Hollywood High (14 page)

Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

BOOK: Hollywood High

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After a moment of silence and them both staring at me, not blinking, my father popped his neck and said, “I have seen the news and I have read the blogs. Now, what's your version?” But before I could say anything he said, “And don't start that fast talk, cause the moment boom-bop comes out of your mouth I'ma let you know exactly what a boom-bop means.”

My mother slid from behind my father's chair, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and cocked her neck to the side. “I dare you,” she mouthed.

Immediately my left leg started to shake and I felt like I had to go to the bathroom again but I knew I couldn't move. I swallowed and said, “See what had happened was. Ummm . . . yeah . . . ummm, yeah, see London came to Hollywood High bringing all this ra-raâ”

“Start over.” He sat up completely straight and leaned forward.

My mother reached across him and moved his glass of cognac to the side. “Just in case you need to leap over.”

My father cut his eyes at my mother and she resumed massaging his shoulders.

My eyes dropped back to my father. Veins ran across his forehead like a road map. He peered at me and said, “Now, I said start. Over.”

“See, yeah, what the problem really is, is Spencerâ”

“Start over again.” He rose from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk. My mother was wringing her hands.

I broke down and started crying.

“Rich, those tears are not working with me, so suck 'em up and sit up straight,” Daddy demanded. “You played yourself on national TV, all the headlines are reading that my daughter has turned into a thug in Chanel and I know, and you know, and your mother knows, that you don't know nothing about being a thug. Yet still you're out in the street carrying onâ”

“Daddy, it just happened so fast. I let London talk me into fighting Corey, when I knew it wasn't right. And I knew that Mommy always said to be a lady. And I am a lady, but this girl just has a way of getting everybodyâ”

I paused. Swallowed. The look on my father's face reminded me that I was going too far to the left and needed to bring it back, quick, so I said, “So, Spencer, who I thought was my best friend since kindergarten, was sleeping with my boyfriend. Did you see the video? Straight porn starâ”

“The only video I saw was you acting straight hood.” He rose off of the desk and the next thing I knew he stood in front of me.

“I don't want to hear anything about London, Spencer, or anybody else. All I'm concerned about is you. And you do remember who you are. But then again maybe you don't, so let me remind you. You are the daughter of Richard Gabriel Montgomery Sr., founder and CEO of Grand Records. Do you understand what that means?”

“Apparently she doesn't,” my mother added and I wished I could tell her to shut her mouth. But I didn't, mostly because I didn't dare to.

“Well, let me school you,” my father continued. “You don't have a right to embarrass me. Actually you don't have a right to breathe without me giving you permission.” He paused. “And then I had three, four lawyers call here asking me if they could sample your voice screaming, âI'ma peel his face off!' Really? Rich? Who you supposed to be? Queen Bee? Ill Na-Na? You ain't put no work in. You haven't done anything but be a snotty-nose little brat, who thinks she has the world at her fingertips. And the only reason why you have that world is because I've given it to you. This is my money, my house, my fortune, my reputation and I'm not going to have you and your behavior tryna do me. When I was on the street, people have disappeared for less than that. Now what you think I'ma do to you bringing lawsuits to my doorstep?”

My eyes popped open wide.

“Yeah, Corey's parents want money for you â
peeling his face off!
' ”

He continued, “And if we have to settle out of court, the money will come out of your trust fund, and you better hope it doesn't deplete it. Now from where I'm standing you have some serious thinking to do. Because if you can't get it right, you will be up out of here. There are plenty of boarding schools. Now I didn't have these problems from your brother and I'm not going to have them from you. Now get out of my face!”

I quickly rose from my seat and I could feel my top sticking to my back and my pants sticking to my legs. For a moment I wondered if I'd left a puddle of sweat in the chair.

“And know this,” my father said as I stepped toward the door. “You are on punishment. And you will apologize to Spencer and Corey.”

Psst, please. I wish I would. I'm Rich Montgomery, I don't do apologies.

“We will finish this conversation later,” my mother said to me as I closed the door.

As I stepped away I heard my father raise his voice and say to my mother, “You have spoiled her way too much! This is your fault.”

I hurried away from the door as my mother started fast-talking and explaining why I act the way I do, and from what I heard none of it made any sense.

It was close to midnight and I couldn't get any sleep. I tossed and turned thinking about a million things. The moonlight streamed in from the crack in my French doors that led to my terrace. I eased out of bed and walked over to the terrace and leaned against the doorframe, looking out into the night. The cool air bathed my face and just as I closed my eyes and thought about everything that had happened today my phone rang.

Knox.

I hesitated. I knew what hearing his voice did to me . . . it took me away from everything we were supposed to beâfriends. He was like, like the bag of chocolate that I knew was good, and I didn't need it, but I wanted it. Bad. And although I wasn't used to being told no, I had to tell myself no in this instance because it was the best thing for both of us ... whatever the hell that meant. I closed my eyes and the phone again.

Forget it.
Maybe his voice was just what I needed. “Hello?”

“Hey wassup, Love.”

I closed my eyes, absorbed the beauty in his voice, and a vision flashed before me of Knox kissing me along my collarbone and me melting into his embrace. I shook the vision, twisted my lips, and said. “Nothing.” I paused. “Just thinking about how rude it is to call people after ten o'clock at night.”

Knox chuckled. “Yeah a'ight. Whatever. What, did your phone just start working?”

“What? No.”

“Oh, so you just haven't called me on purpose?” he asked.

“You're the one who's always busy, Mr. College Boy.”

“Yeah a'ight.” He laughed and I found myself laughing, too. “So what's good with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh here you go with that again. That's that bull.”

I chuckled and said innocently while twisting my index finger into my left cheek, “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, Miss Innocent. Now stop twisting your finger in your cheek.”

I couldn't help but smile at how well he knew me. “I'm just tired.”

“Why are you tired? From all your media festivities. You're a real celebrity, huh? Real thug in Chanel, all the little girls will be boom-boppin' it. Everywhere. I bet you coined the phrase âI'ma peel his face off.'”

“Oh you got jokes.”

“Nah,” he cracked up, “I'm leaving all the jokes up to you. How long before you think they drop a rap song, âI'ma . . . I'ma . . . I'ma peel your face off!” He rapped and as hard as I tried not to get caught up I couldn't help it. So I dropped an old-school human beatbox behind his playful lyrics. And as he continued rapping, “I'ma peel your face off,” I made scratching sounds and drumbeats with my chest.

We cracked up laughing so hard that tears had come out of my eyes. “Yo, come outside.”

I hesitated. “Come outside?”

“And I'm not taking no for an answer.”

I sighed. “Give me a minute.”

I quickly changed into a pair of denim short-shorts, a white spaghetti-strap tee, and a pair of pink flip-flops. I walked out of the servants' entrance and eased down the driveway, praying that the gate didn't make too much noise as I opened it.

It didn't.

My heart dropped to my stomach the moment Knox filled my eyesight. I bit into my bottom lip, doing all that I could not to lick it. He leaned against his black Jeep Wrangler. His chestnut eyes sparkled in the glow of the lit pavers and the gas street lamp. He wore slightly baggy black jeans, with a black San Diego State University hoodie, and a pair of white Air Yeezy sneakers. His skin was the color of melted milk chocolate and his frame was broad, built, and sexy. He stood about six-three and it took everything in me not to run over and kiss him.

“I see you checking me out? Oh, you like what you see.”

“What?” I said, trying not to blush, as I walked over to him. “Boy, please. I mean, you look all right. But you're not cuter than me.”

He laughed. “Yeah a'ight.” He looked me over and opened his arms up and said, “So you're too cute to give me some love. You haven't seen me in a month.” He lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “Damn, it's good to see you. I missed you, girl.”

I smiled, laid my head against his chest and breathed in his scent. “I missed you, too.”

He slid his hands in my back pockets and pulled me in closer. I loved the feel of being in his arms, but I knew that we couldn't get caught like this again, so I slid his hands from my pants and placed them at his side.

He looked at me and smiled. “My fault.”

I playfully rolled my eyes to the sky and sucked my teeth. “So where you been?”

He looked at me confused and said, “You know where I've been. I been at school and you been on the news. The question is when you gon' make time for me? Or do I have to keep creeping up at night, using the servants' entrance?”

“I always have time for you.”

“A'ight show me. Come see me this weekend.”

“At school and a whole hour and a half away?”

“Yeah. I would do it for you. I did it for you. I'm here.”

I laughed. “You know you just left ya mama's house eating dinner and doing your laundry, 'cause I still smell chicken on your breath. And I bet you I open your car door and it's laundry on the backseat.”

“A brother gotta eat and wash. And then I came through to see you.”

“Awwl, I feel so special.”

“You are special.” He stroked my cheek.

We paused and an awkward silence filled the air.

“So umm,” he said. “Maybe I shouldâ”

“Yeah, get going.”

“Yeah, I have a long ride.”

“Get back safe.”

I could tell by the look on his face he had more to say and so did I and just when I thought that maybe I was bold enough to say it, I changed my mind.

Knox kissed me on the forehead and said, “Later.”

I watched him pull off and for a few moments I stared at the space where he once stood.

I turned toward the house, punched in the gate's code, and as it closed I was immediately greeted with a backhand across my face, causing me to stumble backward, hitting the ground.

As I tried to get up my mother stepped over me, one leg on each side and said, “I see you haven't learned yet!” Her hand kissed my face again.

Spencer

“I
'm leaving now, Beautiful,” Vera, my loyal and devoted house manager, announced in her thick Trinidadian accent as she walked into my suite. Veraâor Auntie Vera as she insisted she be calledâwas a short, stocky woman with wide hips and full breasts that had been my resting place many nights when I needed comforting. Vera had been in my life since I was nine. And I loved her. She didn't take piss for the cotton from anyone. But she had a platinum heart and loved me as if I were her own. “Do yuh need anyting else before me leave for de night, Sweetie? If you're hungry, me have yuh dinner in the microwave. Me made yuh favorite. Macaroni pie, stewed chicken, stewed okra, and callaloo. And if yuh eat your veggies there's a currants roll on the counter waiting for you.”

I looked at her and gave her a wide smile, slipping back to when I was five. “Ohmygod, I love you so much. You always know how to put a smile on my heart.”

“Who loves yuh?”

Definitely not the egg and sperm donors who created me!

“Auntie Vera does,” I said with forced enthusiasm. I knew she really cared for me. But at that very moment, I didn't feel an itsy-bitsy spider's web worth of love.

“That's right.” She gave me a long stare. “What does Tanty Vera always tell yuh?”

Against my will, I smiled. “That I am beautiful. That I am talented. That I am loved. Always.”

“Always,” she said. “Now tell me chile. What's troublin' yuh?”

“Nothing.”

She placed a hand upon her wide hip. “Nah yuh know me know yuh like yuh was me own. And me lookin' at chu and know sumting weighs heavy on yuh heart. Whappen?”

“Nothing happened,” I said, shifting my eyes.

“If it's about de car, don't vex. Yuh get another.”

“It's not about the car, Auntie.”

“Well me hope it's not about those fast girls. Dey fron-tish. And dey more hot than dey sweet.” She sucked her teeth long and hard. “No worry with that.”

“Please. I'm not thinking about them hooter-cooters. I know they're always stirring stuff up. They're nothing but hoggish pot hounds anyway.”

She chuckled at me calling them rude stray dogs. “Be nice, chile.”

“Always.”

“Uh-huh. Leh go.”

I shook my head.

“Come now. Get off ya bamsee and get ya tings. I'm takin' yuh home wit' me, like me used to.”

I felt a pang in my chest. “Auntie Vera, I really miss those times.”

I smiled, then quickly felt sadness sweep over me, remembering the festive holidays I'd spent with Vera and her family over the years when I wasn't spending them in France with one of my boarding school friends' families. And then that one time when I spent it with Rich and her family in Aspen for the winter break. And she had caught me and her brother, RJ, talking real heavy with our naked bodies. And we were having a good conversation, too, until she burst through the door with a blackmailing smile on her face. Miss Yappity-Yap couldn't wait to go tell her parents on us and spoil all of our fun. So that ended that. Still, my memories of the holidays, summers, and short breaks were bittersweet; all of the laughter and love . . . spent with everyone else's family except my own.

Vera smiled. “Me miss dem, too. Come now.”

I smiled back at her. “That's all right. I'm fine right here. I'm sixteen and grown now. I'll be okay.”

“Well, would yuh like for me to stay a while longer?”

I shook my head, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Have you heard from my mother?”

She nodded. “Yes. I spoke wit' she twice today.”

“Is
she
coming home?” Why I asked this was beyond me. I mean, really. I haven't overdosed on stupid. I already knew the answer. Still I kind of hoped for a different answer, just this once. Vera gave me a solemn look that told me what I already knew. Kitty had no interest in seeing about her only child.

“I'm not sure when yuh muddah is due in. When I spoke to she earlier, she said she'd try to get in this evening. If not, she'd definitely be here by the end of the week.”

My eyes widened, then narrowed. What else was new? It has always been about Kitty. Kitty this, Kitty that.
Kitty-cat, Kitty-cat, stuff her in a hat.
I felt like snatching her by her fluffy-butt tail and swinging her out of a window, just to see how many lives she really had. But, knowing her, she'd have more than nine lives and land on her hoofs. I had 199 problems, and Kitty was one.

All she ever does is put herself before me. I hated that crap. I have always been second to her career, third to the guest on her show, fourth to her charities, and fifth to any other mess she deemed important. I might as well have been a Safe Haven baby she dropped off since she left me with everyone else to take care of me. I had never been her responsibility.

Whatever! What else do you do when you're married to an old wealthy coot with no children? Simple: You give him a baby, then let him figure out what to do with it. And his solution: Hire a house manager and nanny and let them raise it. Oh, and forget the fact that neither of those women spoke fluent English. Oh, no. That wasn't of concern. Keeping a bouncing baby out of sight, except for photo ops. Oh, oh, in front of the cameras and in all of my childhood photos you would think I had been their bundle of pride and joy. Nope. It was all an act.

So any memories of being kissed on the forehead, or hugged, or told I was loved were from my Spanish and French caretakersâEsmeralda and Solenne, during the first three years of my life. My first steps, my first tooth, my first words spoken, shared by them. I learned to speak Spanish and French. And my concerned mother, oh, she had no idea what I spoke. She thought it was gibberish. And as a matter of fact, she had me evaluated, thinking I was developmentally delayed, or had some kind of neurological problem. But the laugh was on her, because all of her fancy doctors and expensive evaluations came back with the same thing. There was nothing wrong with me. In fact I was more advanced than most my age. The gibberish she thought I was speaking was actually me speaking in French and Spanish, sometimes at the same time. After Mother made a fool of herself, she made their lives miserable, causing both of them to quit. She chased the only two women who cared anything about me out of my life. She knew they were both the closest things to a real mother that I had known. And she took that away from me. No one else in this house spoke French, or Spanish. So I had to be forced to learn English.

Then what does Mother do the minute I turn twelve? She ships me off to Le Roseyâa prestigious boarding school in Switzerlandâand leaves me there to fend for myself because she couldn't be bothered with the needs of a prepubescent girl. That's what she did. So, I purposefully took all of my studies in French since students there were given the option to take their studies in either English or French.

I glanced over at Vera, who was looking at me as if she knew what I had been thinking. “Don't yuh swell up yuh face now. Yuh muddah will come.”

I huffed, “Yeah, right. When has she ever?” I felt myself about to go off. Just once, you'd think Kitty would pretend to be concerned about me. I was almost killed today in a car accident, attacked by two backdoor-bronchos, then played like an old tossed salad by that lowlife Corey. And where was Kitty?

I touched the side of my bruised face where London had punched me. And pulled in my swollen lip where Rich had hit me. The pain was a reminder of how messy and lonely life could be. They wouldn't know the minute, nor the second, but I was gonna make them pay if it was the last thing I did. But I had a more pressing matter. Kitty Ellington! The neglectful mother!

If she were asked what my favorite color was, or my favorite movie or song, she wouldn't have a clue. If you asked her what my bra size was, or when I started my cycle, Miss Shitty Kitty wouldn't be able to tell you. That's how much Miss Mother of the Year knows about me. Not a cold damn thing! I promise you. It'd be a hot day in hell before she ever knew anything about me.

I run my own life. And do what I want! That's how it's always been. And that's how it'll always be. Screw Kitty! I hope she drowns in her litter box. If she doesn't watch her claws, I'll be chopping down her cherry tree next.

I looked over at Vera and shrugged. “I don't care if she does or not. You go on home with your family. I'll see you in the morning.”

She walked over to me and gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me to call her if I needed anything. “You know, Tanty Vera loves yuh.”

I smiled as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her bosom the way she used to when I was younger. A part of me wanted to go home with her. To be where it was safe, and filled with love. But her home wasn't mine. Her family wasn't mine. Truth is, I had no family. And this wasn't a home. This was a cold, empty estate that meant absolutely nothing. I had no grandparents, no aunts or uncles, or cousinsâthat I knew of because Kitty had cut them all off long before I was born. And I have no relationship with any of my seventy-eight-year-old, free-spirited, yoga-bending, loin-clothed father's family.

Vera gave me another hug and kiss, then headed toward the door. She looked back over her shoulder and gave me a wide smile, then walked out. I watched as she disappeared behind the closed door.

If Vera would have stayed a moment longer I know I would have lost it.

I balled up on my chaise, then without warning I burst into tears. Here I was in this big, two-story, majestic Mediterranean-style mansion with all of its arch-topped windows and fancy trimmings with no one here to hug me or console me or even show me love.

I stared over toward the flung-open glass doors of my two Juliet balconies that overlooked the courtyard, feeling empty. I'd give up everything to have parents. As much as I couldn't stand Rich, and as much as I despised that uppity London, and as much as Heather ruffled my nerves, the one thing that they all had in common was parentsâwell, in Heather's case,
a
parent, even if she was a drunk and had burned my neck up . . . at least Heather still had someone to come home to. Me? I had a mother more committed to her TV show ratings and her twenty-eight-year-old boy-toy who she thought I didn't know anything about than she was to me. And a father with his old rickety, ancient self, over in the Himalayas chanting to a Higher Power and too busy chasing the Fountain of Youth. Who was here for Spencer? Nobody.

I envied Rich, London, and even Heather. And wondered what my life would have been like if I had had parents who loved me, and tucked me in at night, and kissed me on the forehead. Parents who had told me that everything was going to be okay even if it wasn't. Parents who had cared enough about me to discipline me and set rules that I could break even if they didn't make sense. Parents who loved me enough to care about what I was doing. I've always wanted to know what that would be like. To be wanted.

I wasn't a Daddy's girl.

I wasn't a Mommy's little angel.

I was abandoned.

I was an orphan.

I was Spencer Ellington. Unwanted, unloved.

Oh,
well
. . .
it's
too late to cry over fried onions now.

I shut off my lights and crawled beneath the cold sheets of my bed. Doing my damnedest to pull it apart, I mean, together. But I failed again.

As always.