Mason’s dressing room made mine seem like a broom closet in comparison. I kept the decorations in my space at Bixby Studios simple but that clearly wasn’t the case for Mason. His space was extremely personalized and if left to my imagination, I would’ve guessed his home was probably decorated in the same over the top manner. Everything in the room was scarlet, including the walls and furniture. It was almost like we stepped into a VIP lounge in Hell. A television was mounted to the wall on my left with a video game paused mid-play. Two gaming chairs were stationed in front of it with the black controllers resting in them, their cords stretched across a red rectangular rug. A number of small mirrors hung on the far wall. Framed photos of Mason doing different poses in varying degrees of shirtlessness hung alongside the mirrors. Looking at them, I wondered if Kaci realized she would never like Mason as much as Mason liked Mason.
I turned back toward the group and paused. My stomach lurched at the sight of Reagan Bixby. She was wedged between Brendan and the arm of Mason’s Satan sofa looking extremely uncomfortable. She had her arm linked in his while he had the other draped around the shoulders of a puffy-eyed Amber. The three of them sat close together while Mason sat on the other end.
“Hello, Dia,” Reagan said darkly, stroking the back of Brendan’s hand like it was a pet in the lap of a villainess. She looked absolutely ridiculous. I bit back a giggle at the creeped out expression on Brendan’s face. Reagan straightened in her seat, causing everyone to scoot down on the sofa.
Kaci and Taylor were on the rug near the sofa. An obviously frustrated Kaci fiddled with her phone, holding it up toward the ceiling and muttering curse words under her breath. Taylor looked to be in the same boat. She pecked on her phone’s screen like pressing harder would result in a clearer signal or something. The dressing rooms were on the lower level where cell phone reception was scarce.
My eyes fell back on Amber. She looked like death. She’d lost some color in her face and her swollen eyes were bagged with dark rings. The deep red stain was smaller than what I’d seen earlier. It seemed like she had changed the bandage but her wound hadn’t stopped bleeding. A rash of black and blue bruises that weren’t there before crept up her forearm toward her shoulder.
I started to ask how she felt but noticed Reagan glaring at me, still rubbing Brendan’s hand. He slipped it out of her grip and removed his arm from around Amber’s shoulder, settling his hands in his lap with a shudder.
“What are you doing here?” Reagan snipped.
“Um…I…” I stammered, trying to get out an answer.
“Brendan invited me,” she announced. Her eyes were trained on me as she said his name. She reached for his hand to continue being weird but he pulled farther away, flashing a look of warning in her direction. She pretended to stretch, playing off Brendan’s rejection.
“I invited Dia too,” he spoke up.
The smug look on Reagan’s face disappeared, and her signature scowl returned.
“What’s up, Dia-Dia?” Mason asked. His greeting didn’t match the sadness on his face.
“Brendan said that you all were gathering to remember Missy. I know you were close to her, and I wanted to see if you were okay or if there was anything that I could do.”
“We’re fine.” Reagan’s tone was razor sharp. “You can go now but thanks for asking.”
“Dia’s just trying to be nice,” Brendan said, inching to his left to put another millimeter of distance between himself and Reagan.
She rolled her eyes.
“Welp!” Mason clapped his hands together loudly, startling everyone. “While I’d love to watch the cat fight that's been brewing between you two since the day you met,” he motioned from me to Reagan, “now’s not the time.”
He stood up. “Ladies, retract those claws and chillax. Instead of arguing, let’s take a few moments to remember our lost friend, Missy.”
He bowed his head. Everyone took a cue from him and did the same. Soft sniffles interrupted the room's silence. They grew louder, turning into muffled cries. I lifted my head. Amber had her face buried in her hands, bawling.
“Missy was my friend.” Her voice was thick with tears. “Myfriend. I can’t believe she’s gone. I’m sorry, guys.” She sniffed. “For crying.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
“Hey, hey. There’s no need to apologize.” Brendan said softly, handing her another tissue from the box at his feet. “We’re all feeling the same way. We saw her last night and she seemed perfectly fine.”
“My sister and I saw her early this morning while trying to salvage the rest of our night after she ruined the party. She seemed like a crazy druggie skank to me.”
“Jesus, Reagan! What is wrong with you?” Brendan snapped, his face reddening as he turned toward her.
“What?” Reagan shrugged. “I’m just being honest. Did you see her at my sister’s party? She was a mess.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to call her a ‘crazy druggie skank’,” Brendan snapped again.
“I can call Missy any kind of skank I want. If it weren’t for my father, Melissa Bolton would be just another dumb blonde roaming the streets of L.A. looking for work. The Bixbys made her a household name. Without us, she’d be nothing.”
Reagan sat there with a smug look that dared someone to challenge her.
Brendan’s face turned a brighter shade of red. He put his hands up in front of him for a moment then buried his face in them before dragging them through his hair and exhaling. He muttered something to himself then looked up, appearing calmer than he did a second ago.
Though he was obviously upset, he didn’t offer a counter argument. No one did. The Bixby name carried weight in Hollywood and Reagan was right. Without Bixby, we'd all be nobodies.
“That was really uncomfortable, and I think I’m even more bummed out than I was before,” Mason said somberly.
Amber’s soft cries fell silent. She nodded her head in agreement with Mason. Or what looked like agreement. It was hard to tell. Since Reagan’s rant about Missy, Amber had been kind of bobbing her head around like her neck couldn’t support the weight. The bruises had spread past her elbow and were joined by dark lines that snaked up her arm like vines.
“Amber, are you okay?” I asked.
“Maybe she’s on whatever Missy was on last night. Birds of a feather, you know,” Reagan muttered.
Mason jumped to his feet and moved toward me, filling the space between where I stood and where Reagan was sitting on the couch. His arms were outstretched as if to stop one of us from attacking the other.
“I think I have an idea of something we can do to make us all feel better.” He crossed the room, walking over to the counter in front of the wall-length mirror. He returned cradling a stack of magazines in his arms.
“Here.” He handed an issue to everyone.
“These are next month’s teen mags. What I’d like you all to do—if you would be so kind—is to flip through them, find any picture or poster of me and carefully rip it out. I’m looking to redecorate and I want to switch up the photographs in my gallery.” He pointed to the numerous pictures of him all around the room.
“Note I said ‘carefully.’ No rips, tears, or messed up edges. Also, keep in mind, they have to be good pictures. Nothing where I don't look hot. Though I don’t know how that would be possible since I’m me and it’s crazy for me not to be hot. But if you’re having difficulty assessing my hotness, please consult with me. Okay? Okay. Great. Now everyone get your magazines and start looking.” He opened the magazine he’d saved for himself and started his search.
“Wait. Wait. Wait.” I put my hands up. “You want us to clip out pictures of you for your wall?”
Mason lowered his magazine. “Yeah. Basically.”
“I’ll help you,Mase,” Kaci said, taking the magazine he had given her. She folded her legs like it was story time in kindergarten and began flipping through pages.
“Thanks.” Mason winked a
t her, making her entire face light up. “The rest of you could take a few notes from my girl Kaci here.”
She blushed and smiled at the magazine in her hands.
“Dude, I’m not about to look through this for pictures of you,” Brendan said.
“You can toss it here,” Kaci offered. Brendan threw it over to her.
“Hey, Man! Careful.” Mason picked up the discarded magazine from the floor, smoothing its pages back into place. He held it like it was fragile to the touch and carefully placed it in front of Kaci. I'd never seen her smile as wide as she did when Mason patted the top of her head on the way back to his seat with his magazine.
Mason’s attempt at a diversion worked. While Reagan still gave me the stink eye, no one talked much. I took a seat on the floor next to Kaci, not that I was going to spend any time looking through the magazine in my hand for Mason, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I set the magazine aside, reached into my bag, and joined Taylor in her quest for a cell signal. I wanted to call my mom to let her know I’d be home soon. I hoped this time would be different than the other zillion times I tried to make a call from down here but was disappointed as always when I saw I had no bars. I held the button to turn it off—trying to save what was left of its battery—and dropped it back into my bag. Amber groaned. I turned toward her to see what was going on. She was bent forward, clutching her stomach and groaning with a pained expression.
“Amber, are you okay?” I stood up to check on her.
“I don’t feel too hot,” she moaned, falling onto the floor and curled up into a ball, still clutching her stomach.
“Amber?” Brendan was on his feet.
Amber gagged and made a retching sound. Out came a stream of foul smelling black liquid all over Mason’s rug. Everyone else jumped to their feet, scattering away from her. I instinctively took a step back, not wanting to get any of that stuff on my shoes. Mason mumbled complaints about his rug from behind me as Amber lay on her side, groaning in pain.
“Maybe we should get her some help,” Kaci said.
I shot Kaci a quizzical look. “Maybe? Wehave to get her some hel—“
Amber rolled onto her back, her eyes rolling back in their sockets; she started to convulse.
Reagan, Kaci, and Taylor moved closer—gathering around Amber’s flailing body—screaming their heads off. Brendan joined their half circle, his eyes wide and his fingers running through his dark hair as he repeated “Oh, man” over and over to himself. I wanted to help but I was frozen, completely overwhelmed by panic.
Mason was the only person not freaking out. He sprang into action, kneeling beside Amber as she jerked. He made sure not to put his knee in the black puddle on the rug and leaned over her.
“AMBER!” He shouted in her face and leaned back waiting for her to respond.
She continued to shake.
He leaned in closer to her. “HEY! AMBER!”
Still nothing.
“Amber!” He gave her a quick smack to the face. He poised his hand to give it another go when Brendan yanked him backward by his shirt, away from her and dropped him on his butt.
“Dude! What the hell are you doing?” Brendan asked angrily.
“Trying to help,” Mason huffed, picking himself up from the floor and straightening his shirt.
Amber’s head hit the floor with a muffled crack. More black liquid oozed from her mouth, spilling down the sides of her cheeks and trickling toward her ears.
“She’s going to suffocate!” Taylor exclaimed, shaking a trembling finger at the girl on the ground.
“We have to move her,” I said. Adrenaline finally began pumping through my veins and thawed my limbs.
“Mason, help me move her so she doesn’t hurt herself. Get her legs and I’ll get her shoulders.” I directed him. “Ready?”
He nodded and positioned himself over her.
"One—two—three—lift.”
Together we hoisted Amber up. She had stopped shaking but was unresponsive. Her eyes were slightly opened with only the whites showing. Her thin body was limp in our hands as we carried her away from the dangers of the furniture and laid her on the floor in the space at the center of the room a few feet away from the door.
“We have to roll her on her side. In case she pukes again,” I said, reaching toward her. I rolled her onto her side and extended her arm on the floor to cradle her head.
“Amber?” I said softly. Her breathing was shallow and her skin was clammy to the touch. It was mottled by the blue rash, which had spread up her arm, across her upper body and was beginning to overtake her face like moss on a tree trunk. I recoiled, removing my hand from her skin and wiping it on the front of my jeans. I didn’t want to take any chances if the rash was contagious.
“She still has a pulse but she needs help like now,” I announced to the group.
Everyone pulled out their phones, angling them in different directions.
“There’s no signal down here, remember?” I reminded them.
“Hang on,” Brendan said. “I think I have a bar.” He was the tallest of the bunch; therefore, the closest to the ceiling. He swept his arm above our heads, pointing his phone in the opposite direction.
“I guess not.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“I’m going to get help,” I said. “You guys stay here and watch her.”
“I’ll go with you.” Mason stepped forward.
Mason and I left to look for help while the others stayed behind with Amber.
SIX
Mason and I knocked on every door on the floor looking for help but got no response.
“Upstairs,” I suggested when we reached the end of the hallway. If we were still hanging around here, I was sure there were others. Mason nodded and headed toward the door with me. My hand had just landed on the handle when a commotion drifted down the hall from his dressing room. I rushed back toward the noise with Mason a few steps behind.
“Guys, what’s going o—“ I stopped just outside of the room. In the few moments we were gone, everything had been wrecked. The mirror wall had two large rippling cracks in it; magazines littered the floor; the make-up chairs were toppled over onto their sides; and one of the gamer seats was lying in the space where Amber once was.
“What’s wron—“ Mason stopped at my side and peered into the room. “OH HELL NAW!” He clenched his hands into tight fists and pushed past me as he marched inside with a frown. He looked around and threw his hands in the air.
“My stuff!” he yelled and snapped his head to the left. “Hey! What the hell—“ His other gaming chair went flying across the room. He ducked just in time for the chair to whiz over his head. “OH. NO.” He balled his hands back up and dashed to other side of the room, out of sight.
A new chorus of screams erupted. Another piece of furniture flew across the room and crashed to the ground. Mason zipped past the open door and out of view again. I ran inside and saw what he’d run from. Amber wasn’t on the floor, barely conscious. She was up and on her feet—her back toward me—swaying from side to side in front of a very frightened Brendan, Taylor, Kaci, and Reagan. Brendan had a busted lip, and Kaci sported a fresh red welt on her cheek that looked pretty painful. Taylor and Reagan both shouted for help. Amber let out a low hiss.
“What’s going on?” I yelled over the racket.
“Brendan tried to give her CPR,and she snapped at him. She’s gone crazy!” Kaci screamed, pointing at Amber who stalked back and forth slowly like an animal hunting prey.
Amber lunged at Kaci with unexpected speed. Kaci moved, running into Reagan at just the right moment to avoid the impact of Amber’s blow. Amber hit the wall, sending several of Mason’s portraits crashing to the floor. Kaci latched on to Reagan’s arm in a panic and the two of them ran to join Mason who stood behind me yelling about his broken stuff. Taylor tripped over Mason’s game console and fell. Amber recovered quickly, unfazed by the oozing gash on her forehead left from where her hea
d had met the wall…hard.
All of the color had drained from Amber’s skin, leaving it gray save for the patches of blue rash and veins. Her eyes had become two dangerous-looking black voids, the same color as the liquid that dripped from her mouth. It covered the front of her teal t-shirt in a trail of thick goo. I shuddered as she gnashed black-stained teeth.
Taylor scrambled to her feet but wasn't quick enough. Amber’s hand locked on her leg like a vise. Taylor pawed the wall—hopping on one foot—trying to free herself and gain her balance. More of Mason’s pictures hit the ground.
“Help me!” Taylor pleaded.
I searched for something to use to free her from Amber’s grip and spotted one of the game controllers on the floor nearby. I used my foot to nudge it toward me, keeping an eye on Amber. An iPod whizzed past my ear, thudding into the wall a few inches left of her head.
“Nice throw, Abe Ruth.” Reagan said from behind me.
“It’s Babe Ruth,” Mason corrected her. “And at least I’m trying to do something instead of just standing around. Now grab something and throw it!”
A blender, a remote, and a bust of Mason’s head went flying across the room. The blender cracked into pieces on the floor. The remote sent Taylor back to the ground, striking her smack in the center of her forehead and leaving a red mark. The bust smashed into Amber’s back. It should’ve taken her down but she maintained her kung-fu grip on Taylor’s leg.
Another wave of items went across the room, but they did nothing to stop Amber. I reached down for the controller. Amber let out a guttural growl. Taylor yelped in pain. Everyone behind me screamed. I looked up. Amber had torn into Taylor’s leg with her stained teeth and ripped away a piece of flesh. She chewed as if she were nomming on a honey barbecue chicken wing. Taylor shrieked in agony, swatting at Amber.
Dia of the Dead Page 6
