Rumor Central (17 page)

N
o one needed a break like I did. Maybe hanging with Jason wasn't going to be so bad, after all. He'd wanted to come pick me up for the party, but since I don't do Toyota Camrys (what he drove), I told him I'd just meet him there. I almost backed out until I got a text from Sheridan. She said Bryce told her about me coming and if I was smart, I'd stay home. I definitely wasn't going to let her punk me, but if I had any thought of staying home, once Kennedi saw that text, that thought went out the window.

“No, this trick didn't,” said Kennedi when I filled her in on what happened. She'd come up from Orlando for the weekend for her cousin's wedding, but she'd ended up hanging out with me.

“Whatever, you know I'm not messed up about Sheridan.”

“No, I know you're not about let her scare you,” Kennedi said, getting up and heading to my closet. “Gimme fifteen minutes and I'll be ready to go.”

I laughed because I knew with Kennedi, that fifteen was definitely going to be thirty. Normally, I wouldn't be messed up about some high school party, especially since I was rolling with real celebrities now, but my desire to stick it to Bryce was enough to make me want to be there in full effect. And full effect I was. I was wearing a Maxima one-shoulder short jumper. It cut high enough on my thighs to make any guy drool and it was low enough not to be slutty. Kennedi was looking just as fierce in a fire red tank top and sequined shorts. We were both more than ready to let our hair down and hang out.

When I turned my car onto the street there was no doubt I was in the right place. Trucks and cars lined both sides, which made the street even more narrow.

By the time I drove to the end of the street and turned the corner, there was not a single spot in sight.

“Okay, I can't believe they don't have valet,” Kennedi griped.

I ignored her as I pulled into someone's driveway and turned around. The best I could do was go back to the entrance of the subdivision and try to look for a spot back there.

“At least this means the party is tight,” I said.

“You're right about that. I miss this in Orlando. Those busters throw some whack parties.”

“Well, I just want to have a good time,” I said.

“And don't forget, stick it to Bryce in the process,” she laughed. Nearly thirty minutes and two and a half blocks later, I wasn't as enthusiastic as I had been earlier. I finally found a spot I squeezed my car into and we began the trek up to the house. Along the way, people were outside. Some were drinking, and a couple was arguing. I wasn't trying to get all up in their business, but I hated when couples fought in public. We passed them up and came up on a few people who hung around the backs of two pickup trucks. It was like they were having their own party.

None of those faces looked familiar to me, so I walked until I arrived at the front lawn of the house party. Two girls were there dancing with each other and a small crowd of guys had formed around them.

The guys yelled all kinds of stuff at them, and they kept moving and touching all over each other.

“Freaks,” Kennedi muttered as we squeezed past the crowd of rowdy guys and moved our way up the walkway.

The closer we got to the front door, the louder and harder the music pumped. It was a wild scene. People were all over the place, in the lawn, in the garage, and hanging out of cars in the middle of the street. I knew the neighbors in this upscale neighborhood were having a fit and it was probably only a matter of time before the cops showed up and shut this joint down.

There was no point in trying to knock or ring a doorbell at the front door. The music was so loud, it seemed to rattle the house.

I eased the door open in case someone was on the other side. A rainbow of colored lights danced around the packed room. Bodies were sandwiched against each other in the middle of the massive living room, and other people lounged on chairs and couches or stood and held up the walls. Nearly everyone in the room had either red plastic cups or beer bottles in hand as they swayed or moved to the ear-thumping music.

“I know doggone well this isn't Kennedi Harrell?”

We both turned to the voice coming up from behind us and were shocked to see Kennedi's ex, Sean. Sean was the only guy that could make Kennedi weak at the knees. He went to a different school on the other side of town, so I never saw him, but I knew for a fact that Kennedi never got him out of her system.

“What's up, Sean?” she asked.

“I can't believe you were in town and didn't call me.”

She shrugged. “Just came down today to hang out with my girl.”

He finally noticed me and said, “What's up, Maya?”

“Nothing much.”

Her barely gave me time to finish before he turned back to Kennedi. “Can I holla at you outside?”

Kennedi looked over at me. I know she wanted to go so I just said, “It's cool, I'll just see you inside.”

She looked relieved as Sean took her hand and led her away.

I walked inside, where I nudged this girl, Cecily, and was about to lean in to ask her a question when she jumped back and frowned at me.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if you'd seen Jason,” I said.

She rolled her eyes at me and the girl next to her did the same. Then they both frowned at me like I had offensive body odor. Whatever.

Maybe it was because I was sober in a room full of people who had been drinking, popping pills, and who knew what else, but suddenly as I passed people and made eye contact I began to feel strange.

Had she rolled her eyes at me, too?

Was he looking at me like I'd stolen something?

As I passed, some people even turned their backs on me.

By the time I made it into the kitchen, it was obvious that stupid silent treatment had carried over to this party.

“Charles, where's . . .”

I didn't get to finish my question before he lit into me.

“Why are you even here, man?” he asked. His boys stood behind him, nodding in agreement. “Haven't you heard, snitches get stitches?”

Really?

“She's meeting Jason,” someone said. “I just heard him tell someone that he's only giving her the time of day so he can meet Nicki Minaj.”

I was stunned. Jason was a scholarship student so he was lucky I was even giving him the time of day. I looked around at the blank faces that stared back at me.

Suddenly, my tongue felt like it had instantly doubled in size. I couldn't get it to move and form words that made sense. I looked around the packed kitchen, and noticed even the people huddled near the keg stopped to look at me.

I looked around the room and everyone looked at me like I was worse than the dirt beneath their sneakers.

That was bad, but what was even worse was who stumbled into the kitchen and stopped suddenly at the sight of me. Evian, Shay, and Sheridan exchanged glances. “Somebody should've told me this party was open to riffraff,” Shay said, staring me up and down.

I couldn't believe Shay's hood behind was talking about me of all people being riffraff.

“What's
she
doing here?” Evian said.

Was
she
me?

I swallowed the massive dry lump in my throat and backed away from the group with the keg.

“Whatever!” I said. I thought of darting out of there, but I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.

I dug into a trash can and pulled out a can of coke. I shrugged as every eye in the room watched my every move. If they thought staring at me was going to do something I had news for them.

After I grabbed the soda, I found a paper towel, wiped it dry, then snatched a handful of popcorn and eased past Sheridan, Evian, Shay, and Bryce.

Who needed all those idiots anyway?

I eased my way out to the backyard, where once again, the moment my presence was noticed, everyone stopped whatever they had been doing.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“Heeeeey, Maya, whasup?” Jason said, making his way through the crowd and over to me. He stumbled and caught some girl's arm to keep himself from falling.

“My bad,” he laughed, trying to stand up.

I couldn't believe this fool was sloppy drunk already. He'd known I was coming—you'd think he'd try to stay sober until I got there.

“Come here, girl,” he said, grabbing for me. “Gimme a kish.”

Ewwww. He was slurring his words. I stepped aside and this time, he actually fell to the floor. I looked up and saw Bryce and Sheridan standing against the door staring at us. How was I supposed to make Bryce jealous when this idiot Jason was stupid drunk?

“Ooooh, baby, youuuu. You got what I want,” Jason started singing from the floor.

Several people were laughing like that was really funny. I was so utterly disgusted.

Shay eased up on the side of me. “Yeah, I can see how Bryce would be sick over you kicking it with him. He's a class act.” Everyone around Bryce burst out laughing.

“Whatever,” I said, turning to leave out of the kitchen. As soon as I spun around, someone actually pushed me and I ended up falling—right on top of Jason. The room erupted in laughter. I had never been more embarrassed in my life, especially when Jason grabbed me and started trying to kiss me right there on the floor.

I managed to pull myself up, while everyone continued laughing. I no longer cared who said what. I just knew that I needed to get out of there and get out now! I went to find Kennedi and tell her this party was definitely over!

I
was really and truly fed up. The people at school hated me. The administration hated me. Everyone was talking about suing me. And worst of all, some idiot was terrorizing me via email and text. Throw in that disaster of a party last night and this had turned into more than I'd bargained for.

That's why I was standing in Tamara's office with the difficult decision that had kept me up, tossing and turning all night long. I just couldn't do this anymore.

“So, what's going on? You got some more juicy gossip for us?” Tamara asked.

I sighed. “No, I'm all gossiped out.”

She lost her smile as I continued. I didn't sit because I just wanted to get this over with. “Tamara, you know I love this job. I love what I do. But I can't do this. Someone is stalking me.” I decided against telling her how all the hate was really getting to me. I knew that wouldn't move her. But maybe she'd listen if I told her I was in danger.

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Please, that's par for the course. But don't worry, I'll alert security.”

I sighed. I'd decided not to tell anyone about the attack at the mall because I didn't want people thinking I couldn't handle this job. But I no longer had a choice.

“I was attacked the other day. Two guys roughed me up and told me to shut up and stop digging into other people's business.”

Tamara folded her arms on her desk. “I'm sure they were just trying to scare you.”

The way she was just blowing me off was making me so mad. “They warned me to stop with the show. It's just too much. I want out.”

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “So the money, the fame. You just want to walk away from it all?”

Of course, I didn't want to walk away from that. But at the same time, I simply didn't know what else to do. I didn't scare easily, but between those thugs at the mall and the constant drama, I was fed up.

“Look, I understand your concern,” she continued. “And I know you wanted us to beef up security, and we actually have a bodyguard for you starting next week.”

Oh, so
now
they got the bodyguard.

“We'll have your mail filtered,” she continued.

“Tamara, I'm just tired of all the drama,” I replied.

“Look,” Tamara said, sitting up. “You're in the big leagues now so I'm gonna need you to be a big girl. Do you know how much hate mail Oprah has gotten in her lifetime? What is it you and your friends say? If you don't have people hating on you, you're not doing your job.”

“But this is more than that,” I protested. “I don't want to do this anymore. I quit.”

She stood up and started gathering papers on her desk. “I would love to sit and discuss this with you, but I have an executive meeting I need to get to and you need to get in with Ken and talk about next week's show.”

I hated that she was just blowing me off. “What if I just quit?”

She stopped, stood and stared at me for a minute, then without saying a word reached into her file cabinet. She pulled out a stack of legal-sized papers and handed it to me. I took it and looked at it.

“What's this?” I asked.

“That is your contract,” she replied.

“Oh.”

“And what does the duration of that contract say?” She tapped the paper.

I read the spot she pointed to. “Two years.”

“And how far are we into that contract?”

“Two months, but . . .”

“But that means, for the next twenty-two months, you're not going anywhere unless I say you're going somewhere. You signed off, your attorney signed off, your parents signed off. So as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to discuss.”

Was she for real trying to get tough with me?

“Oh, I can pay your little funky money back,” I quickly said, reaching for my purse.

“Oh, the money isn't the issue,” she replied. “Not only would we sue for breach of contract, but I will have you and your family tied up in court for so long your little trust fund will be gone.”

I just stared at her in disbelief.

“But, since I'm sure you'll make the right decision, we won't have to worry about that, now will we?” She didn't wait for me to reply. “Ken's waiting on you,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out the room.