Rumor Central (5 page)

I
breathed a sigh of relief as the black Porsche pulled up to the curb. I had called Tamara to tell her I'd be late for the meeting we had this afternoon and thankfully, she was out running an errand and agreed to just swing by and get me on her way to the station. I didn't even feel like dealing with my car with all those idiots standing around gawking. My dad would just have to send someone for it later. Right now, I just wanted to get away from this stupid school before I hurt somebody.

“So, you had a bad day, huh?” Tamara asked after I had climbed into her front seat. I really liked our relationship. Even though she was technically my boss, she acted more like my big sister. She told me it was because she felt a connection to me, probably because I reminded her of herself at seventeen. I didn't know about all that, but Tamara was definitely cool people. I mean, how many other bigwigs would drop everything and come when I called. Not to mention, she was the baddest dresser (outside of me) that I knew.

I leaned back in the soft seat. “That's the understatement of the year.”

“I hate to hear what happened,” she said as she navigated her luxury vehicle onto the freeway. “What are you going to do about your car?”

I'd told her that I thought one of my
Miami Divas
co-stars had something to do with putting my tires on flat, but I couldn't prove it.

“My dad will take care of it,” I replied. I just wanted to get away. If we didn't have this meeting at the station, I would've had Tamara take me straight home. I'd never admit it out loud, but I was actually pretty sad about Bryce.

“Look, I know you're bummed—”

“I'm not bummed,” I said, cutting her off, it's just a stupid car. I didn't want Tamara thinking I was giving my ex-friends the satisfaction of upsetting me.

“Well, I'm just telling you to keep your eye on the big picture,” she said with a huge smile.

“And what would that be?” I said. I turned and stared out of the window. I didn't know what I was feeling more—mad at my former crew, or hurt over Bryce. Either way, none of them would ever know. I was planning on keeping it diva style. I'd never be reduced to fighting again. That reminded me, I hadn't told Tamara about the fight. But the way she was rambling, I just decided not to say anything, period. It was over and done with anyway.

“I mean, just imagine the looks on all of their faces when they see your new show. Everyone is going to be sick to see how much you've blown up.”

Tamara knew just what to say to me. I was feeling better already. I finally smiled and she patted my hand.

“Maya, you were meant for this,” Tamara continued. “Don't let any of this petty high school drama get you down. You're about to be on a whole other level.” She paused as she pulled into the parking lot at the television station, swiped her key card, and went through the gate. “We are about to make this show one of the hottest, freshest young shows that America has ever seen. And when you blow up as the host, all your so-called friends will be green with envy.”

“The source of their envy is plain to see, they'll be hating because they can't be me,” I softly mumbled.

“What?” Tamara looked at me strangely.

I shook my head. “Oh, nothing. That's just something me and Sheridan used to say.”

Tamara parked in her reserved spot, then turned off the car. “Well, you won't just be saying it. You're now about to be living it.”

I liked the way she talked.

“So, you got some show ideas?” she asked as we made our way into the building.

“I do,” I replied. “I didn't get as much research done as I wanted because I have this stupid calculus class that is kicking my butt, and I missed a test that I know my teacher is going to be trippin' about.” I sighed heavily. I couldn't wait for graduation.

“Why don't you get a tutor? The station will pay for it.” Tamara's eyes lit up like an idea had just come to her. “It would be great if you could get someone from your school to tutor you and assist you when necessary. You don't have any geeks at your school looking for a part-time job?”

Part-time?
I needed help full-time if they wanted me to maintain my fabulosity, but I didn't push it—yet.

“I did have this girl from my school help me get ready for this test.”

Of course, Valerie had quickly responded to my Twitter message. She'd come by the next day and done a crash course on the calculus test, which she'd already taken. It was grueling, but I took the makeup exam this morning and I felt like I'd done all right.

“Well, that's good,” Tamara said. “Hire her to help you with all your schoolwork, then when she's not helping you with schoolwork, she can do little things you need done around the station.”

I shook off that thought. Did I really want to hang around a scrub like Valerie, even if she was working for me? I know some people hung around busters to make themselves look better. But I didn't need any help improving on the perfection that was Maya Morgan. Besides, I was the top of the food chain. I didn't need any scrubs bringing down my stock.

“I'll figure something out,” I said.

Tamara shrugged as she pushed open the door to the building. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.” She smiled as she held the door open for me. “As for now, let's go make history!”

I
had to pinch myself because I still couldn't believe that I was really sitting at the head—okay, maybe it was at the foot, but it felt like the head—of a huge conference-room table like I was the Queen of England. Tamara wasn't playing.

This was our third meeting in as many days. The first one—when Tamara had picked me up from school—had been to meet “my team,” as they called it, and talk about the direction of the show. The second had been to shoot a bunch of promos and other stuff. All the stuff they were doing now made me realize how second-rate everything we'd done on
Miami Divas
had been. But I wasn't going to trip on the past—not when I had a future so bright it was sure to blind me!

My team was ready to move fast and had wasted no time going all out. They'd just finished filling me in on the plans for a total makeover. I didn't think it was possible to improve on perfection, but I was willing to see what they had, especially since they were talking about bringing in a new stylist and even a voice and elocution coach. I actually was shocked at how much they were putting into it. I was even more shocked by the numbers on my contract. I was getting paid three times what I'd been paid for
Miami Divas
and all those perks we'd demanded? I had those and then some. My dad's attorney had looked over everything and after going back and forth on a few things, he'd been overjoyed at the final contract. Me, I let him work out all that legal stuff. I just liked the part about me being a superstar!

I wish I could drop out of school and just do this full time, but since I'm too cute to be dumb, that wasn't an option. So, I went to school, did what I was supposed to, and got up out of there. Tamara had the voice coach meet me during my lunch so I didn't have to worry about seeing Sheridan and everyone else. All of them—Sheridan, Shay, and Bali—tried to create drama in the hallways and the one class we had together. Even Chenoa had stopped speaking to me and she wasn't even a
Diva
! But she was good friends with Evian (that's a long story), so she went whichever way Evian was going. Evian was the only one who didn't act fazed about everything, but I didn't trust her either. She was one of those sneaky chicks who would smile to your face while stabbing you in your back with a butcher knife.

I was a little ticked at Sheridan, though. She was supposed to be my girl, but now she was parading around, telling everyone that she and Bryce were an item, which was jacked up because we had a boy code that made talking to each other's boyfriends or crushes a serious violation. I couldn't believe that she'd gone there. But Kennedi had called Sheridan to tell her off about how she was acting toward me and Sheridan had admitted that she was the one who told about Kenny and she wasn't even apologetic about it (or about throwing in the lie about Dave). So, not only had she lied on me, but she moved in on my man without a second thought. And Bryce's dumb behind had played right into her trap. I suddenly found myself wondering if they'd been messing around all along. But then I brushed the thought away. The two of them could have each other. I had bigger fish to fry now.

“So, what do you think?” Ken, one of the producers of the show, asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“It sounds great,” I said. I didn't even know what he was talking about, but I didn't want them to think I wasn't paying attention. Tamara had asked me to adjust my attitude, so I was going to try—as long as these folks recognized who the real star was.

“Great. We'll do the Sylk exclusive, then the story with Justin Timberlake taking the girl to the prom, and then for the next show, we've already lined up Meagan Goode's one-on-one.” Ken slid some papers across the table at me. “Here is some background on Meagan. You'll need to read over it just so you can be familiar with her.”

I had to struggle to compose myself. I was actually about to interview Meagan Goode. Oh, it was about to be on.

“Here's some other background info on some more stories we're working on,” Ken said, pushing more papers my way. “As I told you, we'll have a mixture of national entertainment news, but the bulk of our stuff will be local celebrity stuff.”

I took the stack of papers. Good grief. They wanted me to read all this stuff?

“Just so you know, the promos are going to start running today,” Tamara said, smiling in my direction. “I told you this was gonna move fast. Lincoln, let's show her the first commercial,” she said, motioning to the guy sitting closest to the computer.

Lincoln turned toward the screen at the front of the room and pressed a remote control. The video started playing and my mouth dropped open. I looked even better than I thought—and I hadn't even thought that was possible. My outfit was on point, my hair was laid and I was a natural.

The narrator's voice filled the room. “Good gossip . . . delicious buzz . . . no secret is safe at
Rumor Central
. And Maya Morgan is just the diva to dish the dirt.” My picture popped up with me looking fierce in a Diane von Furstenberg plum wrap dress that dipped off the shoulder just a bit. My hair was seriously on point, with the lighting hitting my highlights in all the right places. Some high-tech music popped up as the narrator finished. “
Rumor Central
, the place to get all the celebrity dirt. Coming soon.” Everyone smiled, pleased with the whole thing. A quick thought passed in my mind. We weren't based in Hollywood, where all the celebrities lived, so how was I supposed to bring the dirt on a regular basis?

Oh, who was I kidding? I might not have been speaking to my crew any longer, but we all were Miami's elite. That meant we knew some of everybody. So, finding dirt definitely wouldn't be a problem.

I
heard this comedian once say if you don't have at least ten haters, you ain't on your job. Well, I needed to be promoted because I was definitely excelling at my job!

But it was all good because all the shade Sheridan and the rest of them were throwing my way only motivated me even more. Like now, I ignored Bali's whispering (obviously about me) as I walked down the hall and I strutted with a fierceness reserved for the catwalk.

“Hey, Maya, wait up,” Valerie called out, scurrying to catch up with me.

In the past, I would've ignored Valerie. Not that she'd done anything to me, but she just wasn't in my clique. But for these past two weeks, Valerie had been the only one not giving me grief. I'd actually gotten a B on my make-up exam but I hadn't yet taken the leap to make her my assistant.

“What's up, Valerie?”

“Nothing,” she said, struggling to balance her books and keep them from falling. Seriously? Who even carried that many books to class? “I . . . I was just wondering if you'd given any thought to my suggestion. I'd still be willing to help you with your other classes. I've been on the honor roll since freshman year.”

“Thank you,” I found myself saying. “But . . .” I paused when I saw Sheridan and another girl approaching us, and something made me say, “I think I'll take you up on that offer. The station actually wanted me to get an assistant, so maybe you can help out there, too.”

“ Ohmygod, I so could do that!” Valerie squealed.

“I had actually been telling my producer how cool you'd been,” I continued, “and I told her I could use someone like you on my team.”

As expected, Sheridan stopped, trying to be nosy.

I pretended I didn't see her as I kept talking. “Matter of fact, I tape my first show tomorrow. Would you like to come on set and watch and then you can get right to work?”

While Sheridan didn't say anything, the girl standing next to her did. “I heard about your TV show. When does it start?”

“I tape the first show tomorrow,” I said, smiling at her.

Sheridan rolled her eyes, but Valerie was too excited to notice.

“So is it true?” Valerie asked. “Are you really going to interview Meagan Goode?”

“Yep. And she's just the first of many celebrities. You won't believe the folks I have lined up. I can tell you, one of them is Nicki Minaj.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” the girl standing with Sheridan shrieked. “I love Nicki. How you get that hook-up?”

“I just got it like that,” I said, shrugging.

“Wow, I want to be like you when I grow up,” the girl laughed.

“Doesn't everybody?” I mumbled. Sheridan didn't bother to hide her disgust. I was eating her reaction up.

“So, I can really come on set?” Valerie quickly asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “Just be at the studio by five. It's going to be so fab. They're so excited about my show and they're treating me like royalty.”

“That's because you are, girl,” Valerie said.

“Oh, give me a break,” Sheridan said, storming off.

I laughed as we all watched her walk away. She was probably going to find some Pepto-Bismol because I had no doubt that she was sick!

“What's her problem?” Valerie asked.

I smiled, pulled out my sunglasses, and said, “The source of her envy is plain to see. Poor little Sheridan is hating because she can't be me. Smooches,” I added as I runway-walked down the hall.