of it had to be due to the twenty-minute shower she’d taken after lying out all day by the pool. For the first time in eight and a half years, Lydia felt truly clean. Part of it had to be the clothes that Oksana had lent her: a Rock & Republic jean skirt with stud detail, and a citrus-and-pink-mesh Betsey John-son T-shirt. That she was actually wearing the designers she’d read about was a wonderful feeling. Oksana hadn’t been able to come through with shoes, since her feet were so much bigger than Lydia’s. But Lydia had raided the moms’ closet for an incredible pair of Jimmy Choo baby blue python stiletto sandals. Lydia, who’d once lost a pet dog to a python, loved the idea of having them on her feet.
    Dinner had been sushi, sushi, and more sushi. Lydia was accustomed to raw fish, but that fish had always been limited to whatever was swimming in the river near their tiny settlement, not mahimahi, salmon, and special California sushi rolls. It was only after two hours of gorging and people watching that Lydia and Oksana returned to Oksana’s pearl gray classic Porsche Spyder.
    “Tournament in Stuttgart,” Oksana declared.
    “What?”
    “I reach semifinal. It paid for car. Want to drive?” Oksana offered Lydia the keys.
    “Nah,” Lydia told her nonchalantly, unwilling to admit that she had no idea
how
to drive. Porsche Spyders were scarce in Amazonia. As were paved roads. Or any roads, for that matter.
    So Oksana motored them over to De Sade. The club was in an old warehouse off Hollywood Boulevard to the east of Katana. No sign, no nothing. Just a valet parking stand, a purple velvet rope, and an endless line of please-God-let-them-think-I’m-cool-enough-to-get-in types. A buff guy with coal black skin and muscles on his muscles stood by the door.
    “That guy is the cool police, huh?” Lydia asked as the valet took the Porsche from them.
    Oksana smiled. “Is important job.”
    Lydia