by Ni-Ni Simone
She moved my hand away. “Because I thought we were friends? But, then again, you just confirmed what I already knew. I don’t have any.”
She turned to walk away, leaving me standing there. And just as she was about to open the door I dug into my bag and pulled out the Swarvoski-studded special edition bottle of Rose Alize I had bought, holding it up to the sun so that she could see the two-thousand-dollar bling and said, “Hey Heather, how about we wipe the bulletin board clean and make up over drinks?” She hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder at me, narrowing her eyes. I smiled and batted my lashes. “Pretty please.”
She paused. Took deep breaths, opened the door and said, “Come in.”
9
London
My cell rang. I grabbed it and glanced at the screen. Oh God, it’s the drama queen! I stared at my phone for a few seconds contemplating whether or not to answer. Especially since, dealing with Rich outside of Hollywood High was not the plan. I mean, really. Girlfriend had yanked my lifelines down. Stuck a Krazy Straw into my vein and siphoned out my emotional cup. I was drained. And exhausted from the drama ride I’d been forced to endure. Oh, no. I wanted no parts of her until tomorrow morning, when I had to deal with her. Otherwise, the rest of my night was already mapped out in my gorgeous head.
Starting with the luxurious bath I’d already drawn with my guiltiest pleasure—six feet, two-hundred-and-ten pounds of sweet, milk chocolate—who awaited me in my master bathroom suite, naked and ready.
But, before I could indulge I had to retreat to the wet bar and bring up another bottle of Perrier-Jouët champagne, toss back a few more flutes, slide down into the tub with him, then crawl up in my king-sized Baldacchino Supreme bed—the bed of all beds to make hot passionate love to my prince atop thousand-count sheets threaded with 22-carat gold. Oh, yes . . . it was going to be nonstop, body-rocking, spring-bouncing lovemaking going on up in here.
Then my prince and I would go down to the spa-style steam room so that I could continue to purify myself from the three toxins I had encountered earlier today: Rich, Spencer, and Heather. Ahhh, Wu-Wu’s in the house! I shuddered. What ahhh hot mess! Ugh!
And lastly, after the spa, my sexy chocolate-drop and I would take a dip in the indoor, Olympic-size pool—naked of course—and make sweet love all over again.
Therefore talking on the phone to Rich was not in any way, shape, or form anywhere on my radar.
Thank God the phone stopped ringing and just as I went to turn it off, it rang again.
Rich.
I thought about sending her straight to voice mail, but then I remembered how she’d gotten down and dirty with me today, and maybe I did owe her at least one very limited phone conversation. I took a deep breath, glanced over at the French bathroom doors that held my prize behind them, then braced myself.
“Hello.”
The drama started immediately. “Get your couture right, girl!” she yelled into my ear. “Get your stilettos out! Get your diamonds out! Let’s go. Let’s get it, get it! Because Hollywood is not gonna be the same after tonight! We’re ’bout to shut it down, girl. It’s over! Whoop-whoop! Lights out! Let’s paint the town pink and make da booty clap-clap!”
What in the hell?! Apparently she is always on ten.
“Rich, what are you talking about?”
“Uh, hello?” She knocked against the phone. “Hello? Are you brain-dead, boo? I’m talking about hitting the club, girl. Let’s party! Let’s pop bottles! Let’s celebrate!”
I can’t believe this.
I blinked. “Rich, I’m trying to unwind. And here you’re rambling like you need a bottle of Zoloft. You’re talking a mile a minute about couture and diamonds and popping bottles, while we get it, get it and make the booty clap, clap. And I’m trying to relax and unwind. Clearly, one of these things is not like the other.”
“Ewww, you did not quote Sesame Street, did you, girl? Oh my, clutching pearls. You really need to hit the scene. You can’t go around saying things like that or you’ll be dubbed the slow queen. And how would your publicist fix that—”
“Rich—”
“Now listen, we are too fine, too fly, and too damn fabulous to be sitting up in the house. We’re about to boom, bust it. Pop it. Shake it. I’m ready to . . . own it. Serve it. Drop it down to the floor and work it. Get sexy with it—”
“Rich! I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m just trying to get my mind right and digest all the craziness from earlier today—”
“Beep, beep! Pull over for a minute, boo. And let me take the wheel ’cause obviously you’re too busy driving down memory lane. What happened earlier is yesterday’s news, that’s not even on the Internet anymore. That is sooooo, seven hours and twenty-seven seconds ago! It’s already forgotten, boo. So get over it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get over it? Girl, are you serious? I had some boy wearing pink heels and a godforsaken pink-haired ostrich coat toss a damn smoothie in my face, then I had to beat him down—”
“We beat him down—”
“You know what I mean. And then on top of that I had to toss out a hundred grand—”
“Small change. And besides we don’t discuss money. We leave that for the newbies. I mean, really. You’re stressing over a measly hundred grand? Please. We shop that away.”
“The point is today was a mess!”
Rich huffed. “Look, we handled Hello Kitty. So snap out of it! Yeah, we had to tear up the café. But oh well. Miss Co-Co Lo Mein had to get it. And you know it, so stop with all the whining, girl. He had no business trying to breathe in the same air as us. “
“Still—”
“Snap-snap! Still, nothing, girlfriend. Let it go. The only thing we’re gonna steal is a good damn time. Now this conversation is already old. So pull up your big-girl panties and—”
Click!
I disconnected the call. There was no way I could keep listening to that mess. Hmph, I was about to pop-pop-get-get all right! “Coming, boo!” I yelled toward the bathroom. Yet, before I could say anything more my cell rang. Again.
She’s baaaack. I sent her straight to voice mail. And a few seconds later she called back again. Oh, for the love of God! This girl is relentless! “Hello.”
“Girl, were we disconnected?”
“Yeah. Bad connection,” I lied.
“Well, we’re reconnected, boo. So let’s get it, get it! What we need to do now is get out and pop, lock, and drop it. And I have just the spot.”
I need an Excedrin. This girl is about to wear me out!
“Rich, not tonight. Maybe—”
“Maybe you should hurry up and get ready. I’ll be there at eight.”
I huffed. “No.”
“No? Oh, no boo. I don’t understand the word no. What language is that? Ebonics?”
I sighed. “No, it’s universal. And it’s a part of the Rosetta Stone collection. It’s used in all languages. And no means, no, I don’t want to go out tonight.”
“Ummm, noooo, it doesn’t. I don’t know a Rosetta Stone, but I know Rich Montgomery, boo. And that word doesn’t exist in my dictionary. I only know yes, I can and I will. Outside of that it’s sí and oui. So I’ll see you in a few hours. We’re shutting Hollywood down tonight!” Click!
I blinked, blinked again. Whatever, she can come over here if she wants to, she’ll be waiting all night long. . . .
I turned my cell off, then stepped out of my clothes, removed my black-laced bra while keeping on the matching thong. I slipped into a pair of seven-inch, red-bottom platform pumps, then strutted my way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
“Damn, yo ... what took you so long—” My prince looked up, taking in my beauty. He licked his lips. “Now, that’s wassup. ’Bout time you get in here and handle ya man. Who were you on the phone with?”
“Who else?” I said as I dimmed the recessed lights. “The attention whore herself.”
He eyed me, leaning back in the oversized tub. “So we still on?”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. I just need for everything to happen at the right time.”
He sat up and pulled me toward him. “You need to make it happen soon.”
“I will.”
We kissed until I felt myself starting to overheat, getting lost in the moment.
He smiled, splashed water up on me. “So you gonna get in this tub, or what? Ya man wants some company.”
I giggled, stepped out of my heels. My whole body filled with excitement. “You take them panties off,” I teased, slipping a foot into the steamy water, then quickly pulling it back out and turning toward the door. I placed my hand on the knob. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yo, where are you going?” he asked.
“I don’t remember if I locked my bedroom door. I don’t need the house manager slipping in here. She tells everything.”
“London—”
I turned back toward my baby and softly placed a finger up to his lips. “Sssh.” I gave him a kiss, then poured him another glass of champagne. I handed him the flute. “I’ll be right back.” I walked out into the powder room area of my bathroom, staring into the mirror. I smiled at my reflection. Life was good! No, wait ... better than good. It was great! No, scratch that. It was fantabulous!
I opened the bathroom door, stepped out into my bedroom, walked into the sitting area of the room to grab some candles and I . . . almost . . . died. “Ohmygod, Daddy!” I screamed. “You scared me!” My heart skipped four beats.
He sat on the edge of my chaise lounge in his custom-tailored blue pinstriped suit and his monogrammed white shirt. His Hermès tie hung loosely around his neck. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Where are your clothes?”
Oh sweet merciful Jesus! Someone please roll out my coffin now, so I can throw myself in it! I am sooooo dead! I threw an arm up over my breasts, trying to cover them. “Daddy, give me a sec to put something on.” I quickly spun around and raced back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I ran into the tub and shower area. “Ohmygod, my father’s here.”
“Whaaat?!” my guilty pleasure snapped, hopping up from the tub. “Oh, daaaaaamn!”
“Sssh. Keep it down. Are you crazy? Do you want him to hear you?” I tried really hard to stay focused and keep my eyes from roaming his nude body. Under different circumstances I’d be ready to set if off, dropping down and licking the drops of water rolling down his body. But, my life flashed before my eyes so I checked my hormones, fast. I threw a towel at him, grabbing him by the arm. “I have to hide you.” I opened the linen closet. “In here.”
He gave me a confused look. “Are you serious? Look at me. You expect me to squeeze all of this body into that little closet.”
“Either that or start writing your eulogy. ’Cause you know if my father catches you in here he is going to kill us both.”
He huffed, stuffing himself inside the closet. “Can I at least dry—” I quickly kissed him, then shut the door in his face. I grabbed a robe, pulled a deep breath in, then stepped back out into my bedroom, practically out of breath. I slowly walked over to where Daddy sat and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Daddy, what are you doing here?”
He eyed me. “I live here.”
I pushed out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, Daddy. I know that. I meant I’m surprised to see you. I thought you weren’t getting back until the end of the week.”
He leaned forward in his seat. “You mind telling me what you’re doing half-naked at”—he glanced at his watch—“four o’clock in the afternoon?”
I felt my face crack, then explode into tiny little pieces. “I-I-I . ..”
“Take your time. Better yet, have a seat while you get your story together.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll stand.”
“No. I said take a seat.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat in the chair across from him. “Now, you were saying . . .” He interlocked his fingers, then cracked his hands back. I blinked. Uh-oh! Daddy only cracked his fingers like that when he was about to go off.
Think, girl!
“Daddy, you have no idea the kind of day I had. I’ve been cramping like crazy ever since I got home from all the drama.”
“Try me.”
“That school is a zoo, Daddy. First thing this morning, the fire alarm went off and we had to be dragged out of homeroom and stand outside for almost forty-five minutes. The firemen, police, and paramedics were all out there. Then I found out that girl, Spencer, you want me to be friends with was the one who pulled the fire alarm.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Oh God, Daddy! Then she attacked that actress girl, Heather, during lunch because Heather’s mother gave Spencer some perfume that smelled like cat piss. I couldn’t believe it! That Spencer chick jumped up and maced her out of nowhere.” I shook my head. “It was nonstop drama, Daddy. The whole mess had my stomach in knots. I just needed to get home, take me a nice hot bath and unwind. Those girls at Hollywood High are crazy.”
“London, stop with all the theatrics. You’re not any different from them.”
I frowned. “Daddy, I beg your pardon. I’m nothing like those girls. They keep a lot of drama stirred up. I’m telling you, they’re nuts.”
“Then explain to me how your face ended up being plastered all over the front page of every online magazine with your breasts hanging out of your blouse.”
I blinked. Ohmygod, Thanks to Rich, I pressed the send button to my own grave. “This boy in pink heels and make-up tossed a smoothie in my face.” He tilted his head, giving me a look of disbelief. “I’m serious, Daddy. He calls himself Co-Co Ming. And he attacked me.”
He stood up. “I don’t want to hear another word of this nonsense. You’ve managed to get yourself caught up in a bunch of nonsense on the first day of school. You know better than that. Then you had the nerve to drag Rich Montgomery into your mess.”
“Rich? Umm, excuse you. Are you serious? Newsflash, Daddy: Rich Montgomery was the one who set it all off. This was all her mess!”
“Watch your mouth. And watch your tone, young lady. Do not put any of that mess on her. I know you. And I know how your mouth and attitude can be. So stop with the Miss Innocent act. Rich’s father is one of my highest paying clients. You do understand that, right?”
“But I wasn’t doing anything.”
“London, that’s not what I asked you. I am not going to have what happened back in New York happen here, do you understand? That whole fiasco cost me millions of dollars.”
“Daddy, this is different. You want me to be friends with girls I don’t even like. They’re effen crazy! I know Spencer’s mother is also another one of your clients, but I’m sorry, Daddy. She’s about as dumb and dizzy as a pail of seashells. That chick Heather looks like she’s a walking billboard for rehab or a loony bin. And Rich likes to call the media on herself. Who in the hell calls the damn media on themselves? Ding, ding, ding . . . Rich, the attention whore, who else! And these are the girls you want me to hang out with. Ugh, I can’t get with these crazy-behind girls and all of their histrionics. It is too extra for me. I have got to get back to New York, Daddy. Please.”
“You’re not going back to New York so you might as well get that idea out of your pretty little head. You understand me?”
“But Daddy,” I pouted and folded my arms across my chest.
“It’s not going to work. And another thing, why has Anderson been on my phone complaining about not hearing from you?”
“Because he hasn’t heard from me,” I said sarcastically.
“And why is that?”
“Because I don’t want—”
“London, let me explain something to you, it’s not abou
t what you want. It’s about the life your mother and I have planned for you. I have let you get away with far too many things, which is part of the reason we had to move across the country. Therefore I will not listen to anything that you don’t want, because you will do what I tell you to do and that is not up for negotiation. Nor is this a debate.”
Silence.
A few seconds later the house phone rang and Daddy walked over to the cordless phone that sat on the table. “So you might as well settle in.” He handed me the phone. “Starting with your new friends. It’s Rich Montgomery. Maybe she wants to hang out. Show you around your new hometown.”
I stared at his hand. Little does he know.
“I mean it, London. Don’t try me.”
I rolled my eyes and took the phone from him. “Hello? Yeah,” I paused. “Okay, see you at eight so we can bust it.” I rolled my eyes at my father and quickly hurried back into the bathroom and locked the door before he could say anything more. Once I heard my bedroom door close I let my prince out of the closet.
My poor baby was all bunched up. “He’s finally gone,” I said with a drag.
“Damn, you had me all up in there bent up like a damn pretzel. Any longer and I was gonna end up with scoliosis.”
“Look. My dad wants me to hang out with Rich tonight. But I don’t want to.”
He kissed me on the lips. “Nah. You need to go. Put that work in so we can get it poppin’.”
I poked my lips out. “But I want to finish up what we started. I need you so bad, boo. I’ve missed you so much.”
He pulled me into him. “And I want you, too, but in order for us to be together I need you to handle that tonight. So go hang with your peeps. I’ma lay low until you get back. You just need to sneak me up some grub.”
“I can arrange that,” I said as I untied my bathrobe and let it fall off my shoulders. “But can we at least get a quickie in before I have to get ready?”
He grinned, dropping his towel. “Oh, no doubt, baby. I’m all yours.”
10
Rich
Melanie Fiona’s “4 AM” played softly through the surround sound as I sat Indian-style in the center of my oval king-sized bed, beneath the glittering lights of my crystal chandelier. I did my all to focus on why my boyfriend Corey’s text clearly read that he’d be home from Belize tomorrow, but my private eye said that he’d arrived yesterday and was in the club boom-bustin’ it up tonight.
