Famous (8 page)

Marisol
October 23@3:43 p.m. | Mood: Supportive

“Let's
go, la-dies,” Marisol insisted as she eyed Starr and Dionne giggling over something on the internet. She was already dressed and ready to start practicing their routine.

Starr looked over from her desk. “What are you rushing for?” she asked, still dressed in the outfit she wore to school.

Because I am outta here at six to go see my baby's game.
Marisol sighed as she paced half the length of Starr's bedroom—back and forth, back and forth. She tapped her foot with her arms crossed over her chest. “I'm ready to get started,” she insisted.

Dionne grabbed her mini-duffel and headed for the bathroom. “I'm changing, Marisol. I'm changing.”

“Good.”

Starr eyed her as she cruised the net. “Actually I'm glad you're all ready to go. It's hard being the only one to grind so hard.”

Marisol bit her lip to keep from telling her that she wished
Starr's attempts at singing would grind to a halt. “I'm just ready to practice.”

They both looked at the door as Starr's doorbell chimed. Marisol went back to pacing and Starr used her remote to turn her TV to her surveillance camera.

“What in the heck is she doing here?”

Marisol turned and eyed the pretty redhead on the screen.

“Who is she?” she asked.

“Natalee Livingston,” Starr said, turning her attention back to the computer. “Her dad and my dad are in business together, and my mom and her mom want us to be besties. Picture that happening.”

Marisol's eyes went from the TV to the door to Starr and back again. TV. Starr. Door. “Aren't you going to let her in?” she asked, watching Natalee examine her nails.

“I didn't invite her,” Starr said.

Marisol's eyes widened. “That is so rude, Starr. Let the girl in,” she said, crossing the floor to pull the door open.

“Hi,” she said, her voice husky. “I'm Natalee.”

Marisol stepped back just as Dionne stepped out of the bathroom in her practice gear: shorts, tank top and long colorful socks. “I'm Marisol and that's Rainbow Brite aka Dionne,” she said with a friendly smile.

“Ha-ha,” Dionne drawled.

Natalee walked into the suite, looking casual chic in a camel-colored ostrich-skin leather jacket with a matching cashmere-and-silk blend asymmetrical sweater and velvet straight-leg pants. Long, gold chains pulled it all together. The color was phenomenal with her deep reddish-auburn hair. “Hey, Starr,” she said.

Starr barely raised her hand in a wave.

Marisol rolled her eyes. “Love, love, love that outfit.”

Natalee smiled. “Thanks. I just love Gucci,” she said.

“So does Starr,” Dionne said from her spot on the floor as she pulled on her sneakers.

Marisol's eyebrows shot up as Starr whipped around to shoot Dionne a vicious dagger with her eyes as Starr made her way into her walk-in closet. “Starr, can you get dressed now, please?” she said, remembering her date with her dimpled football player, Percy.

She grabbed her cell phone from her pocketbook to text him.

 

C u @ the game

 

“There goes my baby…”

Marisol opened her text.

 

Wear the T-shirt I got u. U r my good luck charm.

 

Her smile was brighter than the Friday night lights of the football field.

 

:)

 

“There goes my baby,” Natalee sang low in her throat as she flipped through a magazine.

Marisol's eyes shot in Natalee's direction, surprised by the pure
blue-eyed soul
that came from her mouth.

“Loving everything you do…”

She looked at Dionne. Dionne looked at her. They gave each other the meaningful eye like “Did you hear that?”

“Oh my God, your voice is off the chain,” Dionne said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

Natalee looked up in surprise. “Me?” she asked, pointing to herself with a gold-tipped finger.

“Sí,”
Marisol said.

“Thanks,” she said. “My dad's always telling me to stop singing so much.”

“You like R&B?” Dionne asked.

Natalee nodded. “I like all kinds of music,” she said.

Marisol gave Dionne another meaningful stare before she turned to Natalee with a huge Kool-Aid grin. “You sound…”

“Black,” Dionne said bluntly.

“Soulful,” Marisol finished.

Natalee removed her leather jacket. “Do you two go to Pace, too?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, sure,” Marisol said dismissively with a wave of her light brown hand. “Do you know any Mary J. Blige?”

Natalee nodded, her glossy curls brushing against her face. “Love her
My Life
CD.”

“Me, too,” Dionne and Marisol said in unison.

They all laughed.

“Life can be only what you make it,” Natalee sang, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she sang from her soul.

Marisol felt goose bumps. A white girl with soul was not unheard-of: Amy Winehouse, Joss Stone, Teena Marie.

The closet door opened and Starr stepped out in her
bra and shorts. “What was that?” she asked. “Who was that?”

“We have a mini Amy Winehouse in the building,” Dionne said.

Starr's eyes shifted to Natalee. “It sounded okay,” she said, as she pulled a T-shirt on.

“O-kay? Okay? The girl can
saaang,
” Dionne said.

“Seriously.”

“You should join our group,” Marisol offered.

“Now that's what's up,” Dionne said, excited.

“A singing group?” Natalee asked.

“No!” Starr belted.

Marisol, Dionne and Natalee turned their heads toward her.

Starr smiled. “We already have everything planned for just the three of us,” she said.

“I vote that she's in,” Marisol said, thinking it was the perfect solution for Starr's lackluster vocals. “All in favor?”

Dionne's hand shot up.

Marisol clapped. “We can fit her in. It's not too late.”

“Can I talk to you two?” Starr said, turning to walk into her theater room.

Marisol and Dionne looked at each other long and hard before they followed her. Starr was pacing. Hard.

“I cannot believe you two have the audacity to invite somebody into
my
group,” she snapped, her eyes flashing.

“But she's good, Starr,” Marisol insisted.

“Unlike you, I won't be receiving help for my part in the group.”

Huh? Say what? “What does that mean?”

Starr shrugged. “Our new choreographer starts today,” she said, looking Marisol square in the eye.

“Uh-oh,” Dionne said from behind.

“That's cool,” Marisol said, turning to leave the room.

“I really don't want to be in a singing group,” Natalee said to her, almost sounding bored with the whole idea as she flipped the page of the magazine.

“Smart girl,” Marisol said.

Starr and Dionne walked back in the room. “Okay, Natalee, we're about to practice sooooo…”

Natalee smiled a little. “I understand. I'll just go find my mother.”

The smile Starr gave her was cold.

Marisol eyed her friend. “Starr, you really should let her sing since you—”

“Hey, so let's practice,” Dionne said, obviously cutting Marisol off.

Humph. She's so tone-deaf she probably thinks Natalee is the one who sounds terrible!
Marisol thought.

 

Marisol watched their new choreographer, Eli, carefully as he showed them a series of steps for the chorus of the song. She was determined to nail it. Starr thought she wasn't skilled enough to come up with their routines. Fine. Whatevs. Still, she was going to show them she was the best dancer in the group—if Starr didn't already know.

“Okay, girls,” Eli said, his wrists as loose as his hips.

Marisol took her spot to the left of Starr, who was front and center.

The music filled the dance studio.

“Five, four, three, two, one… Get it!”

Marisol kept her eyes locked on her reflection in the mirror as she gave the dance her all. Fire was in her eyes. Skills were in her dance steps. Rhythm was in her hips.

She didn't even notice that Dionne and Starr faltered and that she was dancing through the routine alone until she hit her final pose with her hand up high in the air and her legs spread wide.

“Girl, you are fierce,” Eli said, walking up to Marisol as she finally relaxed her pose. “I am scared of you, chica!”

Marisol smiled as her chest heaved and she gasped in large breaths. “Thank you.”

“Girl, you make me say J-Who?” he joked.

Marisol beamed.

Dionne looked on proudly.

Starr looked begrudgingly impressed.

“Okay, gotta go,” she said, turning to walk over to the benches.

“You're not staying?” Starr asked.

Marisol grabbed her duffel. “Percy has a game,” she said.

“Eli, is that everything you were working on today?” she asked, checking her watch.
My driver should be outside.

“Yes and you nailed it,” he said.

Marisol nodded, threw up a deuce, and exited Starr's suite.

 

Marisol took in everything around Pace Academy's football field. It was the first time she'd ever been to a game,
and she couldn't wait for Percy and the rest of the team to take the field.

She was big-time excited when they began to announce the players. She yelled and clapped the loudest when Percy's name was called. When he looked up into the stands to find her, she waved and gave him her best smile.

Did she feel bad about missing practice and the sleepover? Nope. Starr had hurt her feelings by dropping her as the choreographer even though she didn't show it.

“Girl, you are fierce!”

She remembered Eli's compliment. That mattered more to her, because dance was her thing. Plus, she was beginning to think that her claim to fame had nothing to do with music and the Go Gettas.

Starr
October 25@1:00 p.m. | Mood: Relaxed

The
Lester household was filled with activity as everyone made last-minute preparations for the Halloween party—more like extravaganza.

Starr was stressed about getting a costume designed for the party, working overtime on the Go Gettas, preparing for the talent show and keeping up with her schoolwork.

To top it all off, she was missing Jordan and annoyed by the ever-growing presence of Natalee “I think I'm Mary J. Blige” Livingston in her life.

“You're tense, Starr,” Inga said, putting more pressure on Starr's thin shoulders as she gave her a massage.

The thought of Natalee made Starr tense—big-time. That night at the Livingstons' house had only confirmed what Starr already knew—Natalee's life was fabulous, maybe even more so than her own. Natalee's gorgeously styled suite of rooms with a loft and a secret door leading to a passageway to the home's elaborate games room in the basement. Her closet was exactly like Mariah's New York penthouse walk-in closet. Of course, Natalee was nice enough in that
laid-back, bored kind of way that might make a less secure person feel like a fifth wheel. But there was room for only one star in Starr's world. And that was why she had tried her best to downplay Pace Academy to Natalee, who was looking for a broader social life. Natalee Livingston, the stylish white girl with black-girl flavor at
her
school—heck no!

“Relax, Miss Starr,” Inga encouraged.

Starr tried to force herself to chill out, but it was easier said than done.

As soon as the massage was over, Starr wrapped a white Egyptian cotton bath sheet around her body. Inga packed away the massage table and quietly made her exit. Starr looked up as her assistant, Olivia, passed her a fuchsia terry-cloth robe. “Thanks,” Starr said, standing in her bare feet to wrap the robe around herself, letting the bath sheet drop to the floor of her bedroom suite.

Olivia was an intern at TopStarr Records and also worked as Starr's part-time, on-call personal assistant. She adjusted her black-rimmed glasses on her face and opened a leather portfolio.

“Fiyah will be arriving next weekend. I have him booked in a deluxe suite at the Hilton. I emailed him the lyrics you forwarded me and he should get back to us tomorrow with any suggestions,” Olivia said.

Starr nodded as she moved to take her seat at her desk.

“The stylist has agreed to meet the Go Gettas here the day of the talent show to do makeup and get you all dressed,” she continued.

“She's coming to the talent show, right?” Starr asked, momentarily taking her eyes off her Facebook account.

Olivia nodded and scratched something on her portfolio. “Yes, to help you with the performance outfits you approved.”

Starr logged out of Facebook and logged into her Twitter account.

“Eli is confirmed to practice here every Friday until the night of the talent show.”

Starr clicked on Jordan's profile page.

 

JORDAN_JACKSON: ya boy is on Ustream. Holla at me!!!!

 

She clicked the link, wondering why she was torturing herself. “Maybe he's not on anymore.”

“You said something, Starr?” Olivia asked.

She shook her head as Jordan's image filled the screen. Her eyes soaked him in as she ignored the hundreds of girls telling him how cute he was and how they wanted to marry him and kiss him.

“Feeling completely misunderstood. But y'all know how that is, right?” he said, as he gave his lips a lick.

“And your mom's stylist is coming over today with everyone's costumes.”

“Have you ever been feeling someone who wasn't feeling you?” he asked.

“Starr. Starr?”

She looked away from Jordan as he began to sing. “Huh?”

“I'm still working on the other items you requested for the stage show,” Olivia said, handing her the cup of hot water with lemon and honey that Starr requested. “Mimi said be careful. It's hot.”

Starr was so caught up with Jordan, who she saw was bare-chested, that she didn't notice that Mimi had come into her room and left.

“Is that Jordan?” Olivia asked, standing next to Starr's fuchsia leather chair.

“Yup.”

“The girls love them some Jordan,” Olivia said, before turning to walk away.

Starr looked at his viewer count as the numbers increased by the second and the chat room filled with girls trying to get his attention. How could she compete with that?

She closed her computer just as her bedroom door opened. Her mother walked in. Starr smiled. Her mom was so cool, so fly, so laid-back, so fabulous.

“Wanted to check on my baby girl,” she said, looking fab in gray cashmere lounge pants, a white Lycra tank top and a turquoise wrap sweater that draped open. Her hair was in a loose topknot and five-carat platinum diamond studs were on her lobes.

“How's the album coming?” Starr asked, once Olivia had left the room.

“Good,” Sasha said. “I'm ready to get back and do my thing, especially performing on stage. I love it.”

Maybe the Go Gettas could open up for Sasha's world tour!
Starr thought, adding it to her to-do list.

Starr enjoyed the attention. Her parents were always on
the go and she lived for the rare moments they carved out for family time. She started to tell her about the talent show but she held back. First she wanted to make sure the Go Gettas ish was on point.

“What did you have Olivia doing for you?” Sasha asked.

“Some things for school,” she said, intentionally being vague. She had already sworn Olivia to secrecy.

“How's school going?” her mother asked, reaching for a rhinestone-covered brush.

“Good. I got an A on my English test,” Starr said.

“You always get good grades, but then Pace is a good school, a
really
good school…certainly not a place with gang violence and sexual assaults and teachers who smoke weed with the students.”

Uh-oh.

“Starr, why in the hell did you try to discourage Natalee from going to Pace? Did you say all those things?” Sasha asked, sitting down on the foot of her daughter's bed and crossing her legs.

Starr kept her eyes locked on her mother's painted toenails as she shrugged.

“Look at me, Starr,” her mother said in a no-nonsense voice that she rarely used.

Starr obeyed. “But, Ma, why does she have go to Pace?”

Sasha's face became incredulous. “Because she wants to, Starr. You can't dictate the comings and goings at Pace. You're trippin', little girl.”

Starr pouted. “I have friends. I have a life. Why are you
forcing this girl on me? When did I become the welcome committee for lonely teens?”

Sasha eyed her daughter for a long time as her foot swung up and down like she was charging something up with static electricity. “People say we spoil you and give you too much. They say we're raising mini-monsters. They say we aren't giving you real values because we give you so many material things.”

Starr shifted her eyes away from her mom's.

“I thought we had a good balance. I thought we were doing right by you and your brothers, letting you enjoy everything we
worked
hard to get.” Sasha stood up. “Knowing you would lie to someone to get your way, Starr, makes me wonder if we were wrong.”

Starr said nothing and her mother turned and walked out of the suite, leaving behind a room filled with disappointment.