I cut my eyes at him as I walked over to J. “Hey, what’s up? You invite me to this party, and my name isn’t even on the list to get in.”
J. Love actually turned his nose up at me. “Yo, shawty, if it ain’t on the list, it ain’t on the list.” He was so cold to me; it was crazy. This couldn’t be the same guy who just a few days ago had been vowing to make me his girl.
“Excuse me?” I said in shock. “J, what’s going on?”
“Look here, shawty,” he said stepping toward me. So now I was “shawty”???? “You cool and all, and I was looking forward to kickin’ it with you, but I don’t do backstabbers. And I especially can’t stand chicks who try to run game.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looked at me, and I couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like I saw hurt on his face.
“I’m talking about the story.”
“What story? I haven’t done a story on you. I wouldn’t do a story on you.”
“Yeah, but you’ll sell me out. Just like every other gold-digging chick in my life. How much did they pay you? Did you do it so you could get some shine?”
“J, what are you talking about?”
“He’s talking about this,” Darrell said as he handed me a folded-up magazine.
“What is this?” I said, taking it. I opened it to see it was the National Enquirer.
“Check out page twenty-three,” J. Love snapped.
He stood there as I read it. Sheridan and Kennedi looked over my shoulder.
“He’s a hot R & B singer who’s made a name for himself with his tributes to women, but it seems Miami singer J. Love is as fake as a three dollar bill. According to Maya Morgan, the host of the popular gossip show, Rumor Central, J. Love is trying desperately to cover up a sexual assault charge he’s facing in Seattle, Washington.” I stopped reading. “What? No! I didn’t do this!”
“So, they’re lying on you?” J. Love asked. “Funny, they got you quoted.” He jabbed at the paper. “They know all about me getting arrested and everything.”
“I didn’t do this.” The magazine was literally shaking in my hands. “I swear, J. I didn’t do this.”
“Whatever. Usually, I don’t play around with tricks who try to play me. You’re lucky I’m not the old J. Love”—he leaned in and whispered in my ear—“or that pretty face wouldn’t be so pretty anymore.” He straightened up, brushed his jacket down. “But I got an image to uphold, so I’m gonna let you slide. This time. But if you know what’s good for you, you will make sure you don’t come anywhere near me.”
“Are you serious, J?” I wanted to cry. I couldn’t believe this.
“Do I look serious, Maya?”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
He gave me a look that showed he obviously didn’t believe me as he walked off.
“Maya, what’s going on?” Sheridan asked.
“Yeah, what is that?” Kennedi pointed to the balled-up magazine in my hand.
“I don’t know. It’s an article in the National Enquirer, and it quotes me, saying J is trying to cover up a sexual assault charge. And that he got arrested.”
“I didn’t know he got arrested,” Sheridan said.
I looked uneasily at Kennedi. Sheridan would have a stroke if she knew I had told Kennedi about this and not her, and right now, I couldn’t deal with that. Kennedi told me with her eyes though that she hadn’t said a word to anyone.
“Nobody knew but him and me. And whoever he told,” I said. “His attorney kept it out of the news.” I ran my hands through my hair. I needed to figure out what in the world was going on.
“Well, it’s obviously in the news now,” Sheridan said.
“Yeah, thanks to you,” this girl standing off to the side said.
“Would you get out of our conversation?” Kennedi snapped at her.
The girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t invite you in either.”
Suddenly, someone called out, “Maya!” All three of us turned toward the front door of the club to see the two girls Kennedi and Sheridan had gotten into it with earlier. “Yeah, we’re about to go in! Why don’t you guys give us your phone number so we can text you and let you know how the party is.” They cracked up laughing as the bouncer let them inside.
Chapter 16
I had tossed and turned all night long. Kennedi, who had been sleeping next to me, finally sat up.
“What is wrong with you?” she said. She glanced over at the clock. “It’s four in the morning!”
I threw back the covers and got up and began pacing. “It’s this party. I can’t get over what happened.”
“Really? Yes, it was embarrassing as all get-out. But it’s over. Go to bed.” Kennedi turned on her side and pulled the covers over her.
“No,” I said, flipping on the light next to my bed. “It’s not just the not being able to get into the party. I don’t want J. Love thinking I told his business.”
“That’s what you do,” Kennedi said from beneath the covers. “You tell people’s business. Why are you trippin’ about it now?”
“But that’s just it, I didn’t tell the Enquirer anything. That doesn’t make sense. If anything, I would have run the story myself, but I was really feeling J. Love. I would’ve never done anything like this! Are you sure you didn’t say anything to anyone?”
She turned over and looked at me. “Again, I swear on my mama, my daddy, and everything I love, I didn’t tell a soul. You know me. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I sighed heavily. I knew she wouldn’t. Kennedi was ride-or-die. “I know. I just need to figure out how I got caught up in this mess.” I know Kennedi was tired of hearing that. I’d said it all the way home and until she fell asleep on me last night. But this had me devastated.
Kennedi let out a long sigh, then sat up. It was obvious I wasn’t going to let her sleep, so I guess she decided to humor me.
“Well, the Enquirer said they got it from you,” she said.
“Well, they didn’t.”
“Then I guess you need to find out why they’re saying that.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
She patted my hand. “Maya, I believe you didn’t do it, but you definitely need to find out who did.” She yawned, then stretched. “But guess what? You can’t do it at four in the morning, so why don’t you go to bed? Figure it out tomorrow.” She fell back, pulling the covers back over her head.
It was barely 8 a.m., but I was on my way to the station. I knew Tamara would be there because she had a 9 a.m. meeting that she’d been complaining about all week. I’d left Kennedi asleep. I’d tried to wake her up and ask her if she wanted to come with me, and she’d all but cursed me out.
I swung into the station’s parking lot. I needed to catch Tamara before she headed to her meeting. I got her just as she was gathering up her stuff on her desk.
“Hey, Tamara, can I talk to you real quick?”
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Well, can’t it wait? I’m running late for my meeting. Can’t believe they are actually meeting on a freaking Saturday,” she mumbled as she picked up her organizer and moved from behind her desk.
“Please, Tamara. This is important.”
The look on my face must’ve told her how serious this was for me, because she stopped and said, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?” She put her stuff down and sat in the chair in front of her desk.
I sat down in the chair next to her and quickly recapped what had happened at the party last night.
“So all of this is because you didn’t get into J. Love’s party?”
“No, it’s not that at all. It’s because the Enquirer said I gave them this story, and I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Well, why does J. Love think you do?”
I pulled out the magazine and handed it to Tamara. It was already opene
d to page twenty-three. Tamara read the story, then looked up at me. “If you had this kind of information, why would you give it to them? Why wouldn’t you air it on Rumor Central?”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what I was trying to tell him. If I were going to release this information, it wouldn’t be through the National Enquirer. I wouldn’t give this type of story to someone else.”
“So why does he think you’re behind it?”
I jabbed the paper. “You see my name? They’re directly quoting me.”
“And you didn’t talk to anyone from the Enquirer?”
“No,” I protested. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “I was hoping you could call and see where they really got this information from.”
She nodded. “Well, I do have a contact over there. Hold on.” She picked up the phone and punched some numbers in. After a brief hesitation, she said, “Hey, Michelle. It’s Tamara Collins over at WSVV. How are you? . . . Yeah, me too. Well look, I won’t hold you long. Just trying to get some info on a story you guys ran on that singer, J. Love. It’s actually being attributed to one of my employees.” Tamara paused, looked in my direction. “Yeah, her.”
“Put her on speakerphone,” I whispered. I needed to know what was going on before I went crazy.
Tamara looked unsure for a minute, then put the handset down and pressed the button to put it on speakerphone.
Michelle was midsentence. “. . . So, we actually all kinda wondered why she was giving the story to us instead of airing it there. But we figured it was personal, since rumor had it she was dating him. Why, what’s up?”
“Maya was directly quoted, but she denies ever talking with anyone there.”
“Of course she’d say that.” Michelle laughed. “She doesn’t want you mad that she gave the story to us.”
I jumped up. “I didn’t—”
Tamara quickly shushed me, and I sat back down, fuming.
“No, Michelle. I know Maya. She is adamant that she never talked with anyone over there. That she never told anyone this story, period,” Tamara said.
I heard a bunch of shuffling, like Michelle was looking through some papers. “Hold on. I’m looking at the notes here.... Yep. It says all communication was done via email.”
“I didn’t email anyone,” I whispered.
“Shhh,” Tamara said, putting her finger to her lips.
“Well, what email address is it showing that the information came from?”
“Hey, this is all off the record, right?” Michelle asked.
“Yeah, girl. You know I’m not going to get you in any trouble.”
“GossipGirl2013.” Michelle said. “That’s where everything came from.”
I fell back in my seat, stunned. That was my email address.
“Hey, look, Tamara, I hope she’s not trying to get a retraction or anything, because everything on our end looks legit.”
“Nah, we were just wondering,” Tamara said.
“Do you want me to have the reporter who did the story call her?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, can you have him call her? Because this is a little scary to her,” Tamara said, then rambled off my cell phone number.
“All right, will do.”
Tamara ended the call and looked at me.
“That’s my email address, but I didn’t send it,” I mumbled.
“So if you didn’t send it, who did?”
“That’s what I would like to know.”
“Does anyone have access to your email?”
I thought about Jayla, but I hadn’t given her my email address, let alone the password to that. She only had my social media information. Besides, why would she try to set me up? Maybe Bryce was behind all of this. It didn’t seem like something he would do, but since he’d found out about J. Love and me, maybe he was trying to get revenge. Even still, how would he have known about the arrest?
“I don’t know who did it.” I stood. I was getting angry all over again. “But I tell you what, I’m not resting until I get to the bottom of this.”
Tamara stood, too, and gathered her stuff up again.“Okay. Let me know what you find out. I need to get to the studio.”
I followed Tamara out, almost in a daze. No way would J. Love ever trust me again, even if I proved it hadn’t been me, which I had no idea how I could do. That relationship was as good as over, I told myself. But this was bigger than J. Love. Someone was playing with my life now, and I wouldn’t rest until I found out who it was.
Chapter 17
“Maya, someone’s asking about you,” one of my classmates said as I walked through the double doors that led outside. I’d tried to relax over the weekend, but this whole National Enquirer thing had consumed me. Kennedi got so mad at me that she ended up going back to Orlando early. I couldn’t help it, I needed to figure this thing out. I’d tried to call J. Love, but of course, he wouldn’t answer my calls. Bryce had answered and had gone off on me when I asked him if he had hacked into my email. I even asked Jayla about it, and she confirmed that she only had passwords to my social media stuff.
“Who is it?” I asked my classmate.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Some funny-looking old dude.”
I made my way over to where she was pointing. The strange man was leaning against my car. He was frumpy looking in a too-small tweed blazer and some tight brown khakis.
“Maya Morgan?” he asked as I got a little closer.
“Yes?”
He held his hand out for me to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” His eyes roamed up and down my body for a quick second. “Such a shame I had to work and toil for years to get a foot in the door, and look at you, all big-time and you’re not even old enough to buy a beer.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Was that some kind of backhanded compliment?
“But I guess that’s what a lot of money and a pretty face can get you, though,” he cackled.
“What can I do for you?” I didn’t have time for this mess.
“My boss said you wanted to talk to me.” He pulled out a business card. “Edward Sternham, reporter for the National Enquirer.”
Oh, this was the reporter I wanted to talk to. Great! I took the card. “Thank you so much for coming to talk to me, Mr. Sternham. But we could’ve done that over the phone. I hate that you had to come to my school.”
“Well, I was passing by your school, and I thought, let me take my chances. I was gonna come to the TV station, but I knew you were probably at school. Besides, don’t know if I want to go to that station. They never would hire me, you know?”
It took everything in my power not to roll my eyes. “Well, Mr. Sternham, I had some concern about the story you ran about the singer, J. Love.”
He grabbed his belt loops and pulled up his pants like they were actually falling. “Yeah, well, I’d like to thank you for that tip.”
“The only thing is, I didn’t give you that tip.”
He looked at me in surprise. Then pulled out a notepad. “Is your email [email protected]?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s where the tip came from. And when I emailed for permission to use your name, you gave me the go-ahead. I got a paper trail. It’s all in writing.”
I sighed. “So, you just take a story via email and run with it without ever actually talking to anyone?”
He seemed offended. “Look here, little lady. Don’t tell me how to do my job. I have been doing this for twenty-one years. I know what I’m doing. You gave me the tip and the quote, but I verified that the story was legit all on my own.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sternham.” I wasn’t trying to upset him. Not before I got some answers. “This is all just very upsetting to me, because it wasn’t me who sent the email. Do you have any more information?”
He stood for a minute, like he was in a face-off. But then, he relaxed, “Nope, your email just gave me the tip and the quote, and I took it and dug up the rest of the information. That
’s what I do.” He paused and stared at me again. “Obviously, I don’t do it as well as you, though.” He tried to laugh.
“Well, that’s why I said you could’ve saved yourself a trip. You could’ve just answered my questions over the phone. I was just trying to find out details on how you got the story, but it doesn’t look like there’s much you can tell me.”
“Wish I could tell you more.” He shrugged, looking like he really wished he could help me. But I could tell he was being fake.
“But, since I have you here, there is something I’d like to talk to you about. There’s another story I’m working on.”
I raised an eyebrow as he continued.
“Is your father Myles Morgan?”
“Yes,” I said hesitantly. “Why?”
“Well”—he stroked his graying, bushy mustache—“I heard that he’s being investigated for money laundering.”
“What?” He was definitely talking about the wrong man.
“Yeah, word is Mr. Morgan is using his hotel chain to clean up some money for some high-powered folks, some folks involved in the drug game. So, I’m digging around, and I thought, why not just go to the horse’s mouth. Or the pony’s.” He had the nerve to pull his digital tape recorder out and point it at me. “So, do you know anything about your dad’s money laundering?”
“You got my dad and me real twisted,” I said with serious attitude. “He doesn’t need to launder anything. And he dang sure isn’t working with any drug people.”
“Okay, don’t get all testy.” He paused. “Have you ever seen him involved in any illegal activity at all?”
“I think our conversation is done, and I’m going to need you to please leave me alone.” I pushed him aside and tried to open my car door.
“Don’t be like that,” he said, jumping in front of me. “I mean, we’re one and the same.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I said.
“Really, you are.”
I got into my car. “Here’s my card,” he said. He dropped it in my lap before I closed my door. “Why don’t you pass it to your dad and tell him I’d like an exclusive interview with him, since I’m sure you won’t want to do the story yourself. I can do a one-on-one. You deal with those teenyboppers. This is grown folks business I’m talking about.”
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