California Schemin': Book One in the Malibu Mayhem Trilogy (7 page)

“That place may give good manicures,” Bess shivered. “But it also gives me the creeps.”

“Me too,” I said. “All that yelling upstairs must be part of the ‘intense renewal.’”

“A whole week of being called a pathetic loser?” George cried.

“Maybe renewal means different things to different people,” Bess suggested.

“I suppose,” I said. “But do you think that’s what Mia Casabian is a part of?”

“Stop worrying,” George said. “If Mia’s the sensible sister, I’m sure she’s fine.”

George had a point. What we’d heard behind that door was definitely disturbing, but we’d never actually seen what was going on.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Okay, you two, let’s forget about the last two days and get back to some serious vacay.”

“Why don’t we change into our suits and head down to the beach? It’s too late to sightsee anyway,” George said.

“But Dr. Viola said no swimming for the next day or two,” I reminded her.

“Who needs swimming?” George said as we approached the house. “I’ve got my laptop with me.”

It didn’t take long for us to change. The beach was clean again, but we spread our towels in a totally different spot, just to be safe.

As I lay down on my towel, I realized how tired I was from such a frenzied morning. And after a long winter, the sun on my face felt awesome.

George opened her laptop and searched for things to do in L.A. “How about the La Brea Tar Pits?” she asked. “They have giant prehistoric mammals covered in tar.”

“Mm-hmm,” I replied, too relaxed to answer. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep when—

“Yo!” a voice shouted. “Dudes!”

“Huh?” I said, my eyes snapping open.

Two guys were walking along the shore, carrying surfboards. “It’s the Casabian sisters’ boyfriends,” I whispered.

Bess shaded her eyes with her hand. “It
is
Ty and Devon,” she said excitedly.

“They’re on our beach again,” George said, annoyed. “Did they come back to dump more trash?”

“Hey,” Ty said. “Mind if we say hi?”

“You just did,” I replied.

Devon lifted his shades to gaze beyond us toward the shed. “Whoa. My little eye spies three excellent surfboards over there.”

“They belong to Stacey,” George said. “You know, the person who also owns this beach?”

“She left them for us,” Bess explained.

“Excellent!” Ty exclaimed. “Then why don’t you each grab a board and rock the breakers with us?”

“Rock the breakers?” I repeated.

“Surf the waves,” Bess translated. She turned back to Ty and Devon. “Sorry, but George was the one who really wanted to surf, and she can’t get her foot wet. She stepped on—”

“Trash,” George finished. “You know, the kind you dumped last night?”

Ty and Devon looked sincerely confused.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ty said. “But if you can’t surf, I hear you.”

“Just thought we’d ask,” Devon added, shrugging.

I watched as the boys picked up their boards and turned toward the ocean.

“As if they didn’t know about the trash,” George said. “Give me a break.”

I just couldn’t help myself. “But if they did, we’ll
never
find out,” I said. “They’re leaving before we can ask them anything.”

“Not necessarily.” Bess smiled slyly. She stood up and walked toward the guys. “Hey, guys? Where are you going?”

The boys turned around and smiled.

“So…what’s up?” Ty asked Bess.

“Maybe George can’t go in the water,” Bess said cheerily. “That doesn’t mean Nancy and I can’t be schooled in surfing.”

“Cool beans!” Ty said.

“Grab your boards and let’s rock,” Devon said.

“Okay,” Bess agreed.

“Do you think Mandy and Mallory will want to surf with us?” I asked. Not that I wanted the Casabian sisters to join us. Mandy had already denied dumping the trash.

“Nah,” Ty flapped his hand. “Mandy and Mallory are taping that show like they do all the time.”

Bess and I passed George on our way to the shed. She glanced up and said, “Good luck.”

Although I already knew how to surf a little, the Pacific was way bigger than anything I had ever seen. So we took it slow. We paddled our boards out in the
water, where we tried several times to “pop up”—or jump up from a reclining position.

Bess and I did more wiping out than popping up. But eventually she managed to stand on her board and ride a wave for about thirty seconds. A big deal, according to Ty and Devon.

As for me, I was able to stand briefly, but kept wiping out and falling into the water. I had a blast, and almost forgot the real reason Bess and I had wanted to surf with Devon and Ty in the first place.

After the guys showed off some moves such as top turns and aerials, Bess and I got down to business. So much for promises.

“So how do you guys have such massive energy?” I asked while we paddled peacefully on our surfboards. “I mean, you were all on the beach so incredibly late last night.”

“Us?” Ty asked. He shook his head. “We left before Mandy and Mallory did.”

“The producer, Bev, wanted shots of just the girls,” Devon explained. “No reason for Ty and me to hang out.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling the waves roll gently beneath my board. “So you all went clubbing
after
they finished shooting.”

“Clubbing?” Ty repeated as his hand splashed in the water. “We didn’t do any clubbing last night.”

“Hey!” Devon said, practically sitting up on his board. “Did Mandy and Mallory go without us?”

Uh-oh. Opening a can of worms was not what I had in mind.

“No, no,” I lied quickly. “I mean, I don’t know if they went clubbing or not….”

“We just thought all A-list celebs went out every night in Hollywood,” Bess said. “I mean, don’t they?”

The guys smiled at Bess. They then offered to teach us more new moves.

“We really have to get back to George,” Bess said.

“Thanks anyway,” I added.

“How about tomorrow morning?” Devon asked. “Ten o’clock?”

Bess and I exchanged shrugs. We had gotten all the information we needed out of the guys. But not all the surfing lessons.

“Maybe,” I said.

“See ya,” Bess called back as we paddled to shore.

Once on the beach, Bess and I placed our boards next to George.

“So how did it go?” she asked.

“I carved my first wave!” Bess said happily.

“Not the surfing, the questioning,” George said. “Did they admit it?”

“On the contrary,” I said as Bess and I sat on our
towels. “They left the beach
before
the sisters did. They were clueless about the trash.”

“So the sisters could have wrecked the beach on their own,” Bess added.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again,” I said.

The three of us spent another half hour on the beach before we collected our stuff and surfboards and headed back to the house.

Once inside, we saw the message light blinking on Stacey’s phone.

“Looks like Stacey got a call,” George said.

“How do we know it’s not for us?” asked Bess.

“Did you give her number to anyone? Everyone at home knows we have our cells,” George replied.

“We’d better answer it,” I said, grabbing a pad and pen. “It could be an important message for Stacey.”

I walked over to the phone and pressed the play button. After a few seconds of dead air, a mechanical-sounding voice began to speak:

“If you know what’s good for you, girls, you’ll never, EVER, mess with us again.”

Click.

“
T
hat
was
for us,” I said slowly. “Unfortunately,” Bess added. “I’m calling Stacey,” George said. “Or the police. This is getting dangerous.”

“Wait,” I said.

I played the message once, twice, listening for any sign as to who’d left it. But the robotic-sounding voice offered no clues.

“Why does the voice sound so mechanical?” Bess asked.

“Some phones have electronic voice changers on them,” George explained. “You press a button and”
the voice is disguised to sound just like that one.”

Again I played the message, writing down every word. “The caller said not to mess with ‘us,’” I pointed out.

“Us as in more than one,” George said, narrowing her eyes. “The sisters.”

“But why would Mandy and Mallory threaten us?” Bess wanted to know. “
We’re
the ones who should be mad that they messed up our beach.”

“Those spoiled brats are probably not used to being told off,” George said.

“Do you still want to call Stacey, George?” Bess asked. “Or the police?”

George stared at the phone, then shook her head. “If it is those ditzy sisters, we can handle them,” she said. “I don’t want to disturb Stacey unless it’s totally necessary.”

“I’m pretty sure the message was left by Mandy and Mallory too,” I agreed. “But until we have more proof, we can’t be absolutely sure.”

“Just like the needle, huh?” George said, glancing down at her wrapped ankle.

“What if Mandy and Mallory
are
out to get us?” Bess asked slowly. “I mean, what if their show is going in a whole new sinister direction?”

“Sinister direction?” I asked.

“You know.” Bess shrugged. “From
Chillin’ with the Casabians
to
Killin’ with the Casabians
?”

“Come on, Bess, that’s ridiculous,” I said, but didn’t delete the message, in case we did decide to go to the police.

“So, where should we go tonight? My foot is feeling much better,” George asked.

As Bess opened her mouth to speak, George added, “Other than Rodeo Drive.”

“For your information, I was going to suggest Santa Monica Pier,” Bess answered. “We can grab dinner and go to that amusement park on the pier. I think it’s called Pacific Park.”

“Sounds neat,” I said.

“Yeah,” George said. “There are some wild rides there.”

I smiled at the thought of wild rides. So far Malachite Beach had been one wild ride for us—and it was only our second day.

We found the perfect place to eat, with an incredible view of the ocean. We stuffed ourselves with crispy coconut shrimp, root beer, and hush puppies and then strolled through the amusement park.

Colorful lights from the rides glowed brightly against the purple-gray sky. Carnival-style music filled the warm, salty air. So did the smell of cotton candy and roasted peanuts.

“I did a search on Pacific Park before we left the house,” George said, pointing to an illuminated Ferris
wheel in the distance. “That ride over there is solar powered.”

“Even the rides in L.A. are green,” I said. “How cool is that?”

Bess turned away from the rides. She nodded at the coin-operated telescopes along the long part of the pier. “Let’s try out one of those before the rides,” she suggested.

“What are you looking for?” I asked. “Exotic California seabirds?”

“Exotic California celebrities.” Bess smiled as she slipped a quarter into the telescope. “From here you can see a long stretch of Malachite Beach. Maybe I’ll see private beaches and celebrity mansions all lit up.”

“Spy,” George accused.

“I prefer the word voyeur, thank you,” Bess said as she adjusted the telescope and peered through.

A gull landed on the rail a few inches away from me. After checking us out, it flapped its wings and took off.

“What do you see?” I asked Bess.

“Oh, wow,” she said, her eyes pressed against the telescope. “There’s our beach and Villa Fabuloso. And I can see the beach behind Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa. The one right next to ours.”

“We came all the way to Santa Monica to look at our own beach?” George complained. “Let’s just go on the rides.”

“No, really!” Bess said. She tilted the telescope to the left ever so slightly. “There are three small rowboats heading in the direction of the yacht. The big one we saw the other day.”

“You mean the yacht anchored off the retreat?” I said. “Maybe the guests are going on some moonlight meditation cruise.”

“Or moonlight
confrontation
cruise,” George said.

I frowned as I remembered the screaming and yelling behind the closed door, and Brad in the emergency room. Could he be in one of the boats?

“Hasn’t your quarter run out yet, Bess?” George asked.

Bess was leaning forward, peering through the telescope. “Now people are stepping out of the small boats onto the yacht. Omigod! One of them looks like Mia!”

“Mia Casabian?” I asked. I tried to see the yacht and the people, but without a telescope, all the boats were just specks. “Let me look, Bess.”

Bess stepped aside. “Mia has shoulder-length dark hair. She’s wearing jeans and a red-and-white-striped T-shirt,” she said.

I found her immediately.