Hollywood High

by Ni-Ni Simone

London wasn’t talking to me. She paced from one end of the holding cell to the other, mumbling to herself. We had on no shoes and our clothes were tattered.

  I was curled in the corner on a cold, steel bench. There was mud caked between my toes and somebody in here had an odor. It was only two of us in the cell and I smelled like Prada Candy parfum.

  I was too afraid to move, and London hadn’t stopped pacing long enough to even console me, after all I’d been through today.

  How selfish.

  I had a good mind to tell her off, but I couldn’t uncurl myself long enough. I may have been in jail but my mother was going to be the one who shanked me! This was not the plan she had in mind for me. And all London kept mumbling about was her daddy. Which I didn’t understand, because if he was a lawyer he should’ve been getting us out of here.

  I tried to suppress my cry but I couldn’t help but wail.

  “SHUT UP OVER THERE!”

  “Did you just tell me to shut up? Oh, you have anger issues. This is why we’re in here in the first place.”

  I had to get out of here. This place was the size of a shoebox. A cheap one. I swear I could stretch my arms and touch both walls at the same time. And the walls, oh . . . my . . . God... were chipped, painted gray, with “Pookie’s World” etched into the paint. There was a dirty little metal sink tucked in the corner and a nasty toilet with brown water sitting out in the open. No door. No draperies to cover up your business. And no toilet paper in sight.

  My Gawd.

  Clutching pearls.

  Until I met this New Yorker I’d never been arrested before and now I was a criminal, with the electric chair and some big burly woman with hairy arms and whiskers forcing me to wash her dirty drawers in my future.

  “Ohmygod . . . Ohmygod . . . I can’t breathe!”

  London spun around on her bare heels and charged over to me! She grabbed my face between her index finger and thumb and squeezed my cheeks. She clenched her jaw and said, “Do you want your face slapped again! Huh? Well then shut up!”

  I opened my mouth and screamed, “I’m in here with the devil!”

  London let my face go, backed up, and said, “You’re really pushing it! Over there whining and complaining and my father is going to murder me! Cold. Blooded. Murder.” She arched her brow. “And when I die, I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your damn life. I had enough of you and your ruckus! I have never been locked up before.”

  I gasped and placed my hand in front of my mouth in theatrical shock. “Really, London! I thought all you New Yorkers went to jail, at least once.”

  She narrowed her eyes, still inches away from my face. “Keep it up and I’m going to take your face and mop up this dirty floor with it!”

  “Ahhhhh!” I screamed and sweat instantly ran over my forehead. “London! What’s that critter crawling across your feet!”

  London looked down at her feet and shrieked. She hopped up on the bench with me, grabbed my hands, and we screamed, rocking back and forth.

  “I’m so sorry, Rich!” London cried.

  “I’m so sorry, too, London. What did we let Spencer get us into?”

  London contorted her face and sniffed. She paused, cleared her throat, and scooted back a little. “That conniving, ratchet, head-boppin’ sleaze! She set us up. She crashed into the ditch intentionally.”

  “She knew I was an attention whore! And she knew I would call the media!” I attempted to wipe my eyes but realized that my hands were filthy. Nasty. Dirty. And the beds of my fingernails were black. I did all I could to keep myself calm. “Had she never slept with my boyfriend none of this would have ever happened!”

  “No, had your boyfriend not slept with your friend this would have never happened! You know he seduced Spencer!”

  “She was still wrong.”

  “She was but she’s not smart enough to be that devious!”

  “You’re right. That’s why I had to take it to his chest and you followed up and cock-popped his eye in! Blood everywhere!”

  “But you didn’t have to snatch that microphone and bust him in the face with it.”

  “I told you I was going to peel his face off. What did you think was going to happen?!”

  “I just thought—”

  “Phillips, Montgomery, get your stuff and let’s go!” I blinked and blinked again, as a police officer marched herself in front of the cell and opened the door. London turned her back and I sat up, crossed my legs, and said, “We’re not going anywhere with you. You’ve been nasty to us ever since we’ve been in here and I’ve had enough! And as soon as we leave here we will be suing the state, the police department, and you personally for treating us the way that you have! Trust. You will be brought to your knees!”

  London twisted back around toward the officer and cocked her neck for confirmation. “We are not common trash!”

  “Okay, you must not want to leave,” the police officer said. “Enjoy your new cell mate!”

  Don’t ask me how or where this girl came from, but out of nowhere appeared this six-foot-tall, four-hundred-pound, no, four-hundred-and-fifty-five-pound, Rick-Ross-looking chick with the biggest hands I’ve ever seen. She looked at London and me and growled. Mean-mugged us. London and I grabbed hands, said a silent prayer, and put our game faces on.

  The officer slammed the door. “I’ll let your lawyer know that the two of you are not ready to leave.”

  “Oh no, we never said that!” London and I said simultaneously as we hopped up and slid past the Incredible Hulk, who looked me over and took a seat.

  As the officer opened the door to let us out I looked at Rick Ross and said, “Yeah, you’re lucky I’m leaving! ’Cause my name is Rasheeda and I’m in here for murder!”

  16

  London

  Our Father who art in heaven . . .

  I lowered my head.

  “Mr. Phillips, you don’t know how happy I am that you freed me and London from Alcatraz. That place was horrid.”

  I look to you as I weep...

  Please give me a chance to freshen up . . .

  Before Daddy lays me down to eternal sleep...

  I pray the Lord my soul to keep...

  “Is that so?” Daddy said, slicing me with a side-eye glare as he gripped the steering wheel of his Maybach and zigzagged through the streets of Hollywood. I looked down at what was left of my one-of-a-kind designer blouse to see how much blood I had lost so far. This was like the third time Daddy had cut me with his eyes. And the gashes in my flesh were deep, jagged reminders that it was soon to be lights out for me. I shifted my body closer to the door, praying he’d leave me with enough blood so that I could at least live long enough to see my seventeenth birthday next year. But judging by the way the muscles in his jaw twitched, his nostrils flared, and the vein in his neck popped out, I knew Daddy wouldn’t let me bleed to death. He’d finish me off with his bare hands, instead. And the more Rich yapped her smelly gums, the more convinced I was that my life was slowly coming to an end. She had sealed my fate.

  I flipped down the visor, slid open the lighted mirror, and glared at her, hoping she’d get the damn hint. She didn’t!

  She gasped. “You have no idea. And they were so nasty to us. Ohmygod! But London and I gave them a piece of our minds. Oh, we let them know who they were messing with. Didn’t we, London?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know why you’re sitting up there all quiet, girl. Don’t be shy now. You woulda been so proud of her, Mr. Phillips. Whew, London doesn’t take any mess. She knows how to set it off when it’s necessary. You and Mrs. Phillips trained her well. I told her, we’re always ladies, first. You know. Keep it cute and classy—that’s her word, though. But when it’s time to get down and dirty, London is always ready to boom-bop it . . .”

  “Oh, she’s Miss Boom-Bop It, huh?”

  “Well, I’m the original Miss Boom-Bop, but I’ll share the torch with my girl, London.”

  I clasped my hands in
front of me.

  “Mr. Phillips, I don’t mean any harm here. But, London brings it like a real New Yorker, real hardlike, straight from the gutter. If she hadn’t told me to go over there and handle Corey instead of Spencer, I don’t know what I would have done. Thanks to her, Corey got taught the lesson he deserved. London is my home girl, for real. . . .”

  Please let my death be swift...

  The more Rich talked, the deeper my grave got.

  I blinked my suddenly watery eyes.

  “She really put it down for me today. She was my hype-woman, for real. She crunked it all the way up to ten. Have you ever seen her skills, Mr. Phillips? This girl is wicked with the hands. When she reached back and punched Corey in his face, I knew what I needed to do next. It was freeze, pop, jump, make it crunk.”

  I eyed Daddy out of the corner of my eye, wringing my hands. He pulled in his bottom lip, then clenched his teeth. “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

  Forgive me for all of my sins...

  “Ohmygod, I need an emergency manicure and pedicure, fast. This is tragic! London, do you want me to make you an appointment, too? I know your feet have to be on fire from all that pacing you were doing. Those heels of yours must be hard as bricks by now. . . .”

  I dared not say a word, hoping Rich would finally buy a vowel and get a damn clue to . . . shut. Up.

  I glanced at the digital clock in the console. My Lord! It was 9:23 P.M. I can’t believe we sat in that funk-tank for almost six hours. Six long, torturous hours!!! And now I had to sit in this car and be tortured again by not only Rich’s stank breath, but her violent underarms and that cesspool smell that seeped out of her pores, too.

  Rich had the audacity to lean forward in her seat and whisper, “Girl, you need to make sure you wash down real good when you get home. I smell you all the way back here. And it’s not pretty, girl.”

  I ignored her, cutting my eye over at Daddy, wondering how he could leave me in jail all that time. And why the hell wasn’t Yuck Mouth picked up by her own parents. But as Rich continued to rattle on with her incessant chatter I wished like hell that he would have left me in jail. I’d had rather rot in that dirty hole than have to face Daddy’s wrath, and deal with this garbage mouth.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “... I’ll be so glad to get home to exfoliate, luxuriate, and put this whole nightmare behind me. . . .”

  Oh, for the love of God! I wish Rich would shut the hell up!

  Daddy rolled all of the windows down and opened the sunroof. We were immediately assaulted by the cool night air, whipping through the cabin of the car.

  Rich leaned up in her seat, again. “Ooh, Mr. Phillips, it’s gotten awful chilly in here. Do you think you can roll up the back windows some? All this wind is tearing my face up.”

  “No,” Daddy said, curtly. “The air will do you and London fine.”

  “Well, yeah. I guess you’re right,” she said, then eased up alongside my ear and added, “See, I told you. You need to take a long, hot bath and soak that bottom real good. It’s funk central, girlfriend.”

  And you smell like the back of a garbage truck!

  The next thing I heard was her talking to someone on her cell making travel arrangements to Paris for two. She hung up. “London, pack your bags, girl. Get your Chanels out. Paris in the A.M. Milan in the P.M. We’re gonna do it up, boo. We deserve it. After Spencer and Corey, and the way all the newscasts tried to drag us through the mud today, girl, we need to do it up.” She reached over and tapped Daddy on the shoulder. “Mr. Phillips, can you please make sure you handle those charges while London and I are gone because we don’t need anyone looking for us while we’re out of the country? I know you’re good and all, Mr. Phillips, but I just want to make sure that everything’s handled. You know how it is, Mr. Phillips.”

  “No. I don’t know how it is. And before you and London start whisking off into the clouds, both of you need to handle your own charges. And you better hope the two of you only get community service.”

  Rich smacked her crusty lips. “Community service? What? I don’t do that. I ain’t Lindsay Lohan. I service the community by dressing them. You know. Donate my last season’s wardrobe to the needy. Everyone needs a little Chanel in their lives.”

  I imagined Daddy rolling his eyes up in his head as he pulled up to the humongous Montgomery estate. He waited for their handcrafted entry gate to open, then practically told Rich to get out. I was surprised he didn’t at least drive her up to their front door. But, I guess, like me, he had had enough. “Tell your father I’ll call him. And I’ll fill him in on your travel plans,” Daddy said to her as she stepped out of the car. He waited for her to shut the door, then walk through the gates. When they shut behind her, he drove off, rolling the windows up.

  I swallowed.

  Guttermouth, funk-box and all, now I really wished she had stayed a little longer. It was me and Daddy. Alone. There was nothing but air between us. And the silence was deafening. I kept having visions of him pulling over onto the side of the road, dragging me out of the car by my hair, and tossing my body over the cliff into the Pacific Ocean, then pulling off like he didn’t have a care in the world. I tried everything I could to keep my heart from beating out of my chest.

  “Daddy, can I—”

  He shot me a look, gripping the steering wheel. “London. Not. A. Word.”

  Uh-oh. This is . . . really, really . . . catastrophic!

  I felt myself starting to hyperventilate.

  I started rocking. “Daddy, pleeeeeeeease. Can we talk about this? I know you’re upset with me—”

  He sliced me with another glare. “Upset? Upset doesn’t even compare to what I am feeling at this moment. Upset is when you’re getting a bad grade or me finding out that you’ve charged a hundred grand on my credit card on the first day of school to pay for damages. Upset is when you don’t follow the house rules. This right here is beyond upset.”

  “I know, Daddy. I know, I—”

  “You don’t know a damn thing, little girl. Just be quiet. There is nothing you can say. You and your little Boom-Bop It twin—whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean—are all over the damn news. Every channel I turn on, there you are. This is the second time you’ve done boom, bop-bopped it to the damn ground. We just had a conversation last week about your behavior. I told you then that I didn’t want any more foolishness out of you. But, you simply disregarded everything I said . . .”

  “Daddy, that’s not—”

  “Hold up. Who do you think you’re cutting in on? I’m talking. You’re to listen. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said meekly.

  “From what your little Miss Boom Bop and Drop homegirl, for real-for real, said, you’re the damn ring leader here. And I believe her. Now since when did you become a damn gangster? “A Thug in Chanel” as the headlines read. You wanna be some hood urchin in the street? Is that the kind of life you want, huh?”

  He raised his voice. “Answer me.” As I prepared to respond to his question he told me to shut up. “I’m always thinking your mother is too hard on you. Well, hell... maybe she’s not hard enough. Maybe, you’re playing me like she says. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. You’re playing me. And I don’t like it. And I won’t stand for it. Whatever happens with these charges, you better hope like hell—or better yet, pray—that I get over this quickly. Because it’s gonna be a long damn time before I trust you again. From this point on, you will be on a very short leash. That car that I’ve shelled out all of that damn money for that you left in the middle of the damn road so you could go out and boom-bop, drop it with your home girl is a thing of the past. You will be dropped off and picked up wherever you need to go. . . .”

  The more Daddy spoke, the louder his voice got. And the more he looked like he was foaming at the mouth. “Unless you’re choosing to be on the streets . . .”

  He swerved over to the side of the road, stopped the car, then told me to open the door. I look
ed at him and hesitated with confusion in my eyes. “I said, open your door. ’Cause I don’t know who the hell you are. But you are not my daughter. Not carrying on the way you’ve been. I’m out here trying to make money so that you can have the best life possible and you want to piss it all away on some BS. I have too many other things to be doing than running behind you and your nonsense. And your little pop-pop-drop-it friend making travel plans to France right in my damn face, like the two of you don’t have a care in the world. Both of you are out of control.

  “But she’s not my concern. You are. In all the years I have worked with Rich’s father, I have never seen that girl in any other kind of news except for her being somewhere drunk. But now she’s all over the front pages getting arrested with my damn daughter. Videos going viral, bloggers talking nonstop, practically obsessed with the wild antics of London Elona Phillips, daughter of the high-powered entertainment attorney and here you’re getting more spotlight than me. How do you think that makes me look?”

  “But Daddy,” I tried to explain, “Rich is the one who called the media. She loves the attention. That’s what she lives for.”

  “I don’t care. Obviously you live for it, too. You’re making a name for yourself real quick. And it’s nothing nice. You want fame for the sake of being famous? You want to be a fame whore? Well, now it’s going to cost you, starting with you being grounded. All of that hanging out, getting your party on is over. You are to go straight home after school. On the weekends that your mother and I have to go out of town, you will come with us. You will not be left unattended or unsupervised, period. You can’t be trusted, and I am going to treat you as such.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time taking up for you, arguing with your mother, believing that she was overreacting. And here I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. And the only thing you’ve done is make me look the damn fool. And this is how you repay me. All on the news, again, assaulting someone else. Thinking you don’t have to take any responsibility. But I’m gonna tell you this. And I’m only going to say it once. I’m not bringing home no little gutter-rat media-ho. If that’s who you wanna be, then you can boom, bop, drop it over at the Montgomerys’ because I am not having it.”