by Ni-Ni Simone
Rich started growling and showing her fangs. All she needed was frothy foam around her mouth to be the rabid beast she was. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. I should tear her head off.”
I chanted, “Who let the dogs out! Woof, woof, woof. Woof!” I reached into my oversize bag and pulled out my tambourine. I started click-clacking as Rich hopped up from her seat, shook her round hips, then dropped down and did the tootsie-roll.
I barked and chanted. “Yasssss! Yassss! Woof! Woof! Yassss! Yasssss! Woof! Woof!”
Rich howled and twerked. She moved her hips from side to side, snaked down to the floor. She growled and cootie-popped it. She bounced her tail and gritted her teeth.
Then . . . just like that, as if it’d been synchronized, we abruptly stopped, then sat back down and crossed our legs as if we’d rehearsed the little routine.
Rich patted her weave. And I popped my lips.
I glanced over at Rich. “Ooh wolf dog, you showed out.”
“Whaaat?!” Rich shrieked, eyes stretching wide. “Clutching pearls! Wolf dog? Whore! How dare you disrespect me! Try to play me! I’m no wolf dog! You know I’m well groomed and classy. I’m a poodle! Don’t do me!”
Blank stare.
London snickered, shaking her head.
Rich was such a bubblehead.
“Now, back to getting you together,” Rich said, eyeing London. “But you know what. I’m going to let you speak, Spencer. Because I don’t have no toleration for this ho right here.”
London blinked. “Wait one minute. Can’t either of you get me together. You better get yourselves together. Tricking and sucking every Tom, Dick, and Joey; you two despicable tramps deserve each other.”
“Whaaat?!” Rich snapped. “Clutching pearls! I don’t do that! The only one hose slurping”—Rich flicked a finger over at me—“is this Super Slurper here. She’s the one doing nasty tongue tricks to boys living in cardboard boxes. Not me!”
I eased my hand down in my handbag, then whipped out a rhinestone-studded flyswatter, slapping it across the table.
“Oh no, oh no! Rich, I will slap your mouth up, girlie. Don’t try me. I haven’t seen Joey in years. Now give me a reason to swat them big fluffy lips up. I’ll beat ’em up and make ’em puff like two milk biscuits!” I slapped the table with the swatter. “And you know I’ll do it.”
“Annnywaaaaaay,” Rich said, pointing a finger at London. “You need to get your life together. Your thoughts together. Your face together. I made you, bish! Before you came to Hollywood High you were nobody. You didn’t know anyone, and wasn’t anyone checking for you, boo-boo. I made you. I put you on the map, hooker. And you gonna toss me out on the lawn like I’m nothing? Attack me when I did nothing but come to your deathbed and show you my love and concern, and . . . my new diamond ring. But even half dead you were on a full tank of haterade. Had the whole world laughing at me.”
“You wait one minute. I didn’t have the world laughing at you. Your good girlfriend, Spencer, the dog walker, is the one who took the video of you, then leaked it.”
Rich slammed her hand down on the table. “And that’s beside the point. Don’t you go blaming my good-good friend, you troll doll. This is my sister.”
London grunted. “Mmmph. From what they’re saying in the gutters, I’ve heard you have a ton of sisters.”
I giggled.
“Whaaaat?! Lies! Lies! And more lies . . . !”
Then, as if on cue, the sound of trumpets blared, causing the whole café to fall silent.
“Hear ye, hear ye. Everybody make a way, make a way... make room. Heather C’s coming through . . .”
Rich and I craned our necks to see what all the commotion was about. Even London looked.
I blinked.
What the heebie-jeebies . . . ?
It was Coco Ming wearing a sequined rainbow blazer with long tails. He wore a pair of red leggings with a pair of wing-tipped, lime green gaiters. A strand of black pearls dangled from his skinny rooster neck.
He and Heather waltzed into the café arm in arm, looking like they both fell off Mars, then into the lap of the Queen of Zamunda from that real old dusty movie Coming to America.
We watched in shock.
And horror.
Mouths dropped open as the two of them sauntered over to our table, pulled out chairs, then sat, crossing their legs.
“Yassss, tricks, yassss!” Heather snapped her fingers. “Pick your faces up.”
Coco Ming leaned forward, popped his glossy, red-painted hooker lips, then said, “Guess who’s back, beeey-otches. . .”
8
Heather
I could see her.
She sat in the back of the outdoor ice cream café El Amor in downtown L.A. Her beautiful chestnut-colored skin glistened in the afternoon sun. Her blond-streaked hair was flawless: an asymmetrical bob. Dipped to the left, the right side shaved, and the back faded...
But she couldn’t see me.
I was a mess.
My red leopard catsuit looked stupid. And this fox stole was dumb. I’d been dressed like this all day, and by the time she’d texted me to come and chill with her, I had no time to change.
And now I couldn’t catch my breath. I was so scared I’d be late meeting her that I ran from my car, across the parking lot, and then I stopped—a few steps from where she sat—and leaned against the back of a palm tree.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Suck in your stomach.
Wait.
I need to take out my compact.
I quickly pulled it from my purse and looked in the mirror.
I need gloss.
I rummaged through my purse.
Uggggggggggggg!
Nothing.
Okay. Okay.
Chill.
I peeked at her from around the tree.
Her smile was the prettiest I’d ever seen.
I wonder, is she thinking about me?
Would you knock it off!
Stop being so dumb, desperate, and thirsty!
You are so ridiculous and confused!
I shook sweat from my clammy hands and did my best to kill my thoughts.
Get it together.
You got this.
“Hey, Nikki! What’s good, boo?!” I walked over to the small square table where she sat.
Relax. That was a little too hyped.
“Hey, girl!” She stood up and kissed me on the right cheek. Then the left. I sooo wanted to kiss her back, but I couldn’t. My nerves wouldn’t let me.
Nikki grinned. “Girl, I was just getting ready to text you. What took you so long?”
We sat down, and before I could respond, the rollerskating waitress sped over. “Happy days are here again!” The waitress smiled and slightly tugged at the ends of her pink-and-white-striped bow tie. “Welcome to El Amor café, where your ice cream dreams come true! Can I take your ice cream order, or do you need a few minutes?”
I was desperate for the super-deluxe, blond-brownie sundae with extra whipped cream, but I didn’t want Nikki to think I was greedy, so I said, “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”
“A Diet Coke!” Nikki giggled, her dimples sinking into her cheeks. “That’s like ordering a salad at a chicken palace. Honey, please. You must have a chocolate-dipped cone or something.” She paused. Looked me over.
I felt like shrinking under the table.
I knew I shouldn’t have ordered a Diet Coke.
Nikki glanced at the waitress. “Can you give us a moment?”
The waitress smiled and sped away.
Nikki placed her hand over mine. “Heather, is everything okay? If you don’t like ice cream, we can leave. Or if something else is bothering you, we can talk about it.”
“No. No.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and batted my lashes. “I’m fine. It’s just that I need to watch my—”
“Please don’t say you have to watch your weight... or your figure.”
“Well, I do.”
; Her eyes popped open in surprise. “Please, you look fab! That body is killing it!”
I did everything I could to keep from blushing. “I’m not short and cute like you. I can’t afford to gain a pound. You see how big my behind is?” And yeah, I ordered it triple sumptuous silicone hotness, but so what? I had to say something. And besides, she didn’t know that.
She flicked her wrist and said, “Girl, bye. Do you know how many people would pay to have a behind like that?”
Of course I know.
I fought off a smile as she carried on, “I tell you what, I’ll order my favorite sundae and we can split it. How’s that?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Nikki looked over at the waitress and motioned for her to return to the table. “We’ll have a super-deluxe, blond-brownie sundae.”
Oh my God! I can’t believe we have the same favorite sundae! “With extra whipped cream.” I added.
“Coming right up.” The waitress said.
Nikki laughed. “I thought you wanted a Diet Coke.” She winked and stroked my cheek, and an awkward moment of silence slipped in between us. “I’m just teasing you.” She stroked my cheek again, and more weird and quiet moments crept in.
“So tell me,” Nikki said, excited, “how have you been? Wait. Hold up, you have to fill me in on how your day was at school? Did you serve them chicks?”
“I did it on ’em!” I slapped her a high five. “What! Yes! Slayed ’em! Laid ’em dead in the hills.” I snapped my fingers. “Especially since I arrived in a helicopter.”
“A what? A who?”
“You heard me. A helicopter.”
The waitress quietly set our sundae on the table and handed us each a spoon.
“I’m sure if you google me I’m the hot topic on all the blogs!” I bragged.
“That is waaaaay over the top,” Nikki said, shaking her head and dipping her spoon into her side of the sundae. “Who told you to ride in a helicopter? Your mother? Or your publicist? ’Cause that doesn’t even sound like you.”
“Doesn’t sound like me . . . and why not?” I scooped up a spoonful of ice cream.
“’Cause, you’re much more chilled than that. You’re not extra like those other chicks.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, one of the other Pampered Princesses, now they would charter a helicopter just to get to school.”
I laughed. “Yeah. They would. But they didn’t. And the helicopter ride was cool. But wait, you should’ve seen Rich’s face.”
“I know it hit the floor.”
“Straight cracked on the concrete. That attention whore was all up in my grill.” I swirled my spoon into the whipped cream. “She came over to me and invited me for drinks.”
“Rich?”
“Yes, Rich.”
“Wait. I’m confused. I thought you two couldn’t stand each other.” Nikki took another spoonful of the sundae. “I thought you said Spencer was the decent one. When did you and Rich become friends?” She took another spoonful of ice cream.
“Spencer’s okay, but she’s two-faced. Always up in my business. And me and Rich, friends? Never. Eww.”
“So then . . .” Nikki shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What? Say it.”
“No. I don’t want you to think I’m being shady or anything.”
“You? Shady? Never.”
“Okay. No tea. No shade. But. I just don’t get this whole Pampered Princess thing.”
“What don’t you get about it?”
“Why are you four always together? You don’t really like each other. It’s like you’re the best of frenemies. ’Cause you can’t stand to be around each other, and at the same time you can’t get enough of one another.”
“True. But I’ve known these chicks forever. And in the socialite world, it’s about who you’re connected to.”
“So you have to be fake is what you’re saying?”
“You’re calling me fake?” My heart dropped into my stomach.
“I would never call you fake. There is nothing fake about you. You’re kind, funny, sweet, pretty . . .” Her eyes locked into mine. “And I like you.”
I sank my eyes into the sundae, quickly picked up a spoonful, and then said, “If I could, I would dump them tricks. But it’s complicated. Besides it’s fun making diss records about ’em.” I looked back into her face. “And I like you too.”
Nikki cracked up. “My boo’s hit is number one on iTunes.”
Her boo? I did all I could to kill the blush I felt creeping up. “Yeah, baby, baby!” I hit her with my best Biggie Smalls voice.
We slapped another high five. “Bam!” we said simultaneously and then burst into more giggles.
“Seriously though,” I said. “You’re right, None of us are friends... on most days . . .”
“On most days?”
“I mean, with Spencer I do go out of my way to talk to her at least twice a year. Her birthday and maybe Christmas.”
Nikki snickered. “What about that girl London? What’s up with her? She was all over the blogs and gossip mags when she tried to kill herself. Now that was sad. I couldn’t believe it.”
An unexpected vision of the time when I took one too many pills on purpose, only to wake up in the hospital getting my stomach pumped, danced before me. I swallowed. Blinked the vision away. “I feel sorry for London. When you’re going through a tough time like that, you usually just want someone to understand you. Talk to you. Love you.”
She nodded, her eyes looking as if she understood. “You’re right. You have to be feeling really depressed to see death as the only way out.”
“Yeah, you feel depressed. Dumb. Rejected. Worthless. Like you’re nothing. But I think London’s getting better because she was in school today.”
“Oh really? That’s great. Did you talk to her?”
I frowned. “Absolutely not. Ever. I don’t do London. I said I felt sorry for her. Understood what she may have been going through. I didn’t say I liked her. I didn’t say she was nice. That chick is a miserable, depressed, phony beyotch with mad issues. Ain’t nobody got time for that? At least I don’t.”
“So what do you have time for?”
I swallowed. Shrugged. And took a chance. “You. I have time for you. Getting to know you.”
She blushed. “Is that so? And what kind of time is that?”
“Time to be friends. And chill. Like we are now.”
Nikki stared at me, and I could see that a million thoughts were going through her mind.
Scared that she thought I was fruity or, worse, stupid, I changed the subject and said, “You know, I’m still doing a reality show.”
She blinked, and her eyes grew wide with surprise. “No, I didn’t know that! That’s wonderful!”
I gave her a quick and phony smile. “I guess.”
She looked taken aback. “What? You’re not happy about it?”
“Not really. Honestly, I just want my WuWu show back, or I’d like to star in another sitcom. Reality TV is so . . . so . . . musty. And cheap and nasty. It’s like performing on a cruise ship or the Vegas strip—where the has-beens go to die.”
“You’re not a has-been.”
“I know.”
“So then why do it?”
I sighed, “I didn’t have a choice. Camille is broke and pathetic. My manager, Kitty, is a dog. I needed the money, and I needed to keep my face on TV.”
“Have you ever thought about doing something other than TV? What about college?”
“College? Me? No ma’am,” I chuckled. “No shade. I mean, that’s cool for you. You wanna be a veterinarian and everything, that’s wonderful. You were raised like that. But me, Hollywood is in my DNA.”
“True. Your mother is a wonderful actress.”
A washed-up actress turned drunk. “You’re being way too kind. Especially after the way she treated you when you were at my house.”
“It’s okay. She just didn’t understand us
.”
Us? There’s an us?
Nikki continued, “Now, Heather, what does your father do? I’ve never heard you talk about him. Is he around?”
For a moment, I felt like Nikki had drop-kicked me in the throat, and I couldn’t say a word.
I should tell her.
I scanned her eyes.
No. I don’t know her like that.
Yes. I do.
She’s cool.
But can she be trusted? Like, really, really trusted?
“Wassup?” Nikki asked, giving me a confused look. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I want to tell you something, but I’m not sure if I should.”
She glanced around the room. “You can tell me anything. That’s what friends are for. To confide in each other.”
True. Tell her. I took a deep breath. “You really wanna know about my father?”
“Yeah. Tell me.”
“He’s Richard Montgomery.”
Her mouth dropped. Then there was a long pause. She gasped. “Wait. Shut. Up. As in Richard Montgomery, my parents’ neighbor, or as in Richard Montgomery MC Wickedness?”
“As in Grand Entertainment.” I said.
She slapped a hand over her mouth. “As in Rich Montgomery’s father.”
“As in ding-ding-ding!” I said in my Maury Povich voice. “Richard Montgomery aka MC Wickedness. He. Is. The. Father.”
Nikki gasped. “Shut. The. Front. Freakin’. Door! You and Rich are sisters?”
“Half sisters.” I corrected her in a hushed tone.
“Wow. I’m speechless.”
“Good. Because you can’t say a word.”
“I would never. So now it makes sense. This is why you put up with Rich?”
“No. Truthfully, I just found out. My mother finally admitted it, and all the other times she just brushed it off. And honestly, all of this makes me just not like Rich even more.”
“Why?”
He already has a daughter. I swallowed. “Because she’s our father’s daughter... and I’m not.”
Nikki looked taken aback. “Huh? And what does that mean?”
“Means, Rich is his baby. The one he wanted. Me? I’m his abortion nightmare in the flesh.”
“Don’t say that. Who told you that?”
“My mother.”
“Heather.” She reached for my hand. “Rich is not the only daughter he has. You are his daughter too, and you deserve to have a father.”