Page 81 of Malibu Rising

But then, three weeks ago, she saw someone named Nina Riva on the cover ofNow This. It said she was the daughter of Mick Riva and lived in Malibu, California. And Casey thought,Malibu isn’t very far at all.

Before her parents died, Casey had been accepted at UC Irvine to start in the fall. After her parents died, she knew going away to college was the only thing she had left in the world. College would have to be where she began again.

But after she packed up her truck and headed for freshman orientation, Casey drove past the entrance for the 15 South that would take her to Irvine. She found herself getting on the 10 West, headed for Malibu.

What am I doing?she thought.Do I think I’m just going to somehow find this Nina Riva person?

Still. She kept driving.

When she hit the coastline, she drove up and down PCH trying to find the grocery store in the photo. The one Nina had been walking out of.

In the article it had said that Nina and her three siblings had lost their mother almost ten years before. And when she looked at the photo of Nina again, she detected sadness in her eyes, perhaps a world-weariness. Casey figured she was probably imagining it. But still, she reasoned, Nina must know how it felt to lose a parent.

There aren’t many grocery stores in Malibu. It wasn’t long before Casey found the right one. She walked in and stood in line withnothing in her hands. When she got to the cashier she said, “Sorry to bother you. Do you know Nina Riva?”

The cashier shook her head. “I mean, I’ve seen her but I don’t know her.”

Casey tried this with every cashier she saw, as well as the butcher, the entire bakery department, and the shift manager. Until finally someone said, “Why don’t you just go to Riva’s Seafood?”

Casey drove out to the restaurant she’d just learned about, parked her car, and walked in. She stared at every single customer, every single server. She went up to the counter. “Is Nina here?”

A blond woman with a name tag that saidWENDYlooked up at her and shook her head. “No, sorry, hun.”

Dejected, Casey walked out to her truck. She was crazy! Driving to Malibu? Trying to track down a famous model with a famous father? That’s what stalkers do!

Casey backed out of the parking lot and turned south. She stopped at a gas station to fill her tank, trying to decide if she was filling it up to go home or to go to her first day of school in Irvine or to drive off a cliff.

She got out of the car and asked the cashier to put twenty dollars on pump number two. She went back to her car and put the nozzle in her gas tank and pressed the trigger on the hose. Which is when Casey overheard two men at the pump next to her.

“Are you going to the Riva party tomorrow night?” the tall one asked.

“No doubt, man.”

“Let me get that address from you.”

The second man laughed as he pulled the nozzle out of his gas tank. “Craig, you know if you don’t know the address you aren’t invited.”

“So give me the address, what’s it to you?”

“Everyone in Malibu is going to be there and you’re gonna be sitting on your ass alone ’cause you don’t know where Nina lives.”

“Dude, give me the address. You owe me after I hooked that shit up for you with the girl from Gladstones.”

After that, the second man spouted the address like money coming out of an ATM: “28150 Cliffside Drive.”

There it was. Casey had come all that way and fate had provided. She had slept in her truck that night, parked on the side of the road on the coastline. And then this morning, she had gone through all of her packed clothes and pulled out the only decently cool dress she owned.

And here she was.

• • •

“Who did you say your mother was?” Nina asked.

As Nina had listened to Casey’s story, her mouth had gone dry. She started doing calculations in her head based on how old this girl was. She’d have been born after Mick left the final time. And Nina had no idea what messes her father had gotten into since then. So she was about as much of an expert about this as Casey herself.

“I actually don’t know that much about her,” Casey said. “All I know is that her name was Monica Ridgemore. She died giving birth to me, I think.” Casey pulled her purse open and took out the photo, handing it to Nina.

“She was really young when she had me,” Casey said. “I mean, she was as old as I am now.”

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