Get Ready for War (17 page)

Rich leaned in and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one else was around. “You know that masked woman that has security on high-alert around here?”

“Yeah. The one that attacked those two Starlets?”

Rich nodded. “Uh-huh. Here's your criminal right here.” She pointed over at Spencer, who popped her collar.

“Whaaaaaat?!” I asked, shocked. “You two did
whaaaat
?”

“Girl, will you keep it down. Your mouth is too loud. That's why we didn't wanna tell you. That's another one of your problems. Your mouth's too big.”

“Mmmhmm, Project Loud,” Spencer added. “Write that down, Rich.”

“Oh, you already know I'm on it,” Rich said as she opened her book. “Loudmouth strikes again. Tried to tell London something and she got all—”

“Rich, please,” I snapped. She was a split second from getting whopped upside her head. I was trying my damndest to be patient, but she was really wearing my nerves thin. It's bad enough I had to stomach watching her and Spencer laugh it up, acting all bestie-bestie. And now I had to put up with her and that notebook. “Will you get back to the story?”

“Don't rush me, London,” she huffed. “Are you going to eat the rest of them shrimp?” I frowned, sliding my plate to her. She popped two shrimp into her mouth. “Oooh, yes. Next time I need to get these. Delish.” She popped another one in her mouth. My God, she was a cow!

“Rich, the story, please . . .”

She took a sip of her drink, then wiped her mouth. “Are you going to keep it down so I can finish telling my story or am I”—Spencer pulled out duct tape and slid it over to Rich—“going to have to seal your trap shut?”

I rolled my eyes. “My lips are sealed. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Spencer tilted her head. “Is that a dare? Don't tempt me.”

Rich snickered.

“You know what? I'm about tired of this little unexpected clique the two of you seem to have formed. Y'all acting like I'm not even here. And, Rich, you're really getting your Benedict Arnold on.”

“Ummph. I see you passed your history test. Annnnny-way, as I was saaaaying, before you got all psycho and sensitive on me. We marched over to the other side of campus and snatched two of the Starlets up . . .”

“Wait,” I said, surprised. “Y'all went over there to fight those hoes for me?”

Rich frowned. “For
you
? Girl, please. No. I went over there because they were popping trash about
me.
What I look like, tryna fight your battles? Ummph. I still can't understand how you let four little munchkin sluts beat you down in the first place. That makes no sense to me, but whatever. You're gon' have to wear that, boo.”

“Yup,” Spencer chimed in. “And wear it well. And aren't you like sixty feet tall? I mean, there's no reason they should have been able to climb up on your back like that. Even if they stood up on each other's shoulders to fight you, you still should have been able to handle them. I mean, really? What kind of giraffe are you?”

Rich shook her head, giving me a sad look. “Girl, it's a disgrace to the Pampered Princesses' code of ethics.”

Spencer agreed. “Yup, it says: Thou shall not ever catch a beat-down by a bunch of underclass hoes.”

“What the hell are the two of you talking about? It was four of them against me!”

“Anyyywaaaay,” Rich continued, dismissing me with the flick of a hand. She reached for the rest of my shrimp and popped them into her mouth, two at a time. I frowned. “The whole thing was my idea, of course. 'Cause you know Spencer's limited. She has
real special
on lock, so you know she wasn't going to be the mastermind behind it.”

“Wait a ding-dong minute,” Spencer snapped, slamming a hand down on the table. “I know you're not trying to turn tricks up in here on me . . .”

“Clutching pearls,” Rich said, grabbing her neck. “I don't turn tricks, I turn 'em out. Pow!” She jumped up and pumped her hips. “Get your facts right. The only trick in the room is you, boo. Now go suck on that.” She snapped her fingers, then sat back in her seat.

I laughed, relieved that they were starting to turn on each other. Breaking their little party up was going to be easier than I thought.

Spencer waved her on, laughing. “See, if I wasn't in such good spirits, I would reach my hand down in your mouth and snatch out your black, rusty tongue, then yank out your tonsils and wear them like teardrop earrings. So be thankful I'm feeling good today. Now get back to telling the story before the next news headline is about you losing your mouth guts.”

I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing. That girl was a nut. Normally I would jump right on in and Rich and I would tag-team Spencer up one side and down the other. But today, like Rich told me, she was on her own. She'd have to wear whatever Spencer dished out to her.

She eyed me. “London, I know you're not over there laughing at me.”

I sipped my water. “Nope, not at all,” I said, smirking.

“Good,” she snapped, twisting her lips up, then sliding her straw into her mouth. She took another slow sip of her drink. “So, anyway... Spencer and I masked up and went hood on them. I dragged and gagged that Arabia, well... um, not until after I dropped my number down into my bosom and told her boo to come get it. Bang-bang, baby.”

“And when you finally woke from that dream,” Spencer stated, rolling her eyes, “you were standing in your own puddle of piss while I was doing all of the work. So liar, liar, your feet are on fire. All you did was shake in your heels and scream, then you ran out like some scaredy cat. You probably tore your panty liner up, too.”

I frowned.
Ugh, how gross! Some of the nastiest things come out of this guzzler's mouth.

“That's going too far, Spencer. I wear thongs. Make it clap, baby. Booyah! Now get your facts straight. Now baaaaaaack to what I was saying . . .”

Thankfully, the lunch bell rang before she could finish her story of lies. And it's a good thing because a) I was getting sick of watching those two superhoes chopping it up like long lost besties; and b) I didn't believe one word coming out of Rich's hot, filthy mouth because she auto-tuned the truth, like she was Rihanna. But exaggerator and whore or not, she was still my best friend, and Spencer was the frenemy. So Rich stayed, but Spencer had to go.

I watched as the two of them stood up and air-kissed on both cheeks, then hugged. I wanted to gag. Then to add insult to injury, Rich had the nerve to say, “All right now, boo, martinis after school. Meet me at the Kit-Kat Lounge. London, I know you won't be going since you're on lockdown. So, we'll send you a postcard.”

I blinked.

“Oooh, love it, boo,” Spencer said, grabbing her bag, then tossing it up over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at me, then walked up on me and whispered real low, “I see the hate in your eyes, Trashy.com. But I'm warning you. Try to come between Rich and me again, and I'm going to Nair your lashes off. And you better hope that's all I do. Now toodles, Low Money. Don't get your hate up, get your cake up.”

She strutted off, her curls bouncing and hips swinging as I stood there with my mouth dropped open. Okay, so I wasn't invited out to drinks with them—so what. Who cares?! I didn't want to go anyway. And so what if I was still on punishment! She could have still invited me. Eff her! They could go have their little night out on the town. Tricks! But, you best believe. If I didn't know anything else, I knew what I had to do. That friendship was coming to an end. I was shutting it down, quick!

“Rich,” I called out, fast on her heels. “Wait up.”

A
nderson had swooped me up in the air in his helicopter this afternoon, then gently landed on the helipad of his family's three-level yacht,
Buff Daddy
. Here it was two weeks since that godawful night in Santa Barbara and I was still having trouble shaking that nightmarish image of him with his tongue stuffed down London's gullet.

And every time I had to look at her big face at school, it made me want to slice off them sumptuous lips of hers and fling them to the crows.

I still couldn't believe that I, in a moment of weakness—something I rarely ever had—became vulnerable and broke down in tears, telling Kitty the next morning everything I had seen the night before, and how it had devastated me.

Kitty's voice ricocheted up against my brain as I inhaled the ocean breeze. I gripped the railing, replaying our conversation in my head. A scowl had been painted on her face, her tone laced with disgust. “
Tears?
You have got to be kidding me! My God, Spencer, no! Please tell me you are
not
crying over some boy who was never going to be yours ...”

Yeah, I knew his arrangement with Amazon. That her mother and his were sorority sisters and belonged to the same high society circles, that their mothers hatched the idea to play matchmaker a year ago, promising that he and Queen Kong would get married. And their fathers agreed that it's the only way either one of them will get their inheritances. Whatever! And, yeah, he told me what the rules of engagement were. That as long as I went along with the program, we'd spend time together. I was expected to not try to put claims on him. Well, guess what? Rules were made to be broken, goshdang it! And I wanted to break every one of them with him. London didn't deserve him. I did.

But Anderson was playing me. And I didn't take too kindly to anyone playing me like I was some old hand-me-down handbag.

Here I was on this magnificent yacht, standing by the railing out on the deck, glancing up at the sky, trying like heck to enjoy myself. This was supposed to be a romantic night alone with Anderson and all I kept thinking about was him pawing and gnawing all over that furry-faced llama.

I couldn't erase the image of the two of them out of my head.

I stared out at the Pacific Ocean.
How could he do this to me?

I blinked back tears as Kitty's voice continued to invade my thoughts.

Stop this!” she had snapped, grabbing me by the cheeks with one hand. Her eyes turned dark and ugly. This was a side of Kitty I rarely ever saw. “I will not have this. Do you hear me? None of it! I don't give a hot damn if that boy kissed the inside of Oprah's thighs, you don't ever, ever, drop one ounce of saltwater, or ruin good eyeliner, over a man; especially one that you should have only been borrowing in the first place. You were supposed to toy with him, pleasure yourself, then discard him like last night's news,
not
catch feelings. Have you not learned anything from me? Someone hurts you, you don't drop tears, you drop bombs, darling. Blow 'em up on the spot, then toss their bleeding carcass out in the streets for the world to see. Do you understand?”

“But he kissed her . . .” I kept saying over and over.

I grabbed my face in shock. Kitty had never slapped me before. She grabbed me by the shoulders and wildly shook me. “Spencer, pull yourself together here. Look at you. You're a sniveling, snot-nosed mess! And I am appalled. It's so unbecoming. And not anything Kitty Ellington would ever associate with. Tears are for the weak and incompetent. You're not weak. And you're not incompetent. And I will not have you carrying on as such. I will not have it, I say. We don't do tears, dear. We do terror. We wreak havoc and turn worlds upside down. That's what we do . . .”

She placed a hand to her chest. “This right here, seeing my only daughter crying, hurts me down to my core . . .” She paused, holding back what I thought was a set of her own tears.

At that moment, I felt like maybe Kitty really did care about me. Ha! Wishful thinking!

She let go of me. “I had no business leaving you with Vera, that ole backward coot—love her dearly, but she has ruined you. All she's ever really been good for is cooking and cleaning. And God only knows what hanging with them pampered messes you run with has done to you. I did this all wrong. I see now that letting you come back home was a big mistake. When you got expelled from Le Rosey I should have immediately shipped you off to Singapore or Bora Bora. Sweet heavens! I thought I could trust you to be responsible. How could I have let this happen? How could I have been so foolish?

“I'm trying to run an empire and crush the competition, but obviously I need to put all that on hold because you don't seem to know how to handle being a woman. My God! I thought I did right by you by giving you free rein of this house and letting you raise yourself. But I see now I made an awful mistake thinking I could trust you to handle your business. This is utterly absurd, and unacceptable, Spencer. You have literally lost your mind. And I will not stand for it!”

I blinked. I couldn't believe what had fallen from out of her mouth. I was distressed and all she gave a dang about was her precious empire.

Damn her!

And damn Anderson!

Her voice continued ringing in my head. “I'm going to tell you this only once, Spencer dear, so listen up. And listen up well. You are only as hot as your last headline. So you had better lace up your corset, don your stilettos, and seduce the enemy. Conceal your intentions with your cunning ways, get into their heads, learn their weaknesses, find out their deepest secrets, then when they least expect it, you strike full force! You bring them to their knees.”

“But what if I can't? What if I am not able to uncover any of their dirty deeds?”

She tilted her head. “You're an Ellington. There are no what-ifs. But just in case you screw it up, you had better have your bags packed because I'm shipping you off to the wilds of Africa to roam the jungles with your father. Now, shut off them godawful tears and go get me a story so juicy and scandalous that it'll shut all of Hollywood down . . .”

 

I blinked.

I touched the exquisite Cartier diamond necklace Anderson had given me at dinner and forced a smile. I had to play it cool. I needed to seize the moment. Then bring him to his knees. I needed to crush the enemy! But the dang truth was, although I was seething, I still wanted Anderson . . . naked and handcuffed to the bed!

He came up behind me and lifted my hair to kiss the back of my neck. I still hadn't had sex with him, which was another thing burning a hole in my love bucket and had me thinking he was up to no good with that London. “What are you out here thinking about, gum drop?”

“You,” I said, smirking.

“You smell good,” he murmured, nuzzling and cranking up the heat stirring inside of me.

Feeling Anderson's body pressed in back of me slowly softened my angry heart a pinch. So before I pulled out my sharpened cutlery and rearranged his face, I decided I was going to give him one more chance to redeem himself. Then I'd try to forgive him for kissing that mongoose.

Anderson kissed me again, then his hands snaked around my waist. “You're my sexy gum drop, with your sweet, sassy self. You feel so good in my arms, Spencer.”

“I could really fall for you, love. You're so beautiful.”

Oh my . . .

“You don't know what you do to me, baby.”

I closed my eyes and silently prayed.

Anderson removed his hands from around my waist. I couldn't believe it. What in the sneezy-jeezy was going on here?

Strike one!

Why was Anderson not pawing at me? What in the whoopty-do was this world coming to?

I took a deep breath.
Okay, calm down. Maybe he's a little shy
, my inner sex goddess suggested.
You know how some boys are. Slow to the start, but quick to the finish. Give him a moment to get his nerve up
.

He turned me to face him, then kissed me gently on the lips. He stared at me. “You're so beautiful, gum drop.”

I batted my lashes. He kissed me on the lips again. “And so sexy, baby.” He pulled me closer into him. And I could feel . . . oh my! My mouth started watering and every nerve ending started tingling. And just that quick I almost forgot he had been caught sucking face with Amazon. Maybe I was going to get my strudel tossed and pulled apart after all.

“Come,” he insisted, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the stairs that led back down into the cabin. “Let's call it a night. I want to take you to bed and hold you in my arms.”

I grinned.
Ohhhhkay, daddy... Now we're cooking with grease!

I swung my hips into seduction mode as we made our way through the living room, then down a hall. Anderson opened a door on the right, then flipped on a light. “This is the master quarters,” he said, standing back to let me in. “Welcome.”

I gasped, stepping into the cabin. It was huge, with a private balcony that gave you a spectacular private view of the ocean. All types of lusty, wanton thoughts fluttered through my head as I imagined us out on the balcony, naked.

There was a huge, fluffy four-poster bed without a canopy in the center of the cabin, a matching chest of drawers on one side of the room, and an ivory chaise lounge in the corner. Yes, there was plenty of room to play!

Still, I should have known some things were simply too good to be true when Anderson stated he was going to hop in the shower—alone—then wait for me in bed. But I ignored the warning that this was a misguided missile about to tear right through my fairy-tale ending.

And I should have known it was going to be a catastrophic mess when he stepped out of the bathroom wearing a pair of pinstriped pajamas.
Pajamas!
Yes, long sleeves and long pants, cotton pajamas! Can you believe it? Who in the hotbeefpatty does that? Still, I gathered my overnight bag, cinched my lips shut, and sashayed into the bathroom, determined to not be deterred.

I quickly showered, then toweled off and dabbed a few drops of my secret love scent behind my ears, over my wrists, down my cleavage, around the back of my knees, on the inside of my thighs. I stood in front of the mirror, admiring myself in the sexy, sheer flyaway baby-doll with open front and lace trim I had on with the matching G-string. I pulled my hair up from off my shoulders and twisted it into a ponytail, clamping it with a jeweled clip. I let a few tendrils cascade along my face for added sexiness, then glossed my lips and popped them to perfection.

I opened the door and stepped out into the bedroom, leaning one arm up against the door frame and a hip jutted out. Anderson shot up in bed.

“Wow! You look . . . hot!”

I smiled, sauntering over to the bed. Ooooh, I felt like dropping down on my knees and crawling over to him. But I didn't want him to think I was some kind of freaky-deaky trixie boo. So, I gave him a slow tease-walk.

“You like?” I asked coyly.

“
Like?
Try love it,” he said enthusiastically.

I climbed up into bed with him, purring. “Grrrrrrreat. I have something else you're going to love, too.” I inched my way into his arms, then got lost in his embrace.

“This feels nice. I've been waiting all night to do this.”

Oh, you have no idea how long I've been waiting.
“Me too,” I softly said.

He kissed me on the side of the head, then settled into the fluffiness of the bedding.

I frowned, but my inner goddess said,
Don't go acting like a thirsty vulture, Spencer. Wait for him to make the first move
.

So I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Still nothing! Finally, after thirty-five minutes of tossing and turning and backing my booty up on him—hoping he'd get the hint—with no promising results, I couldn't take it anymore. The ticking bomb in my head was about to go off, and I was ten seconds from exploding. I had to defuse my temper real quick before it got messy up in here.