Rumor Central (9 page)

M
y mind was still churning for the next big story as I made my way inside the house. My crew got into a lot of stuff over the years, but I'd been racking my brain trying to figure out what was “ratings worthy” and so far, I was coming up empty.

I'd barely opened the door leading into the kitchen. When my dad appeared, he looked frazzled.

“Maya, what in the world is going on? I got a call from Chenoa Montgomery's dad and he's furious. He said something about your show and spreading gossip. He's threatening to sue you.”

I sighed. I should've known this was coming. “It's not gossip, Daddy,” I said, walking in and dropping my keys and purse on the counter.

“Well, the show is called
Rumor Central
, so obviously it's some kind of gossip,” he replied. For my dad to be so ruthless in the boardroom, I couldn't understand why he was getting all worked up.

I turned to him and tried to put on my reassuring face. “We still verify the stuff. Besides, I didn't give any of their names,” I protested. The legal department had briefed me on how to address the upset people, so I was ready for any questions my dad threw at me. “So, I'm not sure why everyone's tripping.”

“Mr. Montgomery said you said cheerleaders from a local high school and you showed the uniforms. That's not too hard to figure out.”

“It's not my fault they want to be high-class call girls.”

My dad paced back and forth, a habit he had when he was nervous. “Well, I don't like this. I thought this show was a good idea, but now this sounds like more trouble than it's worth.”

I knew I needed to go into defensive mode. I had to get my parents' permission to do the show since I was under eighteen, and I didn't need either one of them tripping with me. “Look, Dad. You told me yourself that the people who succeed at their job almost always do it at the expense of someone else. What did you call it? Survival of the fittest?”

I could tell he was feeling the fact that I actually recited one of his work mottos.

“I am proud of you and the fact that you've found work that you enjoy,” my father stated. “I just wish you could have found something more, I don't know, honest. Maybe you should rethink this job.”

Oh, now he was for real tripping.

“What? Think about it, Dad. Your seventeen-year-old daughter is making more than half the people in this world who have full-time jobs.”

That brought a small smile to his face. If anything could put stuff into perspective for my dad, it was money. “You are right about that.”

I knew I had him, I just needed to keep at it, so I could bring him over to my side.

“Dad, you know I've always dreamed of being a journalist.” That was the truth. I actually was one of the few kids who had known what she wanted to be since middle school. My first choice was to not work at all, but if I did have to work, I wanted to be an entertainment reporter.

“But this isn't really journalism,” he replied.

“You know I wanted to be on TV. And this is perfect. How many seventeen-year-olds in this country do you know that have their own show?”

He smiled again. “That's because you're a Morgan.”

As president of a multimillion-dollar company, my dad thrived on money, power and respect. Like my mother, I'd learned long ago that pumping him up was the best way to get whatever I wanted.

“And Morgans play to win, give our best, strive for the best and accept nothing but the best—at all times—and by any means necessary,” I said with confidence.

He laughed. “That's my girl.”

“You taught me well.”

He sighed, then picked up his briefcase, which meant that we were done discussing this. “Okay, just watch yourself. I don't want you getting into any trouble.”

“Relax, Dad. The station's legal team is on top of everything. I mean, if anyone is going to sue anyone, they'll sue the station. They can't sue me.”

He turned to me. “Just be careful. Chenoa's dad sounded pretty angry.”

I folded my arms across my chest and rolled my eyes. Mr. Montgomery probably thought his daughter was some sweet little princess. If only he knew. “That's because he doesn't want to face what his daughter really is,” I said.

“I'm just grateful that you're not caught up in anything like that.”

“And I never would be.”

That seemed to pacify him and he kissed me on the top of the head as he headed out the door.

I had to give myself props. I was famous (well, even more famous), making money, and now my daddy was firmly on my side. Life didn't get any better than this.

“A
nd five, four, three, two . . .” The director, Manny, waved his finger to give me the cue to begin. I was ready. For the show and the aftermath once this story aired.

The theme music wound down and I began talking. “Hello and welcome to
Rumor Central
, where we dish the dirt on the celebrities you love. Boy, have we got a good one for you today. What do Diddy, Paris, and Shaq all have in common? No, it's not that they make their homes in Miami. It's that all those homes have been hit by the notorious Bling Ring. You've probably heard the stories. Police haven't been able to catch the crafty crooks, but
Rumor Central
has managed to track down some exclusive details,” I said with a slight smile. “That's right.
Rumor Central
has the scoop, the lowdown, the nitty-gritty, the 411 on who's behind the Bling Ring. And you won't believe your ears . . . or your eyes. Stay tuned.”

I could see Dexter in the control room giddy with excitement. The stylist rushed over and adjusted my David Yurman necklace, then brushed a strand of hair out of my face. Valerie stood off to the side watching in amazement. I could tell she was shocked about the story. There'd been rumors around school about the Bling Ring, but no one had ever confirmed anything. Well, that was about to change. They thought the cheerleading story was bad? I was in rare form. Wait until I finished this.

“And we're back in three, two . . .” Manny pointed to me and I began talking.

“Welcome back to
Rumor Central
, where we get the dirt on the celebs you love. Someone dial up Miami PD and tell them to take note because
Rumor Central
is on the case. And we're not spreading rumors today. We've got some cold, hard evidence. Video, from the notorious Bling Ring. And what better way to tell you than to show you. Roll tape.”

The whole studio grew silent as the video of the three giggling teens running all throughout Shaq's mansion filled the monitor. They'd blurred the faces—legal said something about them being underaged. Still, I envisioned Bali at home, having a serious meltdown. But I don't know what he'd be upset for. He was the one doing the filming and had never turned the camera around on himself so no one could ever tie him to anything.

I let the video play a few minutes. Blake was making lewd gestures toward the camera with several of Shaq's championship trophies. The two girls were jumping up and down on an expensive-looking leather sofa as they laughed and poured champagne on the carpet.

“Take a good look,” I continued as they made their way into Shaq's kitchen and began tossing food out, guzzling beer and spraying mustard everywhere. “
Rumor Central
obtained the exclusive video—and while we haven't been able to specifically identify the teens, rumor has it that they all hail from Miami's elite. One, reportedly, is hip-hop royalty, another is heir to a real estate dynasty, and the other is a prominent businessman's child. That's right, these bad teens could easily buy the stuff they're stealing. But we've learned they're not in it for the money, they're in it for the thrill. And don't look for these crafty crooks to get caught anytime soon because I heard it through the grapevine that the Bling Ring is security savvy and they know their way around some security systems. So good luck to the Miami PD in tracking down these home invaders. Holla at your girl if you need some help.” I laughed. I only added that because the legal department had told me I wouldn't have to talk to police because they had everything covered. “Of course,
Rumor Central
will stay on the case and keep you posted when more gossip hits the fan.”

I tossed to a commercial break, came back, and finished out the show. After signing off, I prepared for the praise I knew was headed my way.

Dexter did not disappoint, meeting me in my dressing room with a big, cheesy grin on his face.

“Girl, you are the bomb-dot-com,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt at being hip, but he didn't seem fazed. “I can't wait to see what you come up with next. Good job, Maya.”

I half-smiled as he left the room.
What I came up with next?
The problem was I didn't know how I could keep this rumor mill going. But I knew no matter what, I needed to figure out a way.

I
sat across the table from Tamara, toying with my pen, my mind a million miles away. I was thinking about Bryce and Sheridan. The homecoming dance was coming up and I couldn't believe he was going to take her. We'd talked about what we were going to wear and everything. Now, it looked like I wouldn't even get to go because no way would I go and have to look at their mugs all night.

“Maya, are you with me?”

“Huh?” I said, snapping out of my daze.

“I was just saying, it seems like you're not all here. And obviously, I was right.” Tamara set her pen down and leaned back in her chair. “So, what has you so preoccupied?”

I hesitated. “Nothing. Really.”

“Maya, I know I'm a few years older than you.” She flashed a sly smile, probably because she knew she was a whole lot older than me. “But, I'd like to think that we can be friends.”

I let out a long sigh. It was hard maintaining my divatude 24-7. Sometimes, I just wanted to let my hair down and tell someone what was really going on. There was something about Tamara that made me feel like I could do that, so I said, “I don't know. Just kinda bummed about the way everyone at school is trippin' like I'm the one who is out of order for doing these stories.”

“That's understandable.” She patted my hand reassuringly.

“Did you know Oprah Winfrey, one of the most powerful women in the world, even had her time when she struggled with people not liking her?”

“Someone doesn't like Oprah?” I asked.

Tamara nodded. “Yep. And at the end of the day, she just had to do her and forget all the haters.”

“I mean, I'm used to the haters,” I replied. “It's just that, well, this is on a different level.”

“Maya, honey. It's only just beginning. Your star is rising, so it's only going to get worse.” The look on my face must've made her feel bad because she began sifting through some papers. “But, I've got something that's sure to turn around those attitudes at your school.”

I raised an eyebrow as I waited for her to find what she was looking for.

“Here it is.”

“Here what is?” I asked.

She pushed a piece of paper toward me. It had a record company logo at the top and the title said DRAKE INTERVIEW/CONCERT.

“Wow, we have an interview with Drake?” Drake was not only one of the hottest rappers out, he had to be one of the cutest. Almost every girl at my school was crushing on him.

“No, honey.
You
have an interview with Drake,” Tamara said.

Now that definitely lifted my spirits.

“But that's not the best part.”

I couldn't believe it could get any better than me doing a one-on-one with Drake.

“His record company wants to do a private concert for a local high school,” Tamara said.

“Why?”

“The whole connecting with fans, remembering the people who made him what he is, yada, yada,” she replied.

“Okay, and?” I was super excited about the Drake interview, but I didn't see where Tamara was going with this.

“And what better high school than the one the host of
Rumor Central
attends?” she continued.

I studied her for a minute, then said, “Why would I want to give those busters at my school anything?”

“Because you'll have the last laugh,” she said like it was a no-brainer. “Who can hate on Maya when she's bringing Drake to school?”

“I mean, I'm venting to you, but I don't care if they don't like me or not,” I said.

She smiled like she really didn't believe me. “That's not the point. The point is you'll show these people that you always come out on top. You'll show Sheridan and Shay and everybody else that at the end of the day, you're the one with the juice.”

“Oooo-kay,” I said, finally getting where she was coming from. “So, is this a done deal?”

She took the paper back and put it in a folder on her desk. “Well, I'll have my secretary contact your principal to run this by him.”

“Oh,” I groaned. “Then we can forget it, because Mr. Carvin hates me.”

“Oh, did I mention that the reason they want to do a high school is because they are bestowing a grant in Drake's name. The record company is donating the money.”

“The money doesn't faze Mr. Carvin,” I replied. “The kids at my school are rich.”

“Yeah, the money might not faze him, but the publicity does,” Tamara said. She didn't seem the least bit worried. “So, we'll go all out. We'll do a big rally, the concert. You'll introduce Drake, the whole nine.”

A school concert? I was starting to feel what she was saying, but I still didn't see how this would go over with Mr. Carvin. “I just don't know,” I said.

“You'll see. This is going to be off the chain!”

I laughed. Tamara and her whole crew needed some slang lessons 101.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“I say so.” She held up her palm to give me a high-five. I did, smiling at how she'd made me feel a hundred times better. “Now, let's get back to work,” Tamara said.