Get Ready for War (6 page)

She lifted her head up off the chaise. “And there you go thinking I'm a joke. What part of ‘Rich needs attention' did you not understand? Maybe we need to switch positions, 'cause you're buggin'.”

I sighed, walking over to her. “You know what, Rich. Let me see if you have a fever, 'cause you have lost your mind.” I sat down on the chaise alongside her and pressed my palm up against her forehead.

Rich eyed me. “It is nothing wrong with me. Obviously, there's something wrong with you.”

“Yeah, being worried about you.”

“Wrong answer. That's not it. Spill it.”

I quickly shifted my eyes. “There's nothing to spill.”

Rich sat up. “Now, along with you being inconsiderate of my misery, you're lying.”

I frowned and hopped off the chaise, feeling defensive. “I don't have any reason to lie to you.”

But I did. Still, I wanted nothing more than to confide in her. I had grown to love Rich like the sister I've always wanted, but I was still hesitant to share with her this fog of confusion I was in. I was torn. I was conflicted. And I was deeply hurt, knowing that I loved a boy who didn't love me back. But Rich wasn't exactly the most understanding. And she could be harshly judgmental. And the last thing I wanted, or needed, was her looking at me like I was stupid.

Rich got up from off the chaise and walked over to me, placing a hand up on her hip. She snapped her fingers. “Uhhh, hello? Did I miss something here? Let me tell you something, London. I was home dealing with my own misery. My mother has taken my Bugatti. I've been saddled with a three-series Mercedes . . .”

“Eww...”

“Exactly. My Parisian stylist has been laid off because Logan has an attitude. And now you. I don't need this right now.”

I shook my head. “Okay, Rich. Let's talk about you.”

“No. Let's talk about you. I'm not selfish like that, London. Now hurry up and tell me because I can only push my own problems aside for five, maybe ten minutes tops.”

I felt like tears were about to explode from my eyes any minute if I didn't change the subject. “We need to do something about this media mess. You, Spencer, and Heath—”

“Uh-uh. Not today, boo. I'm not doing this with you. I already told you before that all press is good press. And as long as they're keeping my name in their mouths I'm still on their minds. Boom. Now next up is you and your drama. Not what's up, and don't tell me about that dizzy Spencer, or the crack whore. Just talk you. London. So just tell me what's going on because I've been depressed for the last four days. I mean, really. How many times do I have to keep telling you this? I'm looking for a reason to boom-bop and drop it. I've been on a drought. Whaaaat? I'm ready to water my well. The only people off-limits are your mother and father. Anybody else can get it-get it. From the house manager to the gardener. Mmmph. From eight to eighty. Now, who done messed with my bestie-boo? And I'm not gonna ask you again. So might as well tell me who did it, where they're at, and when we are going to look for 'em. Be—”

“Rich, now you know I like to keep it calm and keep it cute.”

Rich bucked her eyes and put a hand up on her hip. “Lies. Because I heard that you molly-whopped a tableful of five-year-olds. And then got jumped. Now you know if I was there it wouldn't have gone down like that.”

“But you weren't there,” I snapped. “And that's the problem. And, once again, I had to pay out a hundred grand to the headmaster. And, once again, I'm in trouble with my dad. He's furious.”

“He really needs to stop sweating you and let you live. What's a hundred grand? Unless y'all are broke or something.” She tilted her head.

I frowned. “You know what? Let's talk about your pregnancy. How's that working out for you? Do I see
Teen Mom
in your future? I hear they're having a casting call.”

She gasped. “Ohmygod. How insensitive. I don't believe you just said that to me. You got jumped and now you wanna attack me. That really hurt my feelings, London.”

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But that still doesn't answer my question.”

“Listen. I haven't heard from Knox. He isn't answering my calls. My mother is sweating me hard. And this pregnancy, most of the time I want to pretend that it doesn't exist.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. But they were also welling up in mine. I walked over to her and draped my arm around her shoulder. “How long do think that's going to last? You can't pretend forever.”

Rich sniffed. “Until I lie down in the bathtub and give birth or wake up from this nightmare.”

I swallowed back an avalanche of my own tears. All of what she had said stabbed at me, puncturing holes in my past. “
I want you to have my baby .. . we're gonna be a family . . . I love you . . .”

“Stop it!”

Rich looked at me. “Stop what?”

I blinked, catching myself. “Um, stop crying. It doesn't change anything. You can't cry over spilled milk, or babies that come before their time.”

Rich sighed. “You're right. 'Cause I've had enough tears to last both of us a lifetime. We both can't be broke down. And your stuff is easier to fix.”

Tears finally fell from my eyes. “He broke up with me,” I blurted out. “He hates me.”

“What? All this is because he broke up with you? I had one more touching line to say and now you're back on yourself. Who does that? Girl, you better stop wearing your feelings like a sapphire bangle”—she snapped her fingers—“and get over it. Boys are not like diamonds; they're not rare. And they're barely a girl's best friend. They're dogs. They're nothing. They're more like cubic zirconia. You can pick them up anywhere. All they do is get you pregnant, then turn on you. And if you're lucky, they don't leave you with the coochie cooties. Or have you sitting up in a clinic wearing a wig, praying that nobody notices you.”

“Why can't men just get it together?”

“Girl, you know why. Because we keep making excuses for them. And keep taking them back. And keep loving them even when we know they don't deserve to be loved. And we confide in them . . .”

“Wait a minute. Is all this about me, or you?”

She huffed. “London, are you paying attention here? This is about you.”

“Oh, because for a moment there, I thought we were back on you. So glad you cleared that up.”

Rich continued, dismissing me. “The point is, I'm tired of being stressed out. And being in love with them. I swear, I'ma turn to Internet dating, and then when I get tired of them I can cut the computer off. Now why did he break up with you?”

I hesitated, trying to get my story together. I couldn't tell her the real deal, but I could give her a half-truth. “Because he's trying to make me choose between him and my friends and I think it's so unfair that I can't have both.”

Her eyes popped out. “Whaaaaaat? Is he crazy? What kinda mess is that? The way he was all up in the club poppin' and droppin' it with Corey? Please, he did you a favor. I don't know why you're with his corny behind anyway. I don't care how much money he has. Whack dot com. London, you cannot be this weak or pathetic, girl. This is a new day. Don't no boys tell us who we can be friends with. You don't let no man run your life. Unless he's
your
father and we already know he needs to calm down a little bit because he gets out of hand.”

“All right now, Rich. You're going too far with the daddy stuff.”

She put her hands up. “I'm just sayin' . . . that is soooo two-thousand-and-seven. He needs to relax. But anyway, back to me . . . no, I mean you and your drama. You have got to stop having so much drama in your life. Get it together, bestie boo 'cause you are a mess. I mean, really. How much more of this do you think I can take?”

I ignored her ramblings and shook back my own feelings of guilt. The guilt of not being able to be completely honest with my girl, my best friend—the one person who I had grown the closest to, ever. Being stuck in this crazy dilemma of not knowing how to be a friend and still keep my man was what hurt me the most. But this wasn't about me. I had to get my man back; had to get our situation straight.

I swallowed back my emotions. “Well, now that you've said all that and we've run through my diary of drama, let's flip through a few pages of yours, starting with where you've been the last four days. And ending with what are you going to do about this pregnancy? I've called you over a hundred times . . .”

“No, a hundred and forty-seven times, but who's counting. I never imagined you'd be sweating me like that, London.”

I rolled my eyes. “Screw you, girlfriend. Sweating you hell, I've been worried sick about you. I didn't know what was going on. Now you spill it. Bring me up-to-date, and spare no details.”

“Girl, please. Like you said, I don't even like kids.”

“Okay, soooo what does that mean?”

“It means from here on out, I'ma do what I want. I'm sick of my mother and her BS. My father is selfish. RJ is perfect. Knox wants me to be someone else. I'm so over this morning sickness. And after today, I don't want to talk about it.”

I could see the pain in Rich's eyes. I reached over and grabbed her hand. “Why didn't you call me?”

“London, let's forget it.”

“You know what, Rich? We don't have to talk about it. But whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here for you.” I gave her a hug.

“I know. And I'm here for you, too. Now enough of
The Young and the Restless
. Talk to me about the playground jump. And how you let a buncha preschoolers do you in like that. That picture of you on the blogs was not pretty. Did you read that interview Co-Co Ming did? That troll is all over school flapping his gums about how you got dragged by a bunch of underclassmen.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I didn't read it. But I did read what everybody else has to say about all four of us, which is why I've been calling you. We need to talk about how we're going to get ourselves together. I invited Spencer over—”

“Oh noooo. I can't do the dizzy trick today.”

“Look, I don't like her either. Matter of fact, I don't like her breathing the same air as me. But we have to deal with her. Like we talked about last Friday in the bathroom before Heather had all the rich kids in her backyard popping Xanax, that we needed to get it together. All this craziness between us has got to stop, now. You know. Let's just cut them off and start a new clique. I can't do snorting baby Tylenol. And Spencer works my nerves. She's stupid.”

“Plain and simple. You can't get no dumber than that.”

“Exactly. So let's cut our losses and get rid of them.”

“We can't do that.”

I huffed. “And why not? Are you serious?”

“They got too much dirt on us. They know too much.”

“No, correction. They must have too much dirt on
you
. Not unless you've been running your mouth telling them hoes my business on the low.”

“What are you trying to say, London? You've just insulted me. Your mouth is really off the hook right now. I just wiped your tears and consoled you and you trying to bring it to me.”

“I'm just saying, bestie boo . . . your mouth is sometimes out of control.”

“Don't bestie boo me. What business of yours you think I wanna tell? That you've been over here crying and stressing over Doctor Corny? That's no business. That's fact. Who does that? If anything, I'm embarrassed for you. Another thing to get added to my misery.” She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs, and tooted her lips up. “Tryna do me. What kinda games you into? What, you invited Spencer over here so y'all two lollipop hoes can gang up on me? Well, then bring it. There's no church in the wild.”

I blinked, confused and convinced that Rich had fallen off the deep end. “Along with your abortion, you must have gotten a lobotomy, too. I asked you a simple question and you lost your mind, for what? What do they have on you?”

“They know about my visit to the STD clinic in a blond afro wig.”

“Clinic? Eww. When did this happen?”

“Freshman year. It was a one-night stand.”

Ohmygod, yuck. This girl doesn't know a thing about condoms.

“And they know about the twins, Jason and Jonathon. Two shots of tequila, and I had them both in my bed. And then there was the time with the whips and chains and spiked heels, and Zachary's . . .”

I immediately cut her off. “Umm, Rich. Forget it. I've heard enough.”

“And the only thing I ever told them about you was when you ran up in the club and bust Anderson over the head with a bottle. And the time you were in jail crying like a baby.”

I rolled my eyes. “Girl, it didn't even go down like that. But anyway, why did you tell them my business?”

“Girl, please. Because I had a moment of weakness and felt like I had to spread the wealth. I couldn't just let them have something on me. Well, I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told them that. But, garden gnomes or not, we can't stop being their friends.”

I shook my head. “Fine. Then we all need to figure out how to get this media mess in order. Have you even seen the headlines?”

“Yes, I have, Miss Keep It Cute. That's how I know you beat up a table of five-year-olds.”

“It wasn't just any table. It was
our
table, which is part of the problem. It isn't just the media after us. We have haters all around us, trying to snatch our spot. And the question is, what are we going to do about it? Are you no longer fierce, fly, and fabulous?”