Luxe (24 page)

Giddy with excitement and anxiety, she reached for her bag, removing her books. As she began to read, the words jumped off the pages. She flipped the paper so quickly that she gave herself paper cuts. Every sentence made perfect sense. Every word she typed sounded like pure genius. It felt like she had just discovered a miracle drug, and there was no doubt in her mind that she would be able to finish everything on time. Meth had made the impossible possible. She no longer had to worry about losing her scholarship, but in the process she had lost her soul. It was in the devil's hands now, and it would be a long time before she would get it back.

Forty-eight hours later

Slowly, as her high faded, the weight of the world was placed back on her shoulders, and this time it was heavier than ever before. Regret and shame gripped her as the reality of what she had done hit her under sober pretenses. Finally, after three and a half days of nonstop work and after almost a week of no sleep, the aftermath hit her. As she lay curled under her covers, with her hands over her ears and a beauty mask shading her eyes, she felt the misery that was inevitable. The overdose of dopamine that had flooded her system now was stopped altogether and she was left feeling empty, void of all emotion. She was a shell, but the inside had been carved out. All she wanted to do was sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she pictured herself wrapping her lips around a glass pipe. Then she saw her mother wrapping her lips around a glass pipe. It was too familiar and, in the depths of Bleu's soul, she feared the repercussions.

What the fuck was I thinking?
she asked herself as she clenched her eyes shut. Things were out of control. If she had felt the need to turn to drugs just to help her manage her time then she was doing something extremely wrong. She was letting L.A. get the best of her. Yes, she had made up her work. She wouldn't receive her semester grades for at least another week, but she knew that she had aced her finals. The meth had done everything that China had promised, but had the trade-off been worth it?

The ringing of her cell forced her to lift her head as she reached for the nightstand where it rested. Even Iman's name didn't excite her. The fog that had settled over her life was too thick for even him to break through. She buttoned him, sending him to voice mail, and then clenched her eyes together trying to force them to stay shut. Her mind wanted to sleep, but her body wouldn't let her. She was up and down, her emotions all over the place. She couldn't control them if she tried. The sound of China walking into their room, followed by the voices of Bree and then Aysha, caused Bleu to grimace. She just wanted some privacy … time to process what she had done. She wasn't ready to face them. Surely they looked at her in an entirely new light. If she was judging herself she knew that they had to be. Again she thought,
What the fuck was I thinking?
The stupidity of her decisions was immeasurable and she was sick to her stomach just thinking about it. Or was she sick to her stomach from the meth? She didn't know at this point.

“Damn, girl, you a'ight?” Bree commented as he reached down and pulled the covers from over Bleu's head. “Fuck you get into last night?” he asked.

“She's fine
,
” China said with attitude, not appreciating Bree's interest in Bleu. “She just went on a little meth run.”

Bree's face turned cold as he sat down on the edge of Bleu's bed. “You didn't give her nothing to help with the comedown? Come on, ma. You know better than that!” Bree barked as he pulled Bleu up. Her body was so fatigued that she was like a rag doll as he leaned her back against the wall.

“Hmm-hmm, just go away, Bree. I feel like shit,” Bleu groaned.

“And you gon' feel like shit unless you take something. You can't fly high and then dip this low, baby girl,” he said.

Aysha stood back, a bit taken aback as she watched Bree force Bleu to sit up. She covered her mouth in disbelief. “How much did you give her? Meth, China?” Aysha asked. She had dabbled in many things, but crystal meth was something that she vowed to never do. Ever. She had seen the monstrous things it could do.

“Not that much. She's fine. It's just her first time,” China snapped.

Aysha went into her purse and pulled out a pill bottle. She popped the top and passed Bree one of the magic downers inside.

“Take this,” Bree said as he pinched the sides of Bleu's face, forcing the pill into her open mouth. “It'll bring you down, relax you, and help you sleep. I need you good for the weekend. I have never even met the connect before, so this is big. I need you at your best.”

She took the pill and Aysha handed her a bottle of water to wash it down.

“I have more if you need 'em,” Aysha offered. “I have fucked-up anxiety, so my doctor writes me a regular prescription.”

China huffed loudly. “My God! She's fine! She's high as fuck! When she comes off of that shit she'll be okay. Can you lay out the lick this weekend or are you gonna baby her all day?”

“Relax, China. Should have never gave her the shit from jump. Fuck was you thinking?” Bree asked.

“I was thinking that I was helping her ass out,” China snapped. “You know what? When you're done babysitting, call me.”

Suddenly she couldn't contain her jealousy and stormed out as Bree shook his head in frustration.

“Go after her,” Bleu moaned as she lay back down. “I'm good.”

“Are you sure?” Aysha asked.

“Yeah, I'm positive. I'll be ready by the weekend,” she mumbled.

*   *   *

Two days. She missed two whole days of life, and when she finally came to she frowned, as her covers stuck to her wet body.

“Did I pee on myself?” she asked, disgusted as she felt the warm, wet bedding beneath her. She was grateful that she was alone and she jumped up, embarrassed, as she snatched the soiled sheets off of the bed. She peeled herself out of her clothes and swept her messy hair out of her face. The world was hazy, and although she had just awakened, she felt like she could lie right back down and drift back into dreamland. Her body was tired, sore even, but slightly unsatisfied. It was like she had an insatiable urge to smoke just one more time. She shook her head, trying to gather her wits as she stuffed her sheets into the dirty hamper before making her way to the bathroom. Tension had found its way back into her shoulders. The false sense of security that she had felt faded away and she was left with a nagging feeling of worry. She lowered her head, not caring that the water was destroying her hair as it sprayed down on her. She was overwhelmed with the reality of what she had done. She had stooped to a low place and, as she watched the water swirl down the drain, she wished she could rinse her sins away. She squeezed her eyes closed as the beads of water beat down on her back, kneading the stress out of her shoulders with every drop.

Did I even pass?
she thought, worrying that the drugs had made her overconfident in her own ability.
Who takes final exams high? I probably fucked up any chance I had of passing,
she thought. She washed her body, mind cluttered with guilt from what she had done, as she hurriedly dressed. She was bothered by the uncertainty of her fate. She couldn't sit around and wait for semester grades to be posted. She needed to know now.
I can just ask my professors,
she thought as she hurriedly dressed. She grabbed her handbag, threw a Polo hat over her wet weave, and headed out the door. The guessing game would kill her if she waited. She had to know how she had done. The actual test was such a blur that she silently feared the worst. She drove across campus, flying at top speed like a bat out of hell and then parked directly in front of the building. She rushed in to see Professor Davis.

She knocked on the door timidly, almost afraid to hear the results.

“Ms. Montclair, come in,” the professor greeted her, never wavering from her serious, no-nonsense reserve. The woman intimidated Bleu, and if she passed this class she would never have to deal with her again. “Relief” would be an understatement.

“Good morning—”

“Good afternoon…,” the professor greeted her back.

Bleu rolled her eyes as she shifted her stance.
She enjoys torturing me,
she thought. “I was wondering if you could tell me my semester grades. I studied really hard and—”

“You passed—”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Bleu exclaimed as she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Every class except mine, Ms. Montclair,” Professor Davis finished.

Bleu's face fell in confusion as her excitement ceased instantly. “What does that mean?” she asked.

“As you know, it is a condition of your scholarship that you keep a 3.0 GPA. You passed your classes, but you didn't ace them, and with the 1.5 you attained in my course your overall average fell below a 3.0.”

“What is it?” Bleu asked, heartbroken.

“2.65,” Professor Davis responded. “The university won't be renewing your scholarship next semester. If you want to stay here you will be responsible for your own room and board, plus tuition and fees. I'm sorry.”

Bleu's world crashed. Even after taking the meth, after pulling the all-nighters, after going to the extremes just to catch up, she had still come up short. “Please, I busted my ass—”

“For finals, Ms. Montclair. You busted your ass for finals. There are students who bust their ass every day. They work tirelessly, day in, day out. You only gave your best effort when you were in jeopardy of being dismissed from the university. You say that you want this, Bleu, but you don't act like it,” the professor said. “I must say I expected more.” Professor Davis spoke condescendingly, her voice dry and unflinching. She never even looked up from the stack of papers in front of her.

Bleu was devastated. Her eyes watered in disappointment.
How did I let this happen?

“Is there a reason you're still here?” the professor asked.

Without responding, Bleu rushed out of the office, and when she was in the hallway she leaned her back against the wall, letting her head fall back as her tears fell. She had been so stupid. So reckless. So ungrateful. She had fumbled her dream and for what? To pop bottles in a club? To rock the flyest shit? Be the flyest bitch? She had joined a plastic world where money and status reigned supreme. She had been so busy assimilating to the lifestyle that she had forgotten why she had come to L.A. in the first place. Stupid. That's how she felt. Like a superficial, airhead, ass little girl. The big-city lights had blinded her, but now that school was no longer an option her newfound “it girl” status was all she had left. At a time like this a girl would think of her parents … of making that dreaded phone call and explaining how she had blown it. Bleu didn't have that. The only person she thought of was Noah. The moment he crossed her mind her heart fluttered. She was supposed to make it for both of them, and despite the fact that he wouldn't judge her, she felt as if she had let him down. He was her best friend, her soul mate, and the one whose heartbeat matched her own. She loved Noah with every inch of her being, and although she was with Iman, she knew deep in her heart that he was just a beautiful distraction. Iman's presence made Noah's absence affect her less, yet she still missed him. There was no one who knew her better or knew how much she truly wanted to live this California dream. If he were out, he would have been the one to remind her not to blow the opportunity that had been given to her. He would have kept her balanced. She needed his kind of normal to remind her of where she came from, but with him locked away she was transforming into someone different. A girl who wore makeup, drove a Benz, chased mental highs, and popped pills to recover from the self-induced lows. Bleu was changing, and although the pace of her new lifestyle was exciting, the fact that she had flunked out of her classes was proof that she couldn't keep up with it all.

*   *   *

“This is some bullshit! She just got here. I put her on and now she's the one who gets to meet the connect? Bleu don't even know how to handle no shit this big! She had to get zooted just to get through fucking final exams! All of a sudden she's Escobar or some shit!”

Bleu stood on the outside of her dorm room as China's irate voice blared through the closed door. “She's new and I've been down with you since day one.”

Bleu entered the room, interrupting them as she stood in the doorway. “What's up? Clearly we have some things to discuss, because I can hear you screaming my name all the way down the hall. What's going on?” she asked.

Bree sighed. “The connect only wants to meet you,” he informed her.

“And that's a problem?” she asked as her brow furrowed in defense. “Before I came on y'all was moving fifteen ki's a week. Thanks to me we're moving five hundred.”

“We take the risks with you,” China spat.

“Do you really? Because I don't recall you renting the charter bus in your name. If we're ever stopped and searched, the police are taking me in; they're asking me the questions. I take all the risks, but even still I split the profits equally with you and Aysha,” Bleu responded.

Aysha stood off to the side, leaning against the bathroom door as she watched her two friends go head up over the crown. China wanted to be queen bee, but since Bleu had come into her own, it wasn't so evident who was leading anymore. “As long as the money flow don't change up, I'm good. I don't care who goes,” she said with a shrug.

“You in it for the paper, not the recognition,” Bree said to a seething China. “Remember that. You can go, but we'll fall back … stay at the hotel while Bleu handles the meeting.”

“Yeah, whatever. Next thing you know the paper gon' be distributed differently too. Mark my words,” China said as she stood up abruptly, storming out.