Vampire Beach: Initiation (10 page)

"I just know, okay?"

Jason shrugged and focused on the road.
Whatever.
He wasn't going to beg.

"Unless your dad's so rich now that your allowance is a couple thou," Tyler muttered.

"You need two thousand dollars?" Jason tried to keep the shock out of his voice.

"Five, actually," Tyler admitted.

Jason let out a long, low whistl
e. That was a serious lump of cash.

"See, Freeman, there are things even you can't fix," Tyler said, wiping his hands nervously on the legs of his jeans.

"How'd you get in so deep?" Jason asked.
"Credit card?"

Tyler snorted.

"Betting on b
-
ball?" Jason suggested.
Would
any bookie
let
Tyler
run
up
that
kind
of
tab?
he
wondered.
He'd
have
to
be
one
stupid
illegal
businessman.

"What does it matter?" Tyler sounded
pissy
now. He always sounded
pissy
when he was scared. Jason remembered the time Tyler had almost got bitten by a rat
tl
esnake on a Boy Scout hiking trip. Well, actually, the time Tyler
saw
a rattlesnake on a Boy Scout hiking trip. He had been so scared that he'd cursed the thing out for two solid minutes, using words in combina
tions even the Scout Master hadn't heard before.

"I guess I just thought knowing who you owed the money to might help us come up with a plan," Jason answered.

"'Us
,'" Tyler repeated. "There is no 'us' in this situ
ation.
There's
just me."

"Hey, you showed up at my door with a problem. You brought me into it." Jason pulled through the massive iron gates leading to the
Lafrenière
property. "So spill it. How'd you rack up that kind of debt?" He flashed on the bottle of Ritalin in Tyler's room.
"Ritalin?"

"Everyone needs some recreation once in a while," Tyler answered, without really answering. "It's noth
ing."

A valet in a black suit and a narrow black tie
sig
nalled
Jason to a stop. Tyler jumped out of the car without waiting for Jason and headed up the long driveway. Jason took the claim check from the valet and followed Tyler, not bothering to hurry. He wasn't eager to get to the party. He was in an even less cele
bratory mood
now than he had been when he left the house.
Some
Thanksgiving
vacation,
Jason thought.
Let's
all
give
thanks
f
o
r
pissy
,
drug
-
abusing
friends
who won't
tell
you
anything.

"There
are
probably five thousand bucks' worth of those candle thingies in the trees,
”
Tyler commented when Jason caught up to him.

"Possibly."
Jason glanced at the trees lining the drive. Hundreds of clear glass globes had been hung from the branches, and each one held a short fat can
dle and glowed with golden candlelight. More candles gleamed from the decks and balconies that jutted out on all the levels of the house.

"Where do they get all their cash?" Tyler asked.

"Mom's a screenwriter. Dad's a music producer," Jason said, wishing Tyler would get off the subject. People in Malibu didn't walk around talking about how much stuff cost or how anybody got the money they had. It was tacky.

"So that chick over there who looks like the actress in that cheerleader movie, but skinnier?" Tyler indi
cated a direction with a slight jerk of his chin. "That's actually her?"

Jason tried to look without looking like he was looking. "I'd say yeah."

"Do you think she'd like to know that I have a
poster of her over my bed?" Tyler joked. "Or do you think I need a different approach?"

"I'm sure she'd find that truly flattering," Jason answered as they stepped through the double front doors and into the house. "
She being
beautiful and famous.
And you being you."

"I'll hit on her later," Tyler decided. "Give her time to watch me from afar and become intrigued."

"Good idea."

Tyler headed over to the bar that had been set up in the entryway, complete with a
hottie
bartender, who was flipping bottles like she was half
-
juggler. "The signature drink of the evening is the pumpkin martini," she told them. "
Tinis
of all sorts are available: apple, chocolate, clean, dirty. And pretty much any other kind of alcohol you
want.”

"Only party I've been to where there's not a line by the booze," Tyler commented.

"Well, you only have to go a few feet to find another bar," the bartender answered.

"I'll go with the pumpkin." Tyler grinned at Jason. "This is definitely the place to come if you want to forget your problems for a few hours."

Jason thought that over for all of two seconds. Tyler had a point: They could deal with all this shit post
-
fun.
"Beer for me."

"You've got to give me more than that," the bar
tender told him.

"Surprise me," Jason said. She handed him a Heineken. He wasn't sure what that said about him. Maybe that he hadn't yet completely assimilated to Malibu, home of designer beer.

His
eyes swept over what he thought was
the living room. All the furniture had been moved out to make space for dancing, and a DJ kept everyone moving with a hip
-
hop/reggae mix. Clips from movies
-
Adam would probably be able to identify every one
-
were being projected on one wall.
A baby floating in space.
Keanu bending under a bullet.
Chewbacca roaring.
John Travolta disco dancing in a white suit.
Mike Myers in a kilt.
That
freakazoid
girl from
The Ring
crawling out of the well.

"So this is your life now, huh?"
Tyler asked. He took a sip of his martini.

"Not quite. I still have to take out the trash," Jason answered.

"Great. Malibu party boy surrounded by excess whines about the one chore he has to do." Adam approached, his camera stuck to his face. "I think I have to use this for the trailer."

"Happy to be of service."
Jason shook his head. "That thing is going to become permanently grafted to your eye if you don't put it down occasionally. You
ever think of, maybe ... I don't know, leaving it at
home?”

"And face the world
-
and
people
-
without my layer of ironic protection?" Adam protested. "Besides, you never know when a really good docudrama is going to unfold."

"Glad you guys could make it," Zach called over the music. He joined them, shaking hands all around. "Adam, my mom scored a print of the new Tarantino flick.
In the screening room at midnight."

Adam lowered his camera. "You," he said slowly, "are a god."

"I have to pass on one rule from my parents," Zach told them. "We can do anything we want to the first floor and the basement
-
short of burning them to the ground
-
but the top floor is off limits."

"And you expect us to stay?" Jason joked.

"The pool and the grounds are also available," Zach told him.

"Oh, well then, I guess we can hang for an hour or
so,” Jason said.

"Speak for
yourself
," Tyler put in. "I'm never leav
ing."

Zach smiled. "Let me know if there's anything you want that you can't find," he said, and headed to the entryway to greet some new arrivals.

"Cool guy," Tyler commented.

"He was almost chatty," Adam added "Those may have been the most words
Lafrenière
has ever said to me at one time. Maybe our birthday friend has been enjoying something more exotic than the martinis."

Jason shot a glance at Tyler. He hoped
h
is
friend wouldn't go looking for anything stronger than the drink he had in his hand.

"I think I must have stretched out my stomach with yesterday's gorge," Adam said.
"Because I'm hun
gry.
In my travels, I saw this phenomenal dessert sta
tion. There's actually a chef making bananas Foster."

"Do you think they have pumpkin pie?" Tyler asked. "You know it's not good to mix bananas and pumpkin." He waved his martini glass. "That's a recipe for vomit."

"Are you kidding?" Adam asked as they wove their way across the dance floor. "Clearly I haven't expressed the scope of this dessert bar. It's monster." He led the way out to the huge deck that surrounded the pool. The dessert table went on for a mile, the scent of banana liqueur and hot sugar mixing with the salty breeze coming off the ocean.

"Check it," Tyler said.

Jason watched as the chef scooped up a ladle of liq
uid from around some simmering bananas and torched it. He poured it back into the pan
-
a stream of fire hit the bananas with a whoosh of blue flame.

"Wait. I hear my name. Someone's calling me." Adam headed toward the chef.

Tyler snagged a piece of pumpkin pie, and Jason grabbed a brownie.

As he picked it up, he heard Sienna's familiar laugh. And for a second, he felt like he'd had a six
-
pack instead of just one beer. He turned and spotted her with Belle, reclining on matching lounge chairs the other side of the pool. Van Dyke stood next to them.

Jason wandered
-
in what he hoped looked like a casual way
-
in their direction. Tyler followed him.

"Uh
-
oh.
We're being invaded by Michigan," Sienna said, and laughed when she spotted them.

"I'm not complaining," Belle purred.

"Remember that the insanely jealous boyfriend is probably lurking nearby," Jason warned under his breath. Tyler nodded.

"Pretty soon there are going to be more of you than there are of us," Sienna teased.

"And that would be a bad thing?" Jason asked. "You could use some good Midwestern stock in the mix. You've gotten soft out here."

"Soft? Feel this!" Sienna reached out, grabbed Jason's hand, and ran his fingers across her taut abs. Jason tried to look unimpressed.

"Gym muscles," Tyler scoffed. "Those don't count. Jason and
I
have real muscles, from working the land."

"Yeah, Jason, I'm sure you worked the land every weekend
-
with the power mower," Sienna joked.

Van Dyke and Belle laughed.

"You don't get muscles like these mowing the lawn," Jason retorted. He caught Sienna's hand, flexed, and pressed it against his bicep. He knew he shouldn't be doing it. He knew he should be keeping his hands off her.
But it's not like we're going behind Brad's back or anything,
he told himself.
We're just two friends, joking around, in front of loads of people.

Right.

"
Ooooh
."
Sienna gave his arm a
little
squeeze. "You're right! You definitely don't get muscles like that mowing the lawn. You must have had one of those mowers you ride on."

"Meow!"
Belle said, grinning at Sienna.

"Just give up," Van Dyke suggested to Jason.

"Yes. I'm too smart for you." Sienna sighed, her dark eyes flashing with mischief.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "You won't seem so smart when you're dripping wet," he remarked, with a nod to the pool. He turned back to Sienna. "Watch it. Or you're going in."

"With those tiny muscles?
I don't think so," Sienna shot back, laughing.

She was asking for it.

Jason lunged toward her lounge chair, and Sienna
leaped out of it with a shriek and darted away.

Let her go,
Jason told himself. But he couldn't. And as he raced after her, Jason realized that Sienna was his Ritalin. And he was addicted.