Put Your Diamonds Up! (9 page)

F
or twenty-four hours I'd been wrapped in a fairy tale and for once, dreaming about the right knight.

Knox.

But.

In the whistle of a text message, it all ended.

I was lying naked in the center of Knox's bed in his dorm in San Diego, next to the warm spot he'd left behind. My iPhone clutched in my right hand, my brown gaze locked on the screen and my thoughts racing alongside my thunderous heartbeat, I was trying to figure out what Justice was tripping about.

Instead of being thankful he wasn't dead, and paying homage to the Second Chance gods, he was on my phone and coming at me all shades of crazy. Yeah, I dumped him. And, yeah, we left him for dead. But still. Don't disrespect me.

U
MAD FOUL, SON
!
WORD IZ BOND, YO. U LET YA PUNK DUDE SNEAK ME, YO
?
DAT WAZ SUM REAL SUCKA ISH YO
! I
TZ COOL THO. I C U. U REAL GRIMY
!
THEN U
GONNA LEAVE UR WHIP TRYNA GET ME ALL HEMMED UP
.
ITZ ALL GOOD. I GOT U. REAL SPIT
.

What. Is. He. Talking. About?

I read the text again.

And again.

And again.

Mad foul?

Who's mad foul?

Me?

And dude?

What dude?

That was Spencer.

There was no dude.

Tired of his dumb riddle, I texted him back. H
UH
? B
OY
,
BYE
! D
ON'T COME
4
ME
! W
HAT U NEED
2
DO IS STOP BEING SO PRESSED
. A
ND FOUL
? U
MUST BE CALLING URSELF OUT
! W
HACK NINJA
!

He texted back, 4
REAL
,
LIL HOMIE
.
RUN ALONG N GO PLAY WIT′ OLE BOY
.
L
IKE U SAID THIS IS DONE
. N
OW STEP
!

I blinked. Suddenly, the air was stale. No, no, actually there was no air in here. All of the oxygen had fled the scene. But somehow I pulled in a deep breath. Inhaled it through my nostrils and forced a gush of it through my lips.

I gathered the white sheet over my bare breasts and sat up. I pressed my back against Knox's wall and just as my eyes scanned the texts from the top again, another text binged in. U
AIN'T SHYYT
,
YO
!

What?
I squinted. Blinked. And before I could read the rest of his text I had to go back and read the first line again:
U ain't shyyt, yo!
A raging dropkick landed in my gut. I swallowed, cleared my throat and continued to read about how he'd parked my car across the street from where I'd left it. That my purse and the five hundred dollars I'd left on the nightstand were in the glove compartment. And how I was lucky my car wasn't set on fire and floating in the bay somewhere.

Screech!

He got me all the way twisted!

I hopped off the bed and paced from one end of the room to the next.

I need a cigarette. And I don't even smoke.

Calm down.

Eff calming down! This howling mofo came straight for my throat! Spraying bullets out of his mouth like a drive-by! He ain't no ole G, he better watch how he's comin' for me!

I'm 'bout to read this Piru for blood, honey!

I stopped in my tracks as the thought of what he'd said played around in my head.

“So he wanna get it crunked?!” I laughed in disbelief. “Oh, okay. Well let's do this then.”

I raced over to Knox's bedroom door and locked it. Leaning against the door, I called Justice, held my breath and chewed the corner of my bottom lip as I waited for the phone to ring. It didn't. Instead I was greeted by his voice mail.

My eyes bucked and my heart tried to claw its way out of my throat.

Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .

I pulled in another deep breath and called this jank again.

The phone rang.

I let out a sigh of relief. I could feel my mouth about to burst into flames. I couldn't wait to aim and mouth-piss on this silly loser! The ringing stopped and just as I was about to let loose, a recorded operator said, “You have been blocked. This user does not desire to speak with you at this time.”

I blinked.

Reeeewind!

I called again. “You have been . . .”

“Ahhhhh!”
I flung my phone across the room.

I don't believe this.

Really, Justice?

Are you serious with this?

Chill... Chill... Relax.

He ain't mean ish to you anyway!

What you sweatin' it for?

I stormed over to the window and placed my forehead up against the thick pane, the sheer purple curtains shielding my naked silhouette.

I stared out into the courtyard and watched an energetic line of pledges stomp their loosely tied combat boots, lift their chins and howl into the early morning breeze. I caught the reflection of my face in the glass and saw tears dancing in my eyes.

What the hell are you crying for?

He ain't your man.

You dumped him, remember?

He was just a toy.

A thing.

I turned back from the window and my eyes landed on my phone.

Call him again.

I yanked the phone off the floor and noticed my screen was cracked.

WTF?!

I swear on everything I love, I hate this mofo!

I dialed his number and again the same robotic trick delivered the same message. I'd been blocked.

“Screw this!” I scrambled around the room trying to find something to wear. I found an old pair of jeans, snatched one of Knox's hoodies out of his drawer, stuffed my feet into an old pair of sneakers, then pulled my hair into a messy bun and charged out the door.

I swung open Midnight's bedroom door, startling Spencer, who lay alone on the bed. She sat up as I eased her car keys from off of the nightstand.

“Rich?” she asked, half asleep.

“I need to use your car. I'll be right back,” I said abruptly as I walked back toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

I didn't have time to respond. All I had time to do was get out of here!

No purse.

No license.

Nothing.

But a tank of gas to get to my destination.

 

A road trip that usually took me two hours, took me an hour and fifteen minutes to be at this mofo's building and ringing every bell until somebody finally buzzed me in.

Once I was in the white tiled lobby, everything moved in fast-forward motion. I was so focused on bashing Justice's face in for talking to me slick and crazy that in a flash, I'd covered four flights of stairs and was now pounding on the door to his studio apartment.

“Justice!” I kicked and banged over and over again. “Open this damn door!”

Every door on the floor opened with the exception of his.

“Justice! I know you're in there! Open up this door! Right now! You gon' talk slick to me and then block me?! Don't hide! Open up this motherfuckin' door!”

I took six steps back and just as I was prepared to sprint down the hall and kick in his door, one of the neighbors two doors down stepped into the hallway with her phone to her ear. “Hello, police,” she said. “Yes, yes, a black girl. Long hair. Jeans. Hoodie. Threatening to burn down the building!” She squinted and then whispered into the phone, “She looks like that crazy girl Rich Montgomery. You know. The one who was on the front page of
Gossip and Stars
. Page twenty-four. Showing her bare beaver. Yeah, uh-huh . . . that one. I don't know what this world is coming to! We're in the last days! These rich kids today are out of control. Too much money on their hands. Please hurry up and get here!”

A wave of nervousness and defeat washed over me as that nosy bird kept whispering into her phone. I shot her a nasty look. “For your information, granny, my name is
not
Rich Montgomery! It's Shakeesha Gatling! Get it right!”

I pulled the hoodie over my head and made a mad dash for the stairs, brushing roughly against her shoulder as I fled. I couldn't afford the cops coming after me. And at this moment I didn't want any part of the media! I shook my head, doing all I could to find a thought... any thought that would calm me because I was clearly out of my zone. I couldn't believe I was playing myself in some low-budget hallway. Sweatin' some broke dude and chasin' him down like some desperate needy chick.

Psst, please!

Eff him!

This was my world!

I was queen!

I reigned supreme!

And
yeah
, Justice made love to me like the best there ever was.

And
yeah
, if I really kept it one hundred, I didn't leave him alone because I wanted to be faithful to Knox. I left him alone because I felt myself being captured by his smile. His laugh. His eyes. The feel of his hands. His corny jokes.

Too many times I found myself drifting off to a place beyond space where I envisioned being with him all the time. Calling him mine. And me his. Doodling his name.

Getting butterflies.

And all kinds of corny, mushy, and silly little-girl ish.

I didn't have time for that.

I couldn't get caught up in any man. Ever. Not even Knox. And definitely not Justice. I knew by watching my mother that you could be the baddest chick in the world and you could love your man more than you loved yourself. But no matter what, he would never love you back.

I tried hard as I could to fight them back, but a rush of hot, blinding tears erupted from my eyes and covered the sides of my face. I felt myself starting to heave as I raced out of the building and into the parking lot.

I froze when I spotted his car.

So he was up there! Like I thought he was!

Oh, you wanna play! Oh, you wanna disrespect me! You wanna say I ain't shyyt! Oh, I'ma show you!

I gripped the car key in my hand, slid it in between my middle and ring finger and clutched it real tight as I clawed up the entire driver's side of his car.

Oh, I ain't shyyt! I ain't shyyt! You gon' talk sideways to me? Oh, you gon' block me? You wanna come for me? Pop all kinds of craziness in text! I got your lil homie, punk! I'm about to give it to you real good!

I looked around the parking lot until I spotted what I needed to leave my last mark. I ran over, picked it up, then hurled it through the air with all my might and watched it kiss his windshield, sending an explosion of glass into the air.

Two weeks later

 

S
howtime . . .

I took two deep breaths in an effort to calm my racing nerves as Jackson, my new driver, rounded the corner in my brand new silver Mercedes limo, bringing Club Noir Kiss into view. People were everywhere and the line to get inside was roped off and stretched for blocks.

I was back home. This was the first time I was rocking my new look and I didn't know what to expect, given that paparazzi had already tried to slay me after that Brazil fiasco. I lifted
Teen Enquirer
and scanned through the headlines :

Lies!

I tossed the magazine across the backseat and blinked my eyes.

And he has the nerve to be suing me.

I took in another deep breath and noticed that standing outside of the club's blue glass entrance was Co-Co—voguing. In electric-pink kitten heels, silky hot-pink boy shorts, a vintage striped beige suit jacket, an iridescent pink tie, and a leopard bra wrapped around his flat and hairy pecs.

My heartbeat matched the thumping bass in the club's music as Jackson parked alongside the red carpet. “Make room! Make room!” he shouted—in the exact way that I'd told him to—as he walked around the limo and opened my door. The crowd standing in line gasped and shrieked as I swung one black five-inch pencil heel onto the red carpet and then the other. Cameras flashed and shouts of, “We love you, Wu-Wu!” filled the air.

Co-Co slowly looked me over. Stopped dancing. Placed his hands up on his narrow hips. Posed. And served me his best high-end mannequin.

A few seconds after giving me frozen fever, Co-Co broke his trance and said, “Geisha. Black girl. Goddess.” He did a ballet twirl. Stopped. And snapped his long fingers with every word. “You. Better. Work! Bow down, bishes!” He dropped to one knee. “You have slayed every fish in the place.” He popped back up and smiled. “Now gimme love. Miss Co-Co needs a royal hug.”

I couldn't help but smile as Co-Co and I melted into each other's embrace. “Queen Mother, you are servin' 'em like a sex slave. Look at that hair.” He ran his hands through my thick sun-blond wisps that draped an inch past the small of my back.

“This hair is giving me magic carpet realness.” Co-Co fluttered his extended lashes. “Bish, when you step up in here, every five-for-ten weave trick will lay. Down. And. Die.”

“Awww, Co-Co, you think so?”

“Fierce recognize fierce.” He wagged an index finger as his narrow black eyes worked their way over my black, ultra mini, painted-on stretch leather dress that made love to every one of my new and bursting curves.

Co-Co slanted his neck and continued his inspection. His heels clicked against the concrete as he walked around me and stopped at my ten-thousand-dollar behind. He ran his hands over both sides and slapped both cheeks. “Gur-rrrl, this booty has refreshed my life! White-girl booty has been Blackarized and Brazilianized! Somebody send for the guards!”

I was doing all I could to feel Co-Co's excitement and not worry about what people were really thinking, given that debacle in Brazil where the paparazzo that I called turned on me.

Relax.

Breathe.

You are queen.

No, I'm not.

I'm a mess.

You are fierce. Just like Co-Co said.

Then why don't I feel it?

Because you need something to take the edge off.

No, I don't.

“This is all for you, bish.” Co-Co interrupted my thoughts, waving his hand over the crowd.

“Are you serious?”
I couldn't believe it
. “You did this for me?!”

“All day, baby. You know I'm your number-one fan.” He locked arms with me. “Now, let's get ready to live and let have.”

We stepped inside of the club and the crowd erupted into applause and screams of, “Surprise! Welcome home, Wu-Wu!”

There were so many people in there that I couldn't even begin to guess how many. All I knew is that the club looked filled to capacity.

My favorite beat from “Put You on the Game” blasted through the speakers and twirling rays of indigo lights streamed from the balcony and shone over the massive crowd like a blue sun.

Faces of all shapes and sizes looked at me in amazement and their eyes danced in delight. Some people flashed their cameras from a distance while others ran over and anxiously asked to take pictures with me. This was incredible! People were practically begging for autographs while confessing their love and admiration. And all of this would have been the bomb had I felt like these people were truly there for me.

But they weren't.

They were there for Wu-Wu. The party girl. The fun-time chick. The turn-it-up queen. The girl who I would give anything to truly be . . . again...

But I wasn't.

I was Heather Suzanne Cummings. The black-and-white pissed-off mutt. The Mexican-looking chick who wasn't Mexican and hated being mistaken for it. The girl with the drunk-all-day-every-day mother and the sperm-donating-question mark for a father.

Get it together.

My eyes scanned the cheering crowd once more and I pushed out a smile so wide that my almond-shaped eyes sank into my cheeks.

Co-Co released my arm and danced his way to the stage. “I feel a freestyle coming on!” He looked down at me and I knew that was my cue to get my mind right.

“One time for your mind!” Co-Co rapped into the mic. “Two times for your shine! Ah, Wu-Wu's in the house! Ah, Wu-Wu's in the house!”

I did all I could to push away and bury any feelings of insecurity. I had to kick Heather's ridiculousness out of my head and force myself to become Wu-Wu again.

I blew Co-Co a kiss, tossed my arms in the air and acted as if all that mattered in the world was a hot beat and a dope lyric. “Turn it up! Turn it up! Turn it up!” I shouted, working my way to the stage. “How y'all feeling out there?!”

“It's all love, Wu-Wu!” the crowd chanted.

“A'ight, A'ight. Somebody get their phone out and record this. 'Cause we 'bout to get right up in here! I got something for y'all called Put Your Diamonds Up!”

They cheered.

“Now I'ma show y'all a dance, and once we got the moves on deck, I want you to bust 'em while I rap!” I turned toward the DJ. “Drop that ‘Put You on the Game' beat again!”

The crowd cheered as I showed them a freestyle dance where I lifted my hands over my head, pretended to be patting the world's biggest Afro wig, criss-crossed my legs, swung my hips from left to right, slid an invisible ring off my index finger and flung it on the floor. Crushed it. And then broke out into a twerk. Co-Co and the crowd picked up the dance instantly.

“Put your diamonds up!” I rapped, “ 'Cause Wu-Wu's back! Back on top but guess who's not? The Hollywood trolls!”

“Put 'em up! Put 'em up!” Co-Co rapped into the mic.

“I'm in my own zone! And the next time you see me I'ma be sittin' on the fame of thrones!”

“Put 'em up! Put 'em up!” Co-Co rapped as the crowd cheered and danced.

I repeated my rhyme and for the next ten minutes we danced, rapped, and waved our arms in the air.

I'd killed it! Straight slayed it! And there was no doubt in my mind that by morning Co-Co and I would have a craze on our hands.

By the time I got off the stage I felt great. Almost as if I'd taken a black beauty. Well... almost...

You looked stupid.

I sat down at the bar and refused to let Heather's self-doubts sneak up on me and blast defeating thoughts through my head.

“What are you having?” the bartender asked.

I smiled. “Let me get a trash can with a double shot of Cirôc.”

He nodded. “Coming right up.”

While I waited for my drink, a few people rushed over and showered me with compliments, snapped more pics, and asked if I'd traded in acting for rapping. “Never,” I told them. “As a matter of fact, I have a few things lined up. You'll be checking me out soon as Luda Tutor.” I winked.

The bartender set my drink in front of me. I quickly took out my phone, snapped a pic, and Instagrammed it.

“Girl, you killed it!” A smiling chick walked up from behind me and slid onto the stool next to me.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And this dress! You're wearing the hell out of it.” Her eyes drank me in, working their way from my hair to my spilling cleavage to the outline of my hips. “Girl, you are beautiful.” She said it more to herself than to me, as she boldly tucked some of my hair behind my right ear and smoothly slid a single fingertip down my blushing cheek. “Heather, you did your thing out there, for real.”

I didn't know what surprised me more: her touching me; her calling me Heather, when everyone in here, including Co-Co, called me Wu-Wu; or that her eyes were drinking me in again.

I didn't know what to say so I fell back on, “Thank you.” While struggling like hell not to soak up the beauty of her smooth chestnut skin and short bob—one side cropped, the other side asymmetrical and shoulder length. Her makeup was laid to Barbie doll perfection: soft pink eye shadow, lashes that curled at the ends, and hot-pink lips.

By the time my eyes drifted to her thighs I realized what I was doing. I quickly snatched my glance away and turned back toward the bar, sipping my drink again.

“Heather, what are you drinking? Let me buy you another one.”

I did my best to resist the blush I felt creeping back onto my face. “No. Thank you. But no.”
Why am I nervous?
“I can barely get through this.”

“Okay.” She smiled, her beautiful teeth gleaming. “I won't hold you.” She swept up and twirled the end of a lone curl of her hair before winking and sashaying away.

I refused to let my eyes follow her and instead, as unwanted butterflies danced in my stomach, I sank my smile into my trash can.

This was crazy. I knew she wasn't a guy but I still couldn't stop my throat from being dry, or my knees from feeling too weak to stand up. Or my heart from rushing through its beats...

Stop it!

“I just thought about something,” poured over my shoulder. I knew it was her and I didn't have to turn around to confirm it. She reached for my phone, which was next to my drink, clicked on my camera, and surprised me by taking a picture of us. Then she punched in a few numbers and placed my phone back on the bar.

She leaned into my ear and whispered, her heated breath making a trail of goose bumps along the side of my neck, “I programmed my number in your phone, and the picture is so you won't forget me.” She turned to leave and then quickly turned back. “And by the way, I'm Nikki.”