He stood at the back of the tent with four officers who had been charged with guarding the jewels. Manu checked three cell phones at once. He lifted his dark eyes and grinned. “They are pulling up now.”
“Thank Geb!” Cleo held out her arms in a virtual hug, avoiding contact for fear of ruffling her feather bustier.
“Thank Geb is right,” he said, returning the gesture.
“Gather!” announced Jaydra, the feared accessories editor. She jumped off the back of the intern’s ATV and gathered her A-team. Her short bleached hair, yogurt-white skin, and gaudy cocktail ring on every finger gave Cleo some much-needed solace. The jewelry biz obviously wasn’t as competitive as she had thought.
“The girls are here, and they’re gorgeous! They just need a quick touch-up and wardrobe. Anything we don’t get, we’ll fix in post. Let’s move! The sky is falling. Darkness is upon us.”
Did she say “gorgeous”?
Cleo had always known that Blue and Clawdeen had a “look.” Fetching? Yes. Intriguing? Absolutely. Exotic? One hundred percent. But gorgeous? By normie industry standards? Hmm, maybe the world was ready for change after all.
“Cleo!”
She turned happily. It was the first time she had been called something other than “the Egyptian” all day.
It was Melody Carver. In a leopard-print chiffon gown.
Has the world gone completely mad?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking past her shoulder, hoping to see the others pulling up the rear. But all she saw was a blond in a yellow dress and heels stumbling across the sand. “Where are the girls?”
“Did you really expect them to show up after what you did?” Melody asked. Her narrow gray eyes were squinty and accusatory.
“’Scuse me?” Cleo asked, her gold headdress clinking again. “I was told they were here.”
“You were told wrong,” Melody lifted a fallen spaghetti strap and draped it back over her shoulder.
“Will you please tell me what’s happening? And start with why you are wearing a knockoff Roberto Cavalli dress.”
The blond stepped forward. “First, it’s not a knockoff. It’s eighty-nine vintage. And second, you have some serious explaining to do.”
“Who are you?” Cleo snipped, mindful not to tousle her blowout. “Stupid Boots Barbie?”
“This is Candace, my sister,” Melody said. “And we’re here representing NUDI to find out why you intentionally set out to destroy your friends. I would expect it from Bekka, but you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Everyone is—”
“Wow, Jaydra was right,” gushed a pin-thin guy wearing red skinny jeans, a white tank top with an iron-on of King Tut, and three muslin scarves. “I’m Joffree. One name. And you girls are gorgeous. You must be from LA. Both size two, right?”
“I’m a zero on the bottom and a large on top.” Candace winked.
“Let me pull some things. Be back faster than you can say Snuffleupagus.”
“It’s sarcophagus,” Cleo corrected him for what felt like the billionth time.
“Omigod, men-tahl blahk,” he sang as he scampered away.
“Melly, you didn’t tell me we came here to model!” Candace beamed, smile-waving at the buff photographer.
“We didn’t!” Melody snapped. “We came to get the truth.”
“About what?” Cleo insisted. Everything around her was moving so quickly. Buzzing assistants. Missing friends. Gorgeous normies. False accusations. “I swear to Geb, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“ ‘The Ghoul Next Door’? The unblurred interviews? Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I’m not acting!” shouted Cleo. She was in desperate need of more gloss.
“They aired! The unblurred interviews aired.”
“Wait—what?” She stood completely still. “How is that possible?” Cleo asked frantically. “I was right there when—”
“Aha!” Melody clapped once. “So you do know something.”
“I never wanted that stupid show to air even when the faces were blurred. I knew it was dangerous. So why would I want it shown unblurred?” Cleo rubbed her throbbing temples. Her mind was playing catch-up. Still trying to figure out why her friends hadn’t shown. Wondering how on earth such a catastrophe could have happened. Her friends would all be exposed!
The intern pulled up on her ATV, cupped her hands over her mouth, and yelled, “Joffree! Jaydra needs the new girls dressed and on the camels eight minutes ago.”
“Then someone should have told me that nine minutes ago!” he huffed, sliding hangers along a wardrobe rack. “All right, New Girls, back here with me,” he called.
“Coming!” Candace began her wobbly trek toward the racks.
“Stop!” Melody ordered. Her sister stopped instantly. “We didn’t come here to model.”
“Yes, you did,” Cleo begged in a whisper. “Please, just do it. Please. I’ll tell you everything I know. Swearsies on Ra.” She lifted her face to the sinking sun. “We have to get through this—it won’t take long. I’ll even float you some samples from my new jewelry line the minute it gets off the ground.”
“You promise?” Melody asked.
“Definitely. Are you more a tigereye kind of girl or straight-up gold?”
“No! Do you promise to tell me what you know about the TV show?”
“On all nine lives of all my cats.”
While the Carver sisters were changing, Cleo tried to piece everything together. The show airing… unblurred… but how? She couldn’t imagine Brett doing it behind Frankie’s back. He seemed too genuine for something like that. Even if he had dated Bekka, which Cleo still found hard to believe. What did someone like him ever see in… omigoddess! Bekka!
Melody emerged first. Wearing the typical black wig with bangs, she looked like Halloween Cleo, minus the sass. The gown, a sleeveless deep V made from layers of airy white silk and gold Lurex thread, luffed like a ship’s sails in the early-evening breeze. Her gray eyes were heavily lined in turquoise kohl and adorned with gold false lashes. Even without the jewels, which would be fitted at the very last minute for security purposes, she defined Cairo-couture-meets-Babylon-babe.
“Hey,” Cleo said with a half grin. “You look good… for you.”
Melody smiled.
Finally.
“Marc Antony, Marc Antony, wherefore art thou, Marc Antony?” Candace called, scanning the tent with a hand on her forlorn heart. Her wig was the same as her sister’s, but Candace’s dress was gold, her kohl was black, and her fake lashes were dark jade. Jaydra was right: The Carver sisters were undeniably gorgeous. But Cleo was too grateful to be jealous. Besides, her hair was real! And that counted for something.
“Follow me.” The intern hurried them through the tent and past the admiring eyes of the crew members. Even without the stares, Cleo knew the trio was Vogue-worthy.
“You’d better tell me what you know,” Melody said out the side of her overglossed mouth. “’Cause I’d have no problem taking off this wig and going home.”
“Fine.” Cleo sighed and then came clean about her plan to erase the movie. Which, now that she was at the shoot, seemed insane. It was hard to believe she had almost done something that despicable just to be there, with a pack of overcaffeinated, underfed normies who had spent all day referring to her as “the Egyptian.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t do anything?” Melody asked.
“I didn’t have to. The show was canceled.”
“So how—”
“Bekka,” Cleo said. “She must have hacked into Brett’s computer after I left.”
“I told you not to trust her,” Melody said.
“I didn’t,” Cleo said. “But I needed her.”
Melody nodded slowly, identifying with Cleo, not judging her.
“So, what do we do now?”
“I dunno. Smile?” she said sarcastically as they stepped onto the set.
“Whoa,” said Candace. �
�I feel like I’m in one of those beach-inside-a-bottle things they sell at airport gift shops.”
Cleo giggled. Candace was right. The sand had been dyed pink, yellow, and orange, and it was piled higher on the left than on the right, as if someone one was pouring it. Three camels sat at the lower end, legs tucked beneath them, chewing slowly and sighing.
“Unbelievable. That’s exactly what I was going for,” said a muscular man wearing a black tank top, camo cargoes, and a blond ponytail. “I’m Kolin VanVerbeentengarden.” He extended a tanned hand to Candace. “But most people just call me VanVerbeentengarden.”
“Candace. But most people just call me awesome.”
Cleo and Melody giggled.
“I’m going to add the bottle and the cork during postproduction,” explained VanVerbeentengarden. “The concept is that you three are ancient Egyptian queens who washed ashore in this bottle and—”
“And we have come to present-day America on a mission to share these gems with today’s modern teenager?” Candace finished.
“Precisely!” exclaimed VanVerbeentengarden.
“Yeah,” Candace nodded. “I can totally see that.”
“And I can totally see you and me getting together after this shoot.” He winked.
“That depends,” Candace teased.
“On what?”
“On how I look in the pictures.”
She was good.
“The very least of my concerns.” VanVerbeentengarden winked again as an assistant hooked a camera around his shoulder like an AK-47. Then the photographer turned his attention toward a case of lenses.
Overhead, a canopy of star-shaped lights flickered on, casting a magical twinkle across the shimmering sand. It was perfect. Aunt Nefertiti’s jewels were going to love it.
“I never would have guessed that this was supposed to look like a bottle thingy,” Cleo admitted.
“Me either,” said Melody.
“Me either,” said Candace. “I read it on Joffree’s clipboard.”
Cleo burst out laughing.
Melody just rolled her eyes in a that’s-Candace-for-you sort of way.
“All right, girls, let’s get you on these camels,” the intern said.
The sisters exchanged nervous glances. But not Cleo. She had been on a camel at Zanzibar’s petting zoo when she was seven. And from what she remembered, it was no different from riding a slow, lumpy horse, which she’d also done at Zanzibar’s.
“Stay on the path so you don’t mess up the sand. Each animal has a sticker on his hump with your name and his name. Please claim your animal and wait for the wrangler. She’ll help you up.”
“That’s what he said.” Cleo giggled.
“Nice one.” Candace slapped her five.
The closer they got to the camels, the more it smelled like wet hay and cat poo.
Candace winced. “Ew, what is that?”
“Camel butt,” Melody said with a giggle.
“I think mine is sick,” said Cleo. She pinched her nostrils and leaned closer to read the name on his hump. “Don’t worry, Niles,” she cooed, pulling a small atomizer from her cleavage. “This should help.” She walked around the tan camel while spritzing amber fragrance into the stinky air. He sneezed. She spritzed. He sneezed. She spritzed.
“Can I try some of that?” Candace asked.
Cleo tossed her the perfume.
“Hey, Humphrey, it’s not just you and the boys anymore.” Candace sprayed. “You’re in the presence of models. You have to smell your very best.”
She tossed the bottle to Melody. After the first spritz, Luxor sneezed, rocked to his feet, and took off. Niles and Humphrey followed.
The girls jumped out of the way.
“Omigod, where’s the wrangler?” shouted Jaydra as the camels sneezed and stampeded, kicking up the confection-colored sand. “Where is he?”
“She is right here!” shouted a stocky brunette in cowboy gear and black gloves. “What’s happening?”
“My set!” shouted VanVerbeentengarden. “Do something, wrangler!”
“My name is Kora!” she said, readying the lasso that was clamped to her dungarees. “Jeez, you’d think someone with a name like VanVerbeentengarden could remember Kora.”
“Just get them back. We’re losing—”
“I know, we get it,” she said, mounting an ATV. “You’re losing light.” She hit the gas and sped toward her flock. But the roar of the engine only scared the camels more.
Cleo and Candace locked arms and huddled together, sheltering each other from the whipping sand. But they refused to take cover in the tent, like the rest of the panicked crew. The chaos was far too entertaining.
“Start shooting, VanVerbeentengarden!” Jaydra shouted. “I’m not paying you to stare.”
“What am I supposed to shoot?” VanVerbeentengarden shouted back. “I have no models, no jewels, and no visibility.”
“Then shoot me!” Jaydra yelled, stuffing a finger-gun in her mouth.
“I’ve been wanting to all day,” he huffed.
“Oats?” called Kora, tossing food as she roared by. “Who wants oats?” she called, gripping her lasso, preparing to launch. But camels weren’t easily bribed with food—something a camel wrangler should have known.
“Niles, Humphrey, Luxor?” Someone called from the top of the rainbow-colored dune. “Niles, Humphrey, Luxor?” The voice had a musical quality to it—pure, clear, and angelic.
“Melly?” Candace gasped at the sight of her sister, lit to golden perfection by the sinking sun, white fabric rippling around her. She had the presence of a divine goddess.
“Niles, Humphrey, Luxor?” she sang.
Jaydra and VanVerbeentengarden stopped shouting.
The sound was like nothing Cleo had ever heard, yet something she imagined being standard in the afterlife.
“Nilesss, Humphreyyyy, Luxorrrrr?” Melody trilled.
The crew stopped scrambling. Even Candace was quiet.
“Nilesss, Humphreyyyy, Luxorrrrr?” Her irresistible singsong call was melodic silk, sailing over the darkening dunes. If Clawdeen had been there, she would have rolled onto her back in peaceful surrender.
Kora turned off the ATV.
“Nilesss, Humphreyyyy, Luxorrrrr, you’re safe. Nilesss, Humphreyyyy, Luxorrrrr, you’re safe. Come baaack.”
The camels stopped running. They stopped sneezing, grunting, and bucking. “Nilesss, Humphreyyyy, Luxorrrrr, come back.”
One by one, they did.
Kora raced over, hooked the camels with leashes, and led them back to their trailers.
“That’s a wrap,” Jaydra yelled, kicking a bag of oats. She stomped off in an I-am-so-not-looking-at-your-jewelry-sketches sort of way. Not that Cleo could blame her. The shoot had been a catastrophe. But far from disappointing.
Melody jumped off the dune and raced toward them, seemingly unfazed by her breathtaking performance.
“How did you do that?” Cleo asked, awestruck.
Crew members hurried by, wanting a closer look at the girl with the magical voice. But once they approached, they seemed nervous and unsure, as if they didn’t know whether they should thank her or pray to her. So most of them just kept walking.
“I think your voice is back!” Candace hugged her sister tight. When they parted, their wigs were lopsided and mussed.
“Crazy, right?” Melody knit her dark brows. “I just called the camels. I had no idea what would come out. But it was kind of musical.”
“I have to call Mom and Dad. They’re going to freak,” Candace said, hurrying away toward a table topped with camera gear.
“Why are you going over there to call them?” Melody asked.
“Because after I call, I’m going to ask VanVerbeentengarden if he takes yearbook pictures,” Candace admitted with a guilty smirk.
Melody giggled.
“Can we go change? I’m having hoodie separation anxiety.”
Cleo nodded. She would have done anything Me
lody had asked after what she’d just witnessed. Melodork was some sort of camel-whisperer! Cleo couldn’t wait to forgive Deuce and then tell him all about it.
“Amazing,” said Manu when the girls entered the tent. His eyes were misty. “That was absolutely amazing.”
“Thanks,” Melody said shyly.
“Is your mother here?” he asked.
“No, I came with my sister.”
“Well.” He sighed, like someone recalling a fond memory. “Tell Marina that Manu says hi. It’s been way too long.” After a kind, lingering grin, he turned to Cleo. “I’m going to pack up the jewels. I’ll meet you by the car.”
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Melody said.
“Oh no,” he scoffed. “That voice is unmistakable. Just like your mother’s. Marina could get anyone to do absolutely anything; it was that intoxicating.”
“Sorry, but my mom is Glory. Glory Carver. From California.”
“Are you sure?”
“Manu, of course she’s sure,” Cleo snapped. “I think she knows who her mother is.”
He was staring at Melody’s face in a way that would have royally creeped Cleo out if she didn’t know him. “Manu!”
He shook his head. “You’re right. I am thinking of someone else.”
Melody smiled forgivingly.
“I remember hearing that Marina’s daughter had a very unforgettable nose. It almost looked like a camel’s humps,” he chuckled. “And yours is perfect. My mistake. I’m sorry.”
He turned and left.
“I’m sorry too,” Cleo said to Melody. “He’s not usually that weird.”
Melody didn’t say a word.
“Oh, and I’m also sorry for not trusting you.” She giggled. “Will you forgive me?”
Melody gazed blankly ahead.
“I’ll stop calling you Melodork.” Cleo batted her lashes playfully. “Hey!” she snapped. “Are you listening?”
But Melody didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring at the passing camels and gripping her nose.
If Cleo hadn’t been so anxious to make up with her friends and put this whole ordeal behind her, she might have asked her new recruit what was wrong. Instead, she hopped into her limo and hurried back to Salem. She had been gone only a few hours, but it felt like a lifetime since she’d been home.
The Ghoul Next Door Page 17
