Fabulous

by Simone Bryant

  Natalie nodded. “Your suite is almost as big as mine,” she said, sitting down on one of the four club chairs situated around a round, low-slung table. She picked up one of Starr’s many fashion magazines and flipped through it like she was bored.

  Starr couldn’t stand her. Period. Point-blank. Readyforhertogo.com. Carryyourselfouttahere.net.

  “So you don’t go to Pace, do you?” Starr asked, licking her lips as she sat in one of the club chairs. She made sure to cross her legs and maintain an elegant pose.

  Natalie made a face. “I wish. I go to Knightsbridge Day School,” she said as she flicked the pages of the magazine resting in her lap.

  Knightsbridge was even more prestigious than Pace. Most of the students were children of wealthy families whose fortunes dated back generations.

  “I bet Pace is way more fun,” she said, glancing over at Starr with emerald-green eyes.

  Starr shook her head. “No, not really. Pace is kind of lame actually,” she lied.

  Natalie just shrugged and continued to flip through the magazine.

  As Starr peeped at Natalie’s style, she thought to herself that she never wanted Natalie to come to Pace Academy—ever.

  She was thin, pretty, stylish and self-assured—a white version of herself. And she definitely wasn’t interested in having any competition.

  No, Natalie needed to stay at Knightsbridge and on her side of town, because there was room for only one queen bee at Pace Academy and it most definitely was Starr Lester. Period. The end.

  Starr couldn’t wait for her parents’ guests to leave, since she was more than ready to see Natalie go. Bye, girl!

  nineteen

  Marisol

  September 21 @ 7:45 p.m. | Mood: Excited

  Marisol hated to hurry through her bath in her clawfoot tub. Especially since her favorite bath supplies from Fresh had arrived. She absolutely loved their skincare line’s use of natural ingredients like milk, soy and rice. The clear jars of various scents and products were neatly stacked inside the armoire in the corner of her ultra bathroom. With one last leisurely stretch in sweet-smelling, soothing water, Marisol released the drain, allowing the last remnants of body polish to disappear. It was worth every bit of the hefty price tag.

  She allowed herself just a few precious moments of moisturizing her skin before she wrapped a plush towel around her body and hurried out of her adjoining bathroom into her bedroom. There was a hard knock to her door.

  “¡Marisol, la mamá dijó se apresura!”

  Marisol rolled her eyes at the sound of her brother’s yelling for her to hurry up through the door. He’s probably putting boogers on my doorknob, she thought as she pulled her hair into a loose and messy topknot. She snatched on a lime-green tube top maxi dress before grabbing her cell phone as she rushed from the room.

  Tonight both her mother and her father’s family were coming over to watch a rough-cut preview of the documentary about her father. Although the whole thing was a reminder of her broken hopes with Cheater Corey, Marisol was excited to see herself on the big screen and spend time with her family. She did not have time for wannabe playas. Puh-leeze.

  El lo podría mantener moviendo con eso. (He could keep it moving with that.)

  She just was disappointed that her girls couldn’t be there. Starr was busy with her mom and her party planner. And Didi went with her dad to some Nickelodeon event in L.A. for the weekend.

  Marisol’s stomach growled at the scent of the food being prepared by the staff in the kitchen as she continued past it on her way to the media room. Even though she was keeping her eyes on her Latin-flavored hips, Marisol had every intention of chowing down and then working up a sweat exercising away the extra calories.

  Ding.

  Marisol paused at the double doors leading into the media room and checked her phone for the incoming text.

  UR#1STARR: LOOK AT THE SHOES I FOUND 4 MY OUTFIT. OW!!!

  Marisol hurried to open the photo. Starr and her mom were both smiling as they held up a pair of Gucci high-heel ankle-strap platform sandals in gold. They were wicked. The heels were so high that Marisol was surprised that even a laid-back mom like Sasha was letting Starr wear them.

  MARIMARI: LUV THEM. LUV THEM. LUV THEM.

  DIVADIDI: U R SOOO LUCKY. MY MOM WOULD KILL ME.

  MARIMARI: MINE 2.

  UR#1STARR: REMEMBER THE DRESS CODE IS ALL WHITE.

  DIVADIDI: STILL HAVE TO FIND SUM’N 2 WEAR.

  MARIMARI: ME 2.

  UR#1STARR: REALLY MISS U GUYS.

  “Marisol!”

  MARIMARI: MISS U 2. GOTTA GO.

  DIVADIDI: DEUCES LADIES.

  UR#1STARR: SMOOCHES.

  Marisol walked into the spacious media room, which was filled to capacity—it was standing room only. Marisol made her way to the front of the stylishly appointed room and sat on the floor in between her mother and father’s feet.

  “Remember, Marisol, time is money,” Alex told her before he playfully tugged at her topknot.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The lights dimmed and the curtain covering the wall opened wide. Marisol knew her padre was working one of his touch-screen remote control systems designed to run the entire house.

  Marisol and the entire family laughed and talked throughout the entire screening, which was clearly a rough cut and still needed editing. Anytime she was on the huge screen Marisol blew herself kisses, loving that she looked big-time fabulous in every single shot…just like her mother.

  Midway through the viewing, Marisol jumped to her feet as she felt something wet drizzle on her head and down her back. She whirled and the look of pain and shock on her mother’s face surprised her. “Mama, what’s wrong?” Marisol asked.

  Her eyes darted to her father. His entire body was stiff and he dropped his head down into his hand. The entire family became quiet as all eyes locked on her parents and not the screen.

  “I’m sorry, everyone. The glass must have slipped from my hand,” Yasmine said, rising to hand Marisol napkins without looking her or anyone else in the eyes.

  “Will you all excuse me?” Yasmine said politely with a soft smile.

  Marisol looked on in confusion as her mother pushed past their family members and guests and left the screening room.

  “Everyone please finish watching the show and I’ll go check on Yasmine,” her father said, rising to his feet. “Maybe she’s not feeling well.”

  One of Marisol’s tías helped blot the water from her shoulders and back before she dropped down into her mother’s leather theater chair. The laughter continued and her parents’ disappearance was forgotten…by everyone but Marisol.

  Where are they?

  Is Mamá sick?

  What’s going on?

  Marisol knew that whatever it was it had to be major because her parents were the ultimate hosts and they would never leave guests alone like this.

  Marisol barely took her eyes off the screen as it filled with her image as she walked into the kitchen. She knew the moment oh, so very well. It was right after she caught Corey on the phone with his girlfriend.

  Her heart tugged a little at the look of sadness in her eyes and the fake smile on her lips. Big-time truth? That little weeklong crush had really hurt. It was her first experience with a guy cheating.

  “Marisol, look,” her little brother Carlos said before he came around to plop down in their father’s theater chair.

  She looked down at him and all of his black curly hair and brown skin. He really was cute.

  Carlos pulled a booger from his nose, rolled it and then plucked it clear across the room.

  Too bad he was so gross.

  Ugh!

  Marisol ignored him for the rest of the screening, her eyes constantly darting to the door, awaiting her parents’ return. But her hopes kept getting dashed.

  Marisol used the massive remote control to turn up the lights after the screen faded to black. She rose to her feet. “Excuse me, everyone. Please go into
the dining room for all that good food,” she told them, slipping right into the role of hostess in her mom’s absence. Yasmine had taught her well.

  She whirled around just in time to see Carlos about to touch her. “Keep your hands off, my booger boy,” she snapped, with her brown eyes flashing as she pointed her finger against his forehead. “And go wash your hands. Now!”

  Marisol eased through the crowd of people filing out of the media room, her bare feet lightly tapping against the floors as she quickly made her way down the long hallway to race up the steps. Her heart was pounding as she crept nearer to her parents’ bedroom and pressed her ear to the wood.

  They were arguing—in Spanish. It couldn’t be good.

  “Stay away from me, Alex. I hate you. I hate you.”

  Marisol’s eyes widened as she nervously bit her nail, leaving tiny chips of Pleasure Principle Purple nail polish on the tip of her tongue.

  “Yasmine, let me explain.”

  “Explain what? Huh? Explain what, Alex? Explain why that woman was at the baseball field. Explain that.”

  Slap.

  Marisol gasped at the sound of what she knew was her mother’s hand connecting with her father’s face. Woman? Baseball field? What?

  “All of these women only want you for your name and your money. You think if you had nothing all those women would throw themselves at you. You risk your family for that, Alex? I loved you when you had nothing.”

  Marisol rose to her feet and tore away from her parents’ door and their private business. She had no right to eavesdrop. She heard way more than any fifteen-year-old ever wanted—or needed—to know.

  The world as she knew it suddenly felt different.

  A crazy dream. Nightmare. Bad sitcom script.

  Marisol rushed through the house and made her way back to the now-empty media room. With trembling fingers she used the remote to rewind the DVD back to the point where her mother had dropped her drink on her.

  Her eyes flittered across the screen as she chewed off more Pleasure Principle Purple, looking for something that only her mother had seen and recognized. She jumped and jabbed the pause button with her finger.

  Paused on the hundred-inch screen, just barely in the frame, Marisol’s clear eyes locked on the blond-haired woman climbing into a flashy red Porsche. The woman’s moment on the screen had been so quick, but it had been enough for her mother to see.

  And unfortunately it was enough for Marisol.

  How can I ever look at my father the same?

  She dropped into one of the theater chairs, pulling her feet up to her knees before she pulled her maxi dress down over them.

  Are my parents getting divorced? she thought.

  Marisol thought of how she felt when she found out that her crush had a girlfriend and she hated that her mother had to feel that at all.

  “Protect your heart and your innocence. Don’t be in a rush to give them away. Life is always filled with regrets.”

  She turned as the media-room door opened. Carlos stuck his curly head in. “Marisol, Mama said to come and eat. Everyone is waiting for you.”

  Marisol just nodded but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

  Carlos walked over to her. “Something wrong, Mari?” he asked, his cute face filled with concern.

  Something was big-time wrong.

  “No, Carlos,” she lied, reaching up to muss his hair with a smile, a very sad smile.

  twenty

  Starr

  September 22 @ 6:30 a.m. | Mood: Disappointed

  Starr was headed out the door when she remembered the parent-teacher conference was today. She dropped her Vuitton book bag and turned to head back up the stairs to her parents’ bedroom suite. She knocked twice on the towering double doors.

  Yes, it was early.

  Yes, she knew they were asleep.

  No, she didn’t care.

  “Come in,” her mom called out groggily.

  Starr opened one of the doors and peeked her head inside. The room was pitch-dark and she could barely make out their massive bed in the center of the room. “Ma, don’t forget the parent-teacher conference today,” she said, squinting her eyes.

  “We won’t,” was the groggy reply.

  Starr persisted. “Please don’t forget. They’re starting to think I raise myself,” she said.

  “Starr, we’ll be there,” her father added.

  Starr knew she was pushing it when her father stepped in, but she didn’t care. “Your word is supposed to be your bond.”

  “Starr!” they both exclaimed.

  She could barely make out the two of them both sitting up in bed. “See you later, then,” she said before closing the door.

  As she jogged down the stairs, grabbed her satchel and headed out the door, Starr wondered if this school year was going to be any different than last year.

  Cole and Sasha Lester missing school activities.

  Cole and Sasha Lester late to school activities.

  Cole and Sasha Lester forgetting school activities.

  Starr sighed as she smiled at Marcus and then climbed onto the backseat of the Bentley.

  Her parents could really be a trip when they wanted to.

  Starr kept eyeing her watch as she sat with her face in her hand as she doodled on her notebook and completely lost focus in her English class. It was hard to get lost in the pages of a book when she had her own minidrama unfolding before her. Her parents could be so embarrassing.

  The parent-teacher conference wouldn’t be big-time necessary if they had shown up for the school’s open house this summer where parents were supposed to meet their children’s teachers. That night a yacht party with Diddy had won out over open house at Pace.

  Of course, they reasoned since she was a straight-A student that they were doing an oh-so-fabulous job. Not.

  Starr sighed as she waited for Mr. Appleton to call her name and send her to the main office because her parents had arrived.

  They better come through. They better.

  “Starr, can I borrow a pencil, please?”

  Rolling her eyes, Starr turned her head to look at KiKi Broner—daughter of a powerful software tycoon, whose breath smelled of onions and feet. “Listen, KiKi, tell your dad to buy you a Walgreens and then make sure you stock it with pencils and puh-lenty of gum,” Starr finished snidely as she blocked her nostrils with her index finger.

  KiKi looked offended as she threw up a hand in a retro diss and said, “Tell it to the hand.” Starr just rolled her eyes again before she checked her watch and then shifted her eyes out the window.

  Their appointment was for eleven o’clock and it was already past that.

  Starr knew that the real reason she clowned on KiKi was her anger and hurt over her parent’s no-show…again.

  She was glad when the bell sounded and class was over. She hopped up from her chair, nearly knocking it backward as she rushed through the few students to step outside the door. She quickly reached for her BlackBerry and dialed her father’s phone number.

  Starr released an aggravated breath as she rolled her eyes. “Daddy, puh-leeze,” she drawled. “Where are you?”

  “About to go in the studio,” he said simply.

  “You forgot the meeting at the school!” she shrieked in pure frustration, drawing the curious stares of students lurking in the halls heading to their next period classes.

  “Yeah, we forgot about that.”

  “Again,” Starr stressed.

  “I’m sorry, Starr, but we just found out Mary is on her way here. It couldn’t be helped.”

  Starr sighed. “Where’s Mama?”

  “Right here. She’s helping me produce this track and she might even sing on it.”

  And that made Starr freeze. What if she wants to strike up her singing career again? Her mother back in the studio? Between shopping and socializing, Sasha barely had enough time for Starr now. Back in the studio? Possible hit record? Touring?

  She would NEVER see her mot
her.

  “I just wish that you two would be just as interested in seeing this Starr as you are with hanging out with other stars. I need parents.”

  Starr flipped her phone closed.

  Before she had time to drop it into her satchel it began to vibrate. “Let them get some of their own medicine,” she thought, completely ignoring their calls.

  twenty-one

  Dionne

  September 24 @ 11:50 a.m. | Mood: Determined

  Dionne was beyond grateful that her father did ante up the tuition but she was very aware that she wasn’t helping his financial drama by always asking—and getting—expensive things. She figured that it was time for her to help out.

  With one last pat to Linton’s freshly braided hair, Dionne stood up from the steps and came around him to hold out one greasy hand for her pay. He slid the fifty-dollar bill to her without question and Dionne shoved it into the side pocket of her Gucci tote.

  “Thanks, Dionne,” Linton told her before he stood up and slid his red uniform blazer back on.

  “No problem.”

  Dionne gathered her hair comb, brush and small jar of hair grease into a plastic bag, tied it securely and then dropped it into her Gucci book satchel.

  Between braiding hair in the hood and catching the few boys at school who didn’t have fades, Dionne had already saved up five hundred dollars.

  And she was quite proud of herself for not blowing it all on the cutest pair of Louboutins she saw at the mall yesterday.

  Ding.

  Dionne dug out her cell phone as she made her way across campus to the main building. Her stomach was straight growling and she only had ten minutes to scarf down lunch.

  UR#1STARR: LOCATION???

  DIVADIDI: ON MY WAY 2 CAF.

  UR#1STARR: K.

  Of course, Dionne had not clued the Pacesetters in on her side hustle. What would she say? My big-time rapper daddy is going to go broke overspending so I’m helping out. (HINT: She would never say that. N-E-V-E-R!)