Boy Trouble (5 page)

C
ould my BFF actually be back?
The laughter filled the air in the hallway as Kennedi and I cracked jokes and ragged on our classmates. Kennedi seemed to be back to her normal, bubbly self. She was in a really good mood. Of course, I assumed that meant that her and Kendrick had made up, but honestly, I didn't even bother to ask because I really didn't want to know. The ups and downs of their relationship were enough to drive a person crazy. Besides, if we talked about him, I was going to have to tell her about herself again, and I didn't even want to go there and mess up the mood.

“Did you see that outfit Kary has on?” Kennedi said, pointing across the hall. Karrington White, or Kary as those who tortured her called her, was one of the smartest girls at Miami High. A pretty Filipino girl with short brown hair and freckles that cascaded down the bridge of her nose, she desperately wanted to be in the It Clique. And although she had enough money, (her parents were big time in the finance business), the girl was weird. She dressed funny, like someone who just flipped through all the magazines, then bought the most popular stuff and threw it together with no style or thought. She always seemed like she was trying way too hard so nobody wanted to hang out with her.

“Ewww.” I took in her latest getup, a multicolor peasant skirt and ruffled shirt. “It looks like she raided the trash bins at New York fashion week,” I said as we headed to my car.

I was going to drop Kennedi off at home before I went to the station. We were working on a story about Jason Richards, a married Miami Dolphins football player who got a seventeen-year-old girl pregnant.

“Why don't you come to the station and hang out on set?” I asked her. I was really enjoying having the old K back and wanted to hang out.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “I always feel like I'm in the way. Plus, I don't want to just sit there all evening.”

“I just have to tape. I won't be there long. Then we can go get something to eat.”

“In that case, cool,” she said. “It's been a minute since we just kicked it.” She had just tossed her backpack into my backseat and was about to get in when we heard a honk. Both of us turned to see Kendrick's Escalade pulling into the parking lot. I lost my smile and Kennedi's grew even bigger. She didn't say a word as she bounced away from my car and over to him.

“Hey, babe,” she said.

He leaned out of the truck. “What's up, beautiful?” He looked my way. “Hey, Maya.”

“Hey, Kendrick” was all I could force myself to say. If he was fazed, he didn't let on.

“What are you doing here?” Sheridan asked. It was so lame how she was acting like some sixth-grader with her first crush. I wanted to grab her, shake some sense into her, and remind her about Bambi.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Kendrick said, pinching her chin. “I was hoping I didn't miss you.”

“You didn't.”

“Well, let's go grab some grub.” He motioned for her to get in on the other side of his truck.

“Cool.”

I just stared at her. “Really? I thought we were going to get something to eat later.”

“I'm hungry now.” She reached in the backseat of my car and grabbed her bag. “I'll catch up with you later.”

I just rolled my eyes and got in the car. So much for our boy code—BFFs before boys. Because both Sheridan and Kennedi had kicked me to the curb for two dudes who didn't deserve it.

I shook off thoughts of my traitor BFF and turned the radio to the hip-hop station as I made my way to the studio.

I had barely sat down at my desk thirty minutes when I looked up to see Tamara walking in.

“We had some last-minute changes,” Tamara said, not even bothering to say hello. It wasn't not that she was rude. Tamara was just always in business mode. She didn't have time for little things like hello. “Jason's attorney sent over a statement,” Tamara continued. “I had them include that in your report.” She handed me some papers. “I wanted you to be aware of it before you got on air. The changes are reflected in your script. Look over them now.”

I took the papers, set them on my vanity table, and started changing into the outfit I would be taping in today.

“All right, I'll get changed and look over it while I'm in hair and makeup,” I told her.

Tamara nodded her approval. “So, have you heard anything else on the Demond-Mynique situation? Were you able to confirm if they actually physically fought?”

“No,” I replied, holding up an emerald-green wrap dress and plum pantsuit that the stylists had left out for me to choose from.

“Maya,” Tamara said, like she was really disappointed in me. “We really need to be making some progress on this story. Find out what's going on. If they had a fight, were police called? Did she press charges? We can't let the ball drop on this. I mean, you pitch the story, but you keep making excuses about why you don't want to follow up. At least call, see if you can get a statement from her or Demond. We need to run something. I don't have to tell you, if this story pops up somewhere else, I am not going to be pleased.”

“Fine,” I said. For the first time in, like, forever, my job was getting on my nerves. “I'll get right on it,” I told her.

Tamara gave me a “you'd better” look and exited my office. I chose the plum pantsuit, changed, then called Portia, the makeup artist, and told her that I was ready. While I waited, I decided to go ahead and see what I could find out about Demond and Mynique. Maybe I could do a story without running the video, because the video was pretty bad.

I didn't have Mynique's cell phone number, but I managed to find her home number online. I used the station phone to dial the number.

A woman's voice answered. “Hello.”

“Hi, is Mynique Foxx available?”

There was a hesitation, and then the woman said, “This is her cousin. Mynique doesn't live here.”

“Oh, well, this is Maya Morgan from—”

“Oh, my God! Maya Morgan from
Rumor Central
?” the girl squealed so loud.

“Yeah, that Maya Morgan.” I smiled. I loved when people I was trying to get information from knew me. It made my job so much easier.

“Oh, my God. You are the bomb-dot-com,” she continued. “I love your show. Oooh, I remember when you broke that story about—”

“Thank you so much,” I said, cutting her off. I knew if I didn't, she would keep going on and on. “I was trying to get in touch with Mynique.”

“For what?” The excitement quickly left her voice.

I debated how much I should say, but I needed to get some info. “Do you know how to get in touch with Mynique?”

She hesitated again, then said, “Nah, I don't.”

“Are you guys close?” I decided to ask.

“Umph, depends on what you call close.”

I could tell from her tone that there was some animosity there so I decided to pounce. “Well, the other day, I actually stumbled upon Mynique and her boyfriend, Demond.”

“Umph,” she repeated, but didn't say anything more.

“Well, they were in the middle of a pretty heated argument and he kinda beat her up.” I decided against sugarcoating anything and go all the way in.

“Kinda, huh?” The girl laughed, but didn't seem the least bit surprised.

“Yeah, and well, the way he was treating her concerned me. We're doing a story on the incident for
Rumor Central
and I was hoping we could get a statement from Mynique.”

I decided to leave off the fact that I had video of the whole thing. I didn't know if she would run back and tell Mynique and then, it would get back to Tamara and Dexter, who would be ready to wring my neck if they found out I'd had this video all this time.

“Umph, she ain't gon' talk to you,” the girl said and my heart sank. But then, she quickly said, “But I may. You want a story, huh?”

“Yes,” I said a little too quickly.

“Well, I got a story for you,” the girl continued, smacking her lips. “How much y'all pay?”

It was my turn to lose my excitement. “Well, we don't really pay for stories.”

“Who pays then?” she asked. “Because what I know is worth some money.”

“I don't really—”

“I heard the
National Enquirer
pays,” she said, cutting me off.

I sighed. I'd lost quite a few stories from people who demanded to be paid in exchange for their dirt, but WXIA, the TV station I worked for, was adamant that we never give someone money in exchange for a story.

“Yes, the
Enquirer
pays, but we don't.”

“Well, I need to be talking to them then.” She paused, and for a minute I thought she was going to hang up. But finally she said, “You know what? Since I like you and you be rocking some bad outfits, I'm gonna give you a little somethin'-somethin'. This isn't the first time Demond done put them paws on her.”

“Seriously?” I replied. I almost asked why she was selling her cousin out like that, but I'd been doing this long enough to know jealous family members and hating friends were usually the quickest ones to spill the dirt. Some, like this girl, spilled to the
National Enquirer
for money. Others talked for no other reason than they wanted to hurt the celebrity they were snitching on.

“So, you're telling me this isn't his first time beating her up?” I asked.

“You heard me. And not just her. Pretty boy had a history before he blew up as an actor. Do your homework. You'll see. I gotta go.” She hesitated again, then said, “You don't have the number to the
National Enquirer
, do you?”

“Umm, no,” I said even though I did. I wasn't about to help her sell her story to that tabloid.

“Fine, I'll call information.” She hung up the phone before I could ask her any more questions.

She might not have given up the dirt directly, but she'd definitely piqued my interest and had me ready to go digging to find out more.

I
usually didn't answer calls from unknown numbers on my cell, but lately, I'd been missing quite a few scoops because of that. And the way Tamara was breathing down my neck about the lack of good gossip I was bringing in, I couldn't afford to miss anything. That's why I pushed the button to answer my cell right before the call went to voice mail.

“Hello, this May—”

“Trick, you've lost your mind!” The voice came bellowing through the phone before I could even get my name out good.

Even Tangie, my hairstylist, stopped curling my hair and frowned, that's how loud the caller was.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Who is this?” I had thirty minutes before I went on air. I definitely didn't have time for any drama.

“I'm about to be your worst nightmare!” she screamed. That high-pitched nasally tone. The venom in her voice. Oh, there was no doubt who this was.

“Hi, Mynique,” I casually said, holding up a finger to let Tangie know everything was fine. She still shook her head, but went back to work on my hair.

“Don't ‘hi, Mynique' me, like we're friends or something!” she snapped.

I tried to stay cool. “Girl, why are you dialing my phone, screaming at me like you've lost your mind?” I asked. I guess her cousin did know how to get in touch with her after all. “Shouldn't you be somewhere filing charges against your boyfriend?” I probably shouldn't have taken that jab, but oh, well.

She lowered her voice but her tone was still firm. “I told you, you need to mind your business. My cousin told me that you called there looking for me.”

I wanted to ask her if her cousin also shared that she'd told me Demond had beat Mynique up before, but I decided to just let her rant.

“Why you calling my people?”

“I called the number that I found listed for you,” I replied.

“Well, I don't live there.”

“Okay, whatever. I found you now.” To be honest, I didn't want to put the girl out there like that, which was why I hadn't told any of the producers about the video. I knew the minute Dexter saw it, he'd want to run it. And as much as I couldn't stand Mynique, I didn't want the world to see her getting beat like that. So, I was hoping she'd give me something,
anything
that would be enough to get Tamara off my back.

“You don't need to be looking for me at all,” Mynique said. “I don't have anything to say to you.”

“I called because I was trying to help you out.” I didn't usually call people we were about to run a story on. We weren't the news, which needed to be objective and get the other side. So she needed to be thankful I was even trying to get her side.

“What part of ‘I don't need your help' do you not get?” Mynique asked.

I pulled out one of the curls that Tangie had made too tight. “Look, let's be real. We're not exactly friends,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“I wonder why? Let's see, number one, because you're a little girl and I'm a woman. Number two, you're a nosey, gossiping b—”

“My point is,” I interrupted her, not bothering to tell her she may have been older but I was more woman than she would ever be, “regardless, if I see someone in an abusive relationship, then I'm gonna say something.”

“You don't know anything about me!” Mynique said. It was strange. Her voice alternated between having an attitude and trembling, like she was scared but trying to act hard. “You're just jealous because I got a good man on my arm,” she continued. “You and your nosey behind is gonna mess up the good thing I got going for me. I have all kinds of doors opening up for me now and I don't need you causing problems.”

“Oh, is that why you're staying with him now, because you have doors opening up?” I asked. That didn't surprise me. That kind of thing happened all the time in the entertainment industry. But it surprised me that Mynique wanted fame that bad that she'd let herself get beat up.

“Don't you worry about why I'm staying with him. Worry about your own love life, or lack of a love life,” she added. “Since rumor has it J. Love is back with his baby mama.” I know she was trying to rile me up, and while that comment stung (I didn't even know if it was true or not), I refused to let her get to me.

“Yeah, I would rather be single than be with a guy who beats the crap out of me. Believe that,” I replied. I needed to refocus, so I took a deep breath before I continued. “Anyway, I'm doing a story on
Rumor Central
on you and Demond, and I was just seeing if you wanted to make a statement, maybe give some advice to other women going through the same thing.”

“Yeah, my advice is for everyone to get out of my business,” Mynique said. “That's the advice I'm giving.” Then, it actually sounded like her voice was cracking. “Why are you doing a freaking story on me anyway?”

“I thought you liked publicity. Didn't you come over to me at the club and give me the scoop on you and your boo so I could talk about you on my show? Well, I'm about to be talking about you on my show.”

“Maya, don't play with me. I'm sick of you and your self-righteous attitude!” she screamed again, before lowering her voice. “What you fail to understand is that everybody can't fall back on Daddy's money. Some of us have to make it the best way we can.”

“So, that is really what this is all about? You're letting this dude put his hands on you because you think he can help your career?”

She inhaled sharply. “Like I said, you don't need to worry about what I do or why I do it. Ya feel me?” She was back to tough-girl mode now.

Tangie swung me around to face the mirror so I could survey my hair. I leaned into the mirror and fluffed a few curls. “So, I guess that means that you won't be making a statement.”

“No, I won't. And you listen to me and listen to me closely. Keep my name out of your mouth. Period. End of discussion.”

“So it doesn't matter to you what kind of example you're setting?” I nodded to Tangie to let her know I liked my hair.

“I don't care about an example. I'm trying to do me and get paid in the process,” Mynique replied.

“Wow” was all I could say.

“You all right?” Tangie mouthed as she started gathering up her supplies.

I nodded, rolling my eyes.

“I'm telling you now, if you put my name in your mouth, say anything about me on your show, you're going to regret it,” Mynique threatened. “I promise you that. You don't want me as an enemy.”

“Girl, bye.” Maybe if Mynique had come to me in a different way, I might have cut her some slack. But she was definitely about to make sure she was put on extreme blast on my show. “The last thing you'll ever do is threaten me,” I told her.

“You really want to take it there?” Mynique said.

“It's taken. Good luck with getting your butt beat” was all I said as I slammed the phone down.

I picked up the office phone and punched in the extension to Dexter's office. I glanced at the clock as the phone rang. Yep, I had enough time.

“What's up, Maya?”

“Change of plans, Dexter,” I said, scrolling through my phone. “We still have about twenty minutes. I want to change the lead story.”

“What? Change it? We air in twenty minutes!”

“Trust, you'll want this. I'm sending you some video that's going to make your day.”

I found what I was looking for and pressed SEND.