All Night Long Read Online Free Page A

“Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
    “Actually, I do. But you don't have to owe me one.” She stood, stretching her sun-warmed limbs, and reached a hand down to her friend. “Come on. Let's walk to the clubhouse and see what the kids look like made over.”
    Lydia laughed. “Better than we do, I'm sure.”
    On a normal day, the kids' play area in the main clubhouse was heaven on earth for anyone under the age of twelve. Every game and toy in the universe; multiple wall-mounted plasma TVs with Xboxes, PS-whatevers, and Wiis up the wazoo; a soft, matted floor for roughhousing; and fridges and freezers full of snacks and drinks. Sometimes, no matter how much fun was planned for the kids on the rest of the club's expansive grounds, it was hard to get the children out of the playroom, even though most of them had playrooms of their own at their respective mansions and estates.
    Today, though, the play area had been transformed. All the boys had been bused off to Will Rogers State Park on the way to Malibu for a surfing/boogie board experience. That left all the girls in the Nanny and Me program—upward of twenty or twenty-five girls—in the hands of a small army of stylists, makeup artists, haircutters, and their many assistants, equipped with the most expensive products and tools straight off the runway. It cost a small fortune, but the clientele of the club could afford it.
    When Esme and Lydia arrived, they saw many of the other nannies they knew standing in a cluster at the west end of the room, since a large red curtain had been drawn dividing the room in half. Though they didn't do a lot of socializing with these nannies away from the club, they said hello to Claudette from Cameroon, Judith from Quebec City, Marielle from France, Sophie from Montreal, and Françoise from Belgium. Esme realized there was a real prejudice at the club toward francophone nannies.
    Suddenly, rock music began to pound, and the head of the Nanny and Me program, an aggressively enthusiastic African American woman named Sandra with beautifully relaxed hair and bright red lipstick, stepped out onto the mat. “Welcome, nannies and parents! To the first annual Nanny and Me makeover day!”
    The nannies applauded politely. Esme checked the crowd— no mothers in sight. Typical. Just like Diane Goldhagen, the woman for whom she worked, most of the country club mothers were content to let their nannies drive their kids to the club while they shopped, primped, or did volunteer work.
    “We've brought in makeup artists from Warner Brothers, stylists from Fred Segal, and the entire haircutting crew from Alexander Paisan in Beverly Hills. Just wait till you see the little darlings. Modeling could just be in their futures!” Sandra swepta well-toned arm outward without a hint of tricep waddle. “Pull back the curtain! Show this crowd their made-over kids!”
    The red curtain opened with a flourish, revealing an assortment of girls ranging from the Goldhagen twins at age six to a couple of girls Françoise took care of who were allegedly fourteen but could easily have passed for nineteen (despite a maturity level somewhere closer to ten). In the middle of the pack was ten-year-old Martina. Martina was one of those unfortunate girls who'd reached puberty before her time and tried to hide her conspicuous breasts under baggy, inconspicuous clothing.
    Esme spotted Easton and Weston Goldhagen immediately, but she had to do a double take to be sure it was them. At the start of the morning, they'd had long, lush hair. Now, Easton had a trendy razor-cut bob, and Weston's hair had been crimped, with red and gold streaks added on the sides.
    “Holy shit. What will Diane say about their hair?” Esme was incredulous.
    But Lydia wasn't even paying attention. “Get a load of my niece. They've turned Martina into a babe.”
    Lydia pointed, and Esme literally gasped. Martina's normally limp brown hair, which she habitually shook over her dark