by Ni-Ni Simone
I couldn’t believe this.
Of all the times me and Nikki have kissed and kicked it.
The movies.
Walks on the beach.
Netflix and snacks.
Bowling.
Dinner.
Ice cream.
For the past month, just straight chillin’ and managing to keep the dopest secret: in public we were BFFs, and in private we were boo’ed up.
But.
Now.
We were effed up.
Straight up on Blast Street.
’Cause the top hood-bugger horse-mouth ho of Hollywood High was all up in my cloak and dagger.
Think . . .
Think . . .
Think . . .
I can’t be nasty to this creepette. So I’ma have to wing it. How am I supposed to do that, though? I can’t stand this chick. But I better think of something quick before this overweight Kermit starts spilling tea everywhere.
Okay... okay... let me try this. “Hey, Rich!” I gave her a smile so fake it’s a wonder my whole grill didn’t crack. “Look at you, girl. Looking all cute and—”
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzz! Annnnnnnnnnnt!” She screamed, sounding like a game show buzzer. “Clutching pearls! Wrong answer! Try again!” Rich stepped completely onto the balcony, shoving a hard hand up on her hip. She batted her lashes. “Why are you flirting with me? Calling me cute. What’s next? You two gon’ want a threesome? I’m all for love and light, but I don’t want a wife.” She looked over at Nikki. “And all this time I thought this lil fetus-lookin’ thing wanted my man and she been lookin’ at me. Sniffin’ around my panties.” Rich wagged her index finger. “Honey-bunny-sugah-plum, you will never get up in these size seven drawls, little girl. Neverrrrrrrrrrrr.” Rich shook her head and her words slightly slurred. “La-la-lost my good-good man ’cause I thought Waitress Fruit Loop wanted him.”
I looked at Nikki and she looked at me. Obviously, we were thinking the same thing. This slore, Rich, was drunk.
I looked back over to Rich as tears filled her eyes.
Why is she crying?
“Lost my baby, Knox! Knoxxxxxxxxx!” She howled.
I walked over to her, and for the first time ever in my life, I wrapped my arms around this she-wolf and said, “Everything will be all right.” I patted her broad back. “Don’t cry. You’re with Justice now.”
“But I could’ve had ’em both.” She sucked up snot, and her voice quivered. “It’s seven days in a week, and I would’ve given Knox at least one and a half. Oh lawd! Fix it, Black Jesus! Fix it!” I did everything I could not to shove Rich away from me. But this bird reeked of beer. Queen Michelob.
“Umm, Rich,” I said.
“Ya-ya-yeah?”
“Have you been drinking?”
She sucked up more snot and stepped out of our embrace. “Yaaaaaaaaaassssssss, honey! Yaaaaaaasssssss!” She pulled out a six-pack of beer from her oversized Louis V tote and sang, “I been drankin’. I been drankin’.” Then she snapped her fingers, dropped down, popped a twerk, and topped it off with the nae nae. “Now watch me whip . . .” She sang.
Me and Nikki just stood there and stared.
“Why is she here?” Nikki mumbled, while Rich did the stanky leg.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. She has never rolled up over here.”
“Well, I’m getting ready to leave.”
“Good idea.” Rich snorted, now staring at us. “’Cause I need to talk to my fellow Pampered Princess. And no frogs allowed. So hop along.”
“Rich,” I snapped. “Don’t speak to her like that.”
“Awwwl, tain’t that sweet. You’re trying to defend lil Caitlin Jenner. Don’t be fooled, Heather. Just ’cause she has a cute lil tennis dress on doesn’t make her a lady. She’s a nasty ole thing. Trust me. She was all up in my business with Knox. She’s probably the reason we broke up.”
“No, you and all the thugs you cheated on him with is why you two broke up,” Nikki snapped. “You know what, Rich.” Nikki paused. “I’ma let you get that and I’ma leave. Because if I keep standing here I’ma give you what Knox should’ve: one to the mouth.”
“Wheeeeewwwww, I’m scared.” Rich pretended to shiver. “I gotta admit, though, that was a cute lil read. Needs some tweekin’, but you tried it. Now see ya.” Rich waved her hand.
“She doesn’t have to leave.” I sucked my teeth. “Unlike you, she was invited here.”
Nikki interjected, “Heather, look, I don’t have time for this. I’ll call you later.” She stormed away, leaving the echo of a slamming front door behind her.
“Come on, Heather.” Rich sauntered from the balcony into my room, flopping her bubble butt across my bed. She propped one pillow behind her back and another across her stomach. Then she kicked her red bottoms off and snatched one of the beers away from the six-pack. “We should talk,” she said, opening the beer tab, then guzzling.
I stood in the middle of the floor, struggling to keep my anger at bay.
I couldn’t believe this stankin’ heifer. How does she just make herself at home? In my spot. She had no rhyme or reason to be here. She was just here. Chillin’. Perpetrat-in’ like we were down. But knowing we would snatch each other’s scalps off at any given moment.
I took a deep breath. I knew I needed to tolerate this chick, at least long enough to convince her that the kiss she’d witnessed was a pissy drunk illusion. The last thing I needed was this cow flappin’ that gullet of hers.
I uncurled my lips and eased them into a smile . . . well, a crooked grin. “Umm, Rich,” I looked her over, as she continued to guzzle. “Why are you here?”
She swished the beer around in her mouth, swallowed, then said, “Oh. That was rude. What I can’t come see you?” She popped her fingers. “We are in the same crew, ma’am. You don’t like me or something, Heather?”
Umm, no. I can’t stand you. And if you were on life support, I would definitely unplug your machine to charge my phone. You make every hair follicle on my body stand up. And therefore you can’t just run up over here ’cause you feel like it. I can’t just roll up on you!
I pulled in a deep breath and pushed it out. “Rich, I never said I didn’t like you. I just wanna know why you’re here.”
“To bond with you. You know, we could be like play cousins. Like God sisters.” She raised her beer can in the air like she was making a toast. “I prayed to Black Jesus about you, and Black Jesus said, ‘Go hither and see Heather.’ ” She gave a drunk chuckle. “So here I am.”
Rich took a sip, patting the spot next to her on the bed. “Now let’s bond.” She said. “’Cause last I heard from Spencer you were a junkie whore, laid up across your counselor’s desk, ready for his bull’s eye. Don’t tell her I told you that, though. I don’t need the drama. And, you know, Spencer is a shit-starter. And her only true friend is my brother, RJ.” Rich rolled her eyes. “Spencer doesn’t think I know, but I know—’cause my PI told me—that she snuck off and went over to England last weekend to get her British jezebel on with my brother. That slum slut.”
Rich picked up her second beer and downed it. Then belched. Loudly. “And Spencer knows he’s pimpin’ every lil white girl he meets on those British cobblestone streets. Yet, off she went to be an Old World freak. Now back to you, Heather. Tell me. How long have you been a lesbo?” She handed me a beer.
I hesitated. I sooooo wanted to chop this heifer in her throat. “First of all, I’m not a lesbo.”
Rich gulped and belched again. “Ewww, don’t tell me you’re bi? I can’t witchu. You all confused. What you need is something tall and chocolate. So you can turn up properly. You need me to hook you up?”
“How did you get in here, Rich?”
“The garage was open. I walked in and looked around your house until I found you. And, wait, stop the press and hold the mess. Whyyyyyyy is your mother spread-eagled across her bed, in that same white gown and matted mink slippers? Every time I see this woman s
he is in the same gear. Like, who does that? Like, is she okay?” Rich took her index finger, pointed toward her temple, and twirled it around. “Or are the rumors true?”
I curled the corner of my top lip and tapped my foot. In a minute, this trick was gon’ get tossed out and into the street. “What rumors?”
“Clutching pearls! You didn’t know everybody said Camille was a drunk cray-cray? Spencer was the main one calling her names.”
Don’t trip . . . yet. “First of all, I will handle Spencer. And second of all, I don’t need you coming up in here, uninvited, talking about Camille. I suggest you fall all the way back. Because you’re pissing me off.” I stood up.
“Oule, touchy-touchy.” She popped open another beer. “What, you need a hug? Relax girl. Sit back down. We’re in Hollywood. Rumors are everywhere. And besides, if they ain’t talkin’, they ain’t gawkin’, and everybody needs some press. Feel me?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I quipped back, reluctantly taking my seat. “Rumors are everywhere. Like the rumors about your daddy being a low-down ho, with a basketball team of bastards running around.”
“Whaaaaaaaat?!” Rich spit out her beer, spritzing it all over my bed.
Oh hell no! This ho had to go. Not now but right now.
I looked over at Rich, and her eyes burned through me. Seems we had the same vision: us rolling around on the floor, arms swinging and hair flying.
I continued, “And what are you looking at me like that for? You need to be changing the linen on my bed!”
“Clutching pearls. Umm, Heather. You better catch yourself, girl. ’Cause you almost got yo’ mouth tore out. Now, I understand you wanna turn up, but you bout to turn up the wrong way. I came over here to invite you to my party and to tell you to bring your reality-TV camera crew. ’Cause you need me to make your show a hit. I don’t need you, I’m already a star. So the last thing you should do is try and drag me or my daddy. And down low? You’re the only one around here on the down low, bruh.” She wiggled her neck and sucked her teeth. “See, this is why nobody likes you.”
“I don’t need you, yo’ daddy, or your whack crew to like me.” I stood up again. “I’m cool. And I’m not on the down low, I’m just not a ho.” I grimaced. “You’re the one over here desperate for free publicity at your dumb whack party! Screw you and that party! ’Cause what you need to do is stop running your mouth about Camille; go handle yo’ daddy’s scandal; and hope that his long-lost bastards stay in their place and don’t show up on your doorstep.”
Rich sucked her teeth. “Girl, bye. Me and my mama wish a ho and ho’s brood would. Chile, cheese. Boo, please. One thing a side-chick’s kid will never do is rock my daddy’s girl spot.”
He already has a daughter. Camille’s voice filled my head.
I don’t care what he has! I’m his daughter too.
I swear I should tell Rich! Get it off my chest. And wreck her night the way this has wrecked my life! I continued, “Yeah, well, when they come knocking we’ll have to see about that.”
“What? You know one of ’em?” Rich pressed. “Is that what you’re so mad about? I tell you what, tell the trash to bring their azz. Tell ’em I said to come over. Please. I dare ’em. We eat breakfast together er’ morning. My mother, my daddy’s wife, makes sure of that. So tell ’em to ring the bell. Then let’s see how quickly they get handed they birth certificate back! ’Cause if they were a real Montgomery, they’d be up in the château with me. But they’re not.” She rose off the bed. “And I don’t know what you care for, but you need to mind your business and worry about Empress Wino in the other room.”
Rich shoved her tote’s strap up and over her shoulder. She continued, “I don’t know what I was thinking coming over here to this trap house cottage. Any. Way! Got me all down in the ghetto-valley-hood!”
“Empress Wino?! Trick, you are straight out of order.” I pushed her on the shoulder, causing her to stumble back and her tote to slide down her arm.
“Whaaaaaat?! Clutching pearls! I can’t believe this. I can’t help it if your mother is off the meat rack! You got me messed up!” She shoved me to the floor, and the next thing I knew we were wrapped up in a beer-smelling, hair-pulling, and slappin’ brawl.
Her neck was in the crook of my arm. And she had a fist full of my hair, yanking it back. We tossed, turned, and rolled from one side of the room to the other. And with every slug that landed, my pictures fell off the wall, my books rocked off the bookshelf, and ish was everywhere. I was doing my all to tear this big beyotch up for the old and new. And no, she wasn’t an easy feat, but I was getting some major blows in.
“Heaaaaaatherrrrrr Suzaaaaaaaaaanne!” Camille screamed rushing into my room and yanking us apart. “What is going on in here?!”
I huffed, completely out of breath, and peered over at Rich. Her hair looked electrified on top of her head. Her clothes were disheveled. Her makeup was smeared across her face. And all I could think about was how Camille breaking us up allowed Rich to hook me dead in the jaw and get the last hit. Now I needed to push Camille outta the way so I could toss Rich off the balcony. Otherwise, I was gon’ punch Camille dead in her grill.
“What is going on here?!” Camille screamed, looking at me. And judging by the reflection in her eyes, I looked as if I’d been to World War III. Camille’s head whipped over to Rich, “Little girl, I suggest you get the hell outta my house!”
“You don’t have to put me out, Norma Marie, ’cause I’m leavin! And you better stay away from me, Heather, because I will come back over here. And I will spank yo’ ass again!”
“I said out!” Camille screamed.
I spat, “Come over here if you want, Rich, and see what you get!” I tried to reach for her, but Camille snatched me back.
“That’s enough!” Camille snapped.
“Let her go.” Rich insisted. “Don’t hold her back ’cause as soon as she steps this way, I’ma lay her to rest. Slam my elbow right in her nasty carpet mouth and murder her rainbow-lickin’ skittles behind!”
“I said get out!” Camille yelled, snatching Rich by the shoulder, shoving her out of my bedroom, down the steps, and finally outside, where she slammed the door in her face.
Dusting her hands, Camille whipped around toward me. We were now in the living room. “Didn’t I tell you to leave those Montgomerys alone? Didn’t I?”
“She came over here! I didn’t invite her!”
“Suuuuuurrrreeee you didn’t, Heather.” Camille walked over to the bar. “I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to learn.” She stirred her scotch. “But you gon’ learn. Got this home-wreckin’ spawn up in my house, disrupting my nap, and causing me to be late for my evening cocktail. Are you crazy? Really, are you crazy?! And what does she mean, carpet mouth and rainbow licker! Do you need to tell me something, Heather Suzanne? ’Cause I gave birth to a daughter, not a man!”
“I don’t know what she’s talking about! And you need to be thanking me, considering I was taking up for you!”
“I don’t need you taking up for me. Take up for yourself and save me the drama. You always have something going on, and that’s why I can never have no menz company up in here. I’m lonely, Heather. Don’t you think I need a gentleman caller? I need to be touched too.” She downed the rest of her drink and immediately refreshed her glass. “I swear, you are not going to learn until Richard Montgomery spits in your face!” Camille shook her head, and as she stormed away, her kitten heels banged angrily into the floor, while the hem of her infamous white nightgown swirled behind her.
26
Spencer
I cringed the minute I heard “Ho” by Ludacris blaring from my phone.
Rich.
It was my new ringtone for her.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no, ohhhh nooooo!” I said, shaking my head at seeing her big face on my screen. “You’s a ho, goshdiggitydanggit! And I am not in the mood to stamp your ho-card. Not tonight. Ole nasty lollipop licker.”
I let t
he call roll into voice mail.
Rich was a dangerous kind of ho. She didn’t dress like one. She didn’t look like one. And she didn’t always act like one.
But she’d brazenly throw herself at a boy at the drop of a dollar and offer up her bedroom treats without batting a lashed eye.
She wasn’t a skank-ho.
She was a scandalous one.
And her ho-ism was a genetic trait.
Her daddy was a man-ho, sleeping with all those women and creating all kinds of illegitimate babies along the way, just sprinkling his man milk in every woman’s cookie bowl. Just nasty!
Mmmph.
And her mother—ole Miss Shoot ’Em Up, Bang-Bang (the retired gang banger, ex-con, ex-parolee) was a groupie ho, stalking locker rooms and camping out backstage of any-and-every concert show in all of her skimpy ho wear until she managed to snag her meal ticket out of the gutters of Watts.
Rich’s father, Mr. Montgomery, forever known as M. C. Wickedness.
Oooh, their ho line ran deep!
So you see. Poor, poor Rich had no control over her destiny.
She was destined to be a ho. And it was all she aspired to be.
Hoish.
Two seconds later, “You’s a ho” was playing again.
No, no, no, noooo . . .
I quickly pressed IGNORE, sending her straight to my voice mail.
My phone chimed, alerting me I had a text.
ANSWER THE PHONE, TRICK!!!! U C ME CALLN U!!
Ignore.
“Get a clue, chickie! I’m over you!” I said aloud.
Ole nasty cooter!
I tossed my cell onto my bed. I was still a little hot and sour at Rich for wasting my precious time in the girls’ lounge last week, knowing good and dang well I could have spent my time in study hall instead of using up all my good advice on her, only to learn that she was stuck on stupid about that thug daddy of hers.
Then to learn she’d slept with Corey.
COREY?!
He was the enemy!
So goshdang what if she didn’t know that that boy was public enemy number one, two, and three. She still should have known better than to get tangled up in the sheets with him again.
