You Don't Know Me Like That (2 page)

“. . . And that's right, if you want the scoop, you know we're doing the digging. Until next time, holla at your girl.”

The music came up in our spacious, trendy studio as Manny, our director, gave me the all clear. “Good job as always,” he said.

I removed my earpiece and smiled. I wanted to say, “Tell me something I don't know,” but I was going to play it cool, and so I just said, “Thanks.”

I knew that show was going to be the bomb. I'd just broken the story about Chris Brown and Rihanna getting back together for the umpteenth time. In the beginning, people used to doubt if the gossip I delivered was legit, but in the three months I'd been on the air, they'd quickly learned that I wasn't in Miami's “it” clique for nothing.

I had just made it back to my office when Carl, the mailroom clerk, walked in.

“Girl, I think we need a separate office just to store all your gifts and fan mail. I mean, who even sends snail mail anymore? You'd think with social media, some of this stuff would fall off,” he said, setting down a big basket of letters.

Since my show had been on the air, I'd been getting cards, gifts. One of the football players from the University of Miami had even tried to date me. I talked to him on the phone a couple of times, but when he started trying to get me to go away for the weekend, I knew I needed to back off. Besides, I didn't want to do my baby Bryce like that. But I'd seen some of everything. That's because they were definitely feeling me.

“You ready to go?” My friend, Kennedi, had been sitting in my office waiting for me to finish taping. I really wish that I could've invited both her and Sheridan to this party tonight, but the two of them didn't get along—at all. They were my two best friends in the whole world and couldn't stand each other. So I was forced to do stuff with them one at a time. Tonight was Kennedi's night.

“I said, are you ready to go?” I dropped my scripts on my desk.

“Oh, sorry. Didn't hear you,” she replied.

“What are you looking at anyway?”

“Well, I was just scrolling through Twitter, but then you started trending, and I got caught up reading it.”

“I'm trending again?” I asked. “I was just trending yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, you're trending today, also,” she said.

“Dang, we really need to find the person who's behind that.” Just then, my assistant, Ariel, walked in.

“Good show, Maya,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. I don't know why these people expected anything less from me. Every show I did was going to be a good show.

“Hi,” Ariel said to Kennedi.

“Hey,” Kennedi said, not really looking up from her phone.

“So, do you need anything else from me?” Ariel asked.

Just then, it dawned on me; the more people we had trying to track down this person on Twitter, the better.

“Yeah, matter of fact, I need you to see if can you find out who set up the
Rumor Central
Twitter account,” I said.

“The station didn't do it?” she asked.

Duh. “If they had, then I wouldn't be asking you to find out who did it, now would I?” I swear, sometimes I couldn't believe this chick was about to graduate from college.

Ariel had only been with me for a few weeks, but there was something about her that I just wasn't feeling. She was a senior at the University of Miami and working here as my assistant as part of some college work-study program. It's not that she didn't do her job. But you know how some people just give the vibe that they can't be trusted? That's how I felt with Ariel. She was a pretty girl—nothing to get excited about—but she always seemed to be lurking around, and it got on my nerves.

“The marketing department is working on it, but I thought you could try to track her down as well. If you find anything out, let Tamara know.”

She nodded. “I'll get right on it.”

“Thanks.” She didn't move, so I said, “Anything else?”

She shifted nervously. “Well, I know I've only been here a month,” she began stammering. “I was just wondering.... Everyone didn't get a big break like you. . . .”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She quickly tried to clean that up. “Oh, I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I think it's great that you've had the opportunities that you have. I mean, you're good, so you deserve all the success you have. But well, I was kinda hoping you could take a look at my demo tape. And if you like it, maybe you could, ah, you know, put a word in for Tamara to let me fill in or do some fieldwork on your show.”

It took everything in my power not to look at her crazy. I should've known. She wanted to be on air and probably had some resentment that here I was, at seventeen, with my own show, and she was, well, she was my assistant.

“I'm not sure what you'd like me to do, Ariel,” I said.

“Just look at my tape. That's all. And let me know what you think.”

“Okay,” I lied. I didn't like horror movies, and just the thought of Ariel trying to be a reporter was enough to scare me.

She handed me the tape, which I just noticed was clutched in her hand. “I know you're busy, but if you'd look at it as soon as you can and let me know, I'd appreciate it.”

I gave her a tight smile as I patted the tape. “As soon as I can.”

“Okay, I'll let you go. Have a good day.”

I just nodded. As soon as she was gone, Kennedi looked up from her phone. “That chick wants your job.” She laughed.

“Who doesn't?” I said, gathering up my things.

“Are you gonna watch her tape?” Kennedi asked.

I turned up my lips, grabbed the tape, and dropped it in the trash.

Kennedi chuckled. “I didn't think so.” She finally dropped her phone in her purse and stood.

I grabbed my jacket. “I'm not thinking about that for now. I'm off the clock. Let's roll.”

Kennedi followed me to the door. “Girl, you are never off the clock. Just once, I'd like for us to go somewhere and chill and not get bombarded with folks asking for your autograph.”

“Don't hate,” I said, wiggling my petite hips. “That's now the story of my life!”

I
loved my life! A slammin' party last night. Red carpet tonight. It didn't get any better than this.

The flashing lights of the paparazzi lit up the night. I was in the front of the Olympia Theater, and there were people lined up along both sides of the velvet rope. I turned from camera to camera, flashing my fabulous smile.

“Maya, over here!” someone shouted.

I turned in his direction just as another photographer shouted, “Maya, this way.” I struck yet another pose.

Normally, I would be the one waiting to interview celebrities, but since I was being honored tonight with a Young Achiever's Award, I was actually walking the red carpet. Yes, Maya Morgan was getting honored tonight with One Direction, Kanye West, and Taylor Swift. It didn't get any more fab than this.

“Well, if it isn't the gorgeous Maya Morgan.”

“Hey, Terrance,” I said, turning to greet the
Entertainment Tonight
reporter. It had been prearranged that I would stop and talk to Terrance, with his little cute self.

“Usually, you're over here with us,” he said as his photographer zoomed in on me.

“Not tonight, babe,” I said, tossing my perfectly styled Brazilian Blowout curls over my shoulders.

“You rockin' that dress,” he said.

“Oh my God, is that a Valentino original?” his cohost, Giuliana, said.

“It is.” She knew her stuff. My mom had shelled out a pretty penny for this dress. She loved my red carpet events and made it her mission to find the perfect dress for each event. And this royal blue Valentino original was no exception.

“You know you make me feel like such a slacker,” Giuliana said. “When I was your age, I wasn't thinking about anything but boys and clothes.”

“Oh, I still think about that.” I laughed.“I just have to also include work.”

They asked me a few more questions, then I wrapped things up and made my way over to Sasha, the girl my station had sent over to interview me.

Of course, I nailed that and was making my way inside when I ran into rapper and resident hood chick, Paula Olympia. I groaned because I knew this was not going to be pretty. I'd done a story last week about her little affair with a costar on the set of her new music video. It was news her new boyfriend didn't take too kindly, and he'd dumped her like he'd caught her twerking naked on Twitter.

Paula stepped closer to me and immediately side-eyed my security. I only had one guy, but he was pretty big. Mann made his way toward me.

“You don't have to send your whack bodyguard over here.” She stepped closer. Her mini sequined dress was so tight, I was surprised she could move. One wrong move and her goodies would be all out in the open. “I'm not going to touch you. Yet,” she threatened.

I held up a hand to let Mann know everything was fine. For now.

“Let me tell you something,” Paula continued. “If you ever utter my name again, you will live to regret it.”

“Well, sweetie,” I said, pushing the train of my dress to the side just in case something did jump off, “you and your threats don't scare me. I don't make the news; I just report it.”

She took a step closer and whispered in my ear. “That's not a threat, sweetie. It's a promise. This game you're playing is real.”

I was happy to see Mann move in closer. “I'm just doing my job.”

“Your job sucks.”

“I'm sure you think that,” I said. I wanted to tell her if she were faithful to her man, she wouldn't have to worry about any rumors getting out. But since I didn't need any drama jumping off on the red carpet, I just smiled.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing toward the door. “I need to get inside.”

She didn't move. “Little girl, you're in the big leagues now. I'm not going to do anything to you; you're not worth it to me. But one of these days, you're going to cross the wrong person. You can't just play with people's lives and then expect to walk around like nothing is wrong.”

I didn't understand why everyone was always mad at me because of this show. They were the ones that did the dirt. All I did was report it.

“You need to stick to football games and whatever else you little high school kids are into and stay out of grown folk's business,” she spat.

“Are you finished?” I smirked. “Because I need to get inside and accept my award.”

I saw a camera pointing our way, so I refused to get angry. Instead, I smiled wider and said, “By the way, I love that dress, Paula. It's so . . . festive.” Then I stepped around her and her green Christmas tree–looking dress and headed inside.

“You okay?” Mann asked.

“I'm cool,” I said.“Just another hater.” I had known going in that this job wasn't going to be easy. But I'd made a name for myself digging up dirt, and I wasn't about to turn back now.

I
love me some him. That's all I could think as I stared across the small intimate table at Perry's Steakhouse. My boo had done it up good. He was taking me out to celebrate my award from last night since it was so late by the time I wrapped up. And to think he had almost let me get away.

That's right. Bryce and I broke up a few weeks ago because he let Sheridan fill his ear with a bunch of gossip. Yes,
that
Sheridan, my BFF. She was mad at the way the whole
Rumor Central
thing went down and tried to pay me back by kicking it with him.

Kennedi and a few of my other friends thought what she did was super foul and that I shouldn't forgive her, but Sheridan and I go way back, and I'm not going to let some boy come between us. Even a boy as fine as my boo. So I'd forgiven her, but I still kept one eye open. I'm no fool.

Bryce is the total package. His dad plays for the Miami Dolphins. He's going to go to the pros himself, but he's determined that he's going to college to get an education first. He's one of the only jocks in all honors courses and doesn't care about his friends giving him a hard time about it. He's fine, smart, independent, and rich. Just like I like them.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked me.

“Oh, nothing.” I smiled. Bryce had the swag of Chris Brown, the looks of Drake, and the fun-loving personality of Nick Cannon. Oh, and did I mention he was rich? That meant he was everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend. So, he definitely deserved a second chance.

“Did you like your filet mignon?” he asked.

“I did,” I said.

“But you barely ate it.”

I frowned and pointed to the huge steak on my plate. “Look how big that meat is.”

“It was the smallest one on the menu.”

“It was delicious, but I don't keep this gorgeous figure by eating gigantic steaks.” I laughed.

“And your figure is gorgeous,” he said, running his eyes up and down my peach jumpsuit.

“What do you have for me?” I finally asked.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, looking all serious. “This dinner was your gift.”

I stuck my bottom lip out in a playful pout. “You said you had something special for me to celebrate my award.”

“You are so spoiled,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small blue box. That light blue was my favorite color.

“Tiffany's,” I squealed, snatching the box. I opened it up. It was the necklace to match the bracelet he'd given me for my birthday. “You are the best,” I said, jumping up and going over to his side of the table to hug him.

We sat back and laughed and talked some more, then he said, “You know, I really am proud of you.”

I was just about to reply when two guys approached our table. They both wore baggy jeans and Southpole T-shirts. Talk about whack! One of them had long cornrows and the other had a red do-rag on his head. How did they even get in? They looked like they'd just stepped out of a bootleg rap video.

“Oh, wow! It is Maya Morgan,” the one with the braids exclaimed.

I flashed a thin smile their way while Bryce just looked at them.

“I told you it was her,” the other one said.

The braided dude stepped closer. That's when I noticed his apron in his hand. They must work in the back in the kitchen or something. “I'm Slim,” he said. “This is my boy Heavy.” That was the craziest thing I'd ever heard, because Slim was about three hundred pounds and Heavy looked like he couldn't weigh more than one hundred and twenty pounds.

“Dang, you're even finer in person,” Slim said.

“Thank you,” I said, keeping my thin smile.

Bryce wasn't smiling, though. I could tell he was getting really agitated.

“Wow, you are beautiful. You got a man?” Slim asked.

Bryce's fist balled up as he pushed back from the table. “Yeah, she does. He's sitting right here.” If he was intimidated by Slim's thick frame, he definitely didn't show it.

“My bad, man. My bad.” Slim and Heavy looked at each other and laughed. Up until now, they hadn't even acknowledged Bryce.

“Well, look here, bro, can you take our picture?” Heavy asked.

“Dude, we're trying to eat here,” Bryce said, pointing to our plates.

“It's only gonna take a minute.” Slim handed Bryce his phone. For a minute, I thought Bryce wasn't going to take it, but I flashed him a look to say, “just take it, please.”

I stood, and both of the guys jumped on either side of me and put their arms around me. They cheesed hard as Bryce snapped the picture.

“A'ight, I need one by myself,” Heavy said.

Bryce gritted his teeth, then tossed the phone on the table. They didn't seem fazed, because Slim picked the phone up and aimed it in our direction.

This time Heavy put both of his arms around my waist, like he was pulling me toward him. I tensed up, but he didn't seem to care, he was grinning so hard.

“Can you back up a little?” I said. “You're being real disrespectful to my friend.”

“Sorry,” Heavy replied. “Wouldn't want to make”—he turned to Bryce and smirked—“your friend mad.”

As soon as he said that, I knew I'd messed up. Before I could say anything else, Slim snapped the picture, then said, “My turn, my turn.”

If Bryce had been in a cartoon, he'd be having smoke come out of his ears right about now, so I knew we needed to hurry up with this little photo shoot.

Heavy held the camera up, and, just as he was about to snap, Slim leaned over real close, to the point that the sides of our faces were touching. I kept my smile when all I wanted to do was slap the mess out of him. I pushed him away when he tried to lean in and kiss me. “Dude, so not cool.”

“Sorry, I just got a little carried away,” he said, innocently.

“You 'bout to get carried up out of here,” Bryce said, stepping toward them.

“Chill, man. Dang,” Heavy said.

He snapped one more picture of me, then handed the phone back to Slim. “I mean, you are hanging out with a celebrity. A fine one at that, so you ought to be used to it.”

Slim turned to me. “You need to check your boy. Let him know that when you're dating a celebrity, especially one that looks like you, he got to take what comes with the territory.”

“Just go, please,” I said.

“Cool.” He took out a piece of paper and dropped it on the table in front of me. “But here's my number, just in case ol' boy ain't handlin' his business. I'll show you how a real man do it.”

Bryce jumped up from the table. “Man, I'm a . . .”

Both of them took off, laughing.

I eased back down in my seat. “Can you believe the nerve of them?” I said, trying to force a laugh.

Bryce didn't see anything funny.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked.

“What do you think is wrong with me?” he snapped. “How you gon' just let them play me like that?”

“Play you like what? They were just taking some pictures.”

“And you just grinning like you stuck on stupid while they disrespect your man.”

I sighed. Was he really about to start trippin'?

“I told them to back up.” I wasn't about to agree with Bryce and give him more reason to be mad.

“Yeah, but you kept taking the pictures.” He glared at me, not bothering to hide his anger.

“Bryce, what was I supposed to do?”

“Tell them you were having dinner with your boyfriend!” he yelled. “Oh, sorry, apparently I'm not your boyfriend. I'm your
friend!
”

“Come on, just chill. It's not that serious.” I tried to keep my voice even so he wouldn't get any more worked up. “I can't be going off on my fans. That's not a good look for my image.”

“You know, I'm about sick of you and your image,” he said, loudly enough for the couple at the next table to look our way.

“Shhhh,” I said, putting a finger to my lips.

He huffed. “Excuse me,” Bryce said, calling for our server. “Can we get our check please?” he asked as our waitress approached the table.

She set the check down on the table and scurried away like she was trying not to get caught in the middle of any drama.

“Really, Bryce?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, opening his wallet and pulling out two one-hundred dollar bills. “I wish I had known we were just
friends.
Between the bracelet, this gift, this dinner, I've shelled out two grand. That's a lot of money for a
friend!
” He threw the money on the table. “Let's go.” He headed out the door, not worrying about whether I was following him or not.

I hadn't meant for the friend comment to slip out. I seriously had meant nothing by it. Bryce was my man, and I wasn't ashamed of that. How had this evening turned out so badly?