Read Put Your Diamonds Up! Online
Authors: Ni-Ni Simone
Put Your Diamonds Up! (13 page)
God, please let me make it to the bathroom in time.
He batted his thick eyelids. “Oh, you Miss Fancy now, huh?” A stumpy hand went up on his hip. “Should I ask for your autograph now or later?”
“No, later will be fine,” I snidely replied, parting a tight, phony smile. “Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to get to my locker.”
“Yes. You do that. Oh, and London . . .”
I stopped moving but didn't turn back to look at him. I didn't need to. He'd walked up on me, practically charring the back of my neck with his hot breath. “It's been real quiet around here since you've been overseas. I hope you left the ratchet at Customs. I won't stand for any more of your Big Apple shenanigans. I expect you to follow the Hollywood High Academy protocol or be escorted off the grounds in handcuffs. You New Yorkers come here and really bring down the school's reputation and property value with all of your hoodilicious antics.”
I blinked. My nose flared. But instead of going off, I slowly unclenched my booty cheeks and gently eased out a puff of gas, then quickly stepped off, leaving Mr. Westwick coughing and wheezing.
“Someone bring me my oxygen tank,” he called out, gagging. “Hurry! Hurry! I think my emphysema is flaring up . . .”
I smirked, pulling out my buzzing cell.
Choke on that! Calling me ratchet!
I glanced at the screen, sighing. It was a text from my mother.
NO CARBS
.
I rolled my eyes.
Ugh! If you only knew!
I replied back as I headed to my locker.
I KNOW
.
Next, I decided to send Rich a text as well. H
EY BESTIE-BOO
. C
U
@
LUNCH
. W
E HAVE LOTS
2 G
ET CAUGHT UP ON
.
Yeah, like what the hell is up with you and Justice
.
My mother sent another text.
DID U DRINK ALL OF UR SEAWEED SMOOTHIE
?
I huffed.
God! Disappear already! No, I didn't drink that slimy ish!
I deleted the message, tossing my phone back into my bag. I reached my locker and quickly grabbed my books for my first three classes, then slammed the door shut.
I almost slid out of my six-thousand-dollar Italian bejeweled heels when some low-life banshee walked up into my space, pulling an issue of
Gutz & Glam
from her last season's Bottega bag.
I blinked. “
Umm, really?
Can I help you?” I said, eyeing her over the rim of my diamond-studded Luxuriator shades.
She tossed the magazine at me. “Page three. Read it and weep.” And as quickly as she'd intruded in my space, she was already gone. Ghost. Missing amongst a throng of Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Mulholland deerskin backpackers.
FROM RICHES TO RATTY . . . HAVE THE PAMPERED PRINCESSES OF HOLLYWOOD HIGH FINALLY GONE ROGUE
? blared the headline. I blinked as my insides twisted and knotted. First Justice dismissing me, like I was last year's trash. Then seeing Mr. Westwick's face first thing in the morning. And now this trash rag being tossed at me! I didn't know how much more I could take before I snapped. I felt myself swoon as I looked on. The story read:
Looks like Hollywood High's pampered princesses have laid down their crowns and gone ratchet for good. From mud slinging to fist swinging, these four teen divas have rolled up the red carpets and taken to the boxing mat.
In round one, socialite and scandalous sex kitten Spencer Ellington dropped down and got her bobble on as she brazenly super-soaked her bestie Rich's then-boyfriend, the son of Senator Corey Othello Marshall Sr. And how deliciously convenient that someone would leak footage of the rising teen-porn-star's stellar performance. Can you say tongue tricks that'll put any Hello Kitty fan to shame? Is it safe to wonder how many licks it takes the teen sex-muffin to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
Ding, ding, ding!
Round two kicked off with party vixen Rich Montgomery, daughter of entertainment royalty Richard Montgomery Sr. of Grand Records, along with New York socialite London Phillipsâthe daughter of renowned international supermodel Jade Obi Phillips. In tag-team pizazz, the two molly-whopped and stomped Spencer down in a ditch, thenâfrom aerial footage we uncovered compliments of TMZâturned on each other and cat-clawed and tiger-mauled one another up in a lily pond. Shall we say, “No tea, no shade?”
Meeeeow!
But the grand-slam finale goes to teen star Heather Cummings, who slayed her bad girl counterparts by boldly firing rhymes of venom about the clique's snobbery, denouncing her allegiance to Hollywood High's royal court. Soon after, she threw the last punch, drugging her own mother, then landing herself in jail . . . thanks to the reigning queen of messy, Spencer Ellington, who dropped dime and got her bestie-boo serving time. So who's saving the stitches for the snitches? Looks like someone's gonna need their plastic surgeon on speed dial.
And now, there are rumors of a rematch bout. A source close to the teen actress reports that the heavyweight, Heather Cummings, is in the lab working on some fire tracks to set the exquisite heels of her three frenenemies ablaze...
I blinked.
Dear God! These tabloid slores are atrocious. They'll stop at nothing!
My eyes traveled to the last paragraph of the article.
And most recently, in a botched carjack-kidnapping ploy, media-crazed Rich Montgomery and Spencer Ellington have dropped to an all-time low, becoming the new Thelma and Louise of Hollywood as the two thugettes in baguettes allegedly fled the scene of an assault on an unidentified man. Can we say, what's goodie in the hoodie?
I blinked. Blinked again. Then reread the paragraph again.
Oh dear God, no! Please don't tell me Rich is back chopping it up with Spencer. So that's why the hell I haven't heard from her. I knew it!
I heard a scream bubbling up in my throat just as I locked eyes on Rich and Spencer walking out of the girls' lounge arm in arm, cackling like hyenas. Then my worst fear was realized when I called out to Rich and she tossed me a quick wave, flipping her hair over her shoulder and shaking her tail feathers down the marble-lined hall, not once looking back.
Heather
H
ere was the plan: get my ish and bounce. No words. Walk straight past Camilleâlike the nothing she isâand be out. Finished. Never to see her drawn-up white face again.
I pulled into Sleazy Eight's parking lot and parked diagonally across the two spaces in front of the door to our room. I raised my car's leopard-print ragtop roof and looked at a shocked Co-Co.
“Oh bish.” He wiped invisible sweat from his brow. “You need to ferociously snatch Camille by her throat and lay her dead in the hills for doing you like this! Do it for the
gawds
if not for yourself,
honey
!” He looked around; his eyes seeming to take in the entire trash-littered, two-story complex, from the short-circuited Twenty-four Hour Vacancies sign, to the torn blinds in the windows, to the tractor-trailers parked everywhere. “This is vile!”
I sighed. We'd been together too long. He'd been living with me at my new spot for the last week but no more, because I was putting him out. I was done. I was getting tired of Co-Co and his slick mouth. I was not in the mood and today was the last day I was going to let his balls swing freely in his panties.
I
already
knew this place was a dreadful and run-down crack den where greasy truckers and Hollywood's low-level drunks and junkies congregated. But I didn't need Mister and Missus Co-Co tossing it in my face and killing my high. 'Cause God knows his empty bra would get real twisted if I went in on the tumbledown K-town he lived in.
I gave Co-Co a look that clearly said, “Don't do me.” I took a deep breath and turned on the radio. “You can sit here until I come back.”
“
Whaaaaaat?
Bish, are you serious? You are not about to have me molested by some hood-hoein' beast! You're trying to set me up to be raped! Have all my chestnuts laid out over an open fire!”
I was two seconds from tearing out what was left of his Adam's apple. “If you come in here with me then you better not say a thing to Camille. Nothing. We walk up in here. I get my stuff and we bounce.”
“Fine with me.” He paused and refreshed his lip gloss. “As long as she doesn't come for Co-Co then Co-Co will be as quiet as a down-low freak.”
We eased out of the car and walked up to the door of room 111. I slid the card key into the lock and was greeted by thick clouds of cigarette smoke and a nicotine breeze as I walked in.
Camille sat at a small round card table facing the window. She took long, deliberate pulls off of her Newport before mashing it into the overflowing crystal ashtray.
She tossed back her glass of scotch and faced me. Our eyes locked. She gave me a dark stare and for a moment her brow looked creased with worry. But just as quickly as I spotted it, it dissolved and melted into her usual look of disappointment and disgust.
Eff her!
I broke our gaze by waving a hand in dismissal, then I gave her my new behind to look at as I turned my back and grabbed my empty suitcase from the far right corner of the room.
I walked over to the 1970s dresser, the one Camille forced me to stuff my clothes into, and wrestled with the handles, snatching the broken-down drawers open.
“Where. Have. You. Been?” Camille asked, tight lippedâlike she owned me.
It took everything in meâor out of me, depending on how you looked at itânot to laugh. I shot a glare over my shoulder at Camille. My eyes strolled from her pink matted bedroom slippers to the murky whites of her blue eyes, and I hoped my blazing gaze delivered the message that this trick was out of line.
Waaaaay
out of line.
Especially if she thought I owed her an explanation of where I'd been.
Beyotch, puhlease!
I've been doing me! That's where I've been. Spending
my
money.
My
money. Doing me.
That's where I've been.
Popping bottles. Shopping it and dropping it.
Camille's hot breath landed on the nape of my neck but I simply flicked a few fingers and dusted her repulsion off of me; 'cause one thing I couldn't care less about was this mad ex-starlet and her temper tantrums. Not!
“
And why
are you looking at me like that, Norma Marie?” I heard Co-Co say from behind me, calling Camille by her government.
Didn't I tell him to keep his mouth shut?
I turned my head and lifted an eye up at Co-Co, yet before I could say anything Camille spat, “Let me tell you something, trans-confusion. Don't come for Norma Marie unless Norma Marie sends for you.”
“Trans-confusion?” Co-Co grimaced. “Ya see, Wu-Wu, Co-Co is trying to be nice. You do see this, right? But you better get mama-fish 'cause she just tried it!”
Camille's gaze drank Co-Co in and then turned back to me. I rolled my eyes “You know how trash do, Co-Co. That's why I'm out of here! Because the only thing I can do for trash is burn it.”
Camille batted her lashes and pulled out a full bottle of scotch from beneath the mattress. She walked over to the mini-fridge, took out a frosted glass, and poured her liquid crack into it. “Let me wet my tongue real good.” She gave her glass a light stir before taking a sip. “ 'Cause I'm not sure what's going on here.” She took another sip. “All I know is that this here heifer's been missing for far too long. Ever since she got back from Brazil.”
Camille carried on, speaking to her invisible sounding-board. “And then she stepped up in here like she doesn't owe me an explanation. Not to mention she ran off with the last three weeks' rent money!”
“Touché! 'Cause you ran off with all my money! Now you know how it feels!”
“Heather, where have you been?”
“Last I checked, I didn't have to answer to you!” I fanned my fingers as if I were counting on them. “I pay my own bills. I take care of myself! Mmph, I'm grown. And I don't owe you jack! Now fall back or get slapped back because you're not getting a dime out of me! And if ya broke, that's not my problem! It's a wide track out there so get ta strollin', baby.”
Camille stared at me and took two steps into my personal space. All the color left her face, but the purple veins in her neck glowed and her eyes shrank to two icy blue slits. “Miss Pill Popper, let's take this from the top. Where have you been? And where do you think you're going? And how much money do you have left? Because I smell nothing.”
I looked over at Co-Co and said, “Are you ready to get out of here? Because I feel myself gettingâ”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
I fell over my suitcase, hitting my head on the floor.
I'ma have to kill her.
Camille grabbed me by my ponytail and bashed my face into my suitcase!
“Co-Co, help me!” I screamed as I tried my best to get a handle on Camille but failed.
“Get off of her, Camille!” Co-Co screamed, wrapping his arms around himself.
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
Camille tossed me into the wall and I heard my nose crack before I felt it. Blood spritzed everywhere.
“You ungrateful pill junkie!” Camille yelled.
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“Co-Co! Get her off of me!” I screamed as Camille flung me across the room and I slammed into the nightstandâstomach first.
Sharp jabs shot through my chest cavity and suddenly it was hard for me to breathe. “Co-Co!” No matter how hard I tried to fight back, I was no match for this crazy trick! She'd lost her mind and I'd be dead before anyone knew it.
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“Ahhhhhh!” I screamed as Camille's rage grew.
“You took it too far, Heather Suzanne! You disrespect me? And then you bring his showtime Suzie up here and watch you show out!” She kicked me in my behind and I swore I felt the silicone burst.
“Help!” I screamed. “Somebody help me!”
“Yes! Please! God!” Co-Co yelled. “Somebody help her!”
Camille carried on, “I will kill you in here!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“And then I'll slice Co-Co's damn throat!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
Camille gripped my hair and dragged me around the room, the carpet burning my calves and the backs of my thighs. “You've been missing for three weeks!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“Three weeks!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“And
nooooow
you think you can come back here!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“And not tell me where you've been?”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“Ahhhh!”
“Shut the hell up!”
Whack! Whack! Bap!
“Did you really think you could come in here and leave me stranded? You stole my rent money and now you want to leave me, your mother, with nothing! Never! I would never let that happen! I'd kill you first!”
“Ahhhh!”
I could see stars flashing before me as Camille did her best to dislodge my head from my shoulders and take my face off!
“All the sacrifices I made for you!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
“And to think I was the best mother I could be to a no-good, rotten daughter like you! Maybe your daddy had the right idea! I should've flushed you out on the gurney. But I didn't! And now I have to live with my choice, and like it or not, we're stuck together until you're eighteen! Now it's my way or get dragged!”
Whack! Whack! Bap! Slap!
I knew I was screaming, but I couldn't hear a sound escape my lips. And I knew I was swinging my arms, trying to fight myself free of Camille. But none of my hits seemed to help me. She was killing me! I knew it! As I've always known she would. She's always hated me; and her gripping me tighter by the roots of my hair and flinging me back into the wall was proof of it.
Blood was everywhere. My head felt like an electric chisel was buried inside and my chest cavity had caved in on itself.
Camille huffed, and sweat had pasted her white cotton gown to her skin. She took a step back and looked down at me. “From here on out you'll watch your mouth!” She took a cigarette butt out of the ashtray, lit it, and took a pull as the door flew off the hinges.