Chapter Nine

It was bad enough that I had a crumbling love life and a psycho who was stalking me; the last thing I needed to deal with was school. With only months before graduation, it was clear I wasn’t getting into any colleges with my grades, let alone the Ivy Leagues my father had his sights set on. I had applied just about everywhere, but I couldn’t decide what I really wanted. Hollywood was all I knew, all I was comfortable with. But moving to the East Coast would give my dad and I a lot of freedom from each other. Mom had always encouraged me to try out a career in acting, but I was a terrible liar, and acting was pretty much the same thing. Besides, it’s a nerve-wracking job, and with my volatile British accent, my luckiest bet was an acting career in England. And that climate just isn’t for me.

If I wasn’t already worried enough about my future, my friends were beginning to pick up on something being wrong. I couldn’t even blame them. Jack had appeared into my life so suddenly, and hadn’t left my side since. Plus he was still set on doing his freaky secret service-style surrounding checks no matter where we were, as if Dr. D was going to come bouncing out of my locker and attack me. There was no way I could be around the girls and have to deal with the whole bodyguard situation.

“Where were you yesterday?” was the first question I was asked by Veronica before I had even made it to my locker.

“Oh,” I had replied, “Um, Anya forgot to separate the whites in the wash again so poor Jack didn’t have any clothes to wear. I had to go buy him some.”

Needless to say, my friends had both been skeptical about that excuse.

“Jack didn’t have any other colors he could have worn?” Aria had asked, giving me a funny look.

“He’s . . . crazy about his whites.”

Yet another reason for them not to believe me, considering Jack had worn a white t-shirt all but once since they’d met him.

“Oh,” Veronica had said. “I thought you were going to say it was because your mom was in town. I saw it online.”

Right. That would have been a pretty understandable excuse, but no. Jack wanted his whites.

Brendan, who had finally returned to school, was trying his best to keep his jealousy in check. Unfortunately for him, I was slowly starting to get used to Jack always being around, which wasn’t great for our “we’re just friends” campaign. I mean, we were just friends, but sometimes I felt like I could see us as more. It was a terrifying thought, considering I barely knew the guy. All I’d managed to pick up from short conversations was that he had a younger sister, Scarlett, his favorite color was grey, he was from New York and his favorite movie was Fight Club. He’d practically had a heart attack when I had told him I’d never seen it, but he’d never seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s so we called it even. Jack or no Jack, I was pretty convinced that Brendan and I were on the road to breakup. But there was never a good time to pull him aside and say “we need to talk, because this clearly isn’t working out, buddy.” So I kept up the charade, hoping that when the right time arrived, it would present itself.

It had been a few days since the police station misadventure, and I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. Mom had come in almost a half hour ago to tell me that her, Dad, and of course Kenny, were going out with Al and his wife Melissa, and that they’d be late. Personally, I thought it was nice how my parents could stay in the same house and keep mutual friends, even despite all their bad blood with the divorce. But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew a lot of that was to do with making sure Mike and I weren’t too mentally affected by their separation. Kids in Hollywood are crazy enough as it is. They didn’t need us blaming their broken relationship as an excuse for our behavior.

Not that I really even had time to do something crazy. I was too caught up with thoughts about Dr. D and the Dumpling Hospital. I couldn’t figure out why he was interested in me, and only me. It was my parents who were the famous ones, not me. I wasn’t part of the Kardashian family, where even the pets were celebrities. It didn’t really make any sense. My only claim to fame was my last name, and even that wasn’t reason enough to harass me.

The real problem was, Dad was being super sketchy about everything. Every time I asked him what he thought about the whole thing, he would just get mad at me or act like he was busy and he didn’t have time to talk. Who did he expect me to turn to in my time of need? Mr. Santa Claus guy from the bodyguard agency thing had made it pretty clear no one could know, which wasn’t exactly helping my wild curiosity about what had made Dad hire the bodyguards in the first place. Plus, it’s not like I could sit down with Jack and start telling him all of my concerns over margaritas and manicures.

When my half-assed attempts at getting up and doing something productive failed, I finally gave up and scooped up Famous, who was asleep next to me. Grabbing my phone, I made my way down to the TV room, walking in on Jack, Chris, and Mike sitting on the couch watching a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show from a few years ago.

“Really?” I asked, standing in front of the TV with a disapproving face.

“Yes, really!” Mike replied. “Now move.”

I put Famous down and moved away from the TV screen so that the boys could continue ogling the genetically flawless women.

“Move over,” I told Jack, putting my phone in the pocket of my shorts.

He pointed to the floor with a smile. “There’s a spot over there, next to Famous.”

I put my hands on my hips with a scowl. “Excuse me?”

Almost immediately, Chris rose from his seat, moved past Mike, and slowly sank onto a beanbag, leaving a space for me in between Mike and Jack.

“See,” I said, taking a seat in between the boys. “Chris is nice! Thanks, Chris!”

I suddenly remembered what Jack had said about Chris thinking I was hot and went a little rigid. I mean, it was totally flattering, but it was Jack I had my eye on, not Chris. No offense. He seemed great and all, but he wasn’t my type. Mostly because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure his vocabulary consisted of more than ten words. Jack clearly had the same thought as I did, because he grinned, mouthing the word aww.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. Don’t.”

“Is pizza okay for dinner, or should we ask one of the girls to make something?” I asked the boys.

“Pizza,” Jack and Mike said simultaneously.

I looked at Chris, sitting inches away. “Is pizza okay?” I said, almost encouragingly.

He gave me a nervous smile and shrugged. I took it as a yes.

“Mike,” I said. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Dad’s been going out a little extra since the bodyguards moved in?”

Mike shrugged, never moving his eyes away from the screen. “No.”

Wow. His helpfulness was overwhelming.

“Heard from the cops?” Jack asked.

“Why would I hear from Milo? I didn’t give him my number. Do you think he has access to that information?”

“Milo?” Jack pulled his eyes away from the TV and fixated them on me. “First name basis already?”

“He said his name was Milo! You were there for my humiliating milk comment.”

“Yeah, that was hilarious.”

“Well what should I call him then?”

“How about Cadet Fells?”

“How about,” Mike cut in. “You both take this conversation outside, and let me watch Adriana Lima in peace.”

There were a billion “how about” scenarios I had in mind for my brother, all ending in some form of violence. But instead of wasting my time and energy, Jack and I rose from the sofa and left the room without putting up a fight, leaving Chris, Mike and Famous to continue watching their favorite underwear models on a TV the size of a movie theater screen.

Jack and I headed to the kitchen, a place I happened to be spending way too much time in ever since the bodyguards had moved in. Being near the pantry seemed to be one of the only places that truly brought me peace. Jack went straight for the drinks fridge before I had even entered the room, opening a can of Sprite and handing me one. I placed my phone on the counter, opened my can and took a sip as Jack called for four large pizzas to be delivered. With a house full of boys, four probably wouldn’t have been enough. Anya was standing by the sink, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Gia,” she said. “Why you call for pizza? I make for you!”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Jack replied for me, hanging up the phone. “You and the rest of the girls do enough around the house! You deserve a night off.”

Anya smiled so widely, I was pretty much certain she was mentally filling out adoption papers to officially make Jack her son. She thanked him, said something in Russian, smiled some more and hurried out of the kitchen. Great. Evidently it wasn’t just me who was always on the verge of falling for Jack.

“How come you’re never that nice to me?” I said.

“When you learn to make chocolate chip cookies like Anya, I’ll be that nice to you.”

Fair enough, those chocolate chip cookies were the bomb. I took another sip of my drink, the cold can freezing my fingers. “Do you think the police have found anything on that Ao Jie Kai guy?” I asked Jack.

He shrugged and said, “Probably not. It’s only been a few days.”

“Well, should we do something to help speed up the process?”

Jack gulped down a large sip of Sprite, eyes bugged in alarm. “No,” he said, shaking his head fiercely. “Your last expedition got us into this mess!”

“What happened to ‘the more we find, the better it is,’ huh?” I placed my can on the countertop with more force than required.

“I take it back. I can’t be held responsible for your bad life choices.”

“My life choices are great, thank you very much!”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of my phone vibrating cut him off. I looked at the caller ID that told me it was Brendan calling.

“Dr. D?” Jack said, snapping into action and leaning in close.

“No, Brendan.”

“Even better!” he said with a smile.

Unfortunately for me, Jack has fantastic reflexes. Before I could move, he snatched my phone of the counter and swiped the screen to answer the call.

“No! Jack!”

“Gia’s phone,” he chimed, taking a huge step away from me.

“Jack!” I hissed. I climbed off the barstool I had been sitting on, launching myself at him.

“She’s a little occupied right now doing . . .” he smiled. “Things. Can I take a message?”

My jaw dropped, which was clearly the reaction he had been hoping for because it only widened his grin. I pushed Jack against the fridge and wrestled him for the phone. He was obviously stronger than I was, but he finally let me have it after he was done laughing.

“Hello!” I practically yelled into the phone.

Oh great, I sounded breathless from all my fighting with Jack. This wasn’t rubbing salt on the wound; it was taking the wound and pouring a four-pound bag of salt over it, and then jumping on it as if it were a personalized, salty bouncy castle.

“Gia?”

“Yeah, hi. I’m here.”

“What’s going on?” Brendan sounded reluctant, as if he really just wanted to hang up and never think about speaking again.

“Nothing much, we’re ordering pizza. In the kitchen. Fully dressed and standing yards away from each other. In fact, I don’t even know where Jack is? Huh, what’s that? Is that you Jack? Nope, it isn’t!”

I slapped a hand to my forehead and glowered at Jack, who wasn’t even attempting to muffle his laughter, his head leaning against the fridge for support. Brendan must have been on some intense drugs at the hospital when he had given Jack all that information about the catering for the party. There was no way these two were ever going to get along if one of them wasn’t heavily sedated.

“Right,” Brendan replied. I could practically hear his frown through the phone. “Listen, we need to talk.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying to sound as casual as I possibly could. “What’s up?”

I knew what was up. I couldn’t have been the only thing feeling like things weren’t working out. Brendan wasn’t Einstein, but he was smart enough to realize that something was off base. Only, I had always figured I’d be the one to doing the breaking up. Jack had finally calmed down his laughter, but was still smiling widely.

“Not right now.” Brendan’s voice came through the receiver. “Tomorrow at school.”

“Okay.”

“Cool. See you then.”

I hung up without saying bye, releasing Jack from my death grip and taking a few steps back.

“What was that about?” Jack asked, adjusting his shirt.

“Why can’t you be nice to him?” I demanded, ignoring his question.

“I am nice to him!” Jack replied.

“No you’re not! You were implying that you and I were . . .” I trailed off uncomfortably.

“Doing what?”

“You know.”

“Do I?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Hey,” Jack said. “I said you were ‘doing things.’ If he has a dirty mind then I can’t help that.”

I felt my phone vibrate in my hand, and I looked down, expecting it to be Brendan calling back and dropping in a casual “Oh hey, I forgot to tell you that I think Jack is an ass.” But the screen read No Caller ID.

“Jack!” I said, showing him the screen. “What if it’s Milo?”

“Don’t you have his number saved?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. But maybe it’s on private.”

Jack shrugged and reached for his drink. “Then answer it.”

Easy for him to say, but much harder for me to do. If it really was Milo on the other end, then that meant he probably had answers for us, which was kind of scary. But more importantly, I needed to make myself sound sexy over the phone.

“Hello?” I said into my phone, my voice husky and low. I glanced at Jack who had his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“What are you doing?” Jack whispered, and I pressed a finger to my lips motioning for him to be quiet.

“Guess who?”

The voice on the other end of the line was definitely not Milo, unless he had suddenly decided to get a creepy, robotic The Shining vibe about him.

“Hello?” I repeated, dropping my sultry voice. “Who is this?”

“An old friend,” the voice said.

I looked at Jack, who was giving me a quizzical look. He mouthed who is it, and I shrugged. The voice wasn’t clear at all. It was up and down, almost melodic in a strange way. Either the connection had decided to go crazy, or the voice on the line was auto tuned. Jack mouthed speaker to me, and I put the phone on loud speaker.

“Who is this?” I asked again, Jack coming up beside me.

“Oh I think you know, Gia.”

Jack and I looked at each other in realization. My eyes widened and looked back the phone with uncertainty.

“Oh my God! T-Pain? Is that you?”

Jack took a deep breath and turned around to face the fridge, making an action of banging his head against it in frustration. Clearly we weren’t on the same page about who the mystery caller was.

“Uh, no,” came the reply through the phone. “But good try. Let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. D.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth. Oh. My. God. He was calling me. He was actually talking to me in this weird, auto-tuned voice! It was definitely a guy; I could tell that much. Well, maybe. Probably. I looked at Jack nervously, and he nodded in reply, encouraging me to go on.

“W—What do you want?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“Oh, Gia,” came the robotic reply. “I don’t want much. But your dad took something from me, a long time ago. I think it’s time I got something back.”

“Like how long ago are we talking, here?” I said, eyes on Jack for validation. He gave me a warning look, but I ignored him. I was about to start babbling, and probably go British. It was too late to salvage the situation. “’Cause, if it was a really long time ago can’t we, like, just pretend it never happened and move on with our lives?”

Jack closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He had that look on his face again, the one that told me he was struggling not to strangle me. And fair enough, I was an idiot.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work for me Gia,” Dr. D said. “Pretending won’t get us anywhere.”

The auto-tune was really starting to get on my nerves, but whoever this guy was; he was doing a good job of keeping his identity hidden. Even if I did know who he was, I’d never be able to recognize his voice.

“Right-o,” I said, watching Jack shake his head in disbelief. “Uh, so what exactly did you want?”

“Oh I’ll get to that eventually, Gia. But for now, my concern is April twentieth. Save the date.”

April twentieth? That meant nothing to me. Was he telling me his birthday? Even worse, was he inviting me to some twisted, psychotic birthday party?

“W—What’s on the twentieth?” I asked, scared that this birthday party may have a theme.

“I would suggest leaving the police out of this matter, Gia.” Dr. D continued, ignoring my question. “There’s no need for this to get messy.”

A part of me wanted to poop my pants but a very large part of me wanted to laugh. I couldn’t stop imagining T-Pain on the other end of the line, with his dark sunglasses and huge hat. I’d seen the guy on talk shows before and he was super nice. There was no way he was stalking me, but the image in my mind was hilarious.

Jack and I looked at each other as we waited for him to continue. There was an eerie silence hanging over us, as if we were all quietly waiting for the worst of it to come. A few seconds passed and I checked to see if we were still on the line. We were, but he just wasn’t talking.

“Hello?” I said, just to make sure he was still there.

“Here’s to getting what we deserve.”

And the line went dead.