Fabulous (6 page)

Starr
September 10 @ 11:30 a.m. | Mood: Vengeful

Starr
was the queen of perfection.

Her boring uniform was perfectly pressed.

Her asymmetrical bob was perfectly coiffed and gleaming.

Her MAC lip gloss had her lips shining…as she kept her fake smile perfectly in place.

Starr cleared her throat as she stepped up from her spot between Dionne and Marisol to claim the mic at the center of the stage lit by a huge spotlight shaped like a star—of course. Where else would it be for
the
Starr?

Starr glanced over her shoulder at her party planner, Kyra Stone, standing off in the wings hidden by the long, cascading drapes. Starr gave her a look like “You better not screw this up.”

Kyra had handled both big-bash parties and small,
intimate gatherings for her father and his closest celeb friends and business associates. She had been her mother and Starr’s first choice for making sure that Starr had a party to top all parties.

Starr faced the three hundred students filling the seats of the auditorium. “Attention everyone. Attention,” Starr said into the mic as she grabbed it with her perfectly manicured Crush on You red nails.

Almost as soon as she said it everyone settled down just…like…that.

“Thank you all for coming to my invite party for my Fashionista Fifteen Paaaaarrrrtyyyy!” she yelled into the mic.

Her smile became more genuine as everyone started applauding and jumped up to their feet yelling.

Starr held up her hands and motioned for them to quiet down again. “If you all would look under your seat you’ll find your invitations to my party/fashion show!”

Commotion broke out as everyone in the auditorium scurried to reach under their seats for the star-shaped gift box that was filled with plenty of swag—including iPods filled with her favorite playlist and several unreleased tracks from some of her father’s bestselling artists, hundred-dollar gift cards to five of her favorite designers, the newest makeup for girls and designer shades for the boys, a five-year subscription to each of her favorite mags and lastly…

“Since I’m cutting into your lunchtime I thought I’d
provide some gourmet pizza and a little lunchtime entertainment courtesy of TopStarr Records!”

As the doors to the auditorium opened up and waiters strolled in with personal pan-size gourmet pizza and fruit smoothies, Starr stepped back as the star-shaped spotlight disappeared and the stage darkened. When the stage lit up again, her father’s top-selling artist Reign bounced onto the stage and began singing his number-one hit, “King Me.”

The students forgot about their lunch as they flew up to the front of the stage.

“This is nice, Starr, and it’s just the party invite,” Marisol whispered to her before grabbing her hand to squeeze tightly in excitement. Dionne looked preoccupied but Starr didn’t have time to wonder why.

She was too busy pretending to be perfectly pleased by the official start of her party festivities, while the whole time she was big-time pissed that none of this would be on television.

Dionne
September 10 @ 10:45 p.m. | Mood: Afraid

“You
wanted my baby girl to go that bourgie-ass school, Lahron. So before your chicks, before your diamonds, before all your whips, you shoulda paid the tuition!”

Dionne winced in the darkness of her room as she stood close to her door with it opened just enough for her to peek out as her mother paced back and forth, her finger slashing through the air, and her earrings clanging like cowbells as she read her father the riot act.

“I don’t need them people sending me a dang thing about Dionne’s tuition, Lahron.
You
need to handle that.”

Dionne closed her eyes. She had to admit this was one argument she hoped Mama won. She didn’t want to leave Pace Academy. Her daddy had to pay that tuition.

“If you straight
baaallllin’
, you Jim Jones wannabe, then why these people threatening to throw Dionne out of school. Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Okay, Ma, that was a low blow,
Dionne thought as she let her head rest against the door.

“What you say to me? Lahron the Don ain’t nothin’ but a big ole frontin’ con. How you like that rap?”

Dionne actually smiled when her mama did a beat box.

“Well, I’m glad you have the money, Lahron. And your driver better have that check for my baby in the morning.”

Dionne’s heart soared until she felt like she had to swallow it. Yes! Yes! Yes! Dionne did a little dance in the dark, having her own little celebration party.

Beep.

“Dionne!”

She froze mid-dance.

“I know you not asleep with your little eavesdropping self. Go to bed, girl.”

Still smiling, Dionne jumped across the room and landed in the center of her bed. Even though she landed with a little
whoosh
she felt like she was still floating on air.

Me See No MTV!

Posted in uncategorized on September 14 @ 6:00 a.m. by thedivaofdish

Just got word that Starr Lester’s hopes of being on MTV’s My Super Sweet 16 were horribly dashed with yesterday’s trash. Speculations ran wild after her splashy Invite Party Thursday was lacking any camera crews and bright lights.

The party is still on…but wasn’t it completely more
exciting when we thought it was going to be on MTV? How embarrassing!

In other news, let’s play guess who, shall we? Word on the street is the father of one of our student’s latest album is a major flop. Forget platinum, this doozy didn’t even hit nickel status. I definitely have my eye out for a repo alert. LOL. So…guess who.

Smooches,

Pace Academy’s Diva of Dish

54 comments

Starr
September 14 @ 6:02 a.m. | Mood: Angry. Very Angry.

The
words “how embarrassing” echoed in her head like a schoolyard mocking as Starr sat at the computer with her eyes piercing the laptop screen. Up until now Starr had found the little blog amusing and made it the first thing she checked when she got up in the mornings. But now? Starr was
P-I-S-S-E-D.

The supposed Diva of Dish had just made an enemy.

How embarrassing. How embarrassing. How embarrassing.

Starr picked up her new wireless mouse and stretched her arms high in the air. Just short of chucking it across the room, she forced herself to breathe and do the whole “Let go, let God” thing. She calmly sat the mouse back on the desk.

Being Starr wasn’t easy. She would always draw atten
tion. She would always have her fans, her stans, and her enemies. All of them were compliments to her steelo.

Still…

How embarrassing. How embarrassing. How embarrassing.

Starr had been in a horrible mood since the MTV news and she was letting her parents feel all of her funk. She did’t leave her room unless she had to and she didn’t speak unless spoken to. She was punishing them—that is when they were home to even notice her mini-rebellion.

But this just kicked everything up big-time.

Starr Lester didn’t get played on blogs. No way.

Now she was just going to make sure that whoever the lame Diva of Dish was was going to regret not getting invited to her party. Her hater had just kicked everything up a notch and Starr was taking no prisoners.

She logged on to her Twitter account. The social networking site simply asked: What are you doing? And Starr’s tweets were usually filled with fashion spotlights, random thoughts, inspirational quotes and photos of herself and any number of celebrities streaming through their home. She barely took note that she had a hundred new followers as her fingers flew across the keyboard:

STARRLESTER: I can be your best friend or your worst enemy. The choice is yours!

Starr removed her Gucci silk scarf she had tied securely around her head to keep her wrap in place. She knew she had to get ready for school but her mind was distracted.

“Knock-knock.”

Swiveling her chair around, Starr faced the door. “Come in,” she said, wondering who was up so early in the Lester household.

Her mother stepped into the room still dressed in a black short silk robe with her hair wrapped under a silk scarf. “You up?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Starr frowned. “Yes, but why are you?” she asked in surprise. Her mother never got up before eight and even had her twin brothers trained to sleep in as well.

Sasha laughed huskily as she walked over to lean against Starr’s desk. “Your father had to leave for an early video shoot and you know he woke me up.”

“Where did he go?” Starr asked, rising from her seat to stretch her limbs in her Juicy Couture romper.

“He’s in the city.” Sasha stretched and yawned as she looked around Starr’s room. “I wish I had a room like this when I was growing up.”

Starr shrugged as she walked over to her closet for one of the dreaded uniforms.

“Something wrong, Starr?”

She turned to eye her mother, wondering if this was a chance for one of their rare mother-daughter talks. “Some of the kids at school were clowning that my party won’t be on MTV,” Starr said. She was actually surprised at herself. For one, that she told her mom. And also that Diva of Dish had gotten to her.

Sasha waved her hand dismissively. “Haters throw
shade because they hate to see someone shine,” she said. “Don’t worry about a bunch of silly school kids, Starr.”

Starr opened her mouth. She wanted to say,
I’m one of those school kids.

“But Ma, people are laughing at me.”

“What should I do?” Sasha rose to her feet. “We’ll go shopping when you get home from school,” she said, turning to leave Starr’s bedroom. “Retail therapy cures everything.”

Starr eyed her computer. “Actually, I saw a few things I wanted online,” she began. “Can I just order those?”

“Go ’head,” she said over her shoulder with another yawn before closing the bedroom door behind her.

Starr tossed her uniform toward the end of her bed as she eased back over to her desk. One by one she logged into her Barney, Nordstrom, Neiman and Bergdorf accounts and used her father’s credit card info to pay for the items she had saved in her shopping cart.

A pair of Chloé boots here.

A Stella McCartney outfit there.

New undies. An organic romper. A new gold clutch.

The total came to somewhere around two grand. A little light shopping that did absolutely nothing to make Starr feel better.

Having a party to top all parties
and
the Diva of Dumbass’s head on a platter would have to do that.

Marisol
September 14 @ 10:45 a.m. | Mood: Amorous

Today
was the last day of taping for the documentary about her father, and just like every other time the swarm of cameras and crew was at her house, she was dressed to the nines. The BCBG sleeveless bib dress she wore was so very completely different from her usual Sunday attire of leggings and a fitted tee. She loved the way the charcoal looked against her bronze complexion. She put on very light makeup, and with one last shake of her now-curly black locks, Marisol slipped her feet into a pair of suede gladiators and slid her BlackBerry into the hidden pocket of her dress before she left her room.

Marisol had discovered that she loved the cameras and they were crushing on her, as well. And she used the opportunity well, being sure to be wherever the cameras
were when her dad was filming. Her impromptu fashion show this week served two purposes. She was well aware that her image was going to be in millions of homes and…

“
Hola,
Corey,” Marisol said in her best flirty voice as she walked into the large and airy—and thankfully empty—kitchen.
Remember, Marisol. Smile. Just enough to say “I like you” but not enough to scream “I’m psycho.”

He stopped wrapping a thick black cord around his arm to look over at her with a quick smile. “Hi, Marisol,” he said, before he stooped down to place the cord in a large black case. “You look pretty as always.”

Marisol’s heart soared. She knew it was today or never. She was
soooo
tired of waiting for him to make the first move. How many times had she tried to will him, through mind control, to ask her out? She really wasn’t going to accept the premise of the book
He’s Just Not That Into You.

“We’re wrapping up here after your parents do the tour of the house,” he began, looking at her with eyes that made her heart race like she just finished a mad dash through a Neiman’s sale.

Marisol pouted to let him know how much of a downer his leaving was.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime,” Corey offered, leaning back against the edge of the floor-to-ceiling cabinets.

Yippeee!
In the privacy of her room she would do a
flip. Marisol reached out and lightly touched his hand. “Not maybe.
Definitely.
”

They both whipped out their cell phones and programmed each other’s numbers, e-mail and social networking sites. It was always necessary for couples to stay in touch.

Corey’s eyes fell on Marisol’s glossy lips as he slid his cell phone back in the pocket of his jeans.

He’s gonna kiss me. Yes! Just wait until I tell Starr and Dionne.
Marisol wished she had time to do a breath check. As he lowered his head toward her, she closed her eyes and raised her chin the way she saw the women do on
Days of Our Lives.

“Corey!”

He jumped back from her and bumped his head on the cabinet.

And that irked Marisol big-time, but she held her fiery temper in check. He rubbed the back of his head as he strode toward the bellowing voice in the living room. She stomped her foot in frustration.

“Something wrong, Marisol?” her mother asked in Spanish from behind her suddenly.

Marisol turned and smiled at how beautiful her
madre
looked in a burnt-orange jumpsuit with chunky turquoise accessories. Picture-perfect and ready for her close-up. Like mother, like daughter.

People said Yasmine Rivera resembled a taller, fuller version of the Latina beauty Eva Longoria. Marisol had once overheard her mother joke with her friends
that she was more of a desperate housewife than Eva’s television character.

Marisol just shook her head with a small smile.

“All these people in our home. I am so happy this is the last day,” Yasmine said as she retrieved some bottled water from the stainless-steel Viking fridge.

“Not me, Mami, we’re going to be on television,” Marisol said excitedly.
And I’m going to have a boyfriend!

Yasmine watched her daughter as she took a sip from the bottled water. “You are growing up so fast, Marisol,” she said in Spanish, as she screwed the cap back on the bottle. “I remember when you were just a baby in my arms.”

Marisol leaned against the massive granite-topped island in the center of the kitchen. “
That
was a long time ago,” she stressed, desperately wanting to be seen as a young woman and not a little girl.

Yasmine moved around the island and playfully bumped her hip against her daughter’s. “Protect your heart and your innocence. Don’t be in a rush to give them away,” she advised. “Life is always filled with regrets.”

Marisol looked up at her mom and the sadness in her beautiful brown eyes was clear. Seriously.

At that moment, Marisol’s dad strolled into the kitchen with his camera crew right on his heels.

“Yasmine, they’re ready for us to tour the house,” Alexandro said as he walked up to her and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Yasmine’s smile was in place as soon as the lights and the camera shone in her eyes but Marisol didn’t miss the way her mom moved away from her father by walking back to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She hadn’t even finished drinking the one already sitting on the island.

Marisol looked around at the crew and noticed Corey was absent.
Maybe we can find a quiet spot for that kiss,
she thought as she eased past the camera crew out of the kitchen. She dug her peach-flavored lip gloss out of her pocket and glazed her mouth really well as she searched for her new boyfriend.
Yes!

She found him in the foyer and smiled as she walked up behind him quietly.

“I miss you, too, baby girl. But my dad wants me to work with him.”

Marisol stopped. Her eyes widened a bit right along with her mouth as her heart hammered like
crazy.

“Ask your mom if I can take you to the movies tonight,” Corey said.

Oh…heck…no! This clown already has a girl!

Marisol leaned against the wall, crossed her arms over her chest and waited patiently.

“A’ight, I’ll see you later.”

Corey turned and his eyes got big—saucer big—as he faced Marisol.

Suddenly Corey, “the Cheater,” wasn’t looking so yummy anymore.

“One thing you don’t know about me, Corey, is I don’t
do secondhand,” Marisol said as she stepped forward and plucked his cell phone that had been still in his hand. “Erase me from your contacts.”

As she turned and walked away, Marisol’s mother’s words of advice came floating back to her in a whisper:

“Protect your heart and your innocence. Don’t be in a rush to give them away. Life is always filled with regrets.”

True.