A Girl Like Me (9 page)

White-gloved butlers were serving caviar and champagne. One stopped before us. “Would you like—”

And before he could finish, Samantha, Tamara, and Mecca all said, “Sho' would.” They lifted the champagne and took the caviar, which was on a wheat cracker bed.

As the waiter walked away, I said, “I can't believe y'all are drinking alcohol. And Naja, you know better.”

“Ill?” Mecca frowned. “And what is your deal?”

“You're only seventeen,” I said, tight-lipped.

“And what are you, a walking afterschool special?” Samantha gulped down her drink.

“No—”

“Well then, be quiet,” Naja said as she sipped.

“Please,” Naja said, as she took a drink from another waiter. “Chill. And besides, I'm only gon' have one.”

“All I know is that it better be one because I am not down with the drinking and driving.”

“You buggin'.” She rolled her eyes at me.

“Anyway,” Tamara said, “I'm twenty-two. So I can hold my liquor.”

“Elite,” James said as he walked back over to me. “Come with me, please.”

I walked behind him and just as I stopped short to let Evan Ross pass, Naja and the whack crew almost fell on top of me. “Dang, can you back up? And excuse you,” I barked at them. “He said Elite.”

“Oh no, you didn't just get brand new?” Naja spat.

“What…ever,” I said, too through with them.

“You're lucky I just spotted 55 Cent staring at me,” Naja said.

“It's 50 Cent,” Tamara corrected her as they headed in his direction.

“Oh, my God, wait!” Naja screamed at the top of her lungs. “I just spotted R. Kelly! Party on the playground!”

Thankfully, James led me into an area where more celebrities were partying inside a glass room. Haneef was standing beside P-Fifty, one of the hottest hip-hop producers in the business. I took a deep breath and did my best to tame my nervousness, and the butterflies flipping around in my stomach.

Haneef was so fine, it didn't make sense. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, sucked in my stomach, and walked over to him. I tapped him on the shoulder and he smiled.

“Somebody said,” I said as I stood leaning from one leg to the next, while placing my hand on my hip, “that you were looking for this chick.”

“I was,” he said looking me up and down. “But now that I see you, I'm like forget that chick, what's your name?”

“Li'l Ma,” I smiled.

He laughed. “Li'l Ma, ai'ight.” He pulled me to his chest for a hug. “Damn, you smell good, girl.”

I hoped he couldn't feel my heart racing in my chest.

“Congrats on making platinum,” I said as we embraced.

“Thanks. Let me introduce you to P-Fifty.”

P-Fifty extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Before I could respond, Haneef's publicist cut us off. “Haneef, you're needed on stage.” His publicist looked at me. “Hi, and you are?”

“Elite—”

“You remember, she won the radio contest—” Haneef said.

“Oh, great work. Be sure one of the reporters takes a picture, Haneef, and I'll make sure the headline reads how you go the extra mile for your fans.”

Fan? What did she just say?

“Anyway,” his publicist continued, “it's time for you to give your performance.”

Haneef turned toward me and kissed me on the forehead. “Just give me a minute,” he said as he walked onto the makeshift stage.

I laid back in the cut, but I could see Naja, Tamara, Samantha, and Mecca blowing kisses, sipping champagne, and waving at celebrities as if they were all good friends. I looked at Naja, and when she took another drink from the butler's tray I walked over to her.

“What are you doing?” I took the drink from her hand.

“What?”

“Why are you drinking?!” I asked in a forceful whisper.

“What, I drank before, girl? Why you buggin?”

“No, you buggin'. You know you're the only one who can drive! And did you forget that you stole your father's car.”

“Borrowed.”

“Whatever,” I pointed at her. “You better get your ass sober before you go home, because if you're too drunk to drive, I'ma be so pissed with you.”

“Just watch the performance and stop sweatin' me,” Naja said as she walked away.

“Naja,” I called behind her but she continued on. I turned back toward the stage, and Haneef winked at me and blew me a kiss. I melted instantly.

Haneef danced and sang the same way he did the first night I saw him in concert. This was fiyah, and the crowd was screaming beyond belief.

After three songs, Haneef walked back and forth across the stage and said, “Ai'ight y'all, before we wrap this up, I wanna sing a special song and I wanna invite Elite”—he looked directly at me—“to sing it with me.”

I stood there stunned.

“Elite,” Haneef called.

Naja pushed me on the shoulder. “You better go 'head. She's right here!” she pointed.

I tipped out into the crowd and onto the makeshift stage.

At first I was shy, but once I looked into the crowd, I felt the same way I did when Haneef and I first sang together. The feeling in my stomach was crazy and after a few seconds I started to get as psyched as the crowd. Before long, Haneef and I were singing the same duet we'd sung before. This was heaven!

When I was done, everybody was cheering and taking pictures. Imagine that, a crowd filled with celebrities and they were taking pictures of me. For the first time in my life, I felt like my mother had named me the right name…Elite.

Haneef grabbed my hand and we took a bow. I stepped offstage and immediately Naja pulled at me, jumping up and down and hugging me. “If you keep this up, we won't have to try out for
American Idol!
”

“
American Idol?
” Immediately that calmed me down because I can't stand Paula. I looked around for Haneef and spotted him talking to Deidra, a Beyoncé type girl with a string of number one hits. A few months back she was rumored to be Haneef's girlfriend. And since he hadn't exactly come out and called me anything other than a fan, I wasn't sure if she was or wasn't.

“Is that Deidra?” Naja asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well I'm 'bout to handle this.”

“Handle it?” I asked, surprised. “Handle what?”

“I'ma go tell that ho,” Naja pointed, “that Haneef is yo' boo—”

“No, don't do that.”

“What? Puleeze—” she proceeded to walk toward them.

“No,” I snatched her back. “I'm not playing. Don't do that.”

For real-for real—this wasn't school; he wasn't Jahaad and she wasn't Ciera. So…true story, there was no way I could compete with a chick like Deidra.

Not that she was flyer than me or anything, but still…Deidra was a hot superstar and I was a pretty regular around-the-way chick with a buncha drunk friends from the block standing behind me.

“I don't believe this.” Naja sucked her teeth.

Deidra was practically standing in Haneef's chest, and she was cheesin' extra hard and long.

“We got a situation?” Tamara said, reeking of alcohol.

“Yeah, and too bad you're too drunk to know what it is,” I snapped.

“What's that suppose to mean?”

“Nothing,” I said, hating that I felt shy about walking over to Haneef and interrupting the conversation he was having with Deidra.

“And besides,” I spat at Naja as I did my best to fake the funk, “what I care? He ain't my man.”

“What?” Naja said, taken aback. “He ain't your man?”

“That's what I said.”

“You…have lost yo' mind,” she said as P-Fifty walked over to us. He nodded at the girls and then smiled at me. “I thought you were real hot tonight. You have a wonderful stage presence.” He extended his hand.

“Thank you.” I accepted his gesture.

“Yeah,” he said while looking me up and down. “Real hot. I hope to see you around again.” And he walked away.

Naja and I looked at each other, opened our mouths and silently screamed. It was a wonder my bottom lip wasn't on the floor.

Haneef was still talking to Deidra when I looked his way, and immediately my insecurity came back. He turned around, and then he and Deidra started walking over to me.

Once he was next to me, Haneef held my hand and said, “Deidra, this is Elite and her friends.” Then he pointed to each of them as they said their names.

“I'm Naja.”

“And I'm Tamara.” She elbowed Mecca, who looked as if she were due to throw up at any moment.

“Oh, I'm Mecca.”

“And I'm the one and only,” she said as she gave a half-drunken smile, “Samantha.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Uhmmm hmmm,” Naja said. “I bet it is.”

Deidra arched her eyebrows and looked at me. “I thought your performance was hot.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You're welcome. Ai'ight, Haneef,” she smiled a little too hard once again. “I'ma see you around.”

“Okay.”

Look,” Naja tapped me on the shoulder. “I see Lil Wayne over there alone…finally. So this is my opportunity to find out why I'm not his number one friend on his MySpace page.” She pounded her left fist into the palm of her right hand. “Call me if you need me.” She rolled her eyes toward Deidra. “Come on, y'all. I might need backup if Trina come back over here,” Naja said to the girls.

As they went on their way, Haneef pulled me by my hand to a secluded corner.

“What are you doing?” I asked him as he hugged me tightly and stroked my hair to the back.

“I missed you.”

I looked in his eyes and wondered if he really missed me, or if he was just saying that because it sounded good? “Okay, that's nice.”

He stepped back. “So, you didn't miss me?”

“Uhmmmm, maybe.”

“Maybe?” And he pulled me to his chest and pressed his lips against mine.

“What, you trying to get a kiss?”

“What,” he said as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. “You ain't know?”

And finally, as if we'd been waiting on the cool breeze to blow on a hot summer day, or as if we were the only two in the world and no one else existed, we kissed passionately…and true story, I saw stars shooting across the sky and heard birds singing a sweet melody in my ear.

“Excuse me,” drifted over our shoulders and broke our kiss. When I looked up, it was Haneef's publicist. “May I speak to you for a moment?” she said.

“Give me a minute,” Haneef said to me.

Although I couldn't hear anything, I could tell by the look on his publicist's face that they were talking about me.

A few minutes later they returned, and Haneef led me to the party. I could tell that something was bothering him, but he still showed me a good time. We laughed, danced, and even moved to the level of drinking from the same glass.

I was living the life, except that by the time the night ended, I was even more confused than when I'd started.

When it was time to leave, Naja and the whack crew had overdosed on champagne and being starstruck. I couldn't believe it. They were drunk as skunks, and the only sober one was me…but of course, my ass couldn't drive.

I snatched the keys from Naja's hand. “I don't believe this.”

“What?” she said as she slid behind the wheel. “I'm sober—ewwwwwww…” She stuck her head out the window and started throwing up. The next thing I knew, there was a chain reaction of throwing up going on, and by the time they finished and seemed to be sober again, hours had passed and the early morning sun was sneaking into the sky. Naja looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “My mother…is going to kick…my ass.”

“And she should, too,” I snapped.

“Elite, I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I still can't drive. I'm too sick.”

“Let me get this straight: we sat here all night, you know better than to be drinking anyway, but you did and now a whole day later, you still can't drive. I don't believe this. You're pathetic!”

“I'm sorry, Elite.”

“Whatever.” I flipped open my phone.

“Who are you calling?” Naja asked in a panic.

“Haneef. I'ma see if he can send someone to pick us up.” I dialed Haneef's number at least ten times and each time the call went to voicemail. “Bump it.” I looked at Naja. “I'ma call Jahaad.” Reluctantly I dialed his number and he answered after the third ring. I could've sworn I heard a female voice when he answered, but I wasn't sure. “What, you got company?” I snapped.