Hollywood High (17 page)

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Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

BOOK: Hollywood High
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I grabbed my Hermès hobo bag, descended the stairs, and slipped out the side door. I didn't know where I was headed; all I knew is that I had to get out of Beverly Hills before I lost it. Completely.
 
How did I end up here... ?
I leaned against the doorframe and wondered what I would say to him. And what would he think of me being here. All I knew is what he wanted and what I could give him.
Which were two different things.
Maybe I should leave...
But I wanted to be here. And for now, at least for today, I wanted to pretend that this was right. That there was no mother, no threats, no balancing act of what I felt and what I was told to do. No worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow was too heavy, too much to contend with. In order to follow through with this I had to live in the moment.
I knocked again, hoping like hell he would hurry and answer before my nerve took flight and I fled.
I waited a few seconds more, nervously leaned from one foot to the next and bit the inside of my cheek.
Just leave.
I turned on my heels and made up my mind to hurry down the hallway but before I could take two scurrying steps he called, “Rich?”
I turned around and gave him a shy smile. “Oh hey, Knox. Umm yeah, it's me.” I shrugged. “I, umm, was in the neighborhood.”
“Oh really?” He folded his arms across his chest; the thin nylon of his Lakers jersey highlighted the muscular definition of his hard pecs. My eyes glazed over his baggy gray sweats and a sly smile swept its way across my face. I quickly tucked my lips in and dropped my eyes to the floor, hoping he couldn't read my blue thoughts.
“Long drive just to be in the neighborhood,” he said sarcastically.
I lifted my eyes. I was so not in the mood for his cynicism but since he wanted to take it there . . . “Not really.” I batted my lashes. “Being as though I usually drive past here. This was a short trip. Trust.”
“Rich, please. You and I both know that you don't drive more than five minutes outside of Beverly Hills. Seriously, did you forget who you were talking to?”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah, I got your
whatever
.”
Silence.
“Now, did you come to kick in the hallway or would you like to come in?” he asked.
I didn't answer. I simply walked past him and stepped across the carpeted threshold and into his small three-bedroom apartment that was a horrifically messy, royal-purple-and-mustard-gold homage to Knox's fraternity, Omega Psi Phi.
There was Que paraphernalia everywhere: wooden plaques on the wall, rugs on the floor, throw covers on the back of a nasty black and white checkered couch—that was clearly a seventies nightmare. And behind the couch was a picture of a bulldog with a giant nametag that read: A
TOMIC
D
OG
.
There were wooden beads that separated the galley kitchen from the compact living room and Bob Marley's “Jammin'” played loudly. One of Knox's roommates sat nodding his head—heavy-metal hard—to the music and the other sat with a video game remote in his hands and his eyes on me. He smiled at me but before I could give him the screw face, he looked over to Knox and fell out laughing. “You da man,” he chuckled. “You da damn man, big homie!”
Knox gave him a sly grin. “It ain't even like that.”
“Like what?” I interjected, curious to know what the hell this gooch was laughing at.
Neither Knox nor his roommate answered me. Instead, Knox's roommate said to him, “Oh word? Then you need to hook a brotha up.” He looked me over and licked his lips. “They call me Midnight but you can call me all night.”
Knox's smile quickly faded. “Yo, play ya game. Come on, Rich.”
“Don't be like that. You 'spose to share, Knox!” His roommate cracked up as I walked behind Knox and followed him into his room. “You 'spose to share!”
“Knox,” I said. “What was he...talking...” I paused. Blinked. “Who is this?” I asked, stopping in my tracks, my eyes quickly zeroed in on the girl who sat on Knox's bed with her back against the wall. Immediately my mind told me she'd been here for hours.
Suddenly, I felt played. Smacked across the face. Disrespected. It took everything in me not to lose it.
I swallowed and I could tell by the look on Knox's face that he'd read my mind.
“Rich,” Knox said, locking eyes with me. “This is Nikki. Nikki this is Rich.”
“I heard so much about you!” Nikki said a little too chipper, flashing her Colgate smile. She stood up and extended her hand.
I stared at her and instead of quickly dismissing her I was unexpectedly stuck on how pretty she was.
She had flawless chestnut colored skin, unlike me—who every other month had a bout with acne.
She had a short and tapered Kelis-inspired haircut; the exact same haircut that I wanted. But, I wasn't sure if hair that short would look good on me. So I played it safe and settled for a Chinese bob.
She was petite; I struggled with my weight.
I couldn't believe this was happening. And I knew this was silly, and crazy, and made no sense. And of course I remembered the elementary school lesson of never comparing yourself to anyone: “Everyone's different.”
Yet and still... I couldn't help it.
And yes, I knew I was stunning . . . curvaceous . . . had a dimpled smile . . . eyes the color of light brown marbles... and thick, bouncy, jet-black hair that could be styled effortlessly.
And yes, I knew I was fierce, and fabulous, and fashionable. Yes, I really did know all of this . . . problem was at this moment I didn't feel it, because if I did there would be no way that I'd be standing here—feeling as if I held my heart in my hand—and wondering if Knox thought that Nikki was prettier than me.
This was sickening.
A steel lump settled in my throat.
I wished I could place this moment on pause, rewind it, pretend that this never happened, and go back to a time when I thought I was the only one on Knox's mind. Now I knew I was wrong.
I turned to Knox. “If I caught you at a bad time I can leave.”
He looked over at Nikki, who'd dropped her hand back to her side. She smiled at him and said, “No, it's cool. You two go on. I need to get to work anyway. Call me later, Christian.”
Christian . . .
She walked over to him, gave him a hug, and then a kiss on the cheek. Knox eyed me the entire time she was in his arms. I couldn't believe I had driven an hour and a half to witness this. This was nowhere on my radar. It was not the escape I imagined. I eyed Knox as he walked Nikki to the door and I overheard him say, “I'll call you later. Enjoy your day.”
Immediately I felt sick to my stomach.
I need to get out of here.
He closed the door behind her and turned to face me.
“Who was that,
Christian
?” I asked, tilting my head. “And what was she doing here?”
“Whoa, hold up,” he said, frowning. “I just told you that was Nikki. And she was here because I invited her here. Now wassup with all the attitude?”
“The question is wassup with you inviting me to come down here and you got some chick all up in your room?”
“First off, that attitude is straight outta pocket. Second of all, anytime I've ever asked you to come down here you always have some excuse and you never show up. Now all of a sudden you wanna
peel your face away
from the mirror, take a break from your fan club and the press, and fit me into your life schedule. Then you have the nerve to pop up—without calling—and wanna question me? Do I look like Corey? Nah, I don't think so.”
I didn't respond to that. I couldn't. Because if I did I would've responded with a slap across his face. I grimaced, folded my arms, and fought against my insecurities. “So umm, was all that production because that's your little girlfriend?”
“Are you my little girlfriend? Did your mother give you permission? Is that why you're here?”
I don't believe he said that.
Tears rushed to the back of my eyes.
Don't cry. Don't cry. You better not drop a tear. What you better do is read him.
“Let me kick this to you real quick—”
Knox walked up to me, leaving no personal space between us. “Yo, what's your problem?”
“I don't have a problem! I just don't appreciate being made to look stupid.”
“What?” He looked at me confused. “Stupid?! What are you talking about? You are being real silly right now.”
“I'm not your groupie. You got the wrong one! You could've told me that you were seeing somebody else!”
“I don't have to tell nothing. You're not my girl, but it's obvious that you wanna be.” He stepped even closer. Brushed my hair from my face. “You wanna be my girl? Just say the word and I might let you be.”
“Boy, please.” I waved my hand. “If I wanted you I could have you. Let's not forget about this summer.”
“Rich.”
“What?”
“Shut up,” he said sternly as he surprisingly pressed his lips against mine, forcing our tongues to drip in heated delight. Knox ran his hands through my hair and instantly my knees buckled as he pressed my back against the wall. I placed my hands on the nape of his neck and continued to kiss him passionately. Our tongues flicked back and forth and I felt as if we were fighting a love war.
His hands roughly cupped my behind and just as I lifted my leg to meet his waist, he broke our kiss, grabbed my thigh and said, “Are you done playing games yet?”
What? Did he just...
“Come on, Knox,” I said, sounding as if I was seconds away from begging. “Not now.” I pulled him closer to me and attempted to kiss him again. “We can talk about this later. I promise.” I lifted his shirt and ran my hands over his pecs.
He pushed my hand down and pulled his face away. “Nah, there's no later. You need to let me know what this is now. 'Cause if all you're offering me is a piece of you then I gotta say peace to you, 'cause I'm done with the games.”
Why was he doing this? Damn.
I felt desperate. I needed him, in more than one way. And I needed him today, right now, at this moment. I needed to be in his arms and yeah, I wanted to stay there forever, but given my life I didn't know how I would do that . . . if I could do that... But judging by the look in his eyes I knew that it was all or nothing. So I did what I had to do, which was tell him what he wanted to hear before I lost him for good. “I love you.” I looked deep into his eyes. “And I wanna be with you.” I lifted his shirt above his head and kissed him on his neck. “Always.”
“Then you got me.” He reached over me and flicked the light off.
22
Spencer
“S
pencer, Spencer, Spencer . . .”
Ohsweethoneyblossoms . . .
I lay perfectly still in my bed, wondering if this was the beginning of a nightmare. I lifted my eye mask up over my head. There stood my mother tapping the side of my bed with a rolled up magazine in her manicured hand. She was immaculately dressed in a tailored pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse. Her arms were toned from years of Pilates. I knew her matching blazer was somewhere not too far, ready to be slipped into. Her light, honey-brown hair was cut into a sleek bob. I blinked. Surprised she had cut and relaxed the curly locks that normally bounced up on her shoulders. Kitty was in her early forties, but she didn't look a day over thirty-nine. And she definitely didn't look old enough to be the mother of a teenage daughter. And she sure didn't act like a mother, either.
I scowled, realizing that this wasn't the opening of a frightening dream. It was indeed a fairy tale. I was Little Red Riding Hood. And she was the Big Bad Wolf.
Two days later, she finally decides to show her face to blow my house down.
“When the cat's away, the mice will play,” she said in a singsong voice. “Or in this case my sweet, sweet Spencer will. So, tell me. Does this magazine article have anything to do with why you're sleeping 'til noon? Or could it be the two million hits on YouTube that have worn you out? Oh, wait. Perhaps I should be the one tired from
Hustler
magazine,
Playboy
, and
XXX Girls
calling me nonstop to see if you're eighteen. Yeah, that's it. I should be the one exhausted.”
I blinked as she pulled back the drapes, inviting a stream of bright light into my room.
How rude!
“Because,” I said, trying to adjust my eyes to the flood of rays, “that's what I always do on Saturdays. But you wouldn't know that.”
“Oh, really? Well it seems here . . .” she said, opening the teen magazine. “That along with sleeping 'til noon, you've been on your knees in bathrooms, sleeping with your friend's boyfriend. That's what I do know. Have you no discretion? How crude.”
I sat up in bed, folded my arms across my chest. “
How crude?
You have a lot of nerve, Mother. Besides, I get it from you. 'Cause while your husband's away Miss Kitty-Kitty likes to play in her little litter box with the new boy-toy she keeps locked away at her New York City penthouse suite.”
She chuckled, then clapped. “Touché, I'm impressed. But you have a ways to go before you'll ever be me.”
I scowled again. “Don't drown yourself in that entire ego of yours. I don't ever wanna be you.”
“Oh, my delusional darling Spencer. You're already me. The difference is I know to keep my dirt well-hidden. Now stop sulking, and come give Mother a hug.” She leaned in to hug me. The signature aroma of the Clive Christian perfume she religiously wore engulfed me. My body stiffened. “I've missed you,” she said.
“Oh, really? Was that before or after boy-toy number one? Or boy-toy number two? Or maybe boy-toy number seven? Oh, no, of course not. It must've been before Daddy ran off to dance with Buddah.” I clasped my hands together. “Oh, no. Maybe that's not it either. Maybe it was when I only knew how to speak French.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Spencer, not this again. How many times do we have to keep going down this road? I am not going to apologize for things that can't be undone. And I'm definitely not going to be made to feel guilty about it. I don't live my life with any regrets. And neither should you. So stop trying to berate me and be grateful that I'm here.”
Be grateful? Was she serious? For what, the fact that she called me three times a week to check in on me instead of being home to parent me? If this was where Kitty really wanted to be, she'd pack up her TV show and move it out here instead of staying in New York. But this is not where she wanted to be. No. Kitty wanted to be on stage, seen as anything other than a mother. But no ... that's not true. She wanted to be regarded as a great mother; a woman who put family before all else. Well, guess what? She failed!
“Yeah, you're here all right. Two days too late. Why didn't you come home when I got into that accident?”
“Oh, Spencer, just stop it. You were still alive. There was no need for me to come home.”
So I have to be in a box before she comes home.
I gasped. “I can't believe you just said that. So had someone from Potter's Field called you—”
“Oh, Spencer, you wouldn't be at Potter's Field. Stop exaggerating. You're being so sensitive. You're alive, and that's all that matters.”
I climbed out of bed, sliding my feet into my slippers. My feet sank into the plush carpet. “So what do you want, Mother, an Emmy for finally finding your way back home? But you're right, the road is closed. And I'm done traveling it. So welcome home.”
I walked into my bathroom and shut the door, leaving behind a trail of resentment. There was a part of me that felt like crying, but I wasn't even sure if I cared enough to. I'd shed enough tears over her already.
Thirty minutes later, I was showered and dressed in pink loungewear, sitting downstairs at the breakfast nook, eating a fruit salad with cottage cheese when Kitty walked into the room. I crossed my ankles.
“I do hope you behave yourself. And, umm . . . you're special . . . and umm . . . your body is a treasure . . .” She glanced over at Vera, tapping her fingers on the lava countertop. “Vera, what's the other part of what you used to say? That was so cute.”
Vera looked at me, then over at my mother and said, “It's . . . you are beautiful and I love you.”
“Oh, yeah, that's right. That was so sweet. Umm, what else? Oh, yeah . . . do well in school because I am spending a lot of money for you to be at Hollywood High. Although, now that I think of it, I'm still saving several thousands of dollars a year since you managed to find a way to get yourself tossed out of boarding school. Do me a favor. Don't go macing people again. It's so urban. Oh, and call your father. He's finally leaving Asia and heading back to South Africa. Now he wants to be out there in the jungles. That man goes from one extreme to the next.”
I rolled my eyes and continued eating, pretending she'd already disappeared.
“Oh, and two more things. No more videos, please, please, please. The attorney fees are killing me. Oh, yeah, and remember... discretion is key. So please exercise good judgment. I have a network to run, I can't babysit you. And I don't need any further embarrassment. You're a mature woman. And I expect you to conduct yourself as such.” She looked back at Vera. “Vera, please look after her. And make sure she doesn't get herself into any more trouble.”
She walked over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the side of my head. “I'll see you sometime next week. If that changes, I'll call you. Love you.”
“Safe travels,” I replied snidely over my shoulder as the phone rang and the Wolf huffed and puffed her way out the door.
Vera walked over to me with the cordless in her hand. “It's for you?”
“Hello?”
“Speeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeencer,” Heather blared in my ear. “Girl, I haven't heard from you in two. Whole. Days. What has been going on? Have you heard from the Skank Squad?”
I frowned. “Ummm, Heather why are you yelling in my ear? I'm not deaf. And no, I haven't heard from them hood roaches. I'm not speaking to them. After what they did to me, I don't care if I ever talk to them again. Those hoes are trash.”
“And why did I know you would say that, boo?” All of a sudden she broke out in song.
“Don't speak to the hoes again . . . don't speak to the hoes again . . . don't speak to the hoes again . . .”
I imagined her throwing her arms up in the air, stepping from side to side dressed in some kind of outlandish Wu-Wu costume. I shuddered at the thought. Heather popped her lips in my ear. “Girl, now stop. Don't be like that. You know we have to be the bigger person. We both know how stupid Rich is. And London is stupid and weak.”
I nodded. “Yeah, with her big Amazon self. I can't stand her.”
“I can't stand her, either. But you remember what happened Labor Day weekend when we were all down at South Beach and those girls tried to attack us. London jumped in and fought those girls with us. And we had only known her for like a month.”
“Well, I'll send her a thank you card. But, I'm done. They jumped me in the ditch when I was trapped in my car. Punched me all upside my head. That's not what friends do.”
“And friends don't sleep with each others' boyfriends, either. That was real messy what you did, Spencer. And you know it.” Heather paused, then started singing again.
“Aaaaah... messy ... beep, beep ... Messy ... Messy ... get it, get it . . . crunked up . . . messy . . .”
“Uh, what the heck are you doing, Heather? Why do you keep singing off key like that? I really think you need to stick to acting because your singing is horrible. I'm saying one thing and you're turning it into a song. I don't wanna hear that.”
“I'm just making a point that what you did was wrong.”
“Rich didn't even want him. So what's the big deal?”
“The big deal is he was her boyfriend whether she wanted him or not.”
“Well, exactly, he
was—
operative word—her boyfriend. He dumped her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he told me.”
“And Joey told you he wasn't homeless, but he was.
Liar, liar, liar... the roof 's on fire . . . Aaah Wu-Wu . . .
okay, okay let me bring it back. The point is—”
“No, the point is that no one was supposed to know. I don't know how anyone found out about it. Who would take a video of us? There was no one else in that bathroom except for me and . . .”
“That no-good mofo,” Heather snapped.
“Corey?” Spencer paused. “Oh . . . no . . . You think . . .?”
“Think what?”
“Think he videotaped us?” Before I could answer, she said, “That's exactly what he did. He videotaped me ... Then leaked it to the press . . . He's the one who broke up our friendship.”
“And now the Pampered Princesses have been dragged through the press as has-beens.”
I frowned, feeling my pressure shoot to my eyeballs. “Wait a minute, now. I'm no has-been. My last name is Ellington.”
“Exactly. Now we need to make this right before we get back to school on Monday and find another crew sitting at our table, trying to claim our throne.”
I clenched my teeth. “I will. Mace. Them. Down. And, Heather, you know I will.”
Silence.
She continued, “So what do we do now? We can't let Corey get away with ruining our friendship like this!”
“No we can't!”
“And when I stop speaking to them scallywags it has to be because that's what I want to do. Not because some no-good Nutty-Buddy took advantage of me and tried to set me up. Why would he do that?”
“I don't know why he did it. But that's not important. What's important is the four of us getting back together again. And that's why I was calling you. We need an immediate girls' intervention—today. Right away. This is an emergency like never before. We're all over the Internet with the wrong headlines.”
I sighed. “And I got two million hits on YouTube.”
Heather huffed in my ear, like she was annoyed with me. “Spencer, bring it back. That makes it worse.”
“Not really. At least I know that out of the two million people who saw me, four hundred and fifty-seven of them clicked the ‘Like' button. But you're right, Heather. Even though I don't want to, we need to make up. I'm willing to meet, but I am
not
calling them.”
“No worries, boo. I got this.”

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