Beautiful Disaster (13 page)

From: Bijou

Somebody’s been shot.

10:03 pm 5/26/06

Y
ou swore those days were behind you,” Dante said, hooking an arm around Max. “Yet here we are again.”

“Dude, it’s
graduation
. I had to do something. I mean, just look at them.” He waved a hand over the energetic crowd at his Star Island mansion. “Can you imagine any of these jizzbags trying to pull off a big event? I did it for the kids, man. I did it for the kids.”

Dante started to move away.

But Max held him back. “Dude, real quick, you see that girl over there in the corner tongue wrestling with the guy who looks like Nick Lachey? And I say that with a degree of hope. For all I know. it could actually
be
Nick Lachey.”

Dante gave Max a curious look, wondering how many Buds had hit his brain. “Uh, dude, that’s your sister.”

Max sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m thinking of putting her up for adoption. And then I remembered that you were an only child. So…you interested?”

Dante laughed. “Let me put it to you this way—I’d take on Chucky from those
Child’s Play
movies as a little brother before I’d take on Sho as a little sister.”

“Dude, I’m hurt.”

Dante patted his cheek. “You’ll get through it, bitch.” And then he pressed through the crowd, alternately amazed and annoyed. Leave it to Max to host a MACPA pregraduation party with most of the guests not even being past, present, or future students at the school.

He felt a tug on his arm.

“Finally! Someone I actually know!” It was Christina. “This is insane!”

“No, it’s
Max
,” Dante corrected, protectively placing his hand in the small of her back and leading her to a less rowdy area.

Christina smiled gratefully.

Dante found a tiny patch of calm in a hallway leading into the library. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I’m getting too old for this. Could that be? I’m only seventeen.” He shook his head wearily. “This is your house, too. You could send them home.”

Christina laughed. “
My
house? I’m just an extended guest!”

Dante grinned. “Squatters have rights, too.”

They stood there in easy silence, observing the chaotic scene, jamming to “SOS” by Rihanna.

“So have you answered the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question yet?” Dante asked.

Christina peered up at him. “About college?”

He nodded.

“I keep going back and forth. As of this moment, I
am
going to the Savannah College of Art and Design.” One beat. “I think.”

Dante pulled her in for a hug. “Go to college, girl. Don’t be like the rest of us.”

“Oh, so modest,” Christina answered. “As if you’re struggling, Mr. Prep School Gangsta.”

Dante winked at her. The breakup with Vanity had been fortuitous. He put all of his energy back into his music and recorded a sick demo for “My Heroes Have Always Been Gangstas.” Bogart Recording’s owner had helped him navigate the legal waters to secure permission to sample the original track.

But Pippa had been the real secret weapon. After playing the track for the group during one of their many late nights in the Biaggi basement, Pippa touched on a brilliant strategy.

“You have to get this played at a strip club!” Pippa had insisted. “Forget radio. That’s ancient. Besides, stations today are just corporate cogs in the wheel that only play what’s already a hit. A good club DJ will take a chance on something new. If it’s hot. Anyway, that’s where all the hip-hop executives hang out. Those loons are just sitting around waiting for a lap dance. So why not start there?”

Dante had turned Pippa loose, and she had enlisted the help of LaTonya, formerly a dancer at Cheetah, but now taking it off at a club called Diamonds frequented by powerhouse industry vets like Jermaine Dupri, Dr. Dre, and Sean Combs. A week later Chamillionaire had agreed to record Dante’s track and bring him in as a coproducer.

“Okay, I got lucky,” Dante told Christina. “But college is still a smart move.”

“I’m just not sure that I want to be shackled to books for four years down in Georgia. Part of me feels like I just started living my life. I want to continue that. Besides, you’re not the only mogul in training.”

Dante nodded impressively. The girl was definitely that. Christina had inked a deal with Viz Media to publish the first
Harmony Girl
collection, and Square Enix, the creators of
Final Fantasy
, were circling the project with designs on turning the
manga
into a video game.

Dante gave Christina a patronizing pat on the head that he knew would drive her crazy. “You’ve come so far, Jap. I’m proud of you.”

Christina practically stomped her feet. “I’ll
never
get rid of that name!”

“Who
are
these loons?” Pippa demanded. “I’ve been upstairs. I’ve been downstairs. I’ve been room to room. They’re all strangers. Are you sure we’re at the right party?”

Vanity laughed. “Max’s parties have
always
been like this. The problem is that we’re sober for this one. Keep in mind, Max used to have birthday parties for people and not even invite them. It was just a good excuse for a big bash.”

Pippa grumbled, looking around in semidistress. “And here I thought he was maturing so nicely. Now he’s regressed back to being the party nitwit.”

“I’m sure it’s only a temporary setback brought on by graduation fever,” Vanity mused. Then she watched with concern as a plastered girl was led upstairs by three guys who resembled anything but responsible chaperones.

Pippa saw the problem in motion and expelled a frustrated groan. “Our third save of the night! God, I feel like Batgirl!”

Vanity moved quickly to take down the situation, reaching the group just as they were shutting a bedroom door.

“Oh, shit! You again!” It was Dog Breath, a stocky minor league baseball player with buzzed hair and bad skin.

“My sentiments exactly,” Vanity said coldly. “You should be on some national registry for party creeps.”

Pippa blew past them, storming the room to seek out the girl.

Vanity followed close behind her, getting quite accustomed to their vigilante sisters routine. Now the task was to find a responsible friend to help this poor girl.

Pippa shot Dog Breath a look of disgust. “You know, if you’d invest in a simple bottle of Scope, then you might earn a more flattering nickname. The result could be hooking up with a girl who doesn’t have to be unconscious to stick around.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, bitch?” Another cretin from the group was mouthing off, this one a mean-looking drunk wearing a Toby Keith concert T-shirt and a baseball cap that read
CUT HER FACE
. How charming.

Vanity began to get nervous. This situation could easily spiral out of control.

But Pippa held her ground. “First of all, the only ‘bitches’ in the room are the three guys trying to take advantage of a girl who’s obviously trashed and has no idea what’s going on.”

“Screw it, Ray,” Dog Breath said. “Let’s head out. This party’s bullshit.”

Vanity experienced a stirring sense of danger.

“I’m not listening to this bitch!” Ray yelled. “We didn’t take advantage of anything. This girl wanted it.”

“ ‘This girl’ can barely say her own name!” Pippa roared. “And I’m quite sure that if she were capable of declaring her wants, it wouldn’t be for three losers to have sex with her. One competent man can usually get the job done,
Ray
. Too bad you have to call in for reinforcements. Don’t ever get married. Your honeymoon expenses will be outrageous.”

Vanity bent down to retrieve the girl in question. She was slumped against the pillows, hardly able to stand up, a total rag doll that might puke at any moment.

Pippa moved in to assist, ignoring Ray’s nasty stare as they took the girl out of the room and piloted her downstairs.

Max came dancing up, grooving to the endless Rihanna mix. “SOS” seemed to never end. “Who’s your friend?”

Vanity glowered at the oblivious host. “Did you invite Dog Breath?”

Max recoiled at the suggestion. “Dog Breath doesn’t get invited to anything, he just unfortunately shows up. Kind of like the human equivalent of mold. Where is he? I’ll throw his ass out.”

“He and his posse need to be tossed before somebody gets hurt,” Vanity said sharply, pointing upstairs.

“Consider it done.” Max marched off to play eviction cop.

Vanity and Pippa, still struggling with the girl, traded bemused glances.

“I can’t judge her too harshly,” Vanity said. “I’ve
been
her at parties like this.”

“Same here. Maybe she’ll get smart and sort herself out like we did. Until then, let’s find out who she belongs to.” Pippa let out a piercing whistle. “Does anyone
know
this soggy tramp?”

Vanity laughed, shaking her head. Oh, how far they had evolved.

Two young women stepped forward to make the claim on the mystery drunk, who happened to be named Jenna and was apparently studying communications at the University of Miami.

Vanity realized that Jenna represented her new target market. And there were legions of girls just like her out there waiting to be reached.

Mimi had assisted Vanity in strategizing a celebrity reinvention, an image light-years away from the superficial worlds of fashion modeling and appearances at special events.

The result had become an exciting and cathartic work in progress. It was a collaboration with her therapist, Dr. Cleo Parker, on a book called
The Lost Girl Sessions
, a revolutionary approach to self-help that would juxtapose Vanity’s most intimate journal writings with clinical observations and analysis by Dr. Parker.

The final product would be revealing in a manner that made Vanity constantly second-guess the project. But she knew that it could be a powerful tool to help girls all over America. So she was digging deep and doing the hard work.

There was something beautiful about
The Lost Girl Sessions
, because through the process of writing it, Vanity was finding herself. And it was a wonderful feeling.

Max huddled with Eli Gray, a three-hundred-pound line-backer for the Miami Dolphins and tonight’s go-to guy for bouncing losers out of the mansion.

“I’m all over it, Max,” Eli said, beaming an intense look at Dog Breath and his crew.

Max clapped a hand on the mountain that was Eli’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

He ventured downstairs and caught sight of Christina inching her way through the crowd. “Jap!”

She looked at him balefully.

Max cut through the body crush, finally reaching her. “This party sucks!”

Christina laughed at him.

“And to think the five of us could be having an awesome dinner at Café Sambal right now.”

She shrugged helplessly. “There’s always San Loco.”

Max nodded, vibing on the idea. The taco stand had become their regular late-night haunt. When the craving hit, even the finest South Beach restaurants couldn’t beat the two-dollar beef hard shells for culinary bliss.

Max pushed toward the bar, pulling Christina along.

“I think there are at least five people here for every one MACPA student,” Christina told him.

“I know,” Max growled. “Somebody posted the details on MySpace.” Making eye contact with the main bartender, he pretended to slice his neck with an index finger, then turned to Christina. “I just cut off the liquor. Most of these crashers will be gone in fifteen minutes.”

Christina clutched his arm. “At least you’ll get a good bit from this.”

“Yeah.” Max laughed. “You know what they say: Pain creates the best comedy.”

Dante appeared and hooked an arm around Max’s neck. “Dude, did you actually shut down the bar before midnight? I’m shocked. This has to be going against some sacred rich party-boy covenant.”

“Yeah, it’s right up there with inviting the maid’s son.”

Vanity and Pippa arrived just in time to catch the exchange and erupt with laughter.

“I’ll be here all week,” Max cracked, doing his best cheesy stand-up guy.

Word about the closed bar spread fast, and throngs of too-lit-to-quit revelers began spilling out of the Biaggi mansion.

A small crowd remained, but for the first time all night, it was manageable.

Max vaulted behind the bar. “Red Bull for everyone! We need fuel to make it all the way to San Loco.” He tossed them out at a rapid clip, then raised the slim can for an impromptu toast.

His gaze swept over the faces of his friends…his gypsy family…his whole life. Emotion tugged at him. He was close to losing his composure.

“I can’t believe it!” Pippa shouted. “Max Biaggi Jr. with bloody stage fright!”

Everybody laughed, Max included. She knew. Pippa had stepped in to save him from a teary breakdown. The girl could read him like a children’s book.

Max cleared his throat and raised his Red Bull higher. “To getting through it all…high school, beach muggings, assaults on boats, sex tape scandals, car crashes, nervous breakdowns, crazy mothers, bastard fathers, wack-job cult camps, kidnappings, overdoses, breakups, strip club raids…have I left anything out?”

“Bad stand-up acts!” Dante shouted.

“And hip-hop wannabes!” Max finished, leaping atop the bar to drink deep and pump his fist in the air.

The sound of a single gunshot exploded, followed by screaming, hysteria, and general confusion.

Max froze.

In the center of the room, he saw a flash of metal as Dog Breath pushed away the hand of his buddy, the one wearing a
CUT HER FACE
baseball cap. They were supposed to be long gone. Why were they back?

Another scream. Closer. Louder. Heart-stopping.

It was Vanity.

Max tracked the terrified look in her eyes. What he saw next made him go weak with anguish.

Christina was crying.

Staggering off the bar, he felt big tears form in his eyes as the terror broke through. A cold sweat slicked his body as he went down on both knees.

Pippa lay on her back. Her eyes were open. Blood pumped from a hole in the center of her chest.