Game On (8 page)

“We'll see about that,” Renee said.

Maya could not believe she was here. She couldn't have orchestrated it if she'd tried, but somehow, inexplicably, Maya Hart was inside Nicole King's villa. She had cracked Wonka's factory.

The party was still hours away, but Renee needed those hours to prepare. She was going to transform Maya. Into what, only Renee knew. And that scared Maya. But if it meant she could finally make some kind of impression on Travis Reed, she would happily submit.

Obviously what she was submitting to was something extraordinary, because it required tools found only in Renee's laboratory. But before they could get to her bedroom, they would have to make their way through the rest of the villa. And the rest of the villa was mind-blowing.

Maya felt every bit the trespasser, and though she tried to look nonchalant, she wasn't blind. As they walked through the place, she could see it was dripping with cash. It was also massive. The furniture, Renee told her, was imported from “somewhere in Africa.” It clashed “the right way” with the state-of-the-art projection system in the living room. Over the couch was a Picasso that Maya convinced herself was a fake so she wouldn't start freaking out. In the end, Maya felt she was trespassing not into someone's home, but onto a movie set.

“Nicole?” Renee called out. Maya held her breath in the silence, waiting.

“Hm, she's not home,” Renee remarked.

Maya was at once relieved and disappointed.

“My room is just back here,” Renee said. She led her down a hallway, past an open bedroom door.

“That's Nicole's room,” Renee said.

As she walked past it, Maya craned her neck to see inside. Even if Renee hadn't told her whose room it was, Maya would've known. Maybe it was the fact that it was big enough to fit her entire family. Maybe it was the tennis bag next to the raised, hyperornate canopy bed. Or maybe it was the giant Andy Warhol–esque painting of Nicole hanging directly above it. Maya was pretty sure Warhol died before Nicole was born, so he couldn't have painted it himself, but if anyone could raise the dead to do her bidding, it would be Nicole King.

Finally, they arrived at Renee's bedroom. It was equally enormous, but what left Maya speechless was her closet. Correction, closets.

“Oh my God,” Maya said, her jaw dragging on the floor. “Are these all your clothes?”

“No,” Renee said. “Most of my clothes are back home. It made no sense to bring a ton of stuff, since it's only ever a hundred degrees here.”

“Right,” Maya said. “No sense at all.”

The clock ticking, Renee led Maya into her closets and attacked them like a hurricane. There was nothing for Maya to do but gawk. Everything was separated by category. Dresses here, skirts there, shoes everywhere. There was an entire spinning rack for sunglasses, whole shelves for bags.

Maya picked up a pair of red boots from a sea of identical red boots.

“Why do you need twelve pairs of the same shoe?” Maya asked.

“What are you talking about?” Renee said. “They're all different. This one is alligator, these are crocodile, these ones are python. …”

“PETA is going to burn you at the stake,” Maya said.

Renee stayed focused on the task at hand.

“Since this is a costume party, I can't just throw you in a dress and call it a night,” Renee said, digging. “This needs to be theatrical. Lucky for you I've got something perfect. I bought it before Nicole got a brainstorm, and now she and I are going as something else.”

“What's the costume?” Maya asked.

Finally, Renee found it. “It's my favorite movie character of all time. She's amazing.” Renee unveiled the costume to Maya. It was a huge dress for a Southern belle on a plantation.

“Scarlett O'Hara,” Renee said, beaming. The dress was red and dramatic and spectacular. It was also enormous. There's no way it would fit in Maya's closet, but Renee had plenty of space.

“Who's Scarlett O'Hara?” Maya asked.

Renee shot her a look. “Who's Scarlett O'Hara? How deep in the woods were you raised?
Gone with the Wind
?”

“I've heard of that,” Maya said.

“You've ‘heard' of that?” Renee said, exasperated. “I wasn't even born in this country and I've seen it. Maya, it's amazing. Scarlett O'Hara is rich, she's beautiful, and all the guys fight
over her. She's also really smart. She made a gown out of curtains.”

“Was it a comedy?” Maya asked.

“No, this conversation is,” Renee said. “But it's about to get really serious.” Renee's face suddenly had a hint of evil.

“What are you going to do to me?” Maya asked, fearful.

“What am I
not
going to do to you?” Renee grinned.

What happened next was a whirlwind. Before Maya knew it, she was sitting at a makeup mirror, a towel around her hair, and a face steamed, squeezed, and tweezed to within an inch of its life. One thing Maya did know for sure was that beauty hurt like hell.

Renee appeared to be in a state of rapture, applying paint to her blank canvas and transforming Maya into her version of a work of art.

But when Renee stopped midway through and stepped back to inspect her work, her face fell.

“What?” Maya asked.

Renee stopped doing Maya's makeup and moved on to her hair. She took off the towel, exposing the wet hair she had subtly darkened to fit the character. Again, Renee was displeased. Maya didn't like this at all. Finally, when Renee pulled the giant red dress over Maya's shoulders and stepped back, Renee groaned.

Maya couldn't take it anymore. “Okay, what?” she demanded. “What's wrong?”

“You,” Renee replied.

Maya was crushed. She never put on makeup or got dressed up. Now she knew why.

“Everything about you is ridiculous,” Renee went on, annoyed. “The hair, the body, the lips. I wanted to give you a makeover, but I hardly have to do anything. All I'm doing is throwing a little makeup and a twelve-G handmade dress on you. I hate you.”

Maya could've registered what was an amazing compliment (though she swiftly would've shot it down) if something else hadn't taken up the entire space in her head.

“This dress cost twelve thousand dollars?!”

“Yeah,” Renee said. “I got it on sale.”

Maya stood there dumbfounded while Renee continued styling her.

With music booming in the background, Maya opened the villa door to an impatiently waiting Cleo.

“I've been ringing the bell forever,” zombie cheerleader Cleo said. “This is how you treat the dead?” She tried to move around Maya without even acknowledging her.

“What?” Maya said, blocking her way. “Not even a comment on the outfit?”

Cleo took her first real look at her “Maya?!”

Maya laughed. Cleo burst out laughing, too.

“Oh my God, I didn't even recognize you! What did Renee do to you?” Cleo couldn't get over it. “That dress is enormous. You look like you belong on top of a cake!”

“Hold me!” Maya fell into her arms, mock-sobbing. But the tears in her eyes were real.

“I want to hug you, but I can't find you,” Cleo said, fighting her way through layer after layer of red tulle.

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” Maya said, wiping her tears indignantly. “I'm practicing being melodramatic. I'm Scarlett O'Hara. Apparently I'm an emotional headcase.”

Cleo finally pushed Maya off her. “Well, Scarlett, I don't want to get any of my open sores on your pretty dress,” she said.

“You better not,” Maya said. “It cost twelve thousand dollars.”

Cleo laughed. When Maya didn't, Cleo's eyes grew wide.

“Are you serious?” Cleo asked incredulously.

“She got it on sale,” Maya said. “Apparently there are markdown bins with twelve-thousand-dollar ball gowns in them somewhere.”

“You need to steal it and trade it for a car,” Cleo told her. Maya laughed. This time it was Cleo who didn't. Maya swatted her.

“Come on,” Maya said. “I hear there's a party going on in there.”

“How is it?” Cleo asked.

“Couldn't tell you,” Maya said. “They have a third roommate, Christine. She's the daughter of a state senator or something, but she's not around much. I've been upstairs in her bedroom waiting for my hair to set. And being made to watch
Gone with the Wind
.” She reached for Cleo's hand, then affected the best Southern accent she could muster. “Shall we go inside?”

Cleo gave her pom-poms an exaggerated shake, and then they headed into the party.

Cleo was almost as awed as Maya had been upon seeing
the wonderland inside. Except this time, besides being packed with museum pieces, it was also packed to the walls with costumed revelers. Vegas showgirls and Roman emperors, Greek goddesses and Prohibition-era gangsters. From the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes, everyone looked flawless. And, as Renee had pointed out, sexy.

The party was not only in full swing, it was in full roar. People were screaming, music was blasting. There were fireworks being shot off the balcony.

“How has this party not been shut down yet?” Maya asked, removing a shot glass from a potted plant.

“Different rules for different people,” Cleo said. “Or did you forget?”

They made their way through the crowd, Maya pretending to be trying to find someone when secretly she was just showing Cleo the rest of the place.

“I heard about the villa,” Cleo said above the music as she tapped the glass of a wall-mounted aquarium, “but I never could've imagined this.”

The tour continued. Renee was nowhere to be found, and without her to claim them, they were on their own. Strangers in a strange land. Thank God Maya and Cleo had each other.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Cleo said.

“Wait, you're just going to abandon me?” Maya asked. “What am I supposed to do, talk to the fish?”

“I'll go fast,” Cleo promised.

Maya looked around. “I'll wait for you on the balcony,” she said, noticing that there was hardly anyone out there now that the fireworks were over.

Cleo gave her pom-poms another little shake, and then they split up.

Maya and her giant dress fought her way through three Marilyn Monroes and a Little Red Riding Hood before finally arriving outside on the balcony. She turned to take in the view. She found another one instead: Travis, right in front of her face. He was dressed as the king of clubs. A very, very sexy king of clubs.

“Travis,” she said, her face heating up on the spot. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. He didn't recognize her. Again.

“It's Maya,” she said. “You saved my life?” When he didn't react right away, her face got even more red. Just when she thought coming here might've been a huge mistake, another thought popped into her head. One far, far worse. What if he did recognize her … and just didn't care?

But then Travis's eyes narrowed. “Maya …?” His jaw dropped. “You look … amazing.”

Did Travis Reed just tell her she looked amazing?

“Your hair,” he said. “And your eyes. Were they always this blue?” Maya owed Renee big-time. The plain hair and too-blue eyes Maya always felt saddled with became otherworldly in Renee's hands. Renee wasn't just a good friend—she was her fairy godmother.

“I'm Scarlett O'Hara,” she said. “She made stuff out of curtains.” Maya couldn't roll her eyes harder at herself.
She made stuff out of curtains? Seriously?
She had to move on immediately if not sooner. “And you're a playing card!”

“You like?” he asked.

“Oh my God, yeah,” she said. “I just want to stick you in my bicycle spokes.” Maya really needed to stop speaking.

Travis laughed. He actually laughed.

“Listen,” Travis said. “Sorry about my dad. With the whole ‘break-in' thing. He can be tough. It was nothing personal at all.”

“So if I caught him on another day, he wouldn't have kicked me out?” Maya asked.

“No, he would've,” Travis said. “He just might've felt a little bad about it.”

Now they both laughed. For the first time, she felt like he was actually paying attention.

“Wow,” she said, taking him in.

“What?” he asked.

“Just … you talking about your dad and everything. I can't get over how similar you two are,” Maya said. “I mean, duh, you're father and son, but … it's not just your looks. It's your mannerisms—it's even how you stand.” Maya hoped she was making sense, but she couldn't trust anything coming out of her mouth at this moment.

Travis lit up. Whatever she'd said was the perfect thing to say.

Just then, Julius Caesar popped his head out.

“Travis, emergency in the kitchen, dude,” he said.

Maya's heart sank. This was it? But they were just getting started!

Travis started to go, then turned back to her. “Maybe we can pick this up somewhere quieter?”

“Somewhere …?” Was he asking her what she thought he was asking her?

“Do you know where Christine's bedroom is? Upstairs?” he asked.

She'd only spent the last two hours there. “I think so,” she said.

“Maybe I'll see you up there in a few minutes?” Travis didn't move. He was waiting for her answer. As if there was more than one answer to that question.

“Sure,” she said quickly. “I mean, yeah, maybe. But sure.”

He smiled. “Great.”

With that, Travis went inside. It was Maya's turn to beam. And take one seriously long, deep breath. Okay, breathing done. Now she needed to find Cleo.

Maya left the balcony. As her eyes searched for the only dead cheerleader there, she wound up running straight into the queen of hearts. It was Nicole. She was with Renee, the queen of diamonds. If decks of cards were this hot, people might still play with them.