Heels, Heartache & Headlines

by Ni-Ni Simone

  That whore is vicious.

  And hateful!

  Dejected, I flopped down in an oversized chair in my sitting room. I was alone and feeling lonely. Daddy was out, doing God knows what.

  And my mother... mmmph.

  Not. A. Word.

  Her marriage to Daddy was in shambles. And instead of trying to fix whatever was broken between the two of them, she opted to head back to fricking Milan. Milan! Like who does that?

  Run off and leave their marriage in disarray?

  Jade Phillips does!

  But whatever! I wasn’t in the mood to think about her, anyway. I never am.

  My relationship with her had been, uh . . . strained, for a lack of a better word, ever since everything that happened to me. She still thought I purposefully tried to sabotage my modeling career, just to embarrass her. Like okay. I just woke up one day and had this epiphany to ruin her life with a few slices of a blade to my wrists.

  God, my mother was so dang self-absorbed.

  Everything was about her.

  All. The. Time.

  What about me?

  She’d taken no responsibility for my state of being. Found no wrongdoing on her part, for her browbeating me, pressuring me, strong-arming me into being what she wanted me to be. What she expected me to be.

  Perfect.

  Well, guess what? London wasn’t all that perfect. In fact, I wasn’t perfect at all. And neither was she.

  Or Rich.

  Or Spencer.

  Or that horrid Heather.

  We were all flawed.

  But it seemed like I was the only one who knew it. Or admitted it.

  But, whatever! I wasn’t looking for a pity party. And I definitely wasn’t looking for a Hallmark moment. No.

  It is what it is.

  I knew I’d made some terrible mistakes in my life. Like getting wrapped up in the likes of—

  My buzzing cell pulled me from my thoughts.

  I reached for it where it lay on the end table, frowning at the screen. Who’s calling me from a restricted number?

  “Hello?”

  “Yo, whatdafuq is wrong wit’ you, yo? Huh?”

  Ohmygod!

  Justice.

  “Whydafuq you tell my girl some BS like that, huh, yo? You straight wildin’, yo.”

  His girl?

  The sound of his voice alone caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise. My palms sweated. And I could feel my whole body starting to shake from the inside out.

  I hadn’t heard from Justice in months. And the last form of communication from him was in the form of a text. No, wait. We’d had one last conversation—after he’d dumped me by way of text—with him mocking and taunting me, then finally making it loud and clear that he was done with me, for good.

  “What’s up wit’ ya peoples?”

  “My peoples? My peoples who?”

  “Ya girl Rich, who else? Why you so stupid, yo? Ain’t nobody else effen wit’ you. You was s’posed to be hookin’ that up for me ’n’ you couldn’t even handle that right.”

  “I tried. But then I had to—”

  “Save it, yo. I’m not tryna hear none a ya BS. I don’t need no lil silly girl tryna make moves for me. I got this. I already put work in. So go do you.”

  “What are you saying, Justice? You already hooked up with her? Is that why you haven’t had time for me? Is that why you broke up with me? Because you’re giving all of your time to Rich?”

  “See. That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, lil girl. That dumbness you be on. That silly lil girl jealousy crap you stuck on. I already said it. I’m baggin’ that. Move on, yo. It’s over. For real, yo. You straight up worthless. I don’t know why I ever wasted my time effen wit’ you . . .”

  “Yo, you that damn desperate ’n’ lonely that you gotta go run ya mouth wit’ some BS,” he said, his voice slicing into the painful memory.

  I felt myself getting sick.

  Justice really was toxic. And I saw that now. He was a dog! An abuser! A user!

  I almost felt sad for him.

  Still . . .

  My heart started aching.

  Then I heard Rich’s voice, taunting me. “Is he a user? Or is that he doesn’t want you? What, are you a reject? You didn’t make the cut, is that it? Or am I standing in the way . . . ?”

  I blinked back tears. Don’t you dare drop one tear, London Phillips. Not one! You’ve spilled more than your share of tears over him and because of him. He’s moved on. And so should you. Get your life, girl!

  “Justice,” I pushed out, practically squeezing my phone into my hand, trying to mask my mounting angst. “All I did was tell her the truth.”

  “Bullshit, yo. You know I ain’t ever eff wit’ ya silly-azz. You crazy, yo. Dumb, trick-azz broad. You need ya effen jaw snapped, yo, for runnin’ ya damn mouth. Word is bond, yo. Stay the eff outta me ’n’ mines, yo. Real talk.”

  I blinked.

  He was a, a, a . . . monster!

  Ohmygod! I couldn’t believe him! Couldn’t believe he’d deny ever being in a relationship with me. Before I could talk myself out of it, before I could stop the words from stumbling out of my mouth, I asked him what I’d ever done to him for him to turn on me? For him to treat me so nastily?

  He snorted. “I’m over you, yo . . .”

  Out of nowhere, my mother’s voice started gnawing at me. “That boy is not to be trusted, London, do you hear me . . . ? He’s troubled and from the wrong side of the tracks! I don’t want him sniffing around here trying to manipulate his way into your life... he will do nothing but ruin you . . . !”

  And everything she’d ever said, preached, lectured . . . was true. Every. Single. Painful. Word.

  I swallowed.

  Count your blessings!

  I took a deep breath. Steadied my racing heart. Then said, “I’m glad you’re over me. You and Rich deserve each other, Justice.”

  “Yeah, we do. So I don’t need you tryna eff it up wit’ ya BS. So keep my name out’cha mouth, yo; for real for real.”

  “You don’t ever have to worry about me having your name in my mouth, ever again. So now take your own advice, Justice, and do what you told me to do. Delete my damn number. Don’t call me. Ever. Again.”

  I ended the call before I could give him a chance to say something else. Before I gave him back power to tear my spirits down. Before I allowed him to drag me right back to that dark place. No. I couldn’t let that happen. Not ever.

  It wasn’t until I tossed the phone over on the table that I noticed my hands were trembling.

  Justice Banks wasn’t worthy of me.

  Sadly... he never was.

  I covered my face in my hands, and sobbed.

  20

  Heather

  Nikki’s dorm room was super adorable. The walls were painted crisp white, and hanging from the open window, which had a view of the courtyard, were windswept sheer white curtains.

  Beneath the window was an extra-long twin-size bed. The bed was dressed in a fluffy and snow white comforter, with loads of throw pillows and colorful stuffed animals. There was an all-glass desk on the left side of the bed, with an iMac, a moon lamp, and a stack of books on top of it.

  On the walls were posters of Betty Shabazz, Harriet Tubman, Maya Angelou, Zora Neale Hurston, and Alice Walker. There were a few pics of Nikki’s nieces and Nikki’s parents, and there was also a bookshelf overflowing with black literary classics.

  Nikki flopped down on her bed, grabbed a stuffed animal, and crammed it into her lap while I admired her bookshelf.

  “Look at all of these books. Wow!” I said.

  “I told you I love to read. But I didn’t call you down here to talk about my book collection.” She patted the space next to her. “Come over here. We need to talk.”

  Reluctantly, I did as she asked and sat Indian style next to her. “Talk about what?”

  “Wassup? Why did you clam up? You didn’t even loosen up when your songs came on.”


  “I loosened up.”

  She squinted and twisted her lips. “No, you didn’t. I saw it all in your grill, boo.”

  “Psst, please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was having a ball. You’re the one who wanted to leave the party. I wanted to stay.”

  “Oh really?” She arched her brow. “Is this what we’re doing now?”

  “Doing what now?”

  “Lying to each other.”

  She can’t be serious. “Lying? I haven’t lied to you.”

  “BFFs tell each other everything.”

  Pause. What? What did she just say? BFF? BFF? She had me messed up. I didn’t wanna be her BFF. Ever. I wanted to be her boo. I just didn’t know how to tell her that. But one thing was for sure and two things were for certain, I didn’t come down here to be stomped further into the friend zone. We could’ve stayed at the party for that. “Are you serious right now?” I could feel myself getting ticked. “You called me down here for this?”

  She scooted even closer to me. “I called you down here because every time we’re together, it’s like there’s an elephant between us. And we need to talk about it.”

  My heart revved up and was preparing for flight. Had I been that obvious? “What do elephants, me clamming up, and BFFs have to do with each other? You buggin’.”

  ‘I’m not buggin’, and you know it.” Nikki took her index finger and lifted my chin. “I wanna ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

  God, I loved her touching my face. “Always.”

  “Do you like me?”

  I gasped. Damn near choked. Say what? What did she just ask me? I swallowed. “Huh? Like you? In what way? How? Like my buddy, friend, pal? Like girls, homies?” I raised a brow. “BFFs?”

  “Like boos. Like since the day I met you at Club Noir Kiss I been checkin’ for you. And before you even go there, I don’t normally check for chicks. But I’m checking for you. And something tells me that the elephant is in the room because you’re checking for me too.” She paused, as if she were waiting for me to fill in the silence and drop some type of lady-pond-science on her. Not.

  I blinked. Blinked again. Maybe I should tell her? No.

  Nikki pressed. “Do you like me, Heather?”

  My heart was seconds from punching its way out of my chest. “No. Yes. Maybe. Wait.” I sipped in a breath and slowly blew it out. “Like you how? In what way? Whatchu mean?”

  She looked at me like I had two heads. “I’m not doing this word dance with you. You know exactly what I mean.”

  I paused again. Rubbed my clammy palms on my thighs. “Oh . . . like that. Like you . . . like you? Like rainbow love?” I squinted, then scanned her eyes. “I’m not gay.”

  “Me either.” She looked unmoved. “And that’s not answering my question.”

  Damn, I need some Beauty. Just a lil pinch. Maybe I should go in the bathroom and hit the stash I got in my bag.

  No. Don’t do that. You got this.

  No I don’t.

  Ugg! I swear, I can’t deal, and I need some super-natural Adderall balls to get me through this.

  Sweat lined the creases in my forehead, and my stomach felt like I had wild horses stampeding through it.

  Breathe.

  Relax.

  Now say something. “Look, Nikki. I don’t need you looking at me like I’m some kind of fruit loop. Not that I have anything against being gay—I mean, my best friend’s a queen. But I’m not a king.” I know she thinks I’m stupid.

  “What?” She said, clearly baffled.

  “And I’m not transconfused.”

  “Transwho?”

  “I’m just Heather.”

  “And I’m just Nikki.”

  Silence.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  I continued, “But the truth is . . .” Breathe, breathe, relax...

  “Just say it.” She pushed.

  It’s not that easy for me to just say it... because I know feeling like this is wrong. All wrong. But it feels right. “Okay, okay. Look. I can’t stop thinking about you.” I spat out in one breath. “I even dream about you. I get anxious when you’re around. I get nervous. My hands get sticky. My heart races. And I feel like I’m always looking for ways to impress you. And yeah, I’ve had a boyfriend here and there. And one time I had a counselor. But a girl? Never. But you’re different—”

  I should just stop right here and leave.

  Forget this. Forget her.

  I didn’t sign up for this.

  This is not confessions hour.

  This is dumb.

  Ridiculous.

  I’m not a queer.

  And I wish I could just toss these feelings out of my mind and stop ’em from making my heart flutter.

  But I can’t.

  Okay... okay... maybe I should just play this off and act like we’re BFFs.

  Treat her like she’s Spencer.

  No. At this moment, I can’t stand Spencer.

  Coco?

  No.

  I feel so stupid.

  “What are you so scared of?” Nikki asked, interrupting my thoughts. She pressed her forehead against mine and looked into my eyes. “Love is love. A crush is a crush. Makes you human. Nothing more. Nothing less. With me you can just be yourself.”

  “Really? Just be myself?”

  “Just live. Be free. And let’s have fun.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. And you already know I can’t let something like this out. The blogs and gossip rags will eat me alive. And Camille. Please. She and Kitty will look for some judge to lock me up and throw away the key.”

  “Heather. Calm down. I’m not trying to be the poster child for rainbow life either.”

  Silence.

  “So in public we hang out and chill like we always do. But when it’s just me and you, we go with the flow.”

  “Go with the flow . . .” I said more to myself than to her.

  “Yeah.” She eased her arms around my neck. “So what do you think?” She softly pressed her lips into mine.

  I closed my eyes extra tight and said, “I think we should flow . . .”

  And then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the split second of a beautiful moment, the heavens opened up.

  The stars aligned.

  Our heated tongues danced.

  And finally . . . I melted.

  21

  Spencer

  “Hey, buttermilk. How’s my sweet muffin doing?”

  Oh, yabba-dabba doobie-doo. I yawned in Midnight’s ear. I liked him. I really, really did. He was smart. And funny. And dark chocolate fine. Rufus Johnson was his real name; he was from Philadelphia. But everyone knew him as Midnight because he was as dark as a summer’s night. He attended San Diego State with Rich’s ex-boo, Knox—you know, the boy she dragged through the gutters and cheated on, and lied to, every chance she got.

  Yeah, him.

  He and Midnight were fraternity brothers and roommates. I’d met him while Rich and I were on the run from the po-po after I’d gone upside the head of that ole sheisty street straggler she was so in love with. Justice. Well, I’d thought we were on America’s top ten wanted list when I’d knocked him out cold. At the sound of sirens, Rich and I scrambled from the ground and fled the scene, leaving her boo for dead.

  Anyway. It was an immediate attraction between Midnight and me. We clicked like two light switches the minute I stepped over the threshold of his campus apartment. But—always the lady, never, ever the tramp—I played it real coy. Acted like I really hadn’t noticed him the whole three days Rich and I were hiding out in his and Knox’s apartment. But I had. Oh, how I was checking him out, his bare-chested self wearing purple and gold long johns.

  Midnight was manly and rugged. And, I had to admit, he appreciated all of my good sexual energy. But, goshdangit, he didn’t soak my treasure chest. He just lightly moistened it. And this chickie liked her goodies sodden with excitement. But being with Midnight didn
’t give me waterfalls. No, no, no. Sometimes he gave me tiny puddles, but I was never, ever, drenched in lust when it came to him. I only dribbled, here and there. Midnight just didn’t light my campfire, then send it into roaring flames. No, no, no. He just flicked over the blaze, and let my marshmallows scorch around the edges.

  Shoot. Most times, this long-legged, lanky, slice of dark chocolate just gave me cramps and bad gas—lots of it, with all his talk of cream sauces and fried, greasy food.

  Ooh, lickety-lickety-lick-lick, don’t even let me tell a lie because you know that’s not in my DNA. No, no, no. But I liked a little kinky-dinky in the boudoir from time to time. But Midnight, God bless his little freaky-deaky soul, always took his lascivious ways to extreme heights, like the time he’d slid fried chicken strips between my toes and then had the audacity to drag a drumstick along the center of the soles of my feet before licking them clean, then eating each chicken strip out from between my toes. Or the time he painted the heels of my feet with barbecue sauce, then sucked them down like he was sucking on two saucy ham hocks.

  And I dare not tell you how he loved rolling me over and slathering butter over my fluffy biscuits, then drizzling warm agave syrup over these bouncy cakes before doing all kinds of heavenly tongue tricks. And I won’t even talk about the things he did with sliced peaches and Granny Smith apples and succulent strawberries. And the whipped cream! Lawdgodsweetjeezus! All that heavy cream smeared all over me, then lapped off like the hungry dog he was.

  Every moment with Midnight was a sticky mess.

  “I’m constipated,” I stated flatly, flicking imaginary dirt from beneath my fingernails. Lawdjeezus. I desperately needed a deep cleanse after messing with this boy.

  He groaned. “Aww, damn, baby. Let Daddy soak you in some prune juice then siphon out them leftovers. I know you good and seasoned.”

  I frowned. Ooh, this dark chocolate man beast was going to have me lose my religion up in here. Being saved wasn’t easy. But no matter the struggle, I had to keep my halo on tight and stay pure and righteous. “First of all,” I snapped, tossing my hair as if he could see me through the phone. “I already have a daddy. And he’s part Indian and part senile. So don’t even try to give yourself an upgrade, Midnight. You had better step into the light and see your way over the rainbow. You know I don’t play them kind of daddy games with you.” I clucked my tongue. “Don’t test me my temper.”