Bad to the Bone (11 page)

They entered the cool and dark bowling alley which, Kiley noted, looked absolutely nothing like the Bowl-o-Rama back home in La Crosse. There were dozens of small high-top tables surrounded by square red leather chairs, most of which were taken by the young, the hip, and the beautiful. A thirty-foot bar was manned by guys who obviously doubled as male models. The forty or so lanes were backlit with the same neon blue as the sign outside, music videos running behind them as a backdrop. Audrey Birnbaum's latest hit pulsated through the sound system.

“Bowling is suddenly cool?” Kiley asked, raising her voice over Audrey's blaring one.

“It's been cool for the last five years. Actually it's on the downswing. But still high enough on the hipness scale for us to show our faces. And this place? Coolness personified.” Matt grinned and led Kiley toward the desk where a girl in low-slung white shorts and a blue bowling shirt with the name “Ashlee” embroidered in darker thread was handing out bowling shoes.

“That's trendy L.A. for you,” Matt went on. “A couple of the beautiful people get photographed at a place like this; the next thing you know, it's the new place to be.”

“Hey!” Kiley exclaimed, because Matt had just steered her right past the shoe desk. “Don't we need shoes?”

“Sure. Someone will get them for us. Come on.”

Kiley shook her head. Someone else would get their bowling shoes? Now that was a new level of decadence, even by L.A. standards.

Matt led her to red leather double doors. “Right this way.”

Kiley was confused. “I thought we were bowling.”

“We are. With some friends.”

They had entered what was clearly a private room, with four bowling lanes of its own. The couches were red velvet and retro-looking; the bowling balls were clear and filled with various colored stones, like a set of kids' marbles. Gorgeous young women were bringing people bowling shoes, food, and drinks—or, Kiley figured, pretty much anything their little overprivileged hearts desired.

“Is this the bowling version of a VIP room?” Kiley asked.

Matt led Kiley to one of the kidney-shaped sofas. “Yep. But tonight it's a private party room. Hey, Serinda, what's up?” He waved at an impossibly tall, impossibly gorgeous young woman with long, wavy raven hair who had just stepped over to one of the ball-return machines. The woman waved back, then reached for her bowling ball to take her turn.

“Who is that?” Kiley asked.

“Serinda Swan—new face of Guess watches—beat out Marym herself for that gig. It's a very big deal. Pays a mint.” Then he cocked his head toward a blond girl, also impossibly tall, admirably thin, but more waiflike, with huge eyes. She was taking a tall orange-colored drink from an African American waitress in the same bowling shirt as Ashlee. “That's Lily Donaldson—she's on fire right now. The redhead about to roll in lane one? Abbey Lee. From Australia. Did Gucci for Fashion Week in New York. Went swimming in the fountain at Lincoln Center but no one took her picture. The guy she's holding hands with? Slade Wayne, also an Aussie. You might recognize him from that TV ad where a girl swims across a lagoon to get to him because he's holding a plate of wienies. Freud would have a field day with—”

“Hold on,” Kiley interrupted. “I feel like I walked into a movie a half hour late. You asked me if I wanted to hang out and go bowling. I said sure. Now we're at some kind of bowling modeling convention.”

“It's a party for Abbey and Slade,” Matt explained. “They just got engaged.”

Kiley was incredulous. “I'm at an engagement party for two people I don't even know?”

“Relax,” Matt assured her. “This is a very casual thing for the L.A. friends. The official party is in the Hamptons next weekend. Total Jay Gatsby, including the white clothes. I wouldn't want to be there on a bet.”

“I'm bound to run into people I met with Tom. This is just very awkward.”

“I promise they won't think you're my date.” Matt flashed his disarming grin. “If it helps, I could borrow a lipstick and write ‘She Belongs to Tom Chappelle’ on my forehead. You got lipstick?”

Kiley reddened. “I don't need—never mind. I know you were joking.” She really needed to redirect this conversation. “What about you, Matt? Are you seeing anyone?”

He looked chagrined. “I'm a true romantic. And I'm suffering from an unrequited crush. It's a new concept in the realm of painful. Alas, I press on.”

Kiley sympathized. “Those are the worst.”

She tried to imagine what kind of girl would reject Matt. He was gorgeous, nice, friendly. It was hard to believe he couldn't get the girl he wanted. Some girls were just so incredibly picky.

Then she realized something. “Umm? Is your crush here? Is that why you brought me, because you're hoping to make her jealous?”

Matt hesitated. “Not exactly.”

Kiley laughed. “Yes, exactly. Don't worry. I'm not offended. Although I think you could have brought someone a lot cuter than me if you were going for the jealousy thing. Which girl is it?”

Before Matt could answer, a perky blonde in the official blue bowling shirt approached them. “Hey, what size bowling shoes can I get you two?”

Matt turned to her. “Kiley? Ready to roll a few frames? Whatever you want to do is cool with me.”

Kiley considered. It would be melodramatic to leave. There were tons of people in the room; it really did seem very casual. Besides, she knew what it was like to be into a guy you didn't think was into you back. Surely Tom was hanging out with big groups of beautiful people in Russia. She was probably overreacting.

She smiled at the young woman. “Size eight works.”

“Ten and a half for me,” Matt said. He also ordered them buffalo burgers and mango milk shakes before the girl moved off. Then he launched into a story about a recent audition, but Kiley was distracted because Heidi Klum and Seal had just walked in. Heidi wore skinny jeans and a white tank top; Seal was in a white seersucker suit. Kiley almost took a picture with her cell phone for Lydia, who would appreciate it much more than she did.

“Have you heard from Tom?” Matt asked. He reached for a handful of mixed nuts from the orange art deco bowl in the middle of the table.

“A couple texts,” Kiley replied.

Both had been short and to the point, texts he could have sent to his cousin or to some casual acquaintance.
Hi, I'm fine, more soon
, that kind of thing. Not that she planned to share those details with Matt.

“Huh. Interesting. My friend Val heard from him yesterday.”

“Who's he? Another model?”

“He's a she. A body double.”

Kiley had no idea what he was talking about, but her stomach clenched at the mere idea that Tom had been in communication with another girl. She covered well, though. Or tried to. “She's a what?”

“You know. Body double for famous actresses. Like she'll be one star's legs for a legs close-up if the star has crap legs. She'll be another star's butt if that star doesn't want to show hers on camera. Same thing for sex scenes, et cetera, et cetera. It pays pretty well. Want some of these nuts?”

Kiley shook her head. Eating was out of the question. “So her legs and butt and breasts and everything in between must be rocking.”

“Oh yeah,” Matt agreed. “They are. Miss Rockin' Bod herself. I'm sure Tom told you about her. They used to hang out.”

“Hang out or hook up?”

Matt's eyebrows rose. “Oh wow. That was a long time ago. Like months ago.”

Kiley leaned forward and hoped her neediness wasn't bleeding through. “Which one was it?”

But instead of answering, Matt tugged Kiley to her feet. “Come on, relax. It was before you were ever in his life. Let me introduce you around. These people all know Tom. They'll be psyched to meet his girlfriend. You know lots of them already, I bet.”

Kiley didn't want to be introduced. She wanted to know about Val and Tom, and why he'd been in touch with her—ohmigod, what if he'd actually called her?

“Kiley?”

“What?”

“You okay?” Matt asked.

He'd stopped and turned to her just outside a circle of laughing, chatting beautiful people he clearly wanted them to join. She felt like crying.
Why
was Tom talking to Val at all? Why hadn't he even mentioned her to Kiley? Now here she was, at this party with this guy—practically a random guy—and she didn't even want to be here.

She forced herself to calm down. It was a bowling alley, not a suite at the Hotel Bel-Air. So she slapped a smile on her face, assured Matt everything was fine, and moved forward to meet his beautiful friends.

“Hey, everyone!” Matt called out. “Come meet Tom's lady!”

Kiley was surprised to find the door to her guesthouse unlocked. That was odd. She was sure she'd locked it when she left. Hadn't she? Man, she was tired. Not that bowling two games (scoring a middling 118 both times—at least she was consistent) or making small talk with models and friends of models was all that strenuous. Or the fact that she'd momentarily been the center of attention when a bunch of people recognized her from Platinum's trial and the article about her in the
Universe
. None of that took very much energy. It was more her anxiety about Tom. She hated that she was obsessing about him.

She moved into the living room and automatically reached for the light switch, thinking that she really should get up early and put in a half hour of studying for the quiz in chemistry tomorrow—chemistry was definitely not her long suit—when she realized there was a lump on her couch under the pink and white quilt. A human lump. One small arm and one
leg stuck out. The hand attached to the arm had black nail polish on it.

Serenity?

Kiley crouched down and tugged the quilt, revealing Serenity's glossy blond tresses. She smiled, remembering how, when she'd first met Serenity, the girl had refused to wash her hair. Ever. Now she cornered the market on upscale hair products. She washed it and blew it dry. How many other third-graders did that?

Kiley almost laughed. Here in Bel Air? Probably a lot. Serenity even had a friend the same age who had her hair done twice a week at her home salon, just like Mommy did.

Serenity burrowed into the quilt but opened her eyes. “Kiley.”

“Hey, sweetie. How'd you get in my house?”

“It's Mom's house, you just live here,” Serenity said in a sleepy voice. “I know where Mrs. Cleveland keeps the spare key.”

Kiley kept stroking Serenity's hair, her tone as gentle as her hands. “That doesn't mean you can come in here without my permission. Is everything okay?”

Serenity sat up and rubbed her eyes. “There's this boy I like.”

“And you wanted to talk to me about him?”

Serenity nodded. “But you weren't here and your door was locked. So I decided to wait for you.” She leaned her head against Kiley's shoulder.

“We could have talked about this boy tomorrow,” Kiley pointed out.

“But I couldn't sleep,” Serenity complained, ignoring the
fact that Kiley had just found her very
much
asleep. “See, this boy in my class, Devon, well, I like him so much. But I don't know if he likes me back.”

Kiley wanted to launch into the “you're too young for boys” lecture, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Besides, she was glad that Serenity had confided in her.

“Like about two weeks ago I went up to him in the gym—everyone was playing dodgeball which is a stupid game—and I asked him if he wanted to hook up and he said yes,” Serenity explained.

“Hook up” was such an ambiguous term, Kiley thought. It could mean anything from “let's hang out together” to “let's have hot monkey sex all night.” Kiley sent up a quick prayer that in this case, Serenity was referring to the former and not the latter.

“Like you wanted to hang out with him,” Kiley clarified.

“Duh. I wanted him to be my boyfriend. So he said yes. So then we went out—”

“Hold on,” Kiley interrupted. “How could you go out? You're in grade school.”

Serenity heaved a long-suffering sigh. “When you took me and my friend Molly to the Beverly Center we met up with Devon and Pistachio in the food court.”

Kiley felt overwhelmed. “Pistachio is someone's name?”

“This other guy in my class who Molly likes, jeez! So I asked Devon if he wanted to make out but then his nanny came to get him—”

Kiley couldn't help herself. She interrupted Serenity again. “Serenity, you're too young to be making out.”

“Yeah, whatever, maybe in
Wisconsin
. So then yesterday at
school I saw Devon holding hands with Simone—this other girl in my class who already has boobs. So I'm all like, ‘But I thought you were my boyfriend’ and Devon is all like, ‘I am,’ so why was he holding hands with Simone?”

“Sounds like maybe he's not ready to have just one girlfriend,” Kiley mused.

“I guess.” Serenity sat up and rubbed her eyes. “It makes me sad.”

“I know the feeling,” Kiley said. Funny. How different was her situation with Tom, really? She gave Serenity a quick hug. “You want me to walk you back to the house?”

“Can I sleep here just this once? Please-please-please?” Serenity wheedled.

“But your mom will worry when she sees your bed is empty.”

“Are you on drugs? She won't wake up until way after I'm already at school.”

Kiley knew that was true.

“Okay,” she decided. “Just this once.”

“Thanks.” Serenity lay back down and Kiley tucked the quilt in around her. The little girl yawned. “Remember we have to go shopping tomorrow to get me a new outfit for the Rock Music Awards.”

“I remember.”

Serenity burrowed her head into the pillow. “Night, Kiley.”

“Night,” Kiley said softly, then rose and turned out the light.