Rumor Central (14 page)

B
etween interviews, meetings, and everybody under the sun wanting more details on the Glenda Matthews story, it had been a long day and I just wanted to get home and rest. I'd known that it would be only a matter of time before Sheridan started blowing up my phone and she'd done just that. I deleted all the messages she left without listening because I was sure she was just cursing me out a hundred different ways.

I had already started planning. I was definitely playing sick tomorrow and skipping school. It wasn't that I was scared of Sheridan, but I wasn't a fool. No way would I face Sheridan's wrath so soon. I'm sure Ms. Matthews had disappeared to some exotic island to hide from the madness.

I wrapped my plush robe around me and headed downstairs. I had showered and covered myself in my favorite bath products, and I was heading to the kitchen to get something to drink. My parents were at some charity event and Sui had the night off. Most people would've been scared alone in a house this big, but not me. I relished the peace and quiet.

I grabbed a bottle of Fiji water and decided to watch television on our seventy-two-inch in the theater room since my parents only had a forty-two-inch TV in my room. My dad claimed it was excessive to get anything any bigger. Yet, he had a sixty-inch flat screen in his room. Whatever.

I began flipping through the channels and stopped on the channel that displayed our security cameras. Was that someone outside our gate? I leaned in and looked closely at the screen. It
was
someone out there! They were just standing there staring at the gate like they were trying to figure out a way to get inside. I couldn't make out his or her face or features. The figure stood there wearing all black—black jeans, black combat boots, and a black hoodie. I couldn't tell if his or her face was covered with something, but this was way too creepy for me.

I didn't immediately get scared because we did have a big iron gate around our home. Besides, it was probably just Sheridan trying to come confront me. But then I noticed the person—I couldn't tell if it was a male or female—was a lot heavier than Sheridan. When the shadowy figure began pulling at the gate, my heart started racing. Sheridan wouldn't have even attempted to do that. She knew there was no way around that twelve-foot iron gate. Plus, she would've just rung the intercom until someone let her in.

But if it wasn't Sheridan, who was it?

“May I help you?” I said into the intercom.

The figure stopped, but kept their back to the camera.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Still silence.

“I'm calling the cops,” I said.

The figure stood for a few seconds, then darted off down the street.

My heart rate still hadn't returned to its normal pace. I took a deep breath and stood up, backing away from the intercom. I felt like I was a character in one of those creepy low-budget horror movies.

I raced to the phone to call our security company. But I stopped mid-dial. What if my parents freaked out? My dad was already uneasy after the cheer story. He would surely trip over this and possibly try to make me quit.

“It was probably nothing,” I muttered as I placed the phone back on the base.

Besides, I took comfort in knowing the iron gate stood between me and that freak. I double-checked the alarm, made sure all the doors were locked and headed upstairs to the theater room.

It was probably just someone at the wrong house
, I thought. Or maybe it was someone trying to scare me. As I took off down the hall I thought back to the three stories I had done so far. I knew people were mad at me over the stories I'd done, but would someone seriously show up at my house trying to scare me? Didn't they fear being caught? By the time I made it to the theater room, I was back to thinking the person outside had something to do with one of those.

“There was no way I could have let the cheer escorts go!” I muttered as I entered the theater room. I found the dimmer and made the lights brighter. Once I selected the movie I wanted to see, I pressed a few buttons, started the movie, then dimmed the lights again.

I knew this film was cheesy, but I liked it and when I needed time to think, I'd zone out in front of it. As the massive screen lit up my mind went back to the shadowy figure. Who was I kidding? I could try to tell myself that was someone at the wrong house. But I knew better. The way that figure had stood staring at the camera. That was someone trying to scare me.

But who?

I thought about all the people involved in all the major stories I'd done so far—from the cheer escorts story, to the story on Sheridan's mom, to the Bling Ring. Someone was definitely trying to scare me. I don't know if they were mad about my stories or what. But they needed to know they were wasting their time, because Maya Morgan refused to be intimidated.

T
he sound of a garbage truck outside actually jolted me out of my sleep. I looked around the theater and noticed the screen was dark. I couldn't tell what time it was because the room was always so dark, day and night.

I eased my body up from the sofa, stretched, and then yawned.

When I grabbed my cell phone I was stunned to see it was 6:30 in the morning! I had no idea when I had dozed off the night before.

Instinct made me turn on the TV and check the security camera, but the only thing I saw was my neighbor jogging.

Sui knocked on the theater door just as I was about to grab the handle and walk out.

“Will you be having breakfast before school?” she asked.

“Not today. I just need a quick shower. Where's Mom and Dad?”

“Your father has already gone in for an early meeting. Your mother is sleeping and asked not to be disturbed.”

“Of course she did,” I muttered. I made my way back to my room, where I showered and changed as quickly as possible, which was an hour and a half, which made me late for school—again.

I made it to school right before second period. I felt the strange vibe the instant I stepped on campus. I passed huddles of people who stood in the halls and talked about something. I didn't pay much attention to what was going on, until I arrived at my homeroom and realized class hadn't started yet.

“Did you hear what happened yesterday?” one of my classmates asked.

I whipped around because I hadn't realized someone else was in the room.

“What are you talking about?”

“Four cheerleaders were arrested! Last night at a cheer competition. Everyone is talking about it,” she said.

I couldn't remember her name, and the way she looked told me we didn't run in the same circles. She had that gothic thing going, black hair, thick black eyeliner, black lipstick, and black fingernails.

“That piece you did on the cheerleaders was off the chain, but between that, the Bling Ring, and that blockbuster story on your BFF, you causing some major drama, girl,” she said.

I didn't even respond. I turned around and tried to focus on nothing in particular in my notebook.

“So that's what everyone was talking about,” I muttered to myself.

When the teacher walked in and barely spoke to me, I frowned. I looked around the room. I felt like everyone was looking at me crazy.

What if I was being paranoid?

So what if no one said hi to me as I walked the halls? I'd come out of the womb being fabulous, so I was used to the hate.

I had no idea what the teacher was talking about in class. I just watched the clock, waiting for the bell to ring.

It was the same thing pretty much the rest of the day—everyone acting like I was the one hooking up with men for money and making the school look bad. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see the end of a school day.

The final bell had barely rung when I darted out to the parking lot where my car was parked.

I stopped when I saw Bali leaning against my car. I thought about taking off and running in the opposite direction because Bali put the cr in crazy. It was only because he seemed somewhat calm, standing there by my car, his hands tucked in his pockets, that I kept walking over to him.

“What's up, Bali?” I said, staying several feet away from him just in case he let loose.

“I guess your ratings are up, huh, Maya? That's what's most important, right? That you show the world how fabulous you are.”

The way he was talking actually scared me. He was so calm and even-toned.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is,” I replied.

He let out a small laugh. “It is what it is, huh? Who cares who is hurt in the process.”

“Look, Bali,” I finally said. “I hate that it had to come down to all of this. I mean, you and I were really cool.”

“Yeah, until you decided to stab me in the back,” he said, nonchalantly.

I tried not to roll my eyes. We'd never see eye to eye on this so there was no use trying to talk about it.

“You know when you do people dirty, it's just a matter of time before you get a taste of your own medicine,” he said.

I was so sick of people threatening me. “Look, if you think you can scare me—”

Bali closed his fingers in a “shut your mouth” gesture. “Girl, slow your roll,” he snapped. “Ain't nobody trying to scare you. I'm just telling you the truth.”

“Well, thank you for your version of the truth. But you can keep your predictions to yourself. If that's what you're out here getting butt prints on my car for, you're wasting your time.”

He shook his head pitifully. “Nah, I was just coming to tell you I hope you're happy. Your little story, whether you did it for ratings or revenge, has ruined my life. It was the last straw for my dad and he's sending me back to Cuba.”

That made my mouth drop open. Bali was always talking about how bad things were in Cuba and how he'd rather die than return there.

“What? Why?”

“
Why?
Your stupid story, Maya. Why do you think?”

I was stunned. Never in a million years would I have imagined that. “B-But you weren't, I mean, I didn't say anything about you in my story.”

“You didn't have to,” he replied. “We both know I was the one filming, so I was there. And when everybody is facing major trouble, they get to singing. So, yeah, you didn't mention me, but I don't know why you didn't think police would find out I was involved. So, of course, they questioned me and my dad. And of course, I denied it to the end so the cops really couldn't do anything. But guess what, my dad could. So, he's sending me back to Cuba because I have become so ‘corrupted in America,' as he said.”

I felt awful. Just the way he was talking, I felt so sorry for Bali. He'd told me time and time again how hard it was to be the gay son of a diplomat in Cuba. He hated even going back to visit. I couldn't imagine him living there permanently.

“Bali, I'm really sorry,” I said. “I never meant—”

“Whatever, Maya,” he said, cutting me off. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. You win. This round.” He stood up and started walking off. “But like I said, payback ain't pretty. And it always appears when you least expect it. Just something to think about.”

He gave me the most hateful glare, before he turned and walked away.

I
was running late for work because Mrs. Watson and her stupid make-up class had kept me longer than normal. I had just parked my car and was making my way around the sidewalk of the building when I heard what sounded like crying and loud angry voices.

I couldn't make out what was being said or who was mad, but I knew for sure it was an argument and it was going down. I eased a little closer, making sure I was out of sight. It wasn't that I was being nosey—oh, who was I kidding? Yes, I was. That was my job.

I leaned in so I could hear better. I couldn't believe it. Was that Valerie yelling through her tears? Who in the world would be going off on Valerie of all people? She was meek and on the quiet side. I couldn't even imagine what she'd done to make anyone so mad. The way this person was yelling, I had no idea why Valerie would subject herself to being screamed at either.

“All I know is you better handle it!” a woman said.

I peeked around the corner so I could get a good look. The woman, whose back was facing me, spoke in a threatening voice. Valerie's eyes shifted to me and that's when the woman spun around. She was still very angry. Her eyes were fired up and her chest was heaving up and down. Her nostrils were also still flaring. I recognized her immediately as the woman from the picture on Valerie's key ring. It was her mother.

“Uh, hi,” I said, walking slowly

I walked slowly toward them. I didn't miss how Valerie lowered her head and tried to dry her eyes. That was so lame for her mom to be putting her on blast like that all out in public.

“Hi, I'm Maya Morgan.” I stretched out my hand for her mom to shake it, but she looked down at my hand then back up at me. She didn't smile and didn't bother to touch me.

Well, okay, then.

“I looked at that video you needed. It's on your desk if you need to see it for yourself,” Valerie finally said to me. She spoke to me, but her voice was shaky and I felt like she was trying to get rid of me. Suddenly, a car door opened and an older man stepped out. I immediately recognized the gray hair from Valerie's photo as her father. The man didn't speak as he walked toward us. He leaned in and whispered something in Valerie's mother's ear and her entire body began to shake. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The man pulled her into his arms and held her for what felt like forever. Valerie stood there looking down at the ground.

I knew it would be wrong of me to start asking questions about the stories and interviews Valerie was supposed to set up, but I was trying to figure out what was going on.

Valerie finally glanced up and I saw the confused look on her face. I didn't know if that was a plea for help or if she was simply embarrassed. I had never met her parents before and I was certain that she didn't like the way her mom had just left me hanging like that.

I tried to communicate with her using only my eyes, but realized that she and I weren't close enough to be able to swap vibes like that.

“So we can move forward with that story then?” I asked.

“I'll be inside in a minute,” Valerie said, like she was dismissing me.

“Oh, okay,” I said. The look on her face—like she was terrified or something—had me a little concerned. What if her parents were abusive? What if they were threatening her?

“Oh, well,” I said, heading to the door. I wasn't about to take a lick for her, but I could call the cops if something went down.

I eased inside the door and made tapping noises like I was walking off, but I tiptoed back so that I could spy on them through the vent.

“What do you want me to do?” Valerie whined.

“You need to handle this, and I mean it,” her mother said, waving a finger in her direction.

Okay, that was my second time hearing her say that. Handle what? I wondered whether I should ask Valerie what was going on or wait to see if she'd say anything when she came back inside.

After about ten minutes, Valerie finally walked into the office and I jumped right in.

“Okay, what was that about?” I asked.

Valerie blew a frustrated breath, but tried to act casual about it. “My parents are trippin'.”

“No kidding. But about what?”

“Look, I don't want to talk about it.” She started going through some papers on the desk, trying to look busy.

“Well, if they're coming all up on the job trippin' on you, it's obviously something major. I think I deserve to know what's going on because, remember, I'm the reason you're working here. The last thing I need is for word about that little disturbance getting back to Tamara and I can't take up for you.” I folded my arms to let her know I wasn't moving until she came clean.

Valerie sighed, then seemed like she was thinking. I guess she was trying to decide whether she should tell me anything. “My mom is just trippin' because—” She paused. “Because Jenn's mom is all mad at me for telling you about Sheridan's mom.” She sounded like she was rushing her words out. “Jenn's mom and my mom are friends so everybody is upset with me because I told you and you did that stupid story and now the whole world is digging into it. Jenn's mom is scared she's going to lose her job. It's just a total nightmare.”

“Dang.” I truly didn't want all that drama popping off. I mean, I wanted the story, but I didn't want her catching any kind of grief behind it. I was about to tell Valerie that when Tamara's assistant poked her head in my dressing room.

“Hey, Maya, they're waiting on you in the studio,” she said hurriedly.

“I'm coming.” I looked back at Valerie. I was going to have to wait on playing Dr. Phil. “Well, I gotta go. You gon' be all right?” I asked her as I headed toward the door.

She released a pained laugh. “Yeah, you go do you.”

I didn't know what that was supposed to mean and honestly, I wasn't about to figure it out. I'd wasted enough of my energy on Valerie and her family. If that's all it was, her mom was mad about my story, then she needed to get in line. Everybody was mad. But oh well, I wasn't about to sweat it. I planned to take Valerie's advice and keep doing me.