Hollywood High (22 page)

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Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

BOOK: Hollywood High
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It couldn't keep me happy and I was tired of chasing the same dream. The dream that I would feel like I did the first time Black Beauty gave me an orgasmic high.
Like I was floating on air.
Like everything that was wrong was suddenly right. And I didn't care that Camille was a drunk, who I just wanted so badly to love me. And it didn't matter that I didn't have a dad. I was Superwoman. I could walk on water if I wanted to.
But when the high left I was back to being a wreck. Out of control.
Instantly paranoid and haunted by the nagging monkey who loved to whisper in my ear about how messed up I truly was. “I have to go, Spencer!”
“You can't run out like this!” She grabbed my arm.
I snatched it away. “Get off of me! Now move!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Spencer screamed with tears racing to her eyes. “You're going crazy! You're scaring me! Would you stop it? Just stop it, stop running. Tell me what's wrong, Heather! Please. Let me help you!”
As if I was placed on pause I stopped, looked at Spencer and said, “You can't help me.”
“Try me.”
Tears soaked my cheeks. And no matter how hard I tried to stand up, my legs became brittle branches and I fell onto Spencer's arms. “Oh, Heather,” she said. “No matter what's wrong, it's going to be okay.” She rubbed my back. “Nothing is this bad.”
“I'm just a mess. I have messed up my life.”
“No you haven't. And you're not a mess, you're smart. You're pretty. You're talented. You have people who look up to you.”
“Then they must be pretty low down, because I am knee deep in it.”
“Heather, stop saying those things about yourself, they're not true. You have fans who love you!”
“They don't love me! They don't even know me! All they know is what the paper writes about me or the life they imagine me to have. But they don't know me. They know Wu-Wu. They love Wu-Wu, but they don't know a thing about Heather!”
“What don't they know?”
“They don't know how tired I am. How it's soooo much pressure.”
“Let the pressure go.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“It can be.”
“But it's not. It's like everywhere I turn everybody's looking at me. Like I'm a mirror and everyone gets to stand still, judge my life, and give me their opinion! I'm tired of that! Sometimes I just want to throw my hands in the air and say to hell with it! Just throw everything away!”
“Heather, you can't throw everything away. Because if you do then who will I walk the red carpet with?”
“You have Rich and London.”
“Now you know those two angry ostriches make my nose run! I'm trying to get to the Oscars. The only place Shaneeka and Laquita will ever be are the BET Awards with two gangsta rappers on their arms.”
Despite what I felt I couldn't help but chuckle. “Spencer, it's just
soooo
much. And I don't have anybody.”
“You have me.” She wiped my tears. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“I look up to you.”
What did she say?
“You do what? Are you serious?”
“Cross my heart.” She gave a slight giggle. “I love The Wu-Wu Tanner Show.” She rolled her eyes in delight.
“Really? Or are you just saying that?”
“No, I really watch your show faithfully.”
“You do?” I said surprised.
“Yes! I know every episode,” she said excitedly. “I even have the first season on DVD.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And you know what my favorite episode was?”
“What?”
“It was the episode where Wu-Wu wanted to perform at a talent show, but didn't think she could do it. But Wu-Wu's parents encouraged her and told her that she could do anything she put her mind to; and they told her that they loved her and would be there to support her. So, she had nothing to worry about. After that, she took a chance and when Wu-Wu stepped up on that stage and belted out that sooooong...” Spencer snapped her fingers. “That was when I knew you were special, girlfriend! That's when I knew you had it! And that had nothing to do with you being Wu-Wu Tanner. That had everything to do with you being the beautiful and talented Heather Cummings! The amazing actress and beautiful songbird!
“And do you wanna know what else, girlfriend, my heart fluttered with so much pride and joy that I knew you. You were in
my
crew. And that bearilla Rich would never admit this, but she came to school bragging about you to everyone.”
“Rich?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes, Rich! The original jealous dream killer. That was the only day I didn't feel like smacking her face.”
I chuckled. “You really don't like her, do you?”
“Can't stand her! And if I ever get her in a dark closet I would tear her up!”
I laughed and wiped tears. “Yeah, beat her and her diamonds down into the ground.”
“Karate-kick her straight to Jesus! And that London—” Spencer squinted her eyes and rubbed her hands together. “Oh, London, I'd take her by the nape of her thick neck and mollywhop her up and down Hollywood Boulevard.”
“Smear all the New York out of her!”
“Yup. And even though we made up with them and everything, that night when they left my house I still ordered a super-sized can of Mace and marked it ‘Whup-azz'! '”
I laughed and the next thing I knew Spencer and I were cracking up. We laughed so hard that we fell against the walls and slid to the floor. “See, Heather,” Spencer said, as we tried to collect ourselves. “Things aren't so bad after all.”
“Maybe not.” I shrugged, unsure.
“There's no maybe. It's not that bad. And you can do this, Heather!”
I looked at Spencer, whose eyes were filling with tears. “I just want you to believe in yourself the way I believe in you,” she said.
I wiped her tears and said, “I believe it.”
We hugged tightly and at that very moment I felt closer to her than I'd ever felt to anyone.
“Now come on.” Spencer rose from the floor and extended me her hand. “Let's get it together, because if that director yells at you like that again, I will be all over him. As a matter of fact I'm going to speak to him now and then I'll be dealing with somebody in housekeeping. This dressing room is an absolute wreck!”
I wiped my eyes and hugged her again. “Thank you, Spencer.”
“Don't thank me. You just get Wu-Wu together.”
“I will,” I said as Spencer gave me a high five and walked out of my dressing room. She closed the door behind her and I looked at myself in the mirror.
This is the last time...
No more after this...Just enough to get my Wu-Wu back.
I freshened up. And ten minutes later, I felt like I'd had a makeover. I strutted back on the set, my Wu-Wu was in full effect, and by the time the take was finished I'd murdered each and every one of my lines. “Now that's what I'm talking about!” the director yelled. “Now that's the Wu-Wu everybody loves!”
We wrapped up, I introduced Spencer to the cast, and then we said our good-byes to everyone.
I felt like a brand-new person as Spencer and I walked out of the studio and to the parking lot. My curls bounced as I pulled my shoulders back, held my head up high, and did a two-step with my oversized bag in the crook of my arm. “Ahh, Wu-Wu's in the house!” I said.
“Without a doubt!” Spencer said as we walked toward her truck.
She clicked her doors open and I said, “Thank you for coming. I couldn't have made it through this without you.”
“That's what friends are for. And besides I wouldn't have missed this for anything!” She smiled and slid into her Range Rover. She started her engine, pressed on the gas, and revved it a little too hard, scaring a few people in the parking lot, including me.
I jumped back and as Spencer backed out of her parking space I noticed that she never looked behind her.
Jesus!
Crash! Bash! Boom!
“Oh no! Why would somebody park directly behind me!” she screamed out the window, looking toward the studio van she'd just about cracked in half. “Ohmy-begeezus!” she yelled. “That's a big dent. And is that the front bumper on the ground? You know what, Heather, since you owe me one, do me a favor, pick that up and write a note for me. Tell them to put some tape on that and I'll be back and we can work out the damages later.”
All I could do was laugh. Gotta love Spencer. I waved bye and a few seconds later my driver pulled up beside me and opened the door. I slid into the backseat and just as I lay back and thought about my day my cell phone rang.
I answered, “Wassup, Co-Co Pops!”
“Hey Wu-Wu,” he said, sounding somber.
“What's wrong?”
“Oh nothing,” he attempted to assure me. “I just want you to know that I'm going to give you my gold necklace with the single pearl on it.”
“Why?”
“Because it's special to me and I want you to have it.”
“You love that necklace though, Co-Co.”
“I know and I love you. I'm glad that we became friends.”
“I'm glad, too, Co-Co but why are you sounding like that? Is everything okay? Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing's wrong. Nothing that I can't make right.”
“What are you talking about, Co-Co?”
“I love you, Wu-Wu.”
“I love you, too. Are you sure you're okay?”
“Yes, I'm fine. I love you and talk to you later.” He hung up.
I love
you . . . ?
I'll talk to you
later...?
That sounds nothing like the party boy dressed in pink that I
know. . . .
“I'm going to give you my gold necklace with the pearl on it,”
I repeated in my head.
I hate that necklace, but he loves
it... said
he would never part from it...
I lay back against the backseat and as the driver pulled onto the highway I said, “Lawrence, take me to Co-Co Ming's.”
28
Spencer
O
h poor,
poor Heather. It's so terrible how they treat
her
over there at that studio
. I made a right turn onto Ventura Boulevard, heading toward the Hollywood Freeway.
And that Mr. Fatso director of hers with that tacky-looking nose job really pissed in my sugar jar the way he yelled and screamed at her like that. It's no wonder her Raggedy-Ann-looking self was so shaken. I'm so, so glad I was there to keep her from falling apart.
I sped down the Boulevard. Sweethairyballsoffire...
this sun is blinding,
I thought, flipping down the sun visor, then searching the car for the extra pair of shades I kept inside the truck. “Now I know they're in here somewhere.” I leaned over and searched inside the glove compartment as I approached an intersection.
Boom!
Ohsweetjeezus... what in the hell is wrong with these dang, crazy drivers?
I laid down on the horn, letting my window down. “What in the hell are you doing?” I yelled out. “Can't you see I'm trying to go?” I continued pressing down on the horn.
“Ohfortheloveofhigheelsandhandbags... who would park a limo right in the middle of the road? I don't know why these idiots have to try me today!” I put my truck in park, then swung open my door and got out. I was ready to flip somebody's light switch for causing this mess.
A tall, dark-skinned man wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie got out of the car the same as I hopped out of my truck ready to set it off. “Ma'am, are you all right?”
I frowned. “What do you mean, am I all right? Of course I'm not all right, you're blocking traffic and I have somewhere to be. Well, not really. But, that's beside the point. What if I did? Now what in the hell are you doing? Why would you stop in the middle of the road at a green light like that?”
“Ma'am, the light was red.”
I frowned. “Red? That light was green, as in
drive
. Not as in
stop
in the center of the road. And tear up the front of my truck. Do you need your eyes checked, or them cataracts removed?”
“Ma'am, you ran into the back of us.”
I huffed, “Well what in the heck you expect me to do, you dumb bunny. Don't get snotty with me. You were in the wrong. You lucky I don't get back in my truck and run you down.”
“Ma'am, are you threatening me?”
“I'm not threatening. I'm informing you. You just insulted me. Usually I'd just run up on you. But I'm being nice today and giving you a warning. Any other day you'd already be on the ground rolling and burning.”
“Ma'am. . .”
“And another thing, sir, I don't do the back and forth. You better shut your mouth. And let me see your credentials. I wanna know where you got your license from. Toys “R” Us? And did you rent them from the Matchbox aisle?” He stared at me with his old-looking self. “You need to be on that blue citizen bus that comes through here every Tuesday. What are you, about forty-five? You too dang old to be on the road, anyway, with your non-driving self. You need to hang your license up and stay off the road, buster.”
“Ma'am, I was just thinking the same thing about you. Can I see
your
credentials?”
“
My
credentials? What are you trying to say?”
My mouth flew open. I'm only sixteen. I can't show him my credentials. I'm not even supposed to have a real license until next year. Thank God I had a connection down at the Motor Vehicles who forged the birth date on my paperwork. But I can't tell the police that. I'd be thrown up against a wall, patted down, and strip-searched. And that big burly woman Rich and London left behind might still be there waiting for me, especially since I'm prettier. I can't have that.
I gave him a flick of the wrist. “You know what, you're dismissed. You're fired. I'm not dealing with you.” I stormed off toward the side of the limo and banged on the window. It slowly rolled down. “I need to talk to you. Are you aware that your driver is. . .” I paused, taking him in.
Ohmy. . .
“My driver is what?”
“Umm, harassing me. That's what he's doing. And I won't stand for it.”
“Harassing you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “How?”
“By talking real slick and nasty to me. And I've been nothing but nice to him while he stood there and cursed me out, talking to me any ole kind of way. Now you need to do something about him. He needs to be reprimanded for his rudeness.”
He chuckled.
Ooooh, he's so cute!
“I beg your pardon. This isn't funny. Now I see why your driver is so rude and obnoxious. He's driving around the King of Rudeness. But I won't have it. That's exactly why I fired him. So you're going to need to find yourself another driver.”
“Enough.”
“Enough?”
“Yeah, enough. Be quiet.”
“Be quiet? I don't know who you think—”
“Shut. Up.”
“Shut up?”
“Yeah, shut. Up. You've spent five minutes making a big production about something that's not all that serious. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Do I look hurt?”
I huffed, impatiently, “Well. No. Not that I can tell.”
“Then that's all that matters, beautiful. Now shut them pretty lips up and listen.”
My mouth opened to say something else, then quickly shut. I don't know if I complied because he told me to shut up. Or if it was because I needed a moment to observe just how fine he was. He had skin the color of cocoa with dark chocolate eyes that almost looked black. My mouth started watering.
“Now go back to your car, get in, and pull over to the side of road.”
“Wait a minute now. What are trying to do? Get me in a back alley somewhere? This is not that kind of party. You've got the wrong one.”
He shook his head, rolling the window up in my face. I heard him say to his driver, “Call the police. I'm not getting anywhere with this girl.”
I felt my knees buckle. I knocked on the window again. Flashed him a sparkling white smile, then said, “Look. I didn't say I wasn't going to pull over. I just want to make sure that I don't end up in the backwoods somewhere tied to a rock.”
He gave me a confused look.
“Because in all the horror movies the black girls die first. I just want to make sure it's not going down like that. But I'm going to walk back over to my truck, get in and pull over. It's all good, right?”
He stared me down as if everything I said sounded ridiculous or something. “Listen. I don't know what movies you're talking about. But this isn't one of those scenes. All you're doing is driving up the street to get out of the middle of the road.”
Lord, please don't let this fine man be a serial killer. And if he does kidnap me, please let it be somewhere safe and clean. Like a remote island, where I can still relax.
“Well? Are you going to keep blocking traffic, or are you going to move?”
“Yeah. I'll move. But I'm going to snap a picture of your license plate and send it to my girls just in case you try some monkey business and I end up missing.”
“Trust me, beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”
“
Trust
you? I don't know you. I mean you're cute and all—nice and chocolate. And them eyes of yours sparkle like black diamond dust but that doesn't mean I can trust you. So you go first.”
He grinned, amused. “No, I already had you following me. That's why we're in this mess. You drive in front of me. And I'll follow
you
. You've done enough for one day.”
I blinked. “I don't appreciate what you just said to me, but before I go off on you, I'm going to let it go. And do what you said because I don't want problems, okay. Just don't block me in. I don't want to cause any more damage ramming out of here. But I will.”
I flipped my hair, turned on my heels, and walked back over to my truck, adding an extra shake to my fries, hoping like heck he had his eyes zoomed in all over my juicy Whooper.
I pulled around him, drove through the light, then pulled over. His driver pulled the limo up in front of me. The passenger door opened. And the minute Mr. Chocolate Drop stepped out of his car I immediately knew I needed to freshen my lips with another coat of lip gloss. He was so fine that my mouth watered.
He was a hot, steamy cup of cocoa that I wanted to sip and savor. I wanted him. And I was going to leave there with two things accomplished. No cops. And his phone number.
Hello, Sex Kitten.
I sized him up, from the bottom to the top. I spotted a pair of leather Louis Vuitton loafers stuffed with big, long feet. The kind of feet that made me unbutton two more buttons on my blouse. Whew, it was getting hot and I had to let the steam out.
I continued my journey up his dress pants and admired how well they hung on his frame. I eyed the black Ferragamo belt that held his pants up on his thick waist. My naughty thoughts had me wondering what kind of underwear he had on. Boxers, or boxer briefs? And what he'd look like without any on. I imagined his pants dropping around his ankles and his buckle hitting the floor. I swallowed.
Come to Mama, baby...
He watched me, watching him as he made his way over to my truck. Yes, I was checking him out. Please. Guys did it to girls all the time. His head was up and he walked like he owned the streets. He took charge like he was a man on a mission. Not like that dumb bucket Corey who didn't know who or what he wanted. And not like Joey who walked around confused and lost, carrying a cardboard box because he couldn't get his science project right. Oh, no. This cocoa-dipped hottie glided over to me like he was a man who knew what he wanted. And he knew exactly how to get it. Oooh, he had it. And he brought the grown woman out of me. A moment Kitty would be proud of.
Rrrrrrrrrrooowwwrrr!
I rolled my window down, batted my eyes, eased out of the truck, then leaned up against the hood.
He walked up in my space. “I'm not gonna stand here all day playing games with you. Now, how are we going to handle this? 'Cause your driver is fired. Oh, he's sooooo fired. My truck needs to be fixed. And I need to know who's going to handle it. And I don't do roadside mechanics.”
“Well, do you do dates?” he asked, eyeing me.
“
Whaaaaaat?
Dates? I never dated a mechanic.” I paused.
Wait. A. Minute. Dates? Escorts go out on dates. Oh, he thinks I'm a prostitute!
“Oh you done tore your drawers down. And here I thought you were some fine prey I needed to pounce on. But all you are is roadkill. You think I'm some woman of the night. Goes to show how much you know, Mr. Sandman. Women of the night don't come out in the daytime. I'm not gonna stand for you calling me names.” I put a finger up. “You wait right there. I got something for you. You don't know about me.”
I marched back over to the passenger side of the truck, swung open the door, and grabbed my handbag. And as I yanked it open and searched for my can of get-right, he spoke over my shoulder. “Spencer, what are you doing?”
“I'm getting ready to teach you real good. I'ma mace you down.”
He laughed. “I was asking you for a date with me.”
“Oh, now you want a personal escort. I don't do that, either.”
He continued laughing and boldly put his hand up on my waist and pulled me in front of him, causing me to drop my can of Mace. Now I was defenseless, on my way to a remote island. “Listen. I was asking
you
out on a date with
me
because I think you're beautiful. The truck is only scratched. And there's only a dent in my bumper. It's not that big of a deal.”
“But your driver—your ex-driver, who I fired, remember? —was going to call the police on me like I had cracked your precious car in half.”
“Enough with the car already. How about, seven o'clock... you and me? I'll have a driver come get you.”
“And where do you think you're going to be taking me?”
He grinned. “It's a surprise.”
“Now wait a minute. This surprise won't have anything to do with corners, blindfolds, or ropes, will it?”
He chuckled again. “No.”
“Is it a remote island?”
He sighed. “Spencer. Just be ready. My driver will be waiting in front of your house at seven.”
I blinked. “Wait a minute. How do you know my name?”
He grinned. “I got it off the cover of
Diva Girlz Weekly
, on page seventeen. Everyone knows you.”

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