Diva Rules (6 page)

“Yo, for real for real, that was some real foul ish I pulled on you earlier,” Benji says over the phone. His voice is low 'n' he sounds apologetic. But I'm not letting him off the hook. One thing I don't
ever
do is let some boy disrespect me 'n' think it's all good. Oh, nooo, honey-boo. Not cute! I'll take it straight to his head, face, throat, and/or them lil man-nuggets hanging between his legs.

Don't do me!

“I was dead wrong, yo.”

“So why'd you do it then?” I unbuckle my jeans, then slide them down over my hips 'n' step outta them. “After I told you to get off 'a me?”

“I don't know.”

“Lies 'n' fabrications,” I say, stepping outta this annoying thong, then tossing it in the trash. Ugh. I slip into a pair of boxer shorts one of my BWBs left here one night after a hot night of bed bouncing. Chile, mmph! But I don't ever kiss 'n' tell, so movin' along. He accidentally overslept 'n' had to be hurried outta here through the window when I heard my mother downstairs. But he left his drawz hanging on the doorknob in all the haste. But whatever.

He had to get up outta here, free-ballin' 'n' all. Ruthie-Ann was not about to catch me in bed with some boy. Oh no-no-no, honey-boo. I'm too classy for that. Okay, okay... all right already. I'm too slick for that. At least I like to think I am.

I pull my AP English reading assignment—
The Bluest Eye
by Toni Morrison—from out of my bag, then sit cross-legged in the center of my bed, holding my cell up to my ear. We're having a discussion on this book in class on Thursday 'n' I am nowhere near finished. But I will be. So far, from what I've read, it's such a depressing story. And,
hunni
, trust.
Depression
'n'
Fiona
do not fit in the same sentence. Ain't nobody got time to be feeling sorry for themselves or some character in a book. Chile,
boom
!

“Well,” I say, tossing the novel over onto the side of my bed 'n' glancing over at the time on my laptop: 8:34
P.M.
“I'm still waiting for you to tell me why you did what you did.” I decide I'm giving this boy five more minutes of my time, then it's a wrap. I've already given him enough of my precious time. He's lucky I don't have him stomped out for tryna do me today.

I yawn.

“On some real, yo. Thinkin' 'bout you, then seein' you. You got me goin' through it, yo. I mean. I had you on the brain all day, rememberin' all the lil freaky ish we used to do when we used to chill 'n' . . .” He sighs. “I was buggin', yo. I was on rock all day. Then when I saw you comin' outta class at the same time as me, I don't know. I wanted you, nah'mean. But I was dead wrong, a'ight?”

I twist my lips up. “Uh-huh. What, was you on that molly trip?”

“Yo, you wildin'. Hell no. I don't eff wit' that ish, yo. Straight bud 'n' that Fireball when I wanna get my drink on. You already know.”

“Mmph. So thinkin' about this goody-goody got you actin' all nutty, is that what you saying? Got you tryna snatch a chick's drawz off, huh?”

He laughs.

“Boy, I am
not
laughing.”

“Nah, nah. I know you dead-azz, Fee. It's just how you said it, that's all.”

I grunt. “Well, it doesn't make a difference how I say it. No means
no
. Next time you're gonna get more than a knee to your man jewels, boo. Next time I'ma claw 'em out with my nails, then sling 'em out into traffic. Don't get it twisted. So the next time a girl says stop or get off her, get the hell off.”

“You right, yo. My bad. I just miss chillin' wit' you.”

“Well, you sure have a crazy way of showin' it. We coulda still been chillin' if
you
didn't mess it up tryna make me wifey. You know I told you I wasn't wifey material, so why you even tried to take me there is beyond craziness.”

He blows a breath out into the phone. “True, true.”

“Are you smoking?”

“Yeah. A mild.”

I shake my head. Between you 'n' me, Benji coulda been upgraded to “main boo-daddy” status had he played it cool 'cause,
hunni
, he knew/knows how to ride these curves. And his engine stays revved up. Trust. Every time we were together it was a turn-out-the-lights-'n'-light-a-candle-then-tear-the-sheets-up kinda night.

“Keep it a hunnid, yo. You miss chillin'?”

“Nope.”

He laughs. “Yeah, a'ight. Front if you want.”

“Then why you ask?”

“Maybe I wanna hear it.” He lowers his voice. “Yo, let's Skype. I wanna show you somethin'.”

Now it's my turn to laugh. “Bwahahahaha. Boy, bye! I ain't Skypin' with you. You can't show me anything I haven't already seen. You better go light a blunt 'n' have several seats.”

“Yo, I'm about to spark up in a minute. What you gettin' into tonight?”

“My sheets.”

“Alone?”

“Not with you,” I say, picking up my comb from off my vanity. I start running it through my hair.

He laughs. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“Whatever. Are you coming to school tomorrow? Or do you plan on spending your day drinking 'n' smoking the day away?”

I ask him this, unsure as to why I even care. It's his life, not mine. I guess a part of me still kinda likes him. Okay, okay. I do. But not enough. Anyway, he needs a whole lot more than a nice body 'n' a good sex game to keep a diva like me interested. And, even more, he needs to be focused in school. Please. What I look like, spending my time or my life with some boy who can't even graduate from high school? Oh no, hun. I don't do dropouts or chronic truants.

“Nah, nah,” he says, exhaling into the phone. “I'ma prolly chill. I got some moves to make later tonight, so it depends.”

I frown. “Benji, are you hustlin' now?”

Silence.

“Listen,” I say quickly. Somehow feeling the need to let him off the hook. “Forget I even asked. Okay?”

Finally he takes a deep breath. “Nah. It's all good. I'm doin' me, a'ight?”

“But why? The streets are hot 'n' you know the po-po stay running up on ninjas. They baggin' everybody. This is your last year in school. Why would you wanna risk messing everything up like that, huh?”

“Yeah. I hear you. But school ain't really doin' it for me right now, babe. A muhfuggah tryna stack them ends, nah'mean? I gotta do what I gotta do. The struggle is real, yo. I'm tryna eat, feel me?”

This conversation is over. Okay? Heck, what more can I say? He ain't my boo-daddy. And he'll never be someone I'd spend the rest of my life with. So if missing school to be in the streets to be some low-level dealer is what he aspires to be, who am I to knock him? No judgment, honey-boo. Trust.

“Then go eat, boo-boo.”

“Yo, what's good, sexy?” Brent Selder says, walking over toward my locker. It's like four minutes 'til the third period bell rings. And here he stands.

Brent has never,
ever
, called me that. Not that I need him to, 'cause trust. Fiona doesn't need a boy to confirm what she already knows. I was born sexy. Okay? Anyway, Brent's one of the star players on the lacrosse team 'n' one of the finest, sexiest boys alive. Okay? Yesss,
hunni
. He can get it. All day. Every day! With his Indian-looking self.

Now hold up. I know some of you are rolling your eyes up in ya heads sayin',
Please. Who
can't
get it?
Don't do me, honey-boo. I'ma tell you like I tell everyone else: Sex is good for the soul, hun. Trust. Besides, I keep tellin' you I don't have sex with everyone. Only boys I really like. Or if I'm extra bored 'n' don't have anything better to do. Anyway...

I eye Brent real slow 'n' sexy-like, batting my long lashes. He's in a pair of gym shorts 'n' a sweaty McPherson tank, looking all delish 'n' whatnot. Boo, I ain't even gonna front. If I was a messy kinda chick, he could get the cookie unwrapped. Yes, gawd! Ooh, I know he'd make some pretty babies with all that wavy hair 'n' beautiful skin. Not that I'm thinking about gettin' knocked up by him or any other boy. This is all hypothetically speaking. You know.
If
I did give him the cookie raw, 'n'
if
I wanted to push out his babies. Uh, I mean, baby. 'Cause I'm only letting one stretch out this bangin' body. Fiona isn't doing the kitten thing, okay? Popping out four 'n' five babies. I think not!

And I'm not tryna be like my mother, havin' babies mad young. Chile, please. She was pregnant at fifteen 'n' had my sister Leona when she was sixteen. Then she popped out my sister Kara when she was eighteen. Then my sister Sonji at twenty-one. Then Karina when she was twenty-four. Then nine years later came her mishap. Me. Some hot 'n' heavy one-night stand in the backseat of my daddy's pickup truck. Mmph. And she
thinks
I wanna end up like that. No, honey-boo. I think not!

I glance down at Brent's legs. Deargawd! They're beautiful. Mmph. I have to fight the urge to reach down 'n' swipe a hand up over his thick, heart-shaped calves, then up his brown, hairy, muscular thigh. Oooh, I just wanna forget where I am 'n' have my way with him.

I shut my locker 'n' pop my lips. “It's about time you got ya mind right, lil boo-daddy, 'n' recognize sexy when you see it. It took you long enough.”

He grins, walking alongside of me. “Nah. I always knew you were sexy.”

I stop in my tracks. Run a hand up my hip, then toss my hair. “Well, of course I
am
. I'm drippin' with sexiness, hun. Glad you know.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Fiona, you mad funny. But seriously, how you?”

“Fine 'n' fabulous, boo. Can't you see?”

He laughs some more. “Oh, I see you.”

“Uh-huh. So why all of a sudden you steppin' to me?”

He smiles. “I'm sayin'. I've been kinda checkin' for you for a minute, but I didn't really know how to step to you.”

I twist my lips. “Uh-huh. Last I checked you were still goo-goo, ga-ga over Miesha.”

The beginning of the school year all the hot boys were tryna get at Miesha 'cause she was the new chick on the campus. Fresh meat. And Brent was one of the many boys tryna make a move on her. But Antonio snatched her up 'n' shut all that down real quick.

“Nah, nah. She wasn't checkin' for me like that. She's wit' who she's supposed to be wit'. So it's all wavy, baby. We just mad cool.”

I eye him. “What, so you think I'm gonna be second runner-up to Miesha?”

“Nah. It's not even like that. On some real, I didn't really think you were beat for me.”

I smirk, slinging my massive Michael Kors bag up over my shoulder. “Boy, bye. I'm still
not
beat for you.”

He laughs. “Yeah, a'ight. What you doing after school? You wanna chill 'n' go grab something to eat?”

I blink twice. “
Chill
, like in a
date
?”

“Nah. Not unless you want it to be.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I'ma have'ta pass. My sister's picking me up after school.” He wants to know what time I'll be home. I tell him late. He wants to know about tomorrow. I tell him maybe; if I'm feeling generous.

He laughs. “Oh, word? It's like that?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

I notice this big wide-back chick Samantha in my peripheral vision—elbowing Quanda and pointing over at Brent 'n' me. Of course I'm not one to entertain dumbness, so I act like I don't peep it.

“Heeey, Brent, baby,” Sam says all deep 'n' husky, sounding like she tosses back whiskey 'n' smokes a pack of Marlboros a day. She's such a big-hand man-girl. All done up with a buncha clown paint on her face 'n' drawn-on eyebrows. Where they doin' that at? Using Magic Marker to draw on eyebrows? Mmph. Only the circus, honey-boo. Only the daggone circus.

All I can say is,
Send in the clowns
.

“What's up, Sam?” Brent says to her, thrusting his chin up at her.

“You, boo. It's all you.”

He smiles. Quanda speaks to him. He speaks back. I act like she's invisible.

Samantha says, “So whose man you tryna steal now, FeFe?”

Quanda laughs.

I cringe. I hate that name
FeFe
. It sounds so, so nasty. Like feces, or something horny inmates use in prison with Vaseline 'n' spit to do they nasty business in. Ugh. This beast is really tryna do me. But I'll never give her the satisfaction of knowing that she gets under my skin calling me that. Oh no, hun. That's not what a diva does.

I eye her. She's in a pair of tight jeans 'n' a white blouse with a pair of wedge heels on her big feet, looking like the next top flop from off of
RuPaul's Drag Race
. But I ain't one to be messy.

So my lips are sealed.

I simply laugh in her face.