Fabulous (8 page)

Dionne
September 21 @ 11:45 a.m. | Mood: Afraid…Again

“Yo,
Dionne, come here!”

She looked up from the teen magazine she was flipping through before she rolled off her bed. She padded barefoot to her father’s office, standing in the doorway. “Whaddup, Daddy?” she asked, eyeing him sitting behind a huge black desk with his laptop in front of him.

“Come look at what somebody sent me?”

Dionne walked across the spacious room and around the desk to look down at the computer screen. She frowned a little and then smiled. “Ooh, I look cute,” she said, eyeing the black-and-white photo of her posing with her father. “That’s going in
Essence,
right?”

“Damn right,” Lahron the Don said, leaning back in the chair to look up at her.

The celebrity magazine had a feature spread with up-and-coming hip-hop artists and their families. It had been fun modeling, getting makeup done and being dressed by a stylist—but Dionne had especially enjoyed sharing her father’s celebrity world with him. She was excited to see all the photos.

His cell phone on top of his desk vibrated and Lahron grabbed it up. “Yo, whaddup?”

As soon as her father hopped out of his seat and walked out of the office, Dionne dropped into it to open each and every photo file.

“Oooh, cute,” she whispered as she eyed her casual but fab style in the photo. Her hair, her natural-looking makeup and her outfit were all on point.

She was deciding whether to forward the picture to her own e-mail address when she caught sight of an open letter on top of the desk. Her frown deepened as she glimpsed the words:
DELINQUENT, URGENT, LEGAL.

Glancing out the door to be sure her father wasn’t coming back, Dionne turned the letter so that she could read it. And she didn’t like what she read one bit.

Her father’s stylist was requesting payment in full for nearly five thousand dollars for services rendered. First her school tuition and now this. Dionne picked up the letter and underneath it lay several more letters along the same lines of the first letter.

“What the…”

She thought of the check her father used to pay her
tuition in full.
Oh, good grief, is it gonna bounce?
she thought. Em-barr-a-ssing!!

She set the letter back down, the photos forgotten as she leaned back in the leather chair.

Lahron walked back into the office and Dionne cut her eyes over at the three diamond chains dangling around his neck. “Daddy, is everything okay?” she asked, her stomach in knots.

He glanced at her before picking up his glass of soda from the edge of the desk. “What you talking about?”

“Money wise. Is everything okay—because you don’t have to buy me all those clothes, especially since I wear uniforms to school.”

Lahron’s eyes shifted to the letters on his desk. He came around the front of the desk to lean against it as he looked down at her. “First off, I didn’t call you in here to read something that doesn’t belong to you. Secondly, I’m not broke—I’m just bad at paying bills on time.”

Dionne’s eyes were immediately apologetic. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I shouldn’t have been snooping,” she told him.

“That’s cool, but remember I ain’t broke at all,” he continued to protest…perhaps a bit too much.

Dionne leaned forward in the chair to continue clicking through the pictures. “Got it,” she said, wishing she had never brought it up.

Lahron reached in the pockets of his vintage faded jeans and pulled out wads of money. Dionne’s eyes shifted to take in the crisp bills. “I got it, Dad,” Dionne drawled again.

Lahron tapped his chest and held his arms out
stretched. “Do you see where your daddy is living and what whips I’m driving?”

Dionne turned in the chair, leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Daddy. Seriously. I just asked a question. I got it. You’re not broke.”

“If I was broke would I offer to buy you and your mama a house?” he stressed.

Dionne sat up straight in the chair. “Our own house?” she asked excitedly.

At his nod, she bounced from the chair and flung herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“No, don’t thank me yet because you know your mama don’t want nothing from me.”

Dionne leaned back to look up at him. “She said no?”

Lahron moved past Dionne to reclaim his seat at the desk. “You know that.”

Dionne smiled as she allowed herself to dream. She thought of all the fabulous things that would be hers with their own house: a bigger room, a better neighborhood, no more lying to Starr and Marisol, she could even finally have sleepovers.

“Dionne.”

Ooh, maybe even a house with a pool and a big backyard! FAB-U-LOUS!

“Dionne.”

She cut her eyes over at her father as her imaginings came to an abrupt end.

“Are we straight about this money thing?” he asked as he reached for his drink again.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” she said almost dismissively as she turned and walked out of the room with a million plans as to how to talk her mama into accepting the house.

Starr
September 21 @ 7:08 p.m. | Mood: Studious

Starr
was sitting on the cushioned window seat reading her history textbook for an upcoming quiz when the doorbell to her suite rang. She frowned as she picked up the oversize remote pad and switched on her plasma television to the channel linked to the surveillance camera outside her door.

She assumed it wasn’t her parents, since they knew the combination for the electronic keypad. And she hadn’t asked Mimi to bring her anything, so she was beyond curious about who was interrupting her study time.

“Who in the…hello and goodbye…is
she?
” Starr said with an attitude as she eyed the tall white teenage girl with a riot of bright red curls standing outside the door to her suite, looking totally bored.

Barefoot and in leggings and a fitted tee, Starr walked
across the plush carpet to get a closer look at the girl on her plasma TV. She worked the control pad to make the surveillance camera slowly angle up and then down to take in everything about the stranger standing at her door.

Her eyebrows arched as she quickly took in the girl’s trendy laid-back style in her skinny jeans, high-heeled booties and fitted tee with several gold chains around her neck, which gave her look more polish and edge. Starr knew just by looking at her that her style was effortless, just like her beauty.

Who is she?

Starr set down the remote control console on the edge of her bed. Her doorbell chimed again as she scooped up her cordless and dialed her parents’ private line.

“Hey, Starr,” her mother said, the sound of laughter and chatter in the background. “Are you and Natalie getting along?”

Starr rolled her eyes heavenward. “No, because Natalie is standing outside my door working my doorbell
and
my nerves,” she snapped. “Who is she?”

“Excuse me for a second?” she heard her mother say to her guests.

Starr tapped her foot and turned to watch the girl still standing at her door.

“Starr Lester, you open up that door and let her in,” Sasha said in a scolding whisper that really wasn’t a whisper at all.

“Mama,” Starr protested.

“Her parents are good friends of mine and I know she doesn’t want to hang around with us.”

“Ma-aaah,” Starr whined.

“You should invite her to the party,” Sasha suggested.

Starr pulled the phone away to stare at it as if her mother had lost her mind. “No invites. I don’t even know this girl—why should she experience all the fabulousness of
my
party?”

Sasha sighed.

“All right, I’m letting her in.”

“That’s my Starr.”

She made a face as she hung up the phone and flung it onto the center of her bed. “Coming,” she called out, already bounding across the room and through the open doors of her closet. She quickly undressed and started changing her clothes.

In no time she was dressed in an ivory Nanette Lepore tunic, gold gladiator sandals and had even touched up her lip gloss. There was no way Starr Lester was letting anyone outdress her in her own house. Oh, no. That was a big-time no.

Starr pulled open the door and had to tilt her head back to look up at the Amazon.

With a nonchalant expression she looked past Starr as she openly scrutinized the suite. “Whaddup, I’m Natalie. Your mom said I could come up and chill with you.”

Starr’s mouth fell open. This girl looked paler than someone from Utah. But when she opened her mouth, she
sounded like Alicia Keys—husky and throaty, like she was black!
What the hello and goodbye?

“Uhhhm, come in,” Starr said, stepping back to wave her into her suite.

“Nice room,” she said, walking around.

“I have my own screening room, spa bath and room-size walk-in closet,” Starr boasted.

Natalie nodded. “Your suite is almost as big as mine,” she said, sitting down on one of the four club chairs situated around a round, low-slung table. She picked up one of Starr’s many fashion magazines and flipped through it like she was bored.

Starr couldn’t stand her. Period. Point-blank. Readyforhertogo.com. Carryyourselfouttahere.net.

“So you don’t go to Pace, do you?” Starr asked, licking her lips as she sat in one of the club chairs. She made sure to cross her legs and maintain an elegant pose.

Natalie made a face. “I wish. I go to Knightsbridge Day School,” she said as she flicked the pages of the magazine resting in her lap.

Knightsbridge was even more prestigious than Pace. Most of the students were children of wealthy families whose fortunes dated back generations.

“I bet Pace is way more fun,” she said, glancing over at Starr with emerald-green eyes.

Starr shook her head. “No, not really. Pace is kind of lame actually,” she lied.

Natalie just shrugged and continued to flip through the magazine.

As Starr peeped at Natalie’s style, she thought to herself that she never wanted Natalie to come to Pace Academy—ever.

She was thin, pretty, stylish and self-assured—a white version of herself. And she definitely wasn’t interested in having any competition.

No, Natalie needed to stay at Knightsbridge and on her side of town, because there was room for only one queen bee at Pace Academy and it most definitely was Starr Lester. Period. The end.

Starr couldn’t wait for her parents’ guests to leave, since she was more than ready to see Natalie go. Bye, girl!

Marisol
September 21 @ 7:45 p.m. | Mood: Excited

Marisol
hated to hurry through her bath in her clawfoot tub. Especially since her favorite bath supplies from Fresh had arrived. She absolutely loved their skincare line’s use of natural ingredients like milk, soy and rice. The clear jars of various scents and products were neatly stacked inside the armoire in the corner of her ultra bathroom. With one last leisurely stretch in sweet-smelling, soothing water, Marisol released the drain, allowing the last remnants of body polish to disappear. It was worth every bit of the hefty price tag.

She allowed herself just a few precious moments of moisturizing her skin before she wrapped a plush towel around her body and hurried out of her adjoining bathroom into her bedroom. There was a hard knock to her door.

“
¡Marisol, la mamá dijó se apresura!”

Marisol rolled her eyes at the sound of her brother’s yelling for her to hurry up through the door.
He’s probably putting boogers on my doorknob,
she thought as she pulled her hair into a loose and messy topknot. She snatched on a lime-green tube top maxi dress before grabbing her cell phone as she rushed from the room.

Tonight both her mother and her father’s family were coming over to watch a rough-cut preview of the documentary about her father. Although the whole thing was a reminder of her broken hopes with Cheater Corey, Marisol was excited to see herself on the big screen and spend time with her family. She did not have time for wannabe playas.
Puh-leeze.

El lo podría mantener moviendo con eso.
(He could keep it moving with that.)

She just was disappointed that her girls couldn’t be there. Starr was busy with her mom and her party planner. And Didi went with her dad to some Nickelodeon event in L.A. for the weekend.

Marisol’s stomach growled at the scent of the food being prepared by the staff in the kitchen as she continued past it on her way to the media room. Even though she was keeping her eyes on her Latin-flavored hips, Marisol had every intention of chowing down and then working up a sweat exercising away the extra calories.

Ding.

Marisol paused at the double doors leading into the media room and checked her phone for the incoming text.

UR#1STARR: LOOK AT THE SHOES I FOUND 4 MY OUTFIT. OW!!!

Marisol hurried to open the photo. Starr and her mom were both smiling as they held up a pair of Gucci high-heel ankle-strap platform sandals in gold. They were wicked. The heels were so high that Marisol was surprised that even a laid-back mom like Sasha was letting Starr wear them.

MARIMARI: LUV THEM. LUV THEM. LUV THEM.

DIVADIDI: U R SOOO LUCKY. MY MOM WOULD KILL ME.

MARIMARI: MINE 2.

UR#1STARR: REMEMBER THE DRESS CODE IS ALL WHITE.

DIVADIDI: STILL HAVE TO FIND SUM’N 2 WEAR.

MARIMARI: ME 2.

UR#1STARR: REALLY MISS U GUYS.

“Marisol!”

MARIMARI: MISS U 2. GOTTA GO.

DIVADIDI: DEUCES LADIES.

UR#1STARR: SMOOCHES.

Marisol walked into the spacious media room, which was filled to capacity—it was standing room only. Marisol made her way to the front of the stylishly appointed room and sat on the floor in between her mother and father’s feet.

“Remember, Marisol, time is money,” Alex told her before he playfully tugged at her topknot.

“Yes, sir.”

The lights dimmed and the curtain covering the wall
opened wide. Marisol knew her
padre
was working one of his touch-screen remote control systems designed to run the entire house.

Marisol and the entire family laughed and talked throughout the entire screening, which was clearly a rough cut and still needed editing. Anytime she was on the huge screen Marisol blew herself kisses, loving that she looked big-time fabulous in every single shot…just like her mother.

Midway through the viewing, Marisol jumped to her feet as she felt something wet drizzle on her head and down her back. She whirled and the look of pain and shock on her mother’s face surprised her. “Mama, what’s wrong?” Marisol asked.

Her eyes darted to her father. His entire body was stiff and he dropped his head down into his hand. The entire family became quiet as all eyes locked on her parents and not the screen.

“I’m sorry, everyone. The glass must have slipped from my hand,” Yasmine said, rising to hand Marisol napkins without looking her or anyone else in the eyes.

“Will you all excuse me?” Yasmine said politely with a soft smile.

Marisol looked on in confusion as her mother pushed past their family members and guests and left the screening room.

“Everyone please finish watching the show and I’ll go check on Yasmine,” her father said, rising to his feet. “Maybe she’s not feeling well.”

One of Marisol’s
tías
helped blot the water from her
shoulders and back before she dropped down into her mother’s leather theater chair. The laughter continued and her parents’ disappearance was forgotten…by everyone but Marisol.

Where are they?

Is Mamá sick?

What’s going on?

Marisol knew that whatever it was it had to be major because her parents were the ultimate hosts and they would never leave guests alone like this.

Marisol barely took her eyes off the screen as it filled with her image as she walked into the kitchen. She knew the moment oh, so very well. It was right after she caught Corey on the phone with his girlfriend.

Her heart tugged a little at the look of sadness in her eyes and the fake smile on her lips. Big-time truth? That little weeklong crush had really hurt. It was her first experience with a guy cheating.

“Marisol, look,” her little brother Carlos said before he came around to plop down in their father’s theater chair.

She looked down at him and all of his black curly hair and brown skin. He really was cute.

Carlos pulled a booger from his nose, rolled it and then plucked it clear across the room.

Too bad he was so gross.

Ugh!

Marisol ignored him for the rest of the screening, her
eyes constantly darting to the door, awaiting her parents’ return. But her hopes kept getting dashed.

Marisol used the massive remote control to turn up the lights after the screen faded to black. She rose to her feet. “Excuse me, everyone. Please go into the dining room for all that good food,” she told them, slipping right into the role of hostess in her mom’s absence. Yasmine had taught her well.

She whirled around just in time to see Carlos about to touch her. “Keep your hands off, my booger boy,” she snapped, with her brown eyes flashing as she pointed her finger against his forehead. “And go wash your hands. Now!”

Marisol eased through the crowd of people filing out of the media room, her bare feet lightly tapping against the floors as she quickly made her way down the long hallway to race up the steps. Her heart was pounding as she crept nearer to her parents’ bedroom and pressed her ear to the wood.

They were arguing—in Spanish. It couldn’t be good.

“Stay away from me, Alex. I hate you. I hate you.”

Marisol’s eyes widened as she nervously bit her nail, leaving tiny chips of Pleasure Principle Purple nail polish on the tip of her tongue.

“Yasmine, let me explain.”

“Explain what? Huh? Explain what, Alex? Explain why
that
woman was at the baseball field. Explain that.”

Slap.

Marisol gasped at the sound of what she knew was her
mother’s hand connecting with her father’s face. Woman? Baseball field? What?

“All of these women only want you for your name and your money. You think if you had nothing all those women would throw themselves at you. You risk your family for that, Alex? I loved you when you had nothing.”

Marisol rose to her feet and tore away from her parents’ door and their private business. She had no right to eavesdrop. She heard way more than any fifteen-year-old ever wanted—or needed—to know.

The world as she knew it suddenly felt different.

A crazy dream. Nightmare. Bad sitcom script.

Marisol rushed through the house and made her way back to the now-empty media room. With trembling fingers she used the remote to rewind the DVD back to the point where her mother had dropped her drink on her.

Her eyes flittered across the screen as she chewed off more Pleasure Principle Purple, looking for something that only her mother had seen and recognized. She jumped and jabbed the pause button with her finger.

Paused on the hundred-inch screen, just barely in the frame, Marisol’s clear eyes locked on the blond-haired woman climbing into a flashy red Porsche. The woman’s moment on the screen had been so quick, but it had been enough for her mother to see.

And unfortunately it was enough for Marisol.

How can I ever look at my father the same?

She dropped into one of the theater chairs, pulling her feet up to her knees before she pulled her maxi dress down over them.

Are my parents getting divorced?
she thought.

Marisol thought of how she felt when she found out that her crush had a girlfriend and she hated that her mother had to feel that at all.

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

She turned as the media-room door opened. Carlos stuck his curly head in. “Marisol, Mama said to come and eat. Everyone is waiting for you.”

Marisol just nodded but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Carlos walked over to her. “Something wrong, Mari?” he asked, his cute face filled with concern.

Something was big-time wrong.

“No, Carlos,” she lied, reaching up to muss his hair with a smile, a very sad smile.