California Schemin': Book One in the Malibu Mayhem Trilogy (12 page)

“In other words, you’re a shallow, vapid
loser
!” Roland said, emphasizing the last word.

“Loser! Loser! Loser!” the others chorused before Bess could reply.

I looked up at Bess. She seemed to be taking it amazingly well. She smiled and nodded at the insults being hurled.

“Thanks, you guys,” Bess said when the shouting was over. “I feel better already.”

“You were able to take that?” I whispered after Bess sat down.

“Sure.” She shrugged. “Look who’s saying it, Nancy—
Roland
!”

But Daisy wasn’t doing so great. I could see her hanging her head.

Oh, help
, I thought.
When will this be over?

After each guest had been “confronted,” Roland spoke again.

“All the new members have passed our most difficult challenges,” he declared. “So everyone in this room is ready to board the Renewal Cruise.” Cheers filled the room. He continued, “We’ll sail tonight at seven o’clock sharp.”

As we left the room, the others chatted about the cruise.

“I’ve been on a Renewal Cruise before,” Danielle said.

“Is it on the yacht?” I asked.

Danielle nodded. “There’s food, music, meditation, and personal growth exercises.”

“What does that mean?” Bess asked.

“You’ll find out,” Danielle said with a tiny smile.

She hobbled away to the dining room for lunch, her foot still injured.

“Food, music,” I said quietly. “And…garbage?”

“Do you think we’ll be sailing with those bags?” Bess asked.

“As Danielle said, we’ll find out,” I replied. “In the meantime, let’s see if that garbage is still outside.”

We passed the spa rooms on our way outside. Instead of garbage, I smelled scented candles and fresh flowers.

“Oh, wow. Look!” Bess said. She pointed to a door marked
SPRAY-TANNING BOOTH
. “I always wanted to see one of those.”

We stepped inside the unattended room and looked around. The spray-tanning booth wasn’t hard to find. It was a huge glass cylinder with a sliding door. The glass was frosted blue, making it privately opaque.

“These are practically retro,” Bess explained. “Nowadays most people get tanned with handheld sprayers.”

“How does it work?” I asked.

“The spray nozzles must be inside,” Bess said. She slid the door open and stepped inside. “Let’s check it out. There’s room for two in here.”

“You want me to go inside there?” I asked. “What if it starts to spray?”

“The controls are on the
outside
,” Bess said. “Come on, Nancy. Hurry up and get in!”

I could see the controls Bess was talking about. “Okay,” I finally said, and went inside. “But let’s make it fast, before a Lotus or Ivy or Cinnamon shows up. We don’t want to get kicked out of the retreat.”

Bess turned slowly, checking out the apparatus.

“Those must be the nozzles,” she said, pointing to what looked like regular shower nozzles. “I think they move up and down as they spray, so they get every part of your—”

SLAM!

A light flashed on as Bess and I whirled around. The glass door had slid shut. Bess grabbed the handle on the inside and gave it a pull.

“Great!” she grunted as she tugged at the handle. “The door won’t open. Now what do we do?”

I was about to call for help when I heard a loud
WHOOOSH!

Bess and I shrieked: Nozzles went off at us, spewing spray tan at full blast!

Without goggles to protect my eyes, I squeezed them shut. “Besssss!” I screamed. “Shut this thing off!”

“I don’t know how!” she shouted back. I could hear her fists pounding on the door. “It’s run from the
outside
, remember?”

“Great!” I cried above the whooshing noise. I started pounding on the booth too, shouting for help.

After about sixty seconds, the door slid open a
crack. I reached my arm out and opened it the whole way.

Bess and I tumbled out of the booth. I gasped. We were covered in a slick, orangey spray from head to toe.

“Oh, no,” I cried. “Look at us!”

I heard footsteps outside. I ran to the door and looked out—racing away was Mia Casabian!

“Mia, stop!” I called.

But she kept running. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I would have chased her.

“It was
Mia
who locked us in,” I said as I went back into the room.

“Why would she do that?” Bess said, shaking her head. “She’s supposed to be the sensible and nice Casabian.”

“Because she’s protecting Roland?
Or herself?
Mallory and Mandy were right when they said Mia’s a different person. She’s frightening,” I answered. “Look at us. Our skin is ruined and so are our clothes.”

“How did Mia even trap us?” Bess wondered, examining the sliding door. “There’s no lock on the outside.”

“She could have used this.” I spotted a broom on the floor next to the booth and picked it up. I slid it through the door handle and tried to pull the door open.

“This does the trick,” I said as I took the broomstick out and leaned it against the booth.

“Was she
spying
on us?” Bess asked.

I nodded at the door and whispered, “Speaking of spies…”

Inge was standing in the doorway, her eyes burning.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded. “The spa equipment is not to be handled by guests.”

I was tempted to tell Inge that we’d been locked in the booth but changed my mind. For all we knew, she was in on it. We couldn’t risk being kept from the cruise that night.

“Sorry,” I said, shrugging. “We were just curious.”

“I hope this stuff comes off,” Bess said, raising a rust-colored arm.

My skin started to itch as Bess and I followed Inge down the hall. Amber, another employee, greeted us in a room equipped with showers and stainless-steel bathtubs.

“Too much of a good thing?” Amber asked. “Don’t ask,” I said.

The moment Inge left, Amber got to work soaking and scrubbing us until just a slight trace of the orangey film remained. Since our clothes were beyond repair, Amber presented us with complimentary “Roland’s Renewal” T-shirts and shorts.

“Let’s go to our rooms and change for the cruise,”
I told Bess. “The last thing I want to wear is this scary logo.”

We didn’t get far.

Cinnamon was blocking the door, a tray in her hands.

No doughnuts or soda here.

Instead, smack in the middle of the tray were hypodermic needles!

Two of them.

“
H
ello, girls,” Cinnamon said, grinning. “I have your high-energy vitamin serum.”

“I thought you were a manicurist,” I said, my eyes still on the needles.

“I do whatever Roland asks me to do,” Cinnamon replied.

Bess and I traded a glance. The spa in the front
was
a setup for the retreat in the west wing.

Cinnamon lifted the tray. “Who’s first?” she asked.

I knew Bess was thinking exactly what I was.
How do we avoid those shots?

“Thanks, Cinnamon.” I smiled. “We already had our vitamins this morning.”

“It didn’t say that on your charts,” Cinnamon said, taking another step forward.

“Actually, we’re phobic,” I blurted. “Can we please see how long the needles are before we take the shots?”

“I suppose.” Cinnamon shrugged.

As I leaned over to study them, my arm “accidentally” knocked the tray out of her hands.

“Oh, no!” Cinnamon cried after the needles had clattered onto the floor. “They were sterile until now.”

“Later!” Bess said to Cinnamon with a little wave. “Nancy and I have to change for the cruise.”

We shot past her and practically ran to our rooms. Once inside, Bess flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

“That was close,” she said. “What about the others? Shouldn’t we tell Mandy and Mallory that their sister is being injected with that drug?”

“Not yet,” I said. “We’ll contact the police when the time is right.”

“Nancy, if we don’t get the police here soon, we’ll
never
help Mia or the others,” Bess said.

“Roland is a pro. He’ll just trick the police into thinking this is a harmless self-help spa.”

“I guess,” Bess said.

“That’s why the garbage bags with the needles are vital,” I said. “If we can get evidence that the retreat is dumping trash in the ocean, it’ll blow the whistle on everything else in this place.”

Bess closed her eyes to take a rest. I texted George, telling her about the cruise. She answered immediately:
IF U NEED ME SOS!

I was about to rest myself when there was a knock on our door. Bess sat straight up.

“Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me, Daisy,” a soft voice replied.

Bess got up and opened the door. Daisy’s face was pale and her hair disheveled.

“Come on in,” Bess said, whisking her into the room and shutting the door. “Are you okay? I hate to say it, but you look awful.”

“I know, I know.” Daisy sighed as she sat down on my bed. “We just had the most awful workshop.”

“Workshop?” I asked, sitting next to her.

“Roland had a table covered with the most awesome-looking chocolates,” Daisy explained. “And me being such a foodie—I mean pig—I couldn’t wait to try some.”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Bess said.

“Not exactly,” Daisy said. “I bit into a chocolate and thought I’d die. They were filled with wasabi and jalapeno peppers!”

“Are you serious?” Bess cried.

“I hope you spit it out, Daisy,” I said.

“Roland wouldn’t let us. He kept shouting at us to feel the fire in our bellies. All I could feel was the fire in my mouth,” Daisy said.

I placed my arm around Daisy’s shoulder. Another crazy and dangerous workshop led by Roland.

“I know I was a Roland worshipper when I got here,” Daisy admitted. “But I don’t want to be around him anymore. All I want to do is go home.”

I was glad that Daisy was coming to her senses. But there was still something I didn’t get.

“Why did you come to us?” I asked.

“I could tell you weren’t crazy about the place either,” Daisy explained. “Will you leave the retreat with me?”

I wished Bess and I could leave, but we couldn’t. We also couldn’t tell Daisy the real reason we were here. “We’re going to stay until the end of the program, Daisy,” I said gently. “But don’t let that stop you.”

“Yeah,” Bess agreed. “Just pack your things, go downstairs, and leave.”

“The retreat took my money when I got here.” Daisy sighed. “How will I get home? My mom lives in Denver.”

I didn’t think Bess and I could help Daisy in any way. Then I had an idea.

“Daisy, go the house next door and introduce yourself to George,” I said.

“George?” Daisy repeated. “Is he your brother? Boyfriend?”

Bess giggled and said, “George is a girl. Her real name is Georgia—but don’t tell her I told you.”

“George will let you call your mom so you can arrange a way home,” I explained. “You can stay with her until you figure something out.”

I pulled out my phone and found a picture of George. “Here.” I showed it to Daisy. “This is what she looks like. I’ll text her to let her know you’re coming.”

“You have a phone in here?” Daisy gasped. “I thought we weren’t allowed to have phones.”

“Let’s just say we beat the system,” I said with a smile.

“Thanks, you guys!” Daisy exclaimed. She hugged both Bess and me. “I’ll sneak out before the cruise.”

“Wait a minute,” I said as Daisy headed toward the door. “What about your friend Terrence? Doesn’t he want to go with you?”

“Terrence suddenly likes this lame retreat,” Daisy said sadly. “Go figure.”

As Daisy slipped out of the room I whispered, “Good luck.”

I texted George to give her the heads-up on Daisy.
WHAT ABOUT MIA?
George texted back.
BRAINWASHED
, was all I replied.

At least Daisy was being rescued. I looked up from my phone and smiled. “One down. Now let’s get ready for that mystery cruise.”

“Glad you could make it!” Roland said as he greeted everyone on the beach. He was standing about ten feet away from the big covered tent, wearing khaki shorts, a Hawaiian aloha shirt, and a shiny silver admiral’s whistle around his neck.

In their island wear, Ralph and Linda resembled the Howells from
Gilligan’s Island
. It was hard to tell if the couple was loopy from “vitamin” injections or just being themselves.

Roland began checking names on a clipboard. For the first time since we began the program, Terrence was standing alone.

“I’m glad Daisy got away,” I pointed out. “But poor Terrence.”