We leave out of the gate and make our way through the airport, and all the way to baggage claim, people stare, point, and whisper about us. Dad puts on his shades again, trying to keep a low profile, but people recognize him and follow us as we pick up our bags and go to get a rental car. When they bring out their phones to take pictures of us, Dad groans and mutters under his breath, “I should have hired bodyguards.”
Bodyguards. We need bodyguards. Sometimes I still think I’m living in a dream.
Dad picks up a rental car and drives us straight to the Beverly Hills neighborhood where the mansion is. Ana and I link arms as we ride down some more secluded streets in Beverly Hills. The houses we pass by are nothing short of spectacular. They’re all different styles, but each one looks like it cost at least a million dollars to create, whether in present times or past.
My chest constricts when Dad pulls into 21 Leighton Way and stops at the gigantic black gate, which is connected to a stone wall. He talks to someone through an intercom, and they open the gate quickly to grant us access. We drive up the long driveway to our home, and I grip Ana’s arm so hard that she winces.
I’ve seen the mansion in pictures already, but nothing compares to stepping out of the rental car and seeing the real thing up close and personal. The mansion is two stories high, made of white cement, and the balconies have minimalist steel railings and sliding glass doors leading out from each bedroom. Black double doors with thin steel handles beckon me from the front of the house. As soon as Dad stops the car, I drop everything and shove my door open, running up to the front patio as Ana follows closely behind me. I stop in front of the doors with a heaving chest.
This is it. I’m about to see the house I should have grown up in.
I ring the doorbell, and I instantly recognize the tune. It’s custom-made with the melody from the chorus of “Tearing into Silence.” A thin brunette answers the door, and her eyes widen at the sight of me.
“Uh…may I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Madison Daley. I…well, technically, I live here.” Dad instructed me to use Daley instead of Landers while we’re staying here so people will know who I am.
“Oh, of course! I’m Kelsey, the housekeeper.” Kelsey and I shake hands, and then I introduce Ana. Kelsey glances behind us and sees Dad coming up the way with our luggage. “Michael Daley in the flesh…” Kelsey whispers, releasing Ana’s hand. The look in her dark brown eyes makes me gag. You can tell she wants to do unspeakable things to my father.
They introduce themselves, and Kelsey’s voice is about an octave higher while she’s talking to him.
Dad tells her to call him Mike, and then he says, “We’re here to visit Cass. Is she home?” To his credit, he’s not paying any attention to Kelsey’s doe eyes or her pushed-out chest. In fact, he’s looking behind her for Cass.
“Yes…right this way,” Kelsey says. She takes our luggage and sets it to the side, and then she ushers us into the entry hall.
On the way out to the backyard, I gaze in wonder at the interior of our home. We have a two-story entryway with a semi-vaulted ceiling and a skylight. The stairs are like white floating platforms with steel railings, and they curve on their way up to the second floor. Peeking into the living room, I see a gigantic 4K television on the wall in front of the black leather couch, which is decorated with red throw pillows. The white, black, steel, and red theme continues throughout the house, including the kitchen, which has black granite countertops with stainless steel appliances. There’s a bar with black leather stools that looks just perfect for eating a bowl of cereal in the morning…or whatever fancy famous people from L.A. eat in the mornings. I really have no idea.
Kelsey takes us back through a sunroom which is lined on two sides with nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. She opens the sliding glass door for us and gestures to the patio, where Cass and a thin African American man are sitting at a black castiron table with an umbrella. I glance behind them at the Olympic-sized swimming pool and the wet bar that’s right near it. Judging from the number of benches, tables, and chairs around this pool, I’d say Cass throws a mean party in the summer.
My gaze returns to Cass and the man she’s talking to as we approach them. One look at this guy, and I can tell he’s not going to be Cass’s next boyfriend. His sense of style is quite flamboyant, and Ana, a fashion enthusiast, recognizes him immediately.
“Oh. My. God. That’s Stephan Lowe!” she whisper-shouts. Stephan Lowe is one of the foremost designers in L.A. Ana wants to be a model someday, so her meeting Stephan Lowe of Stephan Lowe Designs in the flesh would be like me meeting the members of A7X in person.
“Don’t pass out, Ana, don’t pass out—”
“I might,” she chokes out, “hold me.” I keep my arm around her as we cross the patio.
Cass and Stephan stand from their seats with wide eyes. “What the…what? Am I seeing things?” Cass mutters.
Dad and Cass face off in front of each other before his resolve crumbles and he takes her in his arms. “I am so sorry. I should have talked to you. I didn’t mean you had to leave.”
Cass is overcome by emotion. “Oh my God! You came back!” she says over and over through wracking sobs, holding on to him like she’s afraid to let him go.
While Dad and Cass make up, Stephan turns his attention to me and extends his hand with a big, white smile. His teeth are almost brighter than Cass’s. “Madison Daley, I presume?” His voice is high-pitched and pleasant.
“Stephan Lowe, I presume?” I reply, and he laughs—a tittering, jovial sound.
“The very same,” he says, and we shake hands warmly. “This is going to sound strange, but have we met before?”
“Highly unlikely. I’ve been out of town for the past seventeen years.”
Stephan laughs again. “You’re a funny girl. I only asked that because you look so familiar, but I suppose you’re right. It’s an extraordinary pleasure to meet you, dear. If you ask me, you and your father have been out of town for far too long.”
“I agree.”
“And who is this vision of beauty?” Stephan asks, turning to face Ana.
“This is Ana Lincourt, my best friend.” I push Ana forward. “She’s a huge fan of yours.”
Ana’s hand trembles as she shakes his. “It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Lowe.”
“Steph is my preferred name, honey,” he says with a wink. “Forgive my boldness, but are you a model?”
Her voice cracks. “I want to be.”
A delighted smile grows on his face. “We’ll talk about that later,” Steph says, and Ana suppresses a squeal.
Cass lets go of Dad then and grabs hold of my arms while Steph and Dad introduce themselves. “You did it! How did you manage to finally get him here?”
“I told him he needed to apologize in person because he was being a massive douche to you.” Her eyes widen. “Well, okay, I didn’t use those exact words, but it was that basic idea.”
“Very impressive! How does it feel to be in L.A.?”
“It’s amazing. This is so huge…but I have to admit, I’m starving. The food on the plane was inedible.”
Cass releases me and motions to follow her. “Well then, come inside! Let’s go, everyone!”
“Cassidy, darling, I’m going to have to excuse myself,” Steph says, and everybody groans in disappointment. “Don’t worry, I live right next door.” He giggles as he gestures to the impressive Italian villa just to the right of us. I can see its towers poking up above the stone wall, and I can already tell it looks amazing up close. “You all are welcome to join us for dinner tomorrow night if you’d like.”
“That would be terrific!” Dad says, and the rest of us agree.
“Perfect. My family and I will be expecting you.” Steph gives us a little wave. “I’ll leave you to explore your home. It was a pleasure meeting all of you.”
“Likewise,” Dad, Ana, and I say, and then Steph leaves us and Cass leads us back inside the mansion.
> After a quick lunch of chicken wraps, Dad and Cass take us upstairs to get settled, and they give Ana and me rooms next to each other. “There’s no point in makin’ you share one, since there are nine bedrooms in the house,” Dad says.
“But girls like sharing bedrooms, don’t you know that, Dad?” I tease. That was always his excuse for shoving Ana and me into a single twin bed back in Kentucky.
“It’s okay, now I won’t have to put up with your bony knees in my back all night,” Ana says. She’s referring to the many sleepovers we’ve had where I accidentally tried to maim her in my sleep. Apparently, I sleep-kick…tae kwon do style.
My king-sized bed has a pretty minimal design—it’s basically just a mattress on top of a black platform. I have my own bathroom and a few black shelves on the walls for displaying things. There’s also a TV in my room that’s about three times bigger than Ana’s TV at home. I feel every bit the spoiled rich girl I am as I lay my carry-on bag on the bed and breathe in the smell of fresh linens. Cass enters the bedroom with my suitcase, and I take it and unload my things into an impressive walk-in closet.
Ana joins me in my room after a few minutes. “Oh…my God…this place…is epic!” she exclaims, beaming.
“Yeah, it really is.”
Ana pokes her head into my closet and laughs. “Oh no. No. This is not okay. Are those really all the clothes you have?”
“Yeah…” I groan. My clothes only take up about a fourth of the space, and I brought nearly every item of clothing I own.
“Tomorrow we’re going shopping. You have to promise me.”
“Does it really have to be tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes. We’re having dinner with Stephan Lowe. You can’t show up to that in a faded Black Veil Brides tee and Converse.”
I glance down at my outfit, cringing when I realize that next to all this black leather, my previously black shirt looks gray. I never realized how faded all my clothes are, but everything I own is at least two years old. Dad did a great job pretending to be poor.
“Yeah, you’ve got a point.” I let out a heavy sigh. Guess my day of reckoning has finally come.
June 2
Mission L.A. Complete
We’re here…and it’s the best feeling in the world.
As soon as I walked in those double doors, I immediately felt at home. That has never happened to me before. The farmhouse felt like home because it was all I had, but this place has Dad, Cass, and me written all over it. It’s a rocker’s mansion for sure, and Dad already told me some stories about the wild parties they used to have in here. I enjoyed hearing about how completely off the walls Cass and he were. It makes me think maybe he’ll forgive me for the shit I plan to do once I’m legal…or not so legal.
He’s loosening up a lot now that we’re in L.A. He’s even treating me like an equal in a lot of ways. I guess he’s finally realizing I’m close to becoming an adult. Also, he said he plans to go out with Cass a lot while we’re here. Score for me! The less parental supervision, the better.
I’m not sure how to feel about meeting Stephan Lowe’s family tomorrow. According to Ana, Steph’s partner is Alfonzo Abate, a major action film star. He’s easily an A-list actor, and I’ve watched and obsessed over all his movies. His teenage son Giovanni is an actor too. He was a supporting actor on one of my favorite tween-teen shows, Jackson and Julia, until it got cancelled last year. He is constantly in the news, and girls everywhere obsess over him. My palms sweat and my throat dries up just thinking about him. I mean, this guy is swoon-worthy, and I’m about to meet him tomorrow. That has me terrified. What am I going to say to two actors I’ve worshipped for the past few years of my life?
Especially one my age?
I can see it now—
“Hi, I’m Mads. You’re gorgeous. I want to marry you. I know I’m the Basket Baby, but maybe we can look past that. I’m even willing to start over on a deserted island together and forget either of us has a name. We can just sit on the beach day and night in nothing but our birthday suits and let the world fade away for the rest of our lives. Sound good? Great. I’m on my way to the courthouse to get emancipated right now.”
I’m dying laughing over here.
That’s so unrealistic it’s almost not funny.
Almost.
Anyway, now that I know who I’m meeting, I’m considering letting Ana give me a full-scale makeover tomorrow. She’s been wanting to do that for years, and now we’ve finally got the perfect opportunity. Plus, it’s kind of necessary. I’m looking at the ends of my hair, and…yep, I’ve got split ends. They’re all over the place. Definitely getting a haircut, and I might color it too, even though that’s way outside my comfort zone.
Here goes nothing. Hopefully I won’t come back bald. That’s my secret fear when entering a salon.
Ttyl,
Mads
“Beverly Hills” by Weezer plays in my head as we turn onto Rodeo Drive. The shops lining the street are just as iconic and ritzy as I pictured them, and it would seem that the palm trees have taken over this place. Ana acts like she’s about to have a seizure next to me as she points out all the stores and salons she wants to check out. Cass said we could spend as much as we want, and neither of us have ever been able to do that, so we’re both pretty stoked.
The first store we hit is called Ferria, and it’s known to have a lot of the best clothes for teenage girls. We’re greeted at the door by a tall, darkhaired woman with a smug expression. “Welcome to Ferria. My name is Meg, how can I help you?”
“Hi,” Ana says. “This is Madison Daley, the Grim Weeper’s daughter. She needs a whole new wardrobe.”
“Gee, thanks Ana.” I laugh.
Meg gasps, and her eyes light up. “No way! You’re the Basket Baby?”
I can’t help but feel a little flattered at her response. I’ve never heard my ‘fame name’ on someone else’s lips before, and the way she just said it, it actually didn’t sound too bad. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh my God! I heard the Grim Weeper was back in L.A., but I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it!”
“Well, believe it,” Cass says, looking like she’s about to burst with happiness. “They’re out of hiding for good.”
Meg immediately comes to my side, takes me by the arm, and leads me in the direction of the juniors section. “Well, don’t you worry. I’m going to personally see to it that you get everything you need today.”
In the hour that follows, Meg stays true to her word. I end up finding a lot of cute clothes I like, even some dresses, much to my surprise. She takes Cass, Ana, and me back to a dressing room with armfuls of clothes in hand, and when I try on my first dress—a strapless black lace overlay dress—I come out of the stall with tears in my eyes.
Ana notices my distress right away as she’s adjusting a bright green mini-dress in front of the three-sided mirror. “Mads, what’s wrong?”
I lift up the top of the dress, showcasing how much room is left in the bust area. “I have no boobs,” I mourn.
“You can always get it altered,” Meg interjects, giving me a reassuring smile. “Lots of people need their clothes altered. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
“I guess,” I say, supposing that all the dresses in L.A. are made for women who have implants. My cup size is between an A and a B, so I don’t even stand a chance.
“Try on another one,” Ana suggests. “Find one that looks a little smaller on the top.”
I respond with a dejected nod, and when I trudge back into the stall, I find a deep purple dress that we got from the juniors section. I slip off the black lace dress easily, and when I slide the new one on, I’m pleasantly surprised to find it fits me like a glove. It’s made of knit fabric and has cap sleeves, and it’s also formfitting, which gives me more of a curvy look.
I open the door of the stall and step out, feeling a little more confident. Ana and Meg gasp when they see me. “It’s perfect!” Ana says, smiling from ear to
ear.
Meg leads me over to the three-sided mirror and stands behind me with her hands on my shoulders. “See, Madison? You look great.” I smile and nod. Other than my head, which has not been updated to Beverly Hills standards at all, I look great.
Cass and Ana drag me to a salon after three exhausting hours of shopping. After we’re signed in and sitting in the waiting room, they take some catalogs from a shelf and help me pick out a hairstyle. It’s going to require a dye job, but I’m warming up to the idea. Nearly every celebrity I’ve ever seen has dyed their hair at least once.
I get called back to a chair, and yet another tall, blonde, tan person comes up behind me to do my hair. “Hi, I’m Rick. I’ll be working on your hair today,” he says in a high-pitched voice. Another gay guy. I’m liking the number of men in L.A. who don’t treat women like we’re bodies with heads attached.
“Hi, I’m Mads. Please be gentle, I’m a style virgin.” Rick laughs at my little joke, and he talks me into taking six inches off my hair for health reasons. Then he darkens my base color just a bit and adds deep red highlights. After that, another person gives me a facial and waxes my eyebrows and upper lip.
Finally, the makeup artist, a middle-aged Asian woman with on-point eyeliner and a sweet smile, enters the room and comes up to shake my hand. “Hi, Madison! I’m Angie, and I’ll be doing your makeup.”
“Hi, Angie. Do you think you’ll be able to do anything with this?” I ask with a grin, pointing to my face.
She laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll make you look great. Now the first thing I’ll need you to do is take off those glasses.” Before she approached me, I put my glasses on just to look at my hair in the mirror. When I take them off and lay them on the dresser in front of me, she gasps. “Oh my God, you have perfect eyes!”
“Thank you,” I say. She also praises my high cheekbones and plump lips. Angie goes on to describe the different products she’s using as she starts on my makeup and educates me on the best makeup to use. As she’s talking, I inwardly obsess over the fact that I can actually go out and buy all this stuff now I know we’re millionaires. She puts a slightly darker shadow on my eye than I’m used to, dabs concealer over the little bit of acne and dark circles I have, and then she finishes me off with foundation, pink blush, and light pink lipstick. The eye makeup gives me a dramatic, star-like appearance. In fact, I almost look like a real celebrity.
D.O.R.K. Series Box Set Page 7
