Dia of the Dead (3 page)

“Great seeing you too,” I said, a fake smile plastered on my face.

“I think I’m gonna go grab something to drink.
Dia looks like you need another one. Come with?” Taylor’s hazel eyes darted from me to the cherry in a glass of melting ice on the table then back to me.

“I—uh—“ I didn’t get a chance to finish my thought. I was up and out of my seat, being led through the fabric by Taylor.  She had a vise-like grip on my arm that I couldn’t pull away from. She seemed to have super human strength for someone so thin. She finally let go when we reached the bar where she shoved two other partygoers aside to make room for us. She waved for me to join her before leaning across the bar to signal for the bartender.

He came as soon as she beckoned. I guess that was a perk of being drop-dead gorgeous. 

“Two Cokes!” she yelled over the music.

He nodded, wearing a goofy grin and went about making our drinks.

She turned back toward me.

“So, I hear you’re trying to get your show renewed!” she yelled at me.

“How do you know about that?!” I yelled back.

“Kaci told me!”

“Oh! Well, yeah! Our ratings are pretty solid from what I hear! We’re almost doin
g
OMG
!
numbers!” I felt like an idiot for yelling the bit of info I’d picked up from mom during her pre-party pep talk.

“
OMG
!
huh? That was like the biggest show in Bixby’s history!” She looked a little stunned. “Wow!”

“But that doesn’t matter. Kaci said BB and Reagan have the final say!”

Taylor cocked a brow.

“Of course ratings matter,” she said in a tone I thought would be followed by ‘duh.’ “If you’re doin
g
OMG
!
numbers, you’re practically guaranteed a renewal. Ah, thanks!”

The bartender had returned with our drinks. Taylor accepted them with a smile and handed one off to me before picking up her glass.

“Let’s talk over there.” She ushered me over to a less crowded space beside the bar. “Now we don’t have to yell at each other.”

She took a sip of her drink. “What I was I saying? Oh yeah. Renewals. You don’t have much to worry about with the show’s ratings, but BB and Reagan could help with getting more exposure. Being friendly with them could lead to more airtime, more public appearances, and maybe a role in one of the network’s original movies.  Look at what starring i
n
The Princess and the Samura
i
did for Amber Lao. She’s starring in movies now. Real movies. Her latest one already has award season buzz, and it hasn’t even been released yet. I hear she’s got another one lined up with Zachary Emerson Green.”

I was awed for a moment. Zachary Emerson Green was a big deal—one of the few actors who successfully made the transition from child star to
young adult actor without too much drama.

A knowing smile crossed her lips. “BB and Reagan have connections that could be all yours if they like you. And as of right now, they don’t like you, Dia.”

I’d figured as much.

“Do you know why?” I asked.

“Nope. Could be anything really. Reagan hated me when I first started at Bixby. She didn’t like that I was blonder than her. I had to dye my hair black but eventually we became friends. Now I have more time o
n
Witch Wart
s
and there’s even talk of the Morgan twins getting a spin off.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you guys like besties?” I asked skeptically, shifting away from her to put some distance between us.

“Just because you and Reagan aren’t friends doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Dia. That’s so grade school. Besides,” she straightened up into a regal stance and brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder, “I’m eighteen now and it’s time for me to start growing up. I can’t be a petty mean girl forever.”

“I appreciate your help but if Reagan hates me, how am I supposed to win her over or her sister for that matter?”

Taylor took a sip of her drink. “The first thing would probably be to stay the hell away from Brendan Baker.”

“What?” I said a little too quickly. I recovered and managed a less manic, “Why? I’ve only seen Brendan Baker like twice ever. I don’t really know him.”

“You may not know him but he knows you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s been basically grilling Mason about you all night.”

I blushed and gave my head a quick shake, hoping Taylor hadn’t noticed.

From her amused expression, it seemed she had. My embarrassment didn’t help the situation.

“Hmph. It seems like this little crush is mutual.” She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t want to go into too much detail—I’m not a gossip— but Reagan is like in love with him. She keeps this little picture of—oh never mind. The moral of the story is: it’s best you keep your distance. Spare yourself the headache. You don’t want to end up like Lola Matthews.”

“Who is Lola Matthews?”

“Exactly. Steer clear of Brendan and you’re one step closer to becoming BFFs with the Bixby sisters. Besides, Brendan has his own thing going on.” 

“Thing? What kind of thing?”

She took another sip of her drink and looked at me, “Let’s head back.”

Taylor didn’t give me time to ask any of the questions I had for her. My arm was back in her strongman grip as she led me back to the rest of the group.

Kaci must’ve been in heaven while we were gone. She sat on the couch—beaming—with Mason’s arm draped around her shoulder. He dangled a small baggie of something in front of her face. When her eyes landed on me, she whispered something to him and shooed the bag away from her. 

“What was that?” I asked, returning to my seat beside the couch.

“Oh, nothing.” Kaci chirped, crossing her legs and patting down the tulle of her skirt.

“Z.” Mason pulled the baggie out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Z? What’s that?” I took a sip of my drink and sat it on the floor beside my chair.

“A new thing that’s been floating around the last couple of months.” Taylor chimed in from her seat next to Kaci. “I’ve heard about it but never tried it. I leave that kinda stuff to other people.” She shot him a knowing look.

Mason rolled his eyes at her then turned back to me. “Z’s supposed to make you chill. Like chill-chill.” He stared at the contents of his bag. Two small light colored tablets bounced around inside as he shook it for us.

“Where did you get it?” I felt a twinge of fear in my stomach.  The kind that usually accompanied the realization mom was going to catch me in the middle of something that would land me in deep shit.

“Around,” he said casually.

I glanced around, waiting for special drug agents that were sure to descend from the ceiling and bust us. At sixteen, I wasn’t ready to do hard time.

“Dude, put that stuff away. You’re making the girls uncomfortable.” Brendan leaned forward in his chair. He flashed Mason a stern look then relaxed. “Or at least go somewhere else with it.”

“I’ll put it away.” Mason sighed and tucked the baggie back inside his pocket.

“Thanks, dude.” Brendan ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his seat.

Brendan smiled and for a moment I was sure I’d melted into a puddle of fangirl goo on Lavender’s floor. I took a breath to collect myself and hoped no one noticed. I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding my breath.

The lights flickered overhead and the DJ killed the music.

“What’s going on?” I scooted to the edge of my seat.

“Yo yo yo!” DJ Pantomime’s booming voice filled the venue.

Everyone was on their feet and heading through the curtain, joining the crowd of equally confused VIPers gathered along the rail of the balcony overlooking the dance floor. The lights flashed again.

“What’s going on?” I repeated, squeezing my way into a space beside Kaci at the rail.

“I dunno.” She shrugged.

“He
y,
party people!” DJ Pantomime was back on the mic. “I just got word that the birthday girl and her fam are outside.”

Excited whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd.

“I see we’re already in the party spirit.” The DJ laughed. “Since we’re ready to have a good time, I have an idea of how to make it better.  What I’d like for y’all to do when BB walks through that door,” he pointed toward the set of glass doors being guarded by two burly security guards and a snap-ready photographer,  “is to scream ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB!’ as loud as you can. Make tons of noise. Go wil
d,
y’all. Do you think you can manage that?”

The crowd cheered, “Yes!”

“Cool. Coolcoolcool.” DJ Pantomime rubbed his hands together. “Lighting dude, fade me to black.”

The lights throughout Lavender went dark. To save us from a complete blackout, a trail of lights along the floor turned on and the sconces mounted to the walls provided dim light.

The lights flashed on as Mr. and Mrs. Bixby and Reagan burst through the doors in a flurry of camera flashes from paparazzi outside. The Bixbys seemed ever the picture-perfect family. Each of them dressed in the color so abundant inside Lavender. Mr. Bixby wore a tailored dark suit with a lilac shirt and tie. His salt and pepper hair—more salt than pepper on the sides—was styled in its usual manner away from his face.

His wife, Helen, was dressed in a strapless dress the color of her husband’s shirt that hugged her petite frame, showing off her well-toned and well-tanned skin. Strappy heels covered in rhinestones that glimmered in the camera flashes accented the calf-length dress. With her blond hair cut into a sleek bob, she didn’t look a day over thirty. I was pretty sure she’d passed that number years ago. The couple stopped to have their picture taken by the photographer at the door. When they finished, they moved along to allow their youngest daughter to be photographed.

Reagan’s dress was similar to her mother’s though it stopped just above her knee. Her hair cascaded down her back in loose black curls, a departure from the honey blonde tresses she had the last time I’d seen her. While the dress fit her well, it didn’t hide the fact she was a bit…larger than most of the people at the party. “Fat” in Hollywood was “normal” where I came from.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB!” The crowd shouted once she entered the room. With cameras flashing, BB threw her hands over her heart.  Even from up here I could see that she was faking a reaction of shock and awe. Her small mouth was stretched wide in a smile that looked more like a grimace, all her white teeth exposed in a perfect line but never touching.  Her dress was beautiful; though I didn’t consider it an actual dress. It was tunic length, showcasing rail-thin arms and legs.  The strapless bodice connected to a skirt that flowed and swayed with her every movement, reminding me of feathers.  Her dark hair was pulled off of her angular face—the crown teased almost to the height of Brendan’s while the rest of it fell down the length of her back. The style only enhanced the bird-like quality of her face.

She mouthed things as she looked around. Some guests crowded around her with outstretched arms. She met them with polite hugs and air kisses. My gaze shifted from the birthday girl to the rest of her family. Her younger sister, Reagan, wasn’t enveloped by people eager—or at least pretending to be eager—to see her. She stood off to the side with her fleshy tanned arms folded across her ample chest in the fringes of the people around her sister. She seemed lonely without Taylor by her side. She didn’t have time to pout for long. She was ushered toward the stage by her parents. The crowd separated, clearing a path to the stairs. Mr. Bixby offered his wife a hand to help her onto the stage. He assisted Reagan up the few stairs then joined his wife and daughter behind the microphone DJ Pantomime had set up in front of his equipment.

“BB, can you come up here please?” Mr. Bixby’s velvety smooth voice filled the air. His words drew all attention to him rather than the girl slowly making her way toward the stage with photographers catching her every step on film. Mr. Bixby was a commanding presence. His voice had a captivating quality that forced you to listen. He reminded me of a politician or a game show host.

DJ Pantomime helped BB onto the stage, guiding her to its center as her family stood off to the side.

“My dearest Barbara,” Mr. Bixby began, beaming proudly. “Eighteen years ago, your mother and I were blessed with a beautiful baby girl.”

Someone in the crowd laughed loudly and was met with a chorus of hissed shhhhhhhhh’s. Mr. Bixby must not have heard it or decided to pay it no mind because he continued his speech.

“We have watched you grow over the years and mature into a lovely young woman. We’re happy to be able to celebrate this milestone with you, my dear—the first of many. Happy Birthday, BB.” He slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulder. She leaned into the embrace, filling the role of doting parent perfectly.

BB smiled her terrified beauty queen smile and said something that made her parents’ faces light up.

“Reagan, would you like to say anything?” Mr. Bixby asked.