Get Ready for War (31 page)

“Spencer, I've been away from Hollywood High for too long. And there are two things I don't miss. That bear, Rich. And that tyrannosaurus, London.”

I cracked up. “Hahahahahaha. That was almost hilarious. Because only half of that was funny.”

“Which part?”

“About that big-faced London. With her big-hoofed self.”

Heather cracked up.

I popped my lips. “Mmmph. So, are you trying to get back in with the Pampered Princesses, or do you need to be replaced like they did you on
The WuWu Tanner Show
? Or are you tryna rock another lunch table across the room?”

“No, I want my old life back. And if that means I have to do tea at Jurassic Park with London and indulge on too many snacks with Rich, I'll do it. I just want my best friend back.”

“Mmmph. And who's that? Who's your best friend, Heather? And say it like you mean it.”

“You are, Spencer. Always have been; always will be.”

“Now apologize to me for being so ratchet.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Now tell me you'll never do it again.”

“Spencer, I swear to you I will never, ever do anything to hurt you, or our friendship, again.”

“Now, say crack is whack, so we can pour the tea on what's been going on at Hollywood High.”

Heather laughed. “See, this is what I miss about you; your sense of humor.”

“Well, I tell you what, Heather. I'm going to give you one more chance. Don't ruin it 'cause you know I'm not vengeful. But I will get you back. So now tell me. What's going on at the prison yard? But wait. Let me catch up on this real quick. Rich is back with Knox. London is running around chasing some boy who doesn't want her. And you know who he wants?”

“Who?
You?
” Heather asked, sounding like she was drooling at the seams. “Are you creeping with him in the bathroom, too?”

“What? Oh, no you didn't even go there, Heather. See, this is why you can't forgive a crack whore. Don't do me, Heather. Bees in the trap! 'Cause I gets it done. I'll zig-zag your skull, then connect the dots all across your face.”

“I didn't mean it like that, Spencer.”

“Yes, you did, liar. Don't try to insult my intelligence, Heather. Yeah, I was in the bathroom with Coreeey. But I made a mistake. Although Corey was wrong 'cause he knew Rich was my friend. And as a crack whore, I would think you'd understand.”

“Spencer, will you kill the whore. I didn't do crack. And I'm not a whore.”

I rolled my eyes. “That's what they all say. Show me the receipts that prove you bought something other than crack. Until then, you are a crackhead. Now make that the last time you bring up something about me on my knees in a bathroom. I'm trying to be loving and kind to you. And you're already trying to get me to backslide, trying to do me, like I'm some low-end heathen.”

“Spencer . . . shut up. Please. Finish telling me the gossip.”

“Whatever, Heather. Anywaay . . . before I forget my religion, back to the bees in the trap. Rich and London are hot, sloppy messes.”

“Yeah, sluts.”

“Now, Heather. I would not consider Rich to be a slut. That's not nice. She is more like ... like a ho. And I mean that in a good way. If I meant it in a bad way I'd call her a dirty ho, but calling her a slut is just going too far. Now, anyway . . . what's going on behind the barbed wire?”

“Spencer, please . . . for the last time, it's rehab. But anyway... I have to tell you something. And you can't tell anyone.”

“What, girl? Are you planning an escape? Did you dig yourself a hole so you can crawl out and get your freedom on? I know you're not smuggling drugs in there, are you, Heather?”

“Spencer. No, no . . . listen.”

“I'm listening.”

“I um . . . I um . . . I slept with Shakeer . . .”

“Who?
Shakeer?
What in the world is a Shakeer? That sounds so hood; so deliciously ghetto. Is that some new designer drug you done got your hands on?”

“No . . . it's my counselor.” She lowered her voice. “I had sex with him. And I don't know how to feel about that.”

My mouth dropped open. “You did what? Where?”

“In his office.”

“Oh no. That nasty dog! I'm gonna have to report him. That doesn't sound right. It sounds nasty; real gutter-trash nasty. And how old is this nasty pervert, like forty? Yuck! Viagra on overload.”

“No, he's twenty-five.”

Oh my . . . scandalous! I smiled.
I hit the Jack and the Beanstalk with this news! I'll be able to get Kitty out of my face, much sooner than later!

“Well, did you want to be bent over with your booty cheeks up in the air?”

“Honestly . . . yes.”

“Why, Heather? Why would you want to sleep with your counselor?”

“Because he's the only one who understands me. He makes me feel special. Camille was up here ragging on me. Telling a buncha lies. All I've ever asked of her is to tell me about my father. That woman hates me so much. How could a mother hate her own child like that?”

I thought about Kitty and rolled my eyes.
Mmmph, same thing I'd like to know!

“Heather, she doesn't hate you. She's self-centered. And trust me. Kitty wrote the book on self-centered mothers. So don't even get me started on that. But, anyway, don't stress that foolery.”

“That's easier said than done. No matter how hard I try, I still end up hurt and feeling alone. Why can't that woman just tell me who my father is?”

“Heather, I mean really. Get over it. If that man wanted to be a father to you, he would be. Look at my father. I don't know mine. He's always off somewhere chasing fountains of youth. But you don't see me running to Africa to bond with him.”

“Yeah, but the difference is, you know who he is. I know nothing about mine. All I know is his first name is Richard.”

I twirled the end of a curl, shifting in my seat. “And that's already too much information. Now let it go. And get on with your life. So, anyway, when are you going to ask me about my life? Or are you going to continue to be selfish and keep talking about yours? I have things I want to talk about, too.” I glanced over at the clock. “'Cause in another hour I need to get ready for school, so we need to wrap your life up in about two seconds so we can get on to what's been going on in mine.”

“And what could possibly be going on in your perfect life?”

I blinked. “Are you trying to get it skunked again? Is that a dig, Heather? 'Cause I'm the original grave digger. Now I'm warning you, don't do my nerves.”

“No, it's not. I promise you, it wasn't. So tell me. What's been going on with you?”

I smacked my lips. “Well, since you asked .. . I've been thinking about committing murder, but I'm trying to figure out how I can get the charges downgraded to simple assault.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I was seeing this guy who I liked . . .
a lot
. But I found out that he was lying to me . . .” I sighed, then paused and told Heather everything. From how I had met Anderson that day his driver stopped in the middle of the road and caused me to run into the back of his limo, to that night he cursed me out and tossed me off his yacht like seaweed, and how I cried because I didn't have any of my weapons with me to do him in right then. “Anderson hurt me, Heather,” I continued, keeping my emotions in check and remembering Kitty's threat to stay here and torture me.

“Anderson? Wait. Anderson Ford? Better known as C-Smoove on his party nights?”

I blinked. “What did you say...?” I paused. Blinked again. “How do you know him? Please don't tell me he was doing you, too.”

“No, he was doing Co-Co.”

The line went dead.

A
fter a weeks-long standoff and me holding my ground and my crown, the queen's mother finally came to her senses and saw the error of her ways.

I knew I would win.

How?

Because I knew that my mother knew, that in ten, fifteen years tops, what side her old and stale bread would be buttered on.

Snap. Snap.

Logan Montgomery was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. And she understood that when she became old, decrepit, and could hardly move, and her life choices dwindled from diamonds and Dior to Polident, Bengay, Depends and orthopedic shoes—that her Richie-Poo would be the only one to take care of her.

Not Daddy.

And certainly not the prince, RJ, especially since he was a selfish, self-serving bastard who didn't give a damn about the value of a dollar. Talk about bringing the family's name down—hmph. Well, meet Mr. Draino.

Not to mention he was idiotically in love with Slow-Aysha, better known as Spencer, and I would be damned if those two dumb bunnies would run through my parents' money and trick it all away.

Can you say hell-to-da-no!

But anyway, Logan Montgomery was back to having my back. Like a mother should. And being the kind and considerate diva that I am, I was willing to forgive her for turning on me ... as long she remembered her place ... and didn't do it again.

“Whatcha thinking about, Richie-Poo?” drifted into my thoughts.

I turned toward my mother, who lay on the spa table next to me, a sparkling crystal chandelier overhead, enjoying a Tui na treatment. Her eyes rolled to the top of her head in enjoyment as she turned and faced me. “Oh, this is sooo relaxing. Mmm . . .” She shivered in excitement and smiled. “Now tell me, Richie, what were you thinking?”

I smiled and it took everything in me—or out of me, depending on how you looked at it—to keep a straight face. “I was just thinking about how much I'm enjoying myself with you. I'm so glad you came to your—” My mother's eyebrows raised and I quickly caught myself. “I mean, I'm so glad you had this idea.”

“I am, too.” My mother extended her left arm and reached for my right hand. We locked fingers. “Rich, I love you so much. And I . . .”

My mother continued. “I know the past few weeks have been difficult between us.”

“And if my mother was still alive . . .”

“I'd be the best daughter I could be. And I would know that my mother only wanted what was best for me.”

“And as your mother, all I've ever wanted and will ever want...”

“Is what's best for you.”

“Okay, ladies you're ready for the steam room now,” one of the masseuses said to us as we rose from the table, wrapped our towels around us, and sauntered into the steam room, where beautiful clouds of light mist greeted us as we walked in. We lay back on the reclining teak chairs, side by side, with only a wet bar between us containing glasses of mineral and rose water. Yayue music filled the room with the lovely sounds of wind chimes and softly strummed guitars.

This was heaven.

I placed a damp Satsuma organic white cloth over my face and for once I decided that I wouldn't fight off the unexpected thoughts of Justice that danced through my mind. Instead, I would allow my mind to bathe in the heated memory of our taboo night.

I could feel the soft flesh of his lips...

His hands . . .

The weight of his body...

God, this was so wrong . . .

But oh, so right . . .

“You know, Rich, I've been thinking about you and Knox.”

My eyes snapped open. I looked over to my mother who, thank God, had her face covered with a cloth and couldn't see the guilt consuming me.

She continued. “And I've been thinking that, although he's not who I would have chosen for you, he seems like a really nice guy who genuinely cares about you.”

“And my point is that I hope you're being honest with him.” She slid the cloth off of her face.

I felt myself about to get pissed
.
“And why wouldn't I be honest with him?” And yeah, I said it with an attitude. “Just so we're clear, I don't lie to Knox. Why would you even suggest that?”

“I know we're not giving attitudes, Rich.” My mother eased up from her chair, taking it out of the reclining position. She looked directly at me and arched a brow. “Are we?”

“I'm just saying—”

“No,
I'm
just saying. I know you. And you know that I know you. Well. Quite well. And I'm giving you some advice that you ought to take—don't lie to him and don't play with his feelings.”

I started to serve her, but since being disrespectful wasn't a part of my personality, I simply said, “Ma, thank you for your concern. But, umm, I'm cool over here. And I know how to take care of Knox. Trust. I finally have him, I will not do anything to hurt him, and we will be in love forever.”

My mother pursed her lips and side-eyed me. “Rich Gabrielle, we are not going to ruin this day.”

“And why would we do that? I just simply told you that I had my life in order. I'm situated. I'm not in Europe partying like a rock star.”

My mother drank in a deep breath and released it in a loud and exaggerated huff. She reached for a glass of rose water and slowly took a sip. “Rich, I almost forgot you knew it all. You have all the answers and I'm so glad that you do. Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries. Besides, I don't know anything. And I especially don't know why a young man by the name of Justice called your phone a few days ago.”

What?!
“Clutching pearls! Why would you be answering my phone?! Who does that! And then you didn't give me the message. What kind of person springs this on someone in the steam room?!” I blinked my eyes, twice. “You can't be serious with this.”
I need a drink and some hot wings.
I looked toward the door hoping to see someone who could take my order. This chick had wrecked my nerves.

“Like I said, I know you. Who doesn't know you, is Knox. Not as well as he thinks he does.”

“Ma, I appreciate you looking out for my relationship with Christian Knox. But I—”

My mother snickered.

She sipped her drink. Then snickered even more.

Oh, I'm about to go straight to twenty!
“And what's so funny, Mrs. Montgomery?”

“Oh, Richie, here I thought you knew me just as well as I knew you. But apparently you don't. Because if you think I really give a damn about you staying with Knox, clearly you're confused. Christian Knox was never, has never, and will never ever be my choice for you. I was simply shining a moment of mommy-kindness and womanly advice on you. But since you know everything. And you got this. Then I'm going to sit back and let you have it. Because now I don't have to think of creative ways to come between the two of you; I now know that you will do it for me.”

“I don't believe you just said that!”

“Believe it,” she said as she placed a damp cloth back over her face and reclined in her seat.

 

I stared at myself in my dressing room's full-length, diamond-encrusted mirror, doing my all not to let Logan's unsolicited advice haunt me. I hated that she always found a way to manipulate herself under my skin.

I couldn't imagine that a mother would be jealous of her own daughter, but there was a part of me that wondered why she was so caught up in my life. Was she struggling to live vicariously through me or what? My God, I was sixteen. Old enough to make my own mistakes. I didn't need her jumping on the tracks and telling me a train wreck was coming. I could feel that.

I sighed. Looked down at my ringing cell phone with the name JB flashing across my screen. I wanted to answer and tell him to fluck off. Problem was, I wasn't convinced that if I answered I wouldn't close my eyes and be seduced by his voice and his constant requests for me to sing to him again.

I shook my shoulders. Flicked invisible dust from them and then shot myself a fake smile.

“Miss Rich.” A soft knock interrupted at just the right moment.

“Yes.”

“It's Chantel,” my house manger said. “Mr. Knox is here.”

“Okay. Thanks!” I said in excitement. Nervous butterflies sank to the bottom of my stomach. Why was I nervous? I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I hadn't felt like this since I was eight when I lured Knox into the pool house and taught him how to French kiss.

I gave myself a once-over and patted the sides of my size-twelve hourglass hips, which were covered with a sexy pair of hot pink, form-fitting Gucci jeans. I unbuttoned the top four buttons of my sleeveless soft pink, scoop-necked D & G blouse—complemented by a pink diamond brooch shaped like a flimsy bow, placed on my right shoulder. All in an effort to ensure that sneak peeks of my black lace bra were available to tease Knox. I stepped into my six-and-a-half-inch royal blue Louboutins. And
bam!
Just like that I was ready to greet my man.

My parents were smiling and chatting with Knox when I stepped out of the elevator and into the grand room. Knox was soooo freakin' cute that he was damn near pretty. Scratch that, he
was
pretty. Pretty fine.

Hollah.

My baby wore black True Religion jeans, a red and white checkered Polo button-up, and black Louis V. sneakers on his feet. My boo cleaned up hella well.

Boom—thought you knew!

I was all smiles as I walked over to Knox and my parents. He was telling my daddy that he was majoring in sports medicine. Logan was all ears. And for a moment I could've sworn that she was impressed.

“What happened to the love?” I said to Knox as I held my arms open for a hug.

Knox looked at me and something about his smile was off-kilter. His puppy brown eyes usually brightened up when he looked my way, but this time they didn't even twinkle.

Knox walked into my embrace, kissed me on my forehead, and whispered, “We need to talk.”

I swallowed.
Talk about what?
It was evident by the sound of his voice that something had jumped off.

“Knox, how are your parents?” my mother asked him, giving me the don't-trip-and-think-I'm-pleased-with-you side eye.

“They're well; thanks for asking. They're out in Martha's Vineyard this week.”

“Oh, I just love it up there. We just purchased Ted Kennedy's old property. So we will be getting there very soon. Perhaps this summer we'll invite you and your parents over to the East Coast so we can have a get-together.”

“Yeah,” Knox said with the fakest sincerity ever. “We'll have to do that. You know what, Rich”—he turned to me—“I need to speak to you for a moment.”

I swallowed again. Sweat had gathered in my palms.
What does he want?
“Ok, we can chat after dinner.”

“It can't wait that long. Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery, do you mind if Rich and I have a moment to talk?” He flashed my mother a smile and she smiled back.

“No, sweetie, that's fine,” my mother said and then glanced over at me with a smug look that said
Umm-hmm, what'd you do now?

“It's cool, man,” Daddy said. “I understand wanting to hollah at your girl before you have dinner with her parents. But it's no need to be nervous. I already called your daddy and told him I was gon' press the hell outta you now, since you've moved from being my accountant's son to dating my daughter.”

My mother chuckled. “Richard, behave. He will not. How about this, Richard? Why don't we go into the kitchen and tell the staff to move dinner to the terrace? It's a clear and cool night. Dinner there should be wonderful. I'll even tell them to get the outdoor fireplace roaring.”

“Sounds cool.” Knox smiled.

“Thanks,” I said.

I watched my parents hold hands, and my daddy pulled my mother into him. He kissed her on the side of the head. They were so in love. How sickening. They walked out of the room and as they got lost in the distance, I turned to Knox and reached for his hand. But instead of accepting my gesture he took a step back. “I don't need you to touch me right now.”