Bling Addiction (4 page)

“I just hope she doesn’t do anything stupid, you know?” Max said, ending the tense silence.

Pippa could hear real fear in his voice. Suddenly, her own issues were dwarfed by the sudden realization that Vanity really might become one of those ghastly statistics. “Well, we can’t just sit here and imagine a million scenarios!” she erupted. “We should go out there and look for her, call everyone she knows, do
something!”

Max rose up with a start. That was precisely the kick in the ass he needed. “I’m coming to pick you up,” he said, signing off just as another call flashed from a number he didn’t recognize. Bracing himself for bad news, he switched over. “This is Max.”

“You won’t believe what happened to me today.” It was Dante, giving off top-of-the-world vibrations.

“You don’t sound like a dude who just got bling-jacked on the beach,” Max said.

“So you heard?” Dante shouted over throbbing Latin music in the background.

“Yeah, I got the Cliffs Notes version.”

“Man, that seems like a lifetime ago,” Dante said, practically dismissing the incident altogether. “I got rescued by some new friends. We’re jamming at Iguana. Come out and party with us. A new girl just joined our group. Her name’s January.”

“Are you hot?” a female voice screamed into the phone.

Dante laughed. “That’s her. Come on, man. She needs someone to keep her company.”

On any other night, Max would be down for industrial-strength fun. But not on this one. “Have you heard from Vanity?”

“Screw that bitch,” Dante said hotly. “She kicked me out of her boat and left me in the middle of the ocean. If Juan Bar—”

“I’m worried about her, man,” Max cut in.
“Seriously.
When I talked to her last, she sounded strange. It was crisis-line shit. And now I can’t reach her.” He glanced around at the pristine Art Deco elegance of the hotel room, then fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Pippa was right. Things
would
get better. He just hoped that Vanity realized that.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Dante said dismissively. “Chicks love drama. You know that.”

Max rose up and made a fast track toward the elevator. “Well, I can’t just brush this off, man. I’m heading over to fetch Pippa. We’re going to stop by her house, hop around some clubs, see if we can run up on anyone who might know where she is.”

“That’s exactly what she wants you to do,” Dante argued. “Remember this conversation when you find her dancing in a VIP section with a Lebanese club promoter.”

“Thanks for the support, asshole!” Max shouted. “You know what? I’d kick your sorry ass out of a boat, too!”

“Dude, take it easy. All I’m saying is—”

“You weren’t on the phone with the girl. I was. I listened to the shit she was saying. I heard the desperation in her voice. It freaked me out, man. I’m not playing around here!”

“This sounds deep,” Dante said quietly.

“It is,” Max confirmed. “So maybe you could put your dick back in your pants and take me seriously for a second.”

“Okay, man. You’ve got my attention. What can I do?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” Max answered, rushing toward the valet station to push a ticket into the hand of a bored-looking attendant. “Put a move on it. I’m in a hurry.”

“Maybe I should get with Christina,” Dante suggested. “That way we could cover more ground.”

“Yeah, okay,” Max muttered. “Stay in touch.” He hung up and stood there, anxiety on a slow boil as he wondered why the parking doofus was taking so goddamn long.

Finally, the Porsche rolled up to a sharp stop.

Max flicked the idiot a ten-dollar bill and strapped himself in, burning rubber out of the Raleigh, almost clipping a BMW roadster as he roared onto Collins Avenue, rocking “Best of You” by the Foo Fighters and singing along with the band’s gravel-voiced lead singer, Dave Grohl.

“It’s real, the pain you feel/The life, the love/You die to heal…”

Christina was slavishly sketching an image of Vanity from an
Elle
pictorial when her cellular rang. The number on display mystified her. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Dante.”

She was stunned to hear from him but instantly thrilled, too, as it made her feel connected to the group. “Hi,” she answered, working hard to keep her response tempered. Dante, Max, Vanity, and Pippa were so cool in the ways of social interaction, and she was so…not cool about it. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I hope. I just talked to Max. He’s worried about Vanity. Thinks she might be having some sort of breakdown.”

Christina’s grip tightened on the mobile. Instantly, her mind referenced their encounter at the Shore Club just a month ago, the first time that she and Vanity had really talked, a moment that she replayed over and over again. That wonderful day had solidified her feelings for the beautiful and famous girl, upgrading them from secret crush to secret love.

Just so you know, I’m totally screwed-up.

Vanity had said it. And Christina had assumed that it was just self-deprecating girl-to-girl banter.
You think you’re a mess? No, honey, I’m a mess.
But right now she was feeling a rush of irrational guilt. Maybe that admission had been a subtle cry for help. And Christina missed it. Even worse, what if Vanity thought that she ignored it? Oh God, Vanity had to know that Christina cared!

“She’s not picking up her cell,” Dante was saying. “Max and Pippa are heading out to look for her in the obvious places. I thought we could—”

“I’ll do anything,” Christina cut in. “I have to—I mean,
we
have to find her.”

“This sounds insane, but I’m coming off a rough night, and I don’t even know where my damn car is. Can you come get me? I’m at Iguana. It’s off Mill—”

“I know where it is. I’ll leave right now.” She hung up, snatched her purse, and frantically searched around for her keys. Why didn’t she just leave them in the same place? Suddenly, she heard a glorious jingle-jangle as she kicked at a small pile of clothes on the floor of her bedroom.

The phone rang again. Christina’s heart lurched. And then she saw who it was. Her stupid mother! She took a deep breath, fighting for calm. “Hi, Mom.”

“I’ve got wonderful news,” Paulina Perez said. “I just received an official endorsement from the Miami Baptist Association, and we’re all going out to celebrate. How does Italian sound? I know how much you love Café Prima.”

Christina managed a realistic groan. “I’ve felt awful all day. I can’t even imagine food, especially Italian. Have fun, though. I’m just going to try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, no, what’s wrong?” Paulina asked.

Christina rolled her eyes at the concerned mother bit. These days Paulina only cared about one thing—her bid to enter the Senate race. “It’s nothing serious. Just a stomach bug, I guess.”

“Well, get some rest, okay?”

“I will. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Feel better.”

Christina signed off and raced into the garage. Lying to her mother was the only way to go. Paulina would never allow her to drive around after dark with a boy like Dante to hunt down a possibly suicidal celebutante. But that’s precisely what she intended to do.

Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. Max cut down 17th Street/Hank Meyer Boulevard until he hit Alton Road. But what had been cars moving in a slow crawl became total gridlock. Drivers played out their frustrations with a cacophony of horn blasts. Max joined in, punching the steering wheel to make noise as he leaned out the window, craning his neck to get a beat on the source of the holdup.

Police, ambulance, and fire truck sirens screamed in the night. Flashing red-and-blue lights lit up the Miami sky.

Max waited, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the dash. Five minutes became ten. The wheels of the Porsche hadn’t rolled forward so much as an inch. He snatched his Sidekick and rang Pippa.

She picked up with a breathless, “Have you heard anything?”

“No,” Max said irritably. “And now I’m in the middle of a total traffic fu—”

A motorcycle cop zoomed past, racing between lanes, missing bike-to-car contact by mere millimeters.

“Shit!” Max exclaimed. “Some Erik Estrada almost clipped my driver’s side mirror!”

“Who?” Pippa asked.

“Didn’t they show
CHiPS
in England?”

“Never heard of it.”

“One night we’ll get drunk and watch a marathon,” Max promised. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He hopped out of the car and started down the path led by the Ponch wannabe.

“Hey, buddy!” the motorist behind him called out angrily. “If you’re not here to drive when this line starts moving, my front bumper will do it for you!”

Max responded with an impervious wave of his hand.

“Asshole!”

In answer, Max shot up two middle fingers, never even bothering to turn around.

Another road jam victim was just returning to his vehicle, a gleaming new Jaguar XJ in metallic red.

“What’s going on up there?” Max asked.

The silver-haired corporate type, a near dead ringer for CNN’s Anderson Cooper, shook his head with equal parts sadness and annoyance. “Looks like a young girl went head-on with a semi. It’s a fuel truck, too, so we may be here for a while.”

Max froze. His stomach did a complete revolution. A stark fear seized him, bringing with it the sensation that his heart had stopped. All of a sudden, he just knew. The girl in question was Vanity. He took off, sprinting toward the scene, mind and body in tumult.

When he saw the demolished Capri blue Benz, he halted. It took a long moment for the full impact of the devastating reality to sink in.

And then, right there in the middle of the street, Max dropped down to his knees.

M
ax, Pippa, Dante, and Christina were sitting shell-shocked at Gino’s, a New York-style pizza joint on Washington Avenue. Even now, in the wee hours of the morning, the place hummed with a steady stream of shift workers and club warriors.

“I just don’t understand why,” Pippa remarked, filling the somber airspace.

Max shot Dante a meaningful look as he downed a buttery garlic knot.

“What?” Pippa wondered, fixing her stare on Max, then switching it to Dante.

But Dante just played with the fuzz on his chin and avoided eye contact, looking guilty and miserable.

Max knew that it wasn’t fair to put him on the spot, but he proceeded to anyway. “What happened on the boat?”

“You’re blaming me for this, too?” Dante responded hotly.

Max held up both hands in a gesture of mock protection. “Easy, turbo—I’m just asking a question.”

Dante rubbed tired, bloodshot eyes. “There was an intense scene at Vanity’s house with her dad.”

Christina spoke up. “More intense than his scene at the hospital?”

They had all been there at Mount Sinai Medical Center when Simon St. John nearly attacked Dante, calling him a “punk thief” and threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t leave immediately.

Max had stepped in to stop the altercation before it came to blows. But Vanity’s father had been relentless and refused to calm down until Dante left altogether. It’d been such an embarrassing display. And you didn’t have to be Dr. Phil to pinpoint what was happening psychologically. Simon St. John was just channeling all the inner guilt he felt for not being there as a parent into outer rage toward Dante, whom his daughter had only known for just over a month.

Sure, go ahead, asshole, Max thought bitterly. Blame anyone but yourself. It was the same kind of pathetic bullshit that his own father would probably try to pull. Suddenly, Max was struck by a morbid realization, which left him wondering.

Did Dante and Christina have it easier? After all, they’d both lost their fathers at a young age. At least that set them free to construct a fantasy image of how their dads might have been. Was mourning a dead father less painful than dealing with the constant letdowns of one still living?

Max nodded at Dante. “So what happened?”

“He found us in her bedroom,” Dante began softly. “It wasn’t what it looked like. But the guy went crazy. Vanity tried to reason with him, and they got in a huge fight. He ended up calling her a slut. After that, we left.”

Pippa rolled her eyes. “Just the sort of words you want to hear from
Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Max put in. “That wouldn’t screw up a teenage girl at all.” One beat. “Parents can be so goddamn lame.”

There was a collective moment of silence that seemed to imply unanimous agreement.

“She took me straight to the marina,” Dante went on. “And before I knew it, we were way out in the water and all over each other. I don’t think we even realized what was happening…it was just, you know, two desperate people.” He played with the ice in his Coke. “I can’t even remember what I said exactly…after we were done…but…it wasn’t the right thing, obviously. She kicked me out of the boat.
Literally.
I mean, I took a hit right here to the chest.” He placed a hand on his pectorals for emphasis. “And then she took off and never came back.”

“Well, how did you make it back to shore?” Pippa’s tone was incredulous.

“Another boat came along,” Dante said.

Pippa glanced over to Max. “Well, if there’s anyone to blame here, I say it’s J.J. and that stupid video.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “What video?”

Max stifled a groan and shook his head regretfully. “There’s a sex tape out there,” he explained. “She was wasted and had no idea that they were being taped. J.J.’s looking to make some money off of it, and word got out. She was pretty upset about it.”

“Yeah, enough to go kill herself,” Christina blurted. Suddenly, her eyes welled up with tears and she bolted from the table.

Pippa shot up, trailing Christina as the distraught girl fled the restaurant.

Miserably, Max shoved some pizza into his mouth.

“J.J.’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?” Dante asked pointedly.

“He’s played poker at my house. We’ve gotten shit-faced a few times. But I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“Have you seen it?”

Max gave him a severe nod. “Not all of it, but enough to know that it won’t go away anytime soon.”

“I should track him down and beat that motherfu—”

“Let me handle this,” Max cut in. “Barrio justice won’t work with this dude. Besides, J.J.’s stoned all the time. He probably wouldn’t feel a thing. Anyway, I don’t think you could take him.”

Dante glanced up, amusingly unamused.

Max smirked a little. But deep inside, his guts were twisting. He had to find a way to stop J.J. This sex tape shit had to be buried. Max owed Vanity that much. Otherwise, he would never forgive himself.

“Man, this is so fucked-up,” Dante murmured.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Max said.

“Christina, wait!” Pippa cried.

She was running. She didn’t know where. She didn’t know why. There was a pull on her vintage practically moth-eaten sweater and finally Christina stopped.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. The Miami night would fast become a Miami morning. She missed Vanity already. There was a void. Christina could
feel
it. The image of the crushed Mercedes wouldn’t leave her. She tried to shut off her mind to the horrifying visual, but it haunted her like a demon.

“It’s okay,” Pippa assured her. “It’s been a long night. Just try to take some deep breaths.”

Christina shook her head, as if still not believing the nightmare. “They said she just drove straight into the truck. I heard a witness talking about it on the news at the hospital. She didn’t even try to stop…”

Her voice trailed off as she tried to imagine Vanity’s last thoughts before the accident. What was it like to feel so much emotional pain that you wanted it to stop on any terms? Sometimes Christina felt that she knew the answer to that. This made her feel closer to Vanity, and in a strange way, she loved her even more now because of it.

Christina cast a wary glance at passersby. To the casual bystander, they must look like a couple of fast girls—too young, out too late, indulging in silly boyfriend dramas.

She watched Pippa shoot a concerned look to the street, where a monstrous Hummer limo had just crawled to a stop. A dark window zipped down, revealing a drunk and wild Shoshanna Biaggi.

“Pippa!” Max’s sister slurred. “Get in…there’s room…it’s, like, a total VIP party…”

A bra got tossed out the window and landed in the gutter.

“That’s not mine! I swear!” Shoshanna laughed uproariously.

“Can you believe how pissed out she is?” Pippa muttered under her breath.

“Should I go tell Max?” Christina wondered.

“No, I think he’s seen enough for one night,” Pippa answered, moving closer to the Hummer. She tried to get Shoshanna’s attention. “You better go home and sober up—”

But before Pippa could get the directive out, one of the limo doors lurched open, and four male arms worked fast to pull her inside.

Christina’s mouth dropped open in shock as everything happened in the space of an instant—Pippa’s screaming, the slamming of the door, Shoshanna’s piercing cackle, and the sight of the Hummer speeding away and disappearing into traffic.

At that moment, Christina’s Sidekick II vibrated once more. No doubt the millionth call from her mother. She ignored it. Again. Then she just stood there for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly, it dawned on her to race back to Gino’s for help. She took off. Before reaching the door, she noticed the Hummer stop in the middle of the street.

Christina watched Pippa swing out first, her body language daring
anybody
to mess with her. And then Pippa pulled Shoshanna out of the Hummer and dragged her by the arm until they reached the sidewalk.

By this point, the guys had made it outside and happened upon the scene, Max moving fast to intercept his sister, and Dante hanging back, looking despondent and distracted by his own thoughts.

Christina beamed a quick glance to her phone, then reluctantly called her mother.

“Where the hell
are
you? It’s almost three o’clock in the morning!” Paulina raged after picking up on the first ring.

Right away Christina started to cry. “My friend was in a terrible accident.”

“What friend?” Paulina hissed. “I’ve spoken to Wilmar and Eric half a dozen times tonight.”

“Vanity,” Christina wailed. “My friend…Vanity St. John.”

Paulina sighed impatiently. “Stop being so overly dramatic, Christina. You barely know the girl.”

“No, I do…I—I…love…” She was just on the brink of a confession.

“I want you home, Christina,” Paulina cut in savagely.
“Now.
And I hope your night out was worth it, because it’s going to be your last one for months.”
Click.

If tears gave away the secrets of feelings, then Christina’s were fully exposed right now, a combination of the grief for Vanity and the shock of her mother’s coldness.

All of a sudden she felt the envelopment of a strong embrace and realized that it was Dante. At that point, she really began to sob, letting all the emotion go. Her tears splashed down onto his shoulder as he wrapped her up with the warmth of his hug.

Christina was far and away, lost in the incredible sadness of what Vanity had done to herself. But deep down inside, she felt something close to joy, too. Because she realized that what her own mother denied her—compassion, comfort, a sense of family—could be discovered someplace else…with her new friends.

“It’s going to be okay,” Dante whispered.

Christina wanted so desperately to believe him. Still, she wondered if it really would be.

“I just had a few drinks!” Shoshanna roared belligerently, weaving back and forth as the words sputtered out. “Like that’s a new thing!”

Max shut his eyes for a second, stealing himself to deal with the irritating situation before him. “Sho, this is beyond drunk. You can barely stand up.”

“I’m fine!” Shoshanna insisted. She spread out her arms like airplane wings and attempted to prove it, failing miserably as she sang, “Because you’re mine…I walk the line.” Ultimately, she collapsed into a fit of laughter and fell down on the sidewalk.

Max took a quick step away, too furious to even look at her.

Pippa bent down to help.

“My brother’s an asshole,” Shoshanna slurred. “You can’t really like him.” She giggled. “You must just be after his money.”

Max spun around.

Pippa abruptly stood up, leaving Shoshanna sprawled on the pavement. “She’s
your
bloody sister. You help her.”

Max stepped in and roughly pulled Shoshanna to her feet.

“Where’s Yummy?” Shoshanna wondered.

Max turned to Pippa, a question in his eyes.

Pippa’s eyes were flashing fire.
“Who
or
what
is a Yummy?”

“Her best friend,” Max explained. “She’s the same age.”

Pippa shrugged. “I didn’t see her. There were six guys in the Hummer. And Shoshanna.”

Max grabbed his sister by both arms and shook her violently. “Do you realize how goddamn dangerous that is, Sho? To ride around with a group of guys you hardly know? When you’re this drunk? Do you want to get gang raped? Do you want to end up like Natalee Holloway? Is that what you want?” He found his voice rising with each question, and by the end of the interrogation, he was shouting explosively.

“Let go!” Shoshanna screamed. “You’re hurting me!”

Pippa tried to intervene. “Max, take it easy.”

Max stopped and pulled Shoshanna to his chest, hugging her tightly, swaying backward and forward, side to side, gulping in great lungsful of air.

The raw grief hit hard. He was crying now, his whole body shuddering with emotion, his usually commanding voice small as he struggled to speak through the sobs. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Sho! Do you hear me? I’m not!”

He thought of Vanity and the sight of her being lifted from the wreckage. Oh God, it hurt. It hurt his heart. It hurt his soul. It hurt in places he never knew he had.

Max felt Pippa’s hand on his shoulder. She was letting him know that she was there, and the gesture slowly tripped him back to equanimity.

Shoshanna was crying quietly.

Max withdrew his embrace, wiping away his tears and clearing his throat. He gave the area a circular glance. “Did Dante and Christina leave?”

Pippa nodded, moving fast to stop a subdued but still drunk Shoshanna from almost toppling over.

“I need to take care of something. Can you see that she gets home?”