Luxe

by Ashley Antoinette

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get used to it,” the girl said. She was gorgeous. Skin the color of hot chocolate and legs as long as stilts. She was the model type, flawless in her panties and bra, as she walked around without shame.

  “I’m Aysha,” she introduced herself. She was the first friendly face Bleu had encountered and Bleu returned Aysha’s smile as she replied, “Bleu.”

  Aysha turned to China and said, “So much for your solo room, huh?”

  “I guess so,” China replied. China folded her arms as she eyed Bleu curiously. She pointed her finger. “How’d you get that?” China asked, motioning to the wound on Bleu’s back that was far from healed.

  “I told you it’s nothing,” Bleu insisted.

  “Yeah, that type of stitch isn’t nothing!” China shot back.

  “What are you, a doctor?” Bleu shot back defensively as her brows dipped low. She walked back into her dorm room, and the other girls followed her.

  “She’s pre-med,” Aysha informed Bleu.

  “And I know enough to know that that wound is serious. You have to take care of it. It’s not a small scrape. If you don’t make sure it’s clean, it’ll get infected. Let me see it,” China said.

  “What?” Bleu replied.

  China stormed over to her and snatched the belt off of her robe, causing Bleu to clutch it, keeping it together with her hands.

  China gave her a look, and Bleu sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Bleu revealed herself and Aysha covered her mouth in shock.

  “What happened to you?” she asked with worry, sympathy filling her gaze.

  Bleu’s body was healing, but it left gruesome bubble scars behind. They were purple, and the stitches that kept everything together made her look like Frankenstein. She knew it was ugly. It had taken weeks for her to get used to looking at the aftermath. It was hard on the eyes. The bullet had left a physical scar that she would carry for life, not to mention the mental one.

  “I was shot. That’s why I didn’t start the term on time,” Bleu admitted quietly, almost whispering.

  Aysha shook her head as she frowned. “Damn, girl, somebody fucked you up,” she said. “You sure you’re even ready to be here?”

  Bleu chuckled a little bit as her eyes watered. It took everything in her not to go in on them. These nosey broads were worse than the old hens who spread news through the ghetto grapevine back home. She couldn’t, however, burn bridges that she might have to cross later. She knew no one here, so she might as well make an effort to get to know them. She would need allies here. The last thing she wanted was to beef out with the women she shared a living space with. She sighed and instead of going the “slap a bitch route,” she decided to extend her trust. New friends were a rarity where she was from. If you hadn’t been down from day one, you wouldn’t get down, but she couldn’t live by that rule anymore. What would she do? Stay holed up in her dorm for four years? Nah, she had to put herself out there. She had to start laying the foundation to live her new Cali life. “Y’all have no idea what it took to get here. I have to do this. That’s why you two can’t say anything. Not one word to anybody.” She closed her robe insecurely.

  Aysha held up her hands in defense. “I won’t say a word, mama.”

  China nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

  Bleu cut her eyes at China skeptically. She could just see China running across campus telling all her business as the opportunity arose. The bitch looked like a gossip. There was nothing worse than a chatty chick with loose lips, and China fit the description to a T.

  “Hey,” China protested, catching the shade. “I know I was in bitch mode last night. My bad. I won’t say anything. You can trust me. If we’re going to live together for the rest of the school year we may as well be cool, right?”

  Aysha laughed and shook her head. “China’s cool. She’s kept bigger secrets than this.”

  China added, “To make up for last night, we’ll show you around. Aysha is signed with Ford Models. Her pretty ass can get us into all the hot spots. VIP, bottle service, step and repeat, the whole nine. You should come out and let us introduce you to a few people. Might as well get accustomed to the vamp life. That’s when the city comes alive.”

  “You model? Then why are you here?” Bleu asked curiously.

  “Because this ass won’t be this tight forever. Looks fade; my degree won’t,” Aysha said. “But while I’m this dope might as well enjoy the perks.” She winked and flashed a smile before she added, “You in or nah?”

  Bleu hesitated briefly before replying, “Yeah, I’m in.”

  * * *

  Bleu tugged at her clothes insecurely as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. Jordans, a sleeveless, crop-top turtleneck, and black leggings gave her a sexy tomboyish look. It was the best thing that she had in her suitcase, but still it didn’t quite feel good enough. She wasn’t a stiletto type of girl, at least not yet. She had just graduated from high school less than six months ago. She was still in the realm of sneakers and backpacks, but clearly that attire didn’t cut it here. She squirmed uncomfortably as she frowned at her reflection. She reached up and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail just as Aysha and China came bursting through the door. No one ever seemed to knock. Privacy seemed to be nonexistent.

  “Nah, mama, hair down,” Aysha said as she came up behind Bleu, giving her two cents.

  “And what are you wearing?” China added. “We’re going to a nightclub, not the mall. You’re wearing sneakers. They won’t even let you in without heels that are at least five inches.”

  Bleu turned and looked at the two glamazons in front of her. Her cheap threads were incomparable to the thousands of dollars’ worth of labels they were wearing. Not only did she not look the part, but also she felt out of place. There was no way she could stand next to these two. It wasn’t just a matter of money. Aysha and China had swag that was on a million. It was in the way that they spoke, commanding every eye in the room each time they opened their mouths. The way that they walked, heads high, shoulders back, hips swaying with precision. Bleu had thought college was the time to discover herself, to mature into a woman and blossom into her true being, but it appeared that everyone here had been there, done that. She was worlds behind. These socialites had been on. She was no longer the prettiest swan in the lake. She was playing in an ocean now and was swimming among sharks. She only hoped that she didn’t get eaten alive.

  “You are a little plain Jane, mama,” Aysha said as she scrunched her nose. “Where’s your makeup?”

  “I don’t wear makeup,” she replied.

  “What do you mean, you don’t wear makeup?” Aysha asked. She shook her head and held up her finger as she sashayed through the bathroom that connected to her suite. She came back with a huge case and opened it. “I’ve been wearing makeup since eighth grade. Your mama never put you up on game? You don’t leave home without putting on your face. A baddie must be beat at all times.”

  “Yeah, well, my mama wasn’t really around like that,” Bleu answered.

  “Well, thank God for girlfriends then, right?” Aysha replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you together. That homely look might work where you’re from, but out here everything is glam. By the time I’m done with your makeup and hair, it won’t matter what you’re wearing. You’ll get in the club with no problem. The way you busting out of them leggings, I don’t know a bouncer in town that will turn you away.”

  Bleu couldn’t contain her laughter as she shook her head. She knew the effect her curves had on men, so she knew that Aysha was speaking nothing but truth. She closed her eyes as Aysha went to work.

  “You bitches are killing my vibe. We aren’t going to get there until after midnight,” China said.

  “Who ever gets there before that anyway?” Aysha shot back. “Just sit back and relax. Let me work this magic real quick and then we out.”

  * * *

  “That’s Herve Leger, not one stain,”
China fussed as they exited her Mercedes truck and walked down the block toward the nightclub.

  “Shut up; the girl ain’t gon’ ruin your dress,” Aysha said as she sashayed, sitting pretty in her stiletto pumps. Bleu could barely keep up. She felt like their project. Nothing she was wearing belonged to her. From the too-big red bottoms on her feet to the dress, even her makeup … it was all borrowed. She tried to keep up, but her toes pinched together in the heels, rubbing against the toilet paper that she had stuffed inside to accommodate her small feet. She pulled at the hem of her dress, hoping that the draft she felt didn’t indicate that her ass was popping out of it. “Don’t fidget. You look great, hon. Just relax and follow our lead.”

  Bleu followed them as they passed the line and walked right up to the bouncer working the front door. “Hey, Aysha baby. Looking good.”

  “Thank you, boo. It’s me plus two,” she said.

  “What up, China?” the bouncer greeted her as he lifted the velvet rope that separated the elite from the ordinary. “When you gon’ give me some play?”

  “When you own the club, not open the doors,” China replied. She never seemed to run out of slick talk. In a town where the gift of gab reigned supreme it was an asset. She pecked his cheek with a quick kiss before stepping by.

  Bleu gave him a shy smile as she followed China and Aysha in.

  Excitement filled Bleu as soon as she was inside. The loud music drowned out all sound as she maneuvered through the thick crowd. The lights were dim, but the massive chandeliers that hung from the ceiling cast a slight glow over the room. Clubs back home had nothing on this. She was used to smoky rooms, ratchet bitches, and door-less bathroom stalls. This club was on an entirely different level and she immediately felt herself loosen up as they made their way to VIP.

  “You clean up nice, huh?”

  The voice in her ear caused her to blush as she turned to see Bree behind her. “I recognize that dress, shorty, but I can’t lie; the fabric is hugging you better.”

  “You’re full of game right now!” Bleu shot back with a smirk as she took a seat in the booth next to her friends.

  “He can’t help himself,” China interrupted, slightly territorial as she leaned into Bree, planting her lips on his. “I let him indulge with the pretty girls as long as I get to play too.”

  Bleu’s eyebrows arose in shock as she stammered a nervous, “Oh-h.”

  China smiled mischievously as she replied, “Relax, Detroit; you’re not our type.”

  “I’m actually not from Detroit,” Bleu responded, but China had switched her focus before she could hear the reply.

  These bitches, Bleu thought as she shook her head. It was like they only listened when they wanted to. As soon as they grew bored, they tuned you out. What she pegged as rude was actually power. Aysha and China had a way of making her feel like they ruled the world. Their arrogance made her feel small, but she secretly envied their swag. They were living royal and no peasants were allowed. With borrowed clothes and insecure thoughts, Bleu knew she was a long way from having a place inside their kingdom. She was an outsider, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to truly be “in.” They were just giving her a pass, being nice, because she was new. It was obvious that she didn’t belong.

  “Relax,” Aysha whispered in her ear. “Here, have a drink.” She slipped a champagne flute into Bleu’s hand.

  “How much is it?” Bleu asked.

  Aysha waved her hand dismissively. “You’re good. Have you seen yourself, Bleu? You’re freaking gooorgeous,” she sang playfully. “That ass, those hips, and that gap.”

  Bleu peered at her with the side eye, slightly offended. Is she being funny? She thought.

  Aysha sensed Bleu’s defensiveness. “I’m serious, Bleu. This is the land of picture-perfect. Every girl who has ever come to L.A. with a flaw that made her different has gotten rich. You don’t want to look the same, dress the same, talk the same. Us Cali girls are paper-thin, with veneer smiles that hide a world of pain. You, your kind of pretty pays out here. You stick with us and you won’t ever have to pay for another drink in your life. Watch this.” She turned and reached for one of the bottles that were chilling on ice.

  “Dom,” she said. “It’s a four-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.” She turned to Bree. “Thanks for the bottle, Bree!” she shouted across the booth.

  His lips were occupied by China’s kisses, but he still blessed them with a wink as he palmed China’s ass with one hand and gave them a thumbs-up with the other.

  “He doesn’t care?” Bleu asked. “We won’t have to pay him back?”

  “You’re cute, Bleu,” Aysha said with a laugh. “Look, all these L.A. niggas are paid. If you ever have to buy your own drink you’re doing something wrong. Come on; dance with me.”

  Before Bleu could protest, Aysha pulled her out on the dance floor. Aysha still held the huge bottle of champagne in her red-manicured hands. Her stiletto nails wrapped around the neck of the bottle as she swayed to the music. Her long, messy hair hung all the way to her ass, swinging behind her to the beat. She tipped the bottle to her lips. It was crazy how she did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.

  I guess this is how the beautiful people live. Who’s going to stop her? Bleu thought.

  Before she knew it, it was 4:00 a.m. and they were staggering out of the club. Bleu had just danced her ass off for hours, and to her surprise it had been the best night of her life.

  9

  “You. New girl in the back with her head on the desk.”

  Bleu would have heard her philosophy instructor’s displeasure had she been awake, but she was suffering from the result of all-night partying. Her 8:00 a.m. class was not agreeing with her. While the professor was discussing Socrates and Plato, she had fallen asleep right inside of her book. It wasn’t until she felt a tap on the shoulder did she become aware that all eyes were on her.

  “Excuse me for interrupting your beauty rest. Ms.…”

  Bleu cleared her throat and shifted uneasily as she replied, “Montclair. Bleu Montclair. I’m sorry.”

  “Since you feel confident enough to sleep through my lectures perhaps you can answer this question. Is the just person happier than the unjust person?”

  Why did I not just stay in last night? She was mortified to be getting called out in class but took a deep breath and opened her mouth to reply. This was her arena. She might not have fancy clothes or Daddy’s trust fund to fall back on, but in the classroom she was equal. “Since philosophy is not science I will give you my opinion on the matter. I believe the unjust person is happiest because they do not care about what others think of their actions. The unjust person lives only for their own gain and therefore has no standards outside of their own to meet. Socrates would argue that the just man is happier, but I disagree.”

  The professor was baffled as a small smirk crossed her face. She raised one brow and nodded in satisfaction. “Very well. Back to your nap now?” she asked.

  “No, I’m up,” Bleu responded with a smile, remembering why she was here all of a sudden.

  The class ended and Bleu hustled out of the lecture hall, but before she could make her escape, her professor stopped her.

  “Ms. Montclair?”

  Bleu winced as her feet suddenly stopped moving, causing the student behind her to bump into her. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she turned to her instructor. Professor Murial Davis was a hard-nosed, by-the-book instructor who knowingly had the hardest freshman course on campus. She was notorious for her hard tests and no-nonsense demeanor. China had warned Bleu about her, and as she walked over to her podium where the professor stood, marking up papers in front of her, Bleu was slightly intimidated. It felt like she was being called to the principal’s office. The last thing she needed was to get on this old woman’s bad side. She stood not even five feet five, but her presence was towering. Her red, fluffy hair was pulled back, held in place by a single pearl clip. A pair of cat’s-eye reading glasses fram
ed her blue eyes. Bleu stood there uncomfortably as almost a minute went by. She cleared her throat.

  “This isn’t some elective course, Ms. Montclair. The next time you fall asleep in my class I will kick you out, permanently. I don’t think you want to be a sophomore repeating freshman philosophy simply because you couldn’t stay awake, eh?”

  Bleu shook her head as she gripped her book in front of her chest. “No, ma’am,” she responded.

  “I’ve seen your test scores. I’ve seen your transcripts. You’re smart. I want to see that the scholarship you are here on wasn’t wasted,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bleu felt like a child being chastised.

  “Now run along. I have another class coming in. Unless you’d like to sleep through this one too,” Professor Davis said.

  Bleu shook her head and then practically ran out of the classroom. The lady was like the Wicked Witch of the West and Bleu made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

  * * *

  “Welcome to Picante. You can have a seat anywhere and someone will be right with you, mami, si?”

  The busy middle-aged woman spoke the words quickly as she passed Bleu with a round tray balanced on her palm. The smell of the Mexican restaurant was amazing, and immediately Bleu’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. She wasn’t there for food, however. She was looking for a job. After partying last night with Aysha and China and sleeping without linens when the night came to a close, Bleu quickly realized that she needed to make some money. Being in L.A. broke was next to impossible, especially when she had the Joneses to keep up with. She had taken a bus twenty minutes away from campus just to find the Mexican joint and she immediately noticed how popular it was. It was nothing special … sort of a hole-in-the-wall joint, but based on how thick the crowd was, Bleu knew that the food had to be good. The Spanish music playing in the background and the green and red Christmas lights that festooned the ceiling, despite the fact that it was nowhere near Christmas, gave the place a vibe all its own. She followed the waitress who was busy serving patrons, as she moved as if she had octopus hands. She was all over the place, refilling drinks, delivering food, settling bills for patrons. She seemed to be the only person working besides the chef, who was visible through the small food window as he slid plates of food through.