Get Ready for War (11 page)

Rich stared at me and tears welled up in her eyes. “Are you still in love with him?”

I lowered my eyes. “Sometimes I think I am. When he's home and I'm with him, I know I am. It's when he's not here that I'm not so sure. But there's always something missing when he's gone.”

She took me in, considering my words, then she shook them off. “This is too much for me, girl. Let it go. RJ is over in Oxford. And I overheard my mother cursing him out because he's over there smoking weed. So don't hold your breath hoping for a Prince Charming because he's going to come home a shriveling weed head. He'd probably be better off with Heather.”

“Eww, how nasty,” I blurted out. “That would be illegal.”

“What?”

I quickly shook my head. “Never mind. I'm just saying. That would be a real problem. I'd have to gut her, then end up in jail.”

Rich chuckled, shaking her head. “Spencer, you need help, boo. I'm convinced you're crazy. But it would kinda serve you right if she did mess with my brother—not that I would approve of that trash-bag ho getting anywhere near him. But still—after what you did to me, sleeping with Corey behind my back, it would serve you right to get a dose of your own medicine.”

“Uhhhh, hellooooo ... for the zillionth time, I
never
slept with Corey. He never stuck his key inside my treasure chest to get my gold coins. You were the only fool to let him key up your Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Spencer. I'm tryna stay a lady because I know all eyes are zoomed in, but you are really trying it.”

I waved her on. “Oh, Rich. Please, loosen your girdle, girlie. That's your problem. You're like loose change in some things, then tighter than a buffalo's butt hole in—”

The minute I spotted him walking into the café toward the jocks' table, my blood turned to cherry-colored icicles.

I narrowed my eyes and laser-beamed one of the enemies. Corey!

“Who are you shooting daggers at?” Rich asked, craning her neck and following the direction of my glare.

“That three-timing, fake daddy mack attack,” I snarled. “That's who! I should go over there and claw his intestines out.”

She quickly snapped her head back in my direction, rolling her eyes. “Have at it, girl. I want no part of that. I'm in enough trouble behind that boy.”

“Oh, that's right. I forgot you're being sued for trying to peel his face back.” I chuckled to myself. “What, for ten million?”

She flicked her wrist. “Yeah, something like that. And I told him I would peel his face
off
, not back. But, whatever. I don't wanna talk about that. I wouldn't be in any of that mess in the first place if it weren't for
you
.”

I huffed. “Oh, hold up, wait one manicured minute. How dare you? Don't try to blame
me
for
you
not being able to keep a leash on your dog. Maybe you should have walked him more, and fed him treats, and petted him the right way and he wouldn't have strayed.”

She slammed her hands down on the table, leaning up in my face. “Well, maybe if you woulda stayed up off your knees—”

“I wasn't always on my knees, Mack truck. Sometimes I'd be bent over and he'd be on
his
knees snacking me from the back, so get it right.”

“Ugh! Clutching pearls!” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “I think I just threw up in the back of my mouth.”

I lowered my voice. “Umm, sweet potato, you might want to get your hot breath out of my face. We have an audience. And I think they think we're about to have a catfight.”

She smacked her lips, then narrowed her eyes. “Well, they're right. I'm ready to boom-bop, drop-it, drop-it.”

I slid my hand down in my bag, tilting my head and smirking. I had to be ready, just in case. “Well, this will look real cute on the front pages of all the blogs, won't it? ‘Pampered Princesses at it again.' ”

She stood straight, then brushed imaginary lint off the sleeve of her blazer. She plopped her dunkadunk back in her chair. “Count yourself lucky.”

I tilted my head. “Your turn.”

She huffed. “Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

“Truth.”

“Did your mother really sleep with your boyfriend Curtis?”

I shifted in my seat, rolling my eyes up in my head. “Yeah, that skank did. She waited until he turned eighteen; said it was a birthday gift, welcoming him into manhood.”

“Mmmph, yuck. Why didn't you tell me that?”

“Because I was embarrassed. And hurt. And I didn't want you to know how screwed up Kitty is, when you have such a great mother.”

Rich rolled her eyes. “Girl, please. If you only knew. Miss Kitty seems so cool. She doesn't sweat you. She lets you do you. You don't know how bad I wish my mother would get her late-night creep on. And stay outta my business. But you ... you don't have to worry about having a mother constantly up on your neck sweating you. You can straight do you. Boom, bop, drop it-pop it and handle yours. Girl, you can have a boo up in your house and go for broke. Me, I got Logan sitting on my back and her husband threatening to make me disappear.”

I gasped. “What, make you disappear? Oh my. I didn't know he was a magician. I thought he was a thug.”

Rich blinked. “Spencer, let's just get back to the game.”

“Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

“Private,” she said, pulling out her compact and checking her eyeliner. She pulled out her signature handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. She snapped the compact shut. “I'm still in love with Knox.”

“Since you were eight years old?”

She nodded. “It just won't go away. No matter how hard I keep trying to leave him alone, I—”

“Then be with him,” I said, cutting her off. “You know he loves you.”

“No, he doesn't. Last time we spoke, he pretty much told me he didn't wanna see me again.”

“What? When was this?”

“The morning of our invitation party for our masquerade ball. You know. The one that's been postponed because of your little pill-popping friend.”

“Heather's
not
my friend after what she did to me.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Anyway, it was over between me and Knox right after he told me he wanted to use condoms because he wasn't ready to be a father.”

“Sweet heaven sin the morning, so I was right! You're not just fat. You really are pregnant. And here I felt bad for telling you to handle your waistline.”

“Well, save it. I'm not anymore.”

“You lost it?”

“No. It was taken from me.”

I blinked. “What in the world? Who took it?”

“My mother.”

“When? Where?”

“Monday. In the back hills of Arizona.”

Great walls of Prada... how many times is this?
“You had another a—”

She nodded, wiping tears. “Unlike you, I didn't have a fairy tale. I wasn't given a choice to keep my baby.”

I gasped, reaching for her hand again. I squeezed it. “Oh no. Rich, I'm so sorry. See, this is why you need
your
real best friend because I would have gone to Arizona with you no matter what; right there by your side.”

She gave me a faint smile. “Thanks.”

“Was Knox with you?”

“No. He doesn't know. And I'm not gonna tell him.”

“But he knows that you were pregnant, so how is he not going to know?”

“I'll tell him I miscarried or something. I don't know. I'll figure it out.” She took a deep breath. “Can we pleeease close the confession box and talk about something else? I'm good. We've made up. Now let's move on. My turn. Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

I giggled. “This time dare me, boo.”

Rich chuckled. “Hey, now! That's what I wanna hear. Let's boom-bop it! 'Cause I'm ready to take it to the brain and—”

I gagged. “
Whaaaat?
You want brain? You dang freak. Are you asking
me
for oral sex?”

“Spencer, you dingbat. Hell no! Get your mind out of the gutter, trick. You can't do a thing for me. So don't flatter yourself. I was
saaaaying
, I felt like taking it to the skulls of four skankadank lollipop-lickers. And I dare you to set it off with me.”

I leaned up in my seat. “Well, why didn't you say that then? Who'd you have in mind?”

She grinned. “The Starlets.”

“Ooooh, yessss, love it! Let's go serve those baby raccoons a hot dish of Ash Tuesday.”

Rich gave me a blank stare. “What in the ... you know what, forget it.” She hopped up from her seat. “Let's go over there and get it-get it. Teach those wannabes that the Pampered Princesses still rule.”

I got up and gathered my magazine and handbag. “Well, come on, honeeeeey. Momma is ready. But I need to stop at my locker first.”

Rich raised an arched brow. “Stop at your locker for what?”

“Uhh, hello. We're about to go into battle. I need to suit up, pull out the artillery, and ammo up.”

“Then let's go slaughter some hoes!”

“H
ey, lil daddy!” I gave a soft wave and dropped my don't-stop-get-it-get-it booty switch into overdrive. Spencer and I had arrived on the freshman side of campus and the teakwood corridor was lined with sexy, sweet, and tender testosterone. Cuties. Young. Fresh. Tenderoni meat. Ev-er-y-where. All I needed were slow jams and a glass of Merlot and we could make it work. Usually I didn't do youngins, but the ones here, humph, inspired me to be the kind of cougar who worked in a day care and stalked the boys around the room.

Oh-kay!

'Cause it was about two. No, three. No—
five
who could get it-get it.

Snap. Snap.

I undid the top three buttons of my baby-blue Tory Burch sleeveless top and revealed sneak peeks of my ebony lace bra and plump come-get-'em-baby cleavage. For a moment I couldn't remember why I was here. Was I boy shopping? Was I man-hunting? I wasn't sure. All I knew is that my future-baby-daddy radar was off the freakin' meter and I was seconds from drooling. Excitement perked up my busty jewels and it took everything in me not to bend down and shake my ta-tas loose. After all, these natural and plastic surgery–free double Ds were a magnet for bringing all the boys to the yard.

Whew! I felt like going in my purse, taking a few twenties out, and making it rain up in here. Do geezus! I fanned my face. I didn't know about Spencer, but a few minutes more and this diva, right here, was set to overdose on cutie crack.

I took a deep breath, slowly licked my luscious lips, and just as I pushed the right side of my hair behind my ear, I spotted him: Mr. Pretty-Daddy!

Mr. Compared-To-All-The-Other-Hotties-In-Here-Was-A-Grown-Man.

Mr. Broad Shoulders, Squared Off.

Mr. Smooth Honey-Colored Skin.

Mr. Hazel Eyes.

Thick brows.

Light mustache.

Sexy chin hairs.

“Oh my,” Spencer purred. “Who is that?”

“There you go again,” I said, cutting my eyes at Spencer with a tinge of attitude. “I spotted him first.”

“Girl, we can go half with this one.”

“There you go, still wanting to be on your knees.”
Spencer was such a whore.

“And there you go trying to get pregnant again. I should've known that breast-feeding wouldn't be good enough for you. You have to pour your claws on him and have him for dinner, man-eater. Now do you want to argue or are we over here to ho-hunt and handle the Starlets?”

I should slap her face... but then again she had a point.
“You know what, Spencer, let's put the argument on pause. Because I'm here to do what we came to do.”

“Hold up, Rich.” She slammed her hand on her right hip. “Didn't I tell you about telling me to go on pause? For the hundredth time I am not a CD player—”

“Pause—”

“Didn't I just tell you—?”

“Would you just shut up! There goes one of the hoes right there!” I pointed and grabbed Spencer by the arm.

“And sweet heavenly hoespimpin'ain'thard . . . There she is holding hands with your next sex victim.”

Screech ...
My red bottoms came to a thunderous halt and there stood a medium brown girl with a sleek ponytail that hung to her shoulders and a bang that swept across her forehead. She smiled from ear to ear, looking all stupid and dreamy eyed. Real dumb and love struck. As if she could ever know what to do with a man like that.

This trick wore a nasty fuchsia varsity jacket with a tacky metallic gold star with the word
Starlet
written across it in sparkling silver letters. And beneath that hideous monstrosity was the green and navy blue plaid Hollywood High uniform.

All I could do was roll my eyes. I couldn't believe this nasty, gross, low-budget, financial-aid-havin' ho still rocked a uniform and attempted to come and serve us. Apparently she needed some assistance with getting her thoughts in order.

And London said one of them smelled like money. London had lost her mind. I sure hope that this wasn't the baby beast who stomped London down—or my view of that Amazon would never be the same.

I popped my lips, placed my hips in sugar-mama motion, parted this ho's love session and boldly stood in front of her. Then I took Dreamboat's hand from Miss Whack, placed one hand on my waist, and then smoothly completed boo's hold on me by placing the other hand on my waist and sliding my arms around his neck. His eyes revealed that he was pleasantly surprised. I snuggled deeper into our fostered embrace and Mr. Fine inched closer. I had it. Going. On. “Like what you feel?” I asked in between my innocent schoolgirl giggle.

“What the hell?!” Chickie had the nerve to interrupt our moment.

“Not a word,” Spencer said with one rubber-gloved finger pressed to Chickie's lips.

“You are so fine.” I ran my right hand through Dreamboat's curls and lightly licked my lips.

“Yes, he is fine, Rich,” Spencer cooed, walking up behind him and running her index finger softly across the nape of his neck.

We sandwiched him and Spencer said, “Don't be shy.”

“Why are you two washed-up broads over here?!” Chickie danced her neck from left to right and popped her eyes wide. She pointed her finger and continued on. “Should I call the rest of the Starlets and let them know to watch their men and be on bimbo alert? Obviously y'all came over here to get worse than what your resident Amazon got.”

“Awwl, sweetie.” I turned toward her. “Don't be mad just because before we handle you, we'll be doin' your man.” I turned back to lil daddy and winked. “I'm Rich.”

“And I'm Spencer,” Spencer whispered against his neck. “Now tell us your name, 'cause we're the dynamic duo.”

“You two dirty bus-line gutter rats. The pimps are down the street if you're looking for a comeback. You two put the slut and the whore in slore. So scurry your heels back over to the other side of campus, with your old faces and run-down bodies. Tricks.” She looked from me and Spencer over to boo-boo and said, “And you better not tell them your name!”

I guess he didn't follow instructions well because he said, “It's Xavier.” He nervously grinned from ear to ear.

“Xavier! I can't believe you're over here smiling! You must want your face slapped!”

“Don't worry about it, baby,” I said, stroking his cheek. “If she slaps your face I'll be there to kiss your bruises.”

Spencer said, “That's right. And I'll be there to help take the rocks out of your pocket.”

“Oh, I gotta trick for y'all slores!” Chickie sneered as she pulled out her cell phone. “Y'all are over here on our side of the campus and the Starlets run this. Okay, did you not see the blogs this morning? The Pampered Princesses are tired!”

“Girl, please. First of all I don't do Gerber teen magazines !” I snapped.

“And second of all,” Spencer said as she walked from behind Cutie and snatched Chicka-doo's phone. “You're not running anything today and you will not be making any calls at this moment. We need to have a word with you in private!”

Chickie took a step toward Spencer. “You better give me back my phone before I spit in your face!”

“Oh, really?” Spencer reached in her oversized bag and pulled out a fly swatter and slapped Chickie dead in her mouth with it.

“Oh snap.” Dreamboat snickered.

“Now say something else,” I dared Chickie as I arched one brow and snapped my fingers in her face. “We're not playing with you.”

“Now let's try this again,” Spencer continued. “I said, I need a word with you, you little gnat.”

“Don't—”

Whap!
“Shut your mouth,” Spencer said, tight-lipped as she swatted her again.

“We'll come back for you later, boo,” I said as I motioned my finger for him to lean near. I lightly brushed my lips against his and whispered my telephone number. Then I turned back to Spencer and this lil crack baby and said, “Now let's go.”

Spencer pushed Chickie into the bathroom lounge and I locked the door.