Bad to the Bone (17 page)

Kiley fiddled with the small silver stud in her right ear. “I think it's a fantastic plan.”

“But you like school, honey lamb,” Lydia pointed out. “You're a freak of nature.”

Kiley laughed. “It's a means to an end, so I take it seriously. That's what it would be for Esme, too.”

Esme sighed. “With what I'm making on tats, I could afford to fly myself to visit my parents.”

Kiley looked intently at her friend. “What are you going to do?”

Esme's eyes narrowed. “You know I hate being told what to do.”

“But
he's
not telling you what to do, he's telling you what your
parents
would want you to do.”

Before Kiley could say more, her cell rang. She checked caller ID, and her heart jumped.

“It's Tom,” she told her friends. “I'm sorry to interrupt this, Esme, but he's calling from Russia.”

Esme waved a hand. “Go take it. I'm fine.”

“I won't be on long.” She flipped her phone open and moved away from her friends into one of the empty bedrooms of the suite.

“Hello?” She sat on a canopy bed swathed in white fishnet.

“Hey, it's Tom!”

His voice sounded as if he was in the next room, as if she could round the corner and slide into his arms.

Kiley suddenly felt shy. “Hi. What time is it there?”

“Eleven hours later than where you are,” Tom said.

Like she cared. She didn't even know why she'd asked that. Just for something to say that wasn't
Why were you kissing Marym?

“So, how are you?” she asked, going for casual. Surely he
would just come right out and tell her about the kiss. He'd explain the whole thing, and then she wouldn't worry anymore.

“Great,” Tom said. “I've finally got cell service. Russia is amazing. Being in Moscow is like being in Paris—very modern, lots of cafés.”

“That's nice. How's the movie going?”

“They're having some problems with the financing,” Tom said. “I don't know what, I don't really get into it. Chloë told me it happens all the time.”

Chloë. That would be Chloë Sevigny His new best friend.

“The Russian actors and the crew are fantastic. My stand-in has been teaching me this card game everyone plays here called
durak;
it means ‘the fool.’ The object of the game is to make one person lose and then laugh at them.”

Kiley frowned. “That's just mean.”

“Nah, it's just really Russian. You'd kind of have to be here to understand. So what's up with you?”

“School, the kids, and working on the Rock Music Awards with Esme and Lydia.” She considered filling him in on Esme's troubles, but figured it would be better to wait until he got home. Then she considered telling him about her new friendship with Matt. But for some reason, she didn't. Maybe Tom would think she was just doing it to try and make him jealous. And he'd use it as a way to rationalize more kissy face with Miss Israeli Supermodel.

They chatted a while longer. He said he missed her, but Kiley could tell his heart wasn't in it. And he never mentioned Marym.

“I'm fagged out, ducks,” Audrey told Lydia as she pulled her T-shirt over her head. She had already flung off her skinny jeans by the side of Kat's pool.

The pool area itself was lit by cool blue lights, both underwater and surrounding the terrace. Lydia watched as Audrey, clad only in her black lingerie, made a smooth dive into the deep end of the pool. Rehearsal at the Kodak had lasted until nine due to some technical glitches with the sound system. Even so, Lydia wondered how rehearsing a duet with Platinum could “fag” a person out.

“I could call the cook and ask her to make us something,” Lydia offered. She sat by the side of the pool and ran her bare feet through the water, admiring the shocking pink polish on her toes.

Audrey treaded water, her tattooed arms colorful in the blue light. “Oh, no worries, Britney's bringing her chef.”

Lydia frowned. They hadn't invited anyone over, let alone someone named Britney. As to why this Britney person would be bringing her own chef, Lydia had no clue.

“Who's Britney? And who invited her?”

Audrey laughed. “Funny.”

“No, seriously, who?”

Audrey reached the lip of the pool in the deep end and hung on.
“Britney
Britney. She's joining us, and a few of my mates. Didn't I tell you? Maybe not. Sorry.”

It was more than maybe not. Audrey had told Lydia no such thing. Because certainly if Audrey had mentioned that she'd invited Britney and her chef over, Lydia would have remembered. Back when Lydia was swatting away flying ants and eating monkey meat, Britney had been the queen of the world, her perfect visage appearing in nearly every one of Lydia's coveted magazines on a regular basis.

Britney was coming to her house? That was impossible.

“Britney,” Lydia repeated.

“Don't be shocked. We've been friends since her third CD.”

“So, Britney Spears is coming over and her chef is coming, too.” Lydia just liked saying it.

“Her, some others, just a simple drop-in. Grab me a towel, love? This treading water is getting old, and I'm too tired to swim.”

Audrey clambered from the pool and reached for the fluffy yellow-and-white-striped towel Lydia tossed to her. A few mates? Mates had to mean other famous singers and musicians. Or maybe movie stars. They were all coming here? Yes. Lydia was ready to bust from excitement.

There were only two things on her mind as she waited for
Audrey to towel off. One: was there anyone other than Kiley Esme, and Flipper that she should invite? And two: what should she wear?

Two hours later, Lydia learned what “a few of my mates” really meant.

Her aunt's property was swarming with beautiful people; the famous and the infamous, and friends of the same. Audrey still insisted she'd invited only a few of her good friends. Well, evidently those few people had told a few dozen others who had told a few dozen others, and so on, until Lydia found herself hosting the impromptu rock and roll party of the year.

Not that the details weren't well handled. Car Candy, an all-female valet service, had been hired to park the multiple Mercedes and Lamborghinis and Priuses of the attendees. Not only had Britney's chef shown up, she'd brought with her an entire staff to cook and serve, along with a portable kitchen that she set up just outside the glass double doors leading to the kitchen. There were six different kinds of hot wings, mini Kobe beef burgers, a Chinese buffet, and a table laden with cupcakes by Joy the Baker, the best in the city. Down near the pool, three bartenders served mojitos and cosmopolitans and whatever else anyone wanted, with top-shelf alcohol only.

For once, her outfit had not come from her aunt's closet. Instead, Audrey had loaned her a cute candy-striped bikini that tied at both hips and around her neck. There was even a little pocket over her right ass cheek in which she could carry her cell phone.

Lydia stood near the shallow end of the pool drinking her
third watermelon martini. One of Pink's backup dancers had given it to her, explaining that it was made with crushed watermelon and really was superb. The martinis were making her feel effervescent. This was so much danged fun.

The swimming pool itself was full of guests, many of whom were drunk or stoned or in some obviously altered state. Some wore bathing suits, many of the girls wore only their bikini bottoms, and a couple of really wasted girls who were making out with each other in the shallow end wore nothing at all. Music blasted from the sound system Kat and Anya had installed when they'd bought the place.

“Hey. You throw a hell of a party.”

Flipper came up behind Lydia, snaked his arms around her waist, and presented her with a fresh watermelon martini. He took the old glass as she sipped.

“It just kind of happened,” she admitted. “But it's amazing.”

“Woo-hoo!” A huge, hairy, shirtless guy in jeans whom Lydia recognized as one of the techies for the RMA jumped into the deep end holding a small goldfish bowl, which meant there were now goldfish swimming around in her aunt's pool. Well, no harm done. Goldfish were in the carp family, and carp could survive in practically anything.

She took another sip of her drink. Yummy.

“Want some food?” Flipper offered.

“I'm good,” Lydia told him. “You go. Try the miniburgers. They're to die for.”

“Will do. You are something else, Lydia Chandler.”

“Yeah, I really am,” she teased.

He swatted her butt lightly, gave her a kiss, and took off for
the bar. Lydia took a few more sips of her martini. They really were excellent. She reminded herself to get the mix from the bartenders.

“You shagging him, ducks?” Audrey asked, stumbling over to Lydia with a half-empty champagne bottle in her right hand.

“Shagging?” Lydia echoed.

“Doing him.”

“Oh, you mean are Flipper and I having sex? Not yet. But I'll drink to that!” She hoisted her martini glass in Audrey's direction. “I might have sex with him soon. I don't have a lot of experience and I'm looking forward to kind of broadening my horizons.” She took a long swallow of her drink.

Audrey threw her head back and laughed. “You kill me!”

She handed Lydia the champagne bottle and Lydia thought,
Why not?
She took the bottle with her free hand and took a swallow. She loved the feeling of the bubbles exploding in her mouth.

“You know, I was thinking about those mystical potions you told me about. The ones you brought back from the rain forest.”

“What about 'em?”

“I never did get to try one,” Audrey reminded her. “What better time than a party?”

“Well, see, they're not really party drugs. The Amas take that stuff as serious as a heart attack.”

“But you're not an Ama,” Audrey said, giving Lydia a loopy grin. “And neither am I.”

Lydia was going to explain how the Amas used those powders when Platinum herself weaved her way over to them. She
wore a white bathing suit with fishnet across her flat, fauxtanned stomach, and white snakeskin sandals with a three-inch heel. “Kick-ass party, friend of Kiley.”

Lydia laughed and thanked her. Then she took another swallow of the champagne. How much had she had? Was she drunk? She wasn't sure. She felt a bit dizzy, actually.

Platinum slung an arm around Audrey's diminutive shoulders. “Our duet is fucking great,” she slurred. “We should do an album together.”

“Love to,” Audrey agreed.

I am standing here while two music legends discuss doing an album together. This is really happening
.

Platinum took the champagne from Lydia. “I'm not supposed to drink anymore,” she mentioned, then upended the bottle and chugged. When it was empty, she flung it into the pool and stumbled off into the night.

“Remember to get me the powder,” Audrey called over her shoulder as she headed after Platinum. “Be a mate, mate. I'm dying to try your stuff.”

Lydia just waved, hoping Audrey would be so stoned on whatever it was she was already mixing with the champagne that she'd just forget all about it. She really was not comfortable giving out any Ama concoctions for recreational use. It was kind of sacrilegious. On the other hand, she wanted Audrey to stay her friend. Lydia's life had gotten so much more exciting since Audrey had latched on to her. Plus, Audrey had bought her that incredible gown. She kind of owed the rock star. Didn't she?

Ah. There was Kiley. She was alone on the lawn, sitting in one of the wrought iron chairs, sipping what looked like a
Coke. Lydia headed for her friend, vaguely realizing that she was having a difficult time walking a straight line.

“How much have you had to drink?” Kiley asked.

“Don't recall. Going to bed alone, so I'm safe. I am crazed for watermelon martinis. Having fun?”

“I feel like I'm watching footage from TMZ or something on YouTube,” Kiley confessed. “All these famous rock stars.”

“I know.” Lydia perched on the arm of Kiley's chair. “Audrey Birnbaum is livin' at
my house
. Just pinch me. Too bad Esme didn't come.”

“I think rock stars and parties are pretty low on her priority list right now.”

Lydia nodded. “I wish there was something we could do to cheer her up.”

“Maybe we really could take a trip to Mexico with her sometime,” Kiley mused. “That would be fun, huh?”

Lydia grinned. “And have sex on the beach.”

“You want to have sex on the beach with who?” Kiley asked.

“It's a drink,” Lydia explained. “Flipper says it's great. I might want to have sex on the beach with him sometime. I think he's probably good at it.”

“Based on?”

Lydia stabbed a finger at her. “You know, you're right. I won't know if he's good at sex unless I actually have sex with him. There's a good reason for me to follow through. Should I change my mind about tonight?”

“I think you're kind of smashed, Lydia.”

“Am I?” Lydia laughed and threw her arms in the air. “It's a
party. You know, when Tom gets back, the four of us should go get rowdy. We could go dancing at the Silverbird Lounge.”

“I don't even know if Tom is all that into me anymore,” Kiley confessed.

“You're just havin' doubts cuz he's over there in Russia and you're here,” Lydia insisted. She took the glass from Kiley's hand and took a sip. “Well, cut off my pinky and call me Betty. You're drinking too.” Kiley's Coke was heavily laced with rum.