Jex Malone (33 page)

“My parents. Oh my God! Nadia, I really need your help. I'm ready to have a collapse,” Deva whispers without skipping a beat. Obviously, she's as cool as the cucumbers that she uses to reduce eye swelling. Using words that she has heard her mother's friends toss around on an everyday basis, she feigns mock horror. Even a hangnail is cause for a collapse in their world.

“Ms. Patel, I'll do whatever I can to help,” Nadia says with true concern on her pretty face. Short of attack by a wild pack of wolves, she's obviously here to be of utmost assistance.

“I'm just so upset with the airlines,” Deva fumes. “I'm coming from our home in Nevada and my parents are arriving from Hawaii where they've been on a second honeymoon.”

“Lovely,” Nadia coos.

“They're still so much in love,” Deva says with a dazzling smile.

Yes, the way to get this done is to change the subject within the subject. That's what rich people apparently do to confuse the situation and put the odds in their favor.

“Divine,” Nadia replies.

“Anyway, their plane was canceled due to a mechanical problem,” Deva says. “I thought about staying at the airport, but it's just so icky there and the Red Carpet Club just isn't what it used to be.”

“It's almost criminal,” Nadia nods.

“So, my parents made our reservations … and I guess I could sit in the lobby with my best friend who has flown in all the way from the East Coast. New York City. We could both sit in a chair for the next twelve hours and wait for them to get here. Of course, that might get sort of boring and lonely and those chairs aren't really that cushiony, but we'll do it,” she insists with a little wince.

“Ms. Patel, let me check the computer,” Nadia says, letting her fingers do the walking. “Yes, I see your reservation. Why don't I just check you in right now and you can wait in your room for your family? You've practically grown up here. We know you.”

When her eyes turn to me, I purr, “Thank you, darling girl.” Unfortunately, it comes out more like a choke than a purr, but I'm in luxe-girl training.

Room key in hand, Deva and I slowly glide along the marble floors to the gold embossed elevator doors where … some hot DJ-looking guy is standing! He gives me his Cover Boy smile and I toss out a half lip curl. As far as star sightings go, this is only a five.

Deva punches the 14th floor and we step off the elevator onto an antique, expensive looking rug that leads to carpeting so plush our feet actually seem to sink a few inches into it like we're in five-star quicksand.

Sliding the key card through our massive double doors, Deva opens the heavy wooden barrier to our suite, room 1417, and she sighs loudly as we waltz into the jaw-dropping, exquisite, totally rich digs.

There's an entranceway to the rooms that's black marble and it leads to our own living room with gorgeous handwoven rose-colored carpeting, a deep cream-colored couch pit, and a big-screen television. Naturally, there's a minibar complete with diet colas, Fiji waters, and those amazing homemade chocolate chip cookies that are $10 a bag.

The living room features tinted French doors that lead to a large wraparound terrace. Throwing open those doors, I smile widely as I step outside and stare down into a lavish private courtyard that is a lush tropical paradise of roses, hibiscus bushes, and tall evergreens to keep out prying eyes.

I pop my head into the first bedroom, which has two enormous king-size beds, another big-screen TV, and cashmere throw blankets, which are resting upon the 1,000-thread-count sheets and a fluffy comforter that looks like a big white cloud. The second bedroom has exactly the same opulence and even includes a small crystal chandelier in a special sitting area. It offers an even bigger California king-size bed—presumably for “the parents.”

Of course, that will be Deva's bed. That much is a given. The rest of us can fight it out for our own sleeping quarters.

Home sweet hotel!

Deva escorts me by the elbow as if we have one more stop, which is the fabulous bathroom. It's a wonder in all white marble with double sinks, a huge shower with about a zillion jets, and a ginormous tub that requires three actual stairs to step up into it.

Jacuzzi, of course.

As fast as my fingers can push a button, I call Nat.

“Get up here,” I yell.

Deva rolls her eyes and grabs the phone. “But use the side entrance to the hotel where no one will notice three dirty teenagers. Don't take the elevator. Take the stairs. It will draw less notice until you clean up and we can get all of you some decent clothes.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Nat mocks.

“It's room 1417,” I say in a dreamy voice that combines Cooper plus lavish new digs.

“I'll leave the door unlocked because I'll be in the tub,” Deva interrupts.

“I'll be … not in the tub,” I blurt.

“Shucks,” says Cooper.

“Go on, and stop asking silly questions.”

—Trixie Belden

“This is really, really nice,” Cooper mutters as I sneak him, Cissy, and Nat through the side door of the hotel and immediately bypass the elevator to find the stairs. In the stairwell, the three of us immediately run smack into a guy in a tux carrying a large silver tray of dirty dishes.

“May I help you?” he says in a suspicious voice. “You appear to be … lost.”

Two seconds and we've been caught. But there is no need to despair. I'm ready for you, room service FBI agent.

Outside the hotel only moments ago, there was no choice but to look to Nat for a little help. Naturally, she was the cleanest one of our group because that cream colored T-shirt of hers was under the hoodie she gave Cissy last night and it was still in good shape.

I also lifted Deva's Chanel sunglasses that she left on the table in the room and made Nat put them on.

We practiced this act on the walk inside—despite Nat's multitude of protests. I can't help but stare for a moment. She has killer curves in all the right places. For a split second, I'm jealous and even glance at Cooper, who seems to be looking at me and not Nat.

There is no time to dwell on my puny, flat frame now that we have encountered Mr. Room Service MI5 Cop. On cue, Nat stares blindly into space without speaking.

Perfect!

“We're doing interviews here today with Miss Smith-Jones. You do know her,” I say to him. “She's very big and just started her own reality series on MTV. It's a sensation.”

“Oh … of course. I love Miss Smith-Jones' show and never miss it. It's just so … real,” the room service guy insists in a hesitant voice. Then he looks at me quizzically and demands, “But why would you walk up the stairs and not take the elevator?”

“Do you know how hard it is to fit in your cardio on interview days?” I whisper in a most tormented voice. “Do you realize how much cardio one needs to star on their own reality series? The other girls from other shows aren't missing a day on the StairMaster!”

I can see him staring at Cooper.

“That's Bruno. Her trainer,” I insist, glancing at his tray. “He's only going by one name now.”

The man nods, bows his head, and steps aside while the three of us huff our way up the next ten flights of stairs. We're winded when we finally reach the room, but Cooper still has the strength to slowly open the heavy wood doors.

“Okay, so forget Motel 6,” he mutters when we walk into our new gorgeous home away from home.

Even Cissy snaps out of her funk and gasps, “Big-screen TVs. And that minibar looks really good.” A moment later, her voice cries, “Dibs on the chocolate chip cookies.”

“She's back,” Nat says with a smile.

In her thick robe, Deva sashays up to Cooper, who is in the middle of a full-fledged eye roll. “You get the couch. In the living room,” she says to him, glancing at me for some reason. “Jex is in the room with Cissy and Nat. On lockdown. I have my own room. It's only fair. I thought of this place in the first place.”

At that moment, the doorbell rings and Cissy practically jumps out of her skin.

“Oh my God, Deva, our parents!” she cries, fear racing through her voice.

“Honey, calm down,” Deva replies, wandering to the door. The rest of us have no idea who she's talking to when Deva says in a low tone, “Please, come in. Thank you so much.”

It's two different room service guys in black tuxes and they wheel in four separate carts. Silver plate covers lift to reveal sky-high omelets, extra large golden waffles, and a fruit tray that would make my mom proud. There is also a platter of fabulous cookies. For our nerves.

“I don't know about you,” Deva says as she shoves some wheat toast into her mouth and pours that long-awaited Perrier, “but I'm completely famished.”

“A pitcher of chocolate milk?” Cissy coos. “Did I die? This really is heaven.”

“Would you like whipped cream with your beverage?” asks a room-service waiter, which causes Cissy to collapse on the couch. Two fingers fly to her neck.

“Someone pinch me,” she cries.

“Don't tempt us,” Deva retorts.

After breakfast, Nat spreads the sketches out across the king-size bed and studies each one closely. They clearly show four landmarks: Mann's Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, the world-famous Hollywood sign, a stargazing observatory, and some castle. But what could it all mean, and which one was the location where Patty's body was buried?

“Where should we go first?” I ask, waiting for Nat's educated guess. “Her remains could be in any of those four places.”

When I see Cooper hold back a wince, I'm immediately sorry that I uttered those words like this was just some fictional case we're watching on television. It was someone—Cooper's sister—and I have to be more sensitive.

“Where do we go first?” Cooper asks Nat, trying to get rid of a little catch in his voice.

“We have to go to all of them because we have no idea what kind of monster we're dealing with here. For all we know there are four different girls in these four different places,” Nat replies somberly. “Plus, a lot of years have passed. If we're going to find anything, it's going to be pretty badly decomposed. It's not like we're going to find some nice headstone marked ‘Here Lies Patty.'”

She glances up at Cooper and even I see that he looks pale. “Cooper, I'm sorry. I don't meant to be crude about this,” Nat apologizes. “Please don't take it personally.”

“It's hard to take it any other way,” he says in a low voice.

We grab our things to head downstairs.

Nat, who seems to completely dismiss the consequences of us just vanishing, is staring at herself in the elevator mirror like she's in some trance. Deva picked a cute jean skirt from the gift shop for her with a loose-fitting gauzy red shirt. Getting rid of her usual layers didn't leave Nat in a panic mode this time for some reason. Maybe it's because she's out of town. No one knows her in L.A., which means no judgment. Hiding instead under the Chanel glasses and cute little sequined baseball cap seems to suit the new Nat.

“You look completely fab-boo,” Deva says, using a new word she heard on some TV makeover series. Nat, who normally would take offense at any mention of her appearance over her intellect, beams broadly.

I'm dressed in black pants, a cute raspberry-colored T-shirt, and cool hoop earrings—better than what I usually pick out for myself, although it lacks the glamour of Nat's look. Leave it to Deva to accessorize even in the toughest of circumstances. Cissy and Deva got the sundresses. Deva's dress is in shocking orange and Cissy's is yellow. Both pair them with white flip-flops.

Meanwhile, Cooper is in clean, tight black jeans and a black T-shirt. He absolutely refuses to wear the madras and patchwork vest that Deva bought to go with what she called “his L.A. ensemble.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” His exact words.