Lights, Love & Lip Gloss

by Ni-Ni Simone

  My eyes narrowed with wicked glee watching the breath leave her body in a single rush. I finally had Miss Tramp-A-Lot right where I wanted her. Over the barrel of a loaded cannon. Now all I had to do was stuff her inside, then strike a match to it and watch her blast off.

  “Now look at you. Clawing at death’s door over some bum garbage that left you for a man-eater.”

  “Get out of my house!” London growled. “Before I have you thrown—”

  Before she was able to finish the rest of her sentence, I leapt on her with the lightning speed of a panther, pinning her down on the bed and swiping her across her right eyebrow, then running my hand through the top of her head and the roots of her hair.

  “Aaaaaah!” she screamed, trying to wrestle me off of her. “What is that? What are you trying to do? Aaaaaah! Help! Security!”

  I laughed hysterically as the same Mandingos who’d dragged Rich out just twenty minutes earlier now barged in and manhandled me.

  I didn’t give a horse’s ding-dong about being tossed out of Low Money’s home.

  Screw with me if you want.

  For the next few weeks, Miss Hair Loss would be wearing wigs and using crayon to draw on her eyebrows.

  19

  Heather

  . . . By the time my eyes drifted to her thighs I realized what I was doing. I quickly glanced away and turned back toward the bar, sipping my drink again.

  “Heather, what are you drinking? Let me buy you another one.”

  I did my best to resist the blush I felt creeping back onto my face. “No. Thank you. But no.” Why am I nervous?

  “Okay.” She smiled, her beautiful teeth gleaming. “I won’t hold you.” She unexpectedly swept and twirled the end of a lone curl before winking and sashaying away.

  I refused to let my eyes follow her and instead, as unwanted butterflies danced in my stomach, I sank my smile into my drink.

  This was crazy. I knew she wasn’t a guy, but I still couldn’t stop my throat—which should’ve been moist—from being dry, or my knees from feeling too weak to stand up. Or my heart from rushing through its beats...

  Stop it!

  “I just thought about something.” Her words poured over my shoulder. I knew it was her and I didn’t have to turn around to confirm it. She reached for my phone, which was next to my drink, clicked on my camera, and surprised me by taking a picture of us. Then she punched in a few numbers and placed my phone back on the bar.

  She leaned into my ear and whispered, her heated breath making a trail of goose bumps along the side of my neck. “I programmed my number in your phone and the picture is so you won’t forget me.” She turned to leave and then quickly turned back. “And by the way, I’m Nikki.”

  “Hey, cutie, what are you over there thinking about?” Nikki said, her voice pulling me out of the memory of the night we’d met at Club Noir Kiss.

  I looked over at Nikki as we sat on the floor in my room, flipping through CDs and listening to music. Her dimpled smile lit up the room and I wondered if she thought I was insane, or silly, or strange . . .

  This is stupid.

  Why did I invite this girl here?

  You wanted to see her.

  But why?

  You like her...

  But why do I like her?

  How do I like her?

  You know why you like her.

  Yeah . . .

  She was funny. Smart. A sophomore at San Diego State. Nineteen. Pledged Greek. Loved giving back to the community. Was big on loyalty. Had two sisters and a brother. Was the baby of her family. Had three nieces—triplets. Had a mother. A father. A dog . . .

  She was perfect.

  Like I wanted to be...

  I glanced over at the clock and realized that she’d been here for three hours. Three hours of us laughing and talking about everything, and anything, and nothing at all, all at the same time.

  Time flies.

  “Okay now, Miss Heather. You are being a little too quiet over there for me.”

  “Am I?” I did my best not to blush.

  “Yes. You. Are. And my guess is you’re avoiding my question.” She waved the rapper Game’s CD before me. “I said whatchu know about Game?” She popped her fingers and playfully cocked her neck to the side.

  “What do I know about Game?” I giggled and my curls bounced into my eyes and over my shoulders. “The question should be, what do you know about him?”

  Nikki scooted over closer to me and gently brushed my hair out of my eyes, her index finger twirling the same coil she’d snaked around her finger before. “Don’t switch this around on me.” She eased the curl from her fingertip and it sprang back in place. “I know everything about Jayceon Taylor, boo.” She tossed two fingers into the air. “Westside.”

  I hated that I couldn’t help but fall out laughing.

  Why am I laughing so hard?

  This is so dumb. All she asked me about was a freakin’ rapper, who I love. Nothing to laugh at. Nothing to smile about. Just a simple question. That required a simple answer. . . but I can’t even get that right!

  Shyt!

  Why am I so nervous?

  Stop it, girl.

  “Come on now,” Nikki insisted. “Don’t hold back. As a matter of fact, here’s what I think you should do. I think you should bust a rhyme for me.”

  “A what?” My eyes bulged in surprise.

  “You know you turned it out at Club Noir Kiss, girl!” She snapped her fingers. “Don’t play all bashful now. Not the way I saw you poppin’ them hips and big ole bouncy booty. You were doing it, girl. I still got that night on the brain.”

  I giggled. “How’d we get from you asking me what do I know about Game to you wanting me to rap?”

  “Come on now.” She softly hunched her shoulder against mine. “I’m listening. Just pretend you’re on stage.” She hopped up from the floor. “And the crowd is going wild!”

  “And where are you in this scenario?” I did my best not to smile too wide. I failed.

  “I’m your hype man!” She extended her hand and pulled me from the floor. “Now come on!” I leapt to my feet and she said, “Wait, wait. We need to Instagram this.” She turned on her phone and pressed RECORD.

  “Okay, okay!” Nikki announced. “Wu-Wu’s here bringing you another freestyle hit!”

  I gave in to the silliness of the moment, and said, “Wu-Wu’s in the house!” I introduced my rap with a beat box and then I spat:

  “I met a girl named Nikki at the club mmmph . . .”

  Nikki looked into her phone screen and said, “That’s me . . .”

  I sang, “I thought my drink was the reason she was so pretty.”

  “I’m always pretty,” Nikki sang back.

  “Had me feeling giddy.”

  “Butterflies,” Nikki chimed in.

  “But I was so used to lies that I knew this couldn’t be real.”

  “It’s all real,” Nikki sounded back.

  I did another beat box and continued, “I met a girl named Nikki . . .”

  “Pretty and fly,” Nikki sang, clapping her hands to the beat “That’s me . . .”

  “And I find myself asking why—”

  “Why what, Heather?” Camille’s voice sliced its way into my room, causing Nikki and me to jump. I paused and Nikki quickly turned her phone off.

  Just that quick I felt myself shift from ease to intensity. I looked back over at Nikki and she was smiling at Camille. “Hi, Ms. Cummings!” she said a little too excitedly, as if Camille was some kind of celebrity, or mother of the year. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand for a handshake. Camille offered Nikki a limp wrist and shake of her fingertips. That’s when I noticed there was no drink in her hand.

  “I’m such a fan of yours, Ms. Cummings!”

  “A fan?” Camille snorted, looking Nikki over from her pink Jordans to her tie-dye skinny jeans, to her white tank top that showed highlights of her pink lace bra. Camille slowly dragged shad
e all up and down for no apparent reason.

  Dear God . . . please . . . please . . . please . . . don’t let this woman embarrass me.

  Camille tapped a foot, causing the heel of her mink slippers to sink further into the carpet. “You said a fan? Of mine? Really? Shut the front door. And do tell. When I ain’t been in a movie in over fifteen years? Little girl, please. Spare me your lies. Now what is your name? And what social circle do you belong to? Who are your parents?”

  Nikki blinked not once but three times.

  “Camille,” I snapped, struggling not to drop-kick her in the throat. “This is my friend Nikki. Now can you leave? Just get out. Go. I know you can see that we’re doing something.”

  “Yeah, I saw you doing something. And I heard singing something. Now you wanna explain exactly what this something was about? ’Cause it looks to me like there’s a whole lot of sweetness in the room. Now I’m standing here waiting for the fruit flies to appear.” She crossed her arms across her white gown and tapped her foot again.

  Deep breath in.

  Deep breath out.

  Don’t turn it up yet.

  Check yourself.

  This is the first time Nikki’s been here.

  You don’t want her to see you like this.

  First time I might have a genuine friend and I don’t want to scare her away by her seeing me tearing Camille apart.

  I tossed a hard stare at Camille, scrunched my lips, and narrowed my gaze. “Would you please. Leave.” I held my breath and then quickly pushed it out. “Please.”

  Camille looked me over from head to toe and back again, the creases in her forehead revealing a million thoughts running through her head. “Um-hmm,” she grunted. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave from where I’m standing to sit right over here.” She walked over to the edge of my bed and crossed her legs. “Yep. I’m going to sit right here and chaperone you and your new friend. Eyeball this questionable party.”

  I can’t believe this. I swear Camille has stock in ruining my life.

  The room fell completely silent and the air around us was thick.

  Nikki laughed. A fake laugh. An uncomfortable laugh. “Your mother is so funny and cool.”

  “Um-hmm.” I pressed my lips tightly together. “Real comedian. A supernatural. A real superhero.”

  Another round of silence invaded the room.

  “Well, umm . . .” Nikki said. “I’m going to get ready to go. My nieces are going to be at my parents’ and I promised my mom that I’d show up for more than doing laundry.”

  My heart sank as I watched Nikki reach for her purse and push the strap onto her shoulder. I wasn’t ready to see her go. Not yet. Not when we were having so much fun. Not while I was feeling so carefree.

  I hate Camille!

  “Thanks for inviting me over, Heather,” Nikki said as she walked out of my bedroom and I walked her to the front door.

  I was doing all I could to stay cool and calm. I wanted to beat Camille’s face off and tear her mouth out. Instead, I forced myself to smile at Nikki. “Thank you for coming.”

  She smiled. “Hopefully, I can see you again soon.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Nikki pulled me into her warm, soft embrace, lightly kissing me on my cheek. “Take care.”

  “You too,” I said as she turned from the door and glided down the limestone pathway to her car. I leaned against the door frame and as I placed a hand onto the spot she’d kissed, Camille’s veiny white arm reached over my shoulder and slammed the door.

  “I don’t know where you found that one,” she spat as I turned around to face her. “But it cannot come back here! That little thing is a little too cute and a whole lot of friendly. Too friendly for my liking. Where’d you meet her at, Club Rehab?” She snorted and then said mockingly, “I’m your biggest fan. Even though I was only two and still pissing on myself when your last movie came out. Yeah, right. Bull. Sheeeeit. I might have been born at night. But it wasn’t last night.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about, Camille?” I slammed a hand on my hip and tilted my head, positioning myself in combat mode.

  “I’m talking about you and Little Miss Queen Latifah.”

  “Oh, whatever, Camille! You ought to be happy that you have one fan left in the freakin’ world who recognized who you were. Going forward, do not call her a thing anymore. She’s a girl. A person! And don’t call her names. As a matter of fact, why do you care how friendly she is?”

  “I don’t care,” Camille snorted. “But what I do care about is my daughter poppin’ her collar and two steppin’ it. Twisting her thirsty hips and doing a remake of R. Kelly’s Black Panties!”

  “Whatever!” I said, attempting to storm off.

  Camille snatched my arm and I snatched it back. “I don’t know what kind of sugar games and rainbow dreams you got going on, but you’re not hosting your RuPaul parties up in here! So you had better drag race it over to her momma’s house with the nieces and the laundry. Or over to Miss Co-Co Chanel’s because I know that Miss Trans Confusion is behind all of these carpet games.”

  I blinked. I was convinced this woman was craaaazy! With a capital C. “Last I checked,” I snapped, “this was my house. I pay the rent up in here and I will have who I wanna have up in here! And you will not disrespect my company. Fan or no fan. For once I have a friend who I like, who I want to spend time with and get to know, and you want to ruin it.”

  She huffed. “You pay rent? You’re supposed to pay rent. You’re the one who’s working! Ingrate! I tell you what, if you want friends, you can have friends. But if you bring Miss Ruff Rider back up in here again, she better be parked in the living room and not in your bedroom. I want her out in the open where I can watch you in peace! I don’t need nobody up in here that I can’t have my drinks around. My throat’s all parched, but can I have a glass of scotch? Nooo! Because I have to play babysitter and watch you and keep an eye on your party. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I understand this: It’s not going down on my watch. Now stop being a follower, running behind Queen Boxer Shorts and Co-Co, and stick with your own kind. I don’t care if he’s black, white, or Mexican, but he better not be somebody’s sister, or somebody’s auntie doing laundry. Now go to your room and read your Bible. Thou shall not sin up in here.”

  I took a deep breath and looked Camille over. She had me twisted. Completely. “You know what, Camille? I don’t have to answer to you! Don’t question me. Ever! Not when I’ve been trying to get you to tell me about my father for the last two weeks and you’ve done nothing but avoid me! Now you wanna play interrogation. Twenty-twenty questions. Then let’s start with you and Richard Montgomery! Why did you lie to me all of these years about him?!”

  Camille’s eyes popped open. “I told you before, and I’m telling you again, it’s not important. He’s not important. He wanted you aborted. I said no. I had you. And when I did, my life went to hell! I lost my man and my career! End of story. So forgive me if I’m not in the mood to talk about Richard-couldn’t-appreciate-that-I loved-him-that-I-was-good-to-him-that-I-would’ve-given-my-life-for-him-Montgomery.” She sauntered over to the bar. Poured herself a glass of scotch and then lit a cigarette.

  “I’m up in here doing the best that I can and all you’d like to discuss is Richard.” She flopped down on the sofa, shaking her head. She flicked her ashes to the floor. “I tell you what.” She patted the cushion next to her. “You wanna talk about Richard? Your long lost, invisible daddy? You really wanna talk about that? You really wanna know the truth? Then let’s chat.”

  Finally I was going to get some answers. To fill in the blanks, the missing pieces of my life. Reluctantly, I sat on the far end of the sofa. My stomach twirled into knots as she said calmly, “Your father is a no-good bastard. Period.” She looked at me and waited for a response. And when I didn’t give her one she took a sip of her drink then took a long, deliberate pull from her cigarette, blowing smoke up into the air.
>
  She continued, “I was madly in love with him.” She flicked her ashes. Then clutched her heart. “We were engaged to be married. I had done everything except go down the aisle. Invitations were sent out. The cake was ordered. The dress was custom-made. And this old raggedy white slip I always wear was supposed to be worn under my gown. Something new, something borrowed, and something blue.”

  I blinked. Dear God . . .

  “I wanted to marry him and I would’ve married him had Logan—the groupie she was—not come along and stalked the backstage of every show, throwing her panties up in my man’s face every chance she got. I was working. I was on set, making movies and money. I couldn’t be with my man on the road at every show. He was just starting out his rap career. I was already a star. I couldn’t babysit no man. And guess what? That cost me my man. Logan did everything in her power to break us up, and she succeeded. And he let her. Everyone wanted a piece of MC Wickedness. And Logan got herself a taste along with everyone else. She got pregnant. Had the baby, and gave Richard a son. After that he was done with me. Tossed me to the side. And yes, I took sloppy seconds. Because I loved him that much.”

  She got up from her seat and walked back over to the bar and instead of refreshing her glass she picked up the bottle and brought it back over to the couch. She sat and took the bottle to the head. “Richard was all I had. All I wanted to have. But did he care? No. Which is exactly why it was so easy for him to tell me to have an abortion. That his wife was having their second baby and that if I wanted him to still be in my life, I had to get rid of mine.”

  She shook her head. Paused as if she were trying to collect herself.

  “My baby, Heather. Imagine that. I should have nothing, while Logan had everything. Well, I told him no. And that was the last time I saw him. So there you have it. Your answers. You wanted to know about Richard Montgomery. Well, mystery solved.”

  She gulped down the rest of the bottle.

  Tears filled my eyes and slowly streamed down my cheeks.

  “Oh dear God. Save the theatrics for when the reality TV cameras get here. And what are you crying for, anyway? Stop with the tears, please. I’ve cried enough for the both of us. Just suck it up and deal with the fact that you don’t exist to him. He’s not interested in you. Never has been, never will be. He has a family. And yeah, you may have his DNA, but he will never be your daddy. And you will never collect his checks. So let it go. Move on. Don’t go looking for a fairy-tale ending because you are not going to get it. You will never be a Montgomery. You are a Cummings. And I chose to have you, which is why you will not disrespect me. You will do what I tell you to and we will not discuss that man again!”