“Wow. Sounds like you’re making a lot of enemies with this show,” she said.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I wasn’t trying to become hated, but it is what it is.”
“You’re not scared?” she asked.
Even if I was, I sure wasn’t about to let her know. “Honey, Maya Morgan doesn’t scare easily.”
She softened her tone. “Maybe it is too much. Maybe you should let the show go.”
I spun around and looked at her like she was crazy. Was she starting to hate on me, too? “Um, yeah, that’s not going to be an option.”
She looked like she was thinking for a moment, then added, “What about doing just the celebrity entertainment stuff? Leave all the dirt-digging stuff alone.”
“Even if I wanted to do that, the producers want the dirt and so that doesn’t leave me any choice.”
Valerie shook her head. “I don’t know. If I were you, I’d just let it go. You’re going to make the wrong person angry and I would hate to see something happen to you because of that.”
We were interrupted by Tamara’s assistant. “Mrs. Collins needs to see you in her office,” the girl said.
“Let me go. About that advice—” I stood. “Yeah, I’m good. But thanks anyway.”
I didn’t give her time to reply as I left. I used to think Valerie was in my corner, but she was for real tripping. But then, she probably was just mad about me “betraying her trust,” you know, since we were BFFs and all now. Not.
I shook away thoughts of Valerie. She could get over it or get to steppin’.
Chapter 35
Dear Maya, I hope you die in a car crash.
I read the text message for the umpteenth time. It was the third one like that this week. Seriously? These people were going way overboard. I thought about deleting it, but decided against it. For now, I closed out the program on my iPhone.
“Hey, Sandy,” I said.
Sandy rolled her eyes her eyes and kept walking.
Oh, so I guess I was going to get the cold shoulder now from everybody. Whatever. The countdown was on to graduation, so they could come at me crazy all they wanted. I wasn’t the least bit fazed. I had an awesome interview set up with Alicia Keys tomorrow and if my classmates were trying to get to me, they needed to come a whole lot stronger than this. Quiet as it’s kept, this entire school didn’t have to say another word to me the rest of the school year. I was so over them hating on me.
“You know you’re foul!”
I took a deep breath, contemplating whether I was even going to turn around.
“Maya!” I recognized Blake’s little sister’s squeaky voice. “What?” I said, finally turning to face her.
I was surprised she had taken this long to front me. I’d heard that Blake’s dad had bailed him out within minutes, so it wasn’t like he even had to pay for his crime. “You hear me talking to you?”
“You know you’re foul?” she repeated.
“Oh, I’m foul? Your brother is running around breaking into celebrity mansions and I’m the foul one? That’s funny.”
“Yeah, I didn’t stutter. You’re foul.”
“Good-bye, Lisa,” I said, turning to walk away.
“You know there’s a pact.” She was smiling like she was revealing some big secret. “High school is going to be very lonely for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I really didn’t feel like hearing her yapping, but the way Sandy and everybody else had been ignoring me made me want to know what was going on.
Lisa folded her arms across her chest. “Have you noticed that no one has said a word to you?” she said with a smirk. It was third period and I did notice that the only people who had talked to me in any of the classes were the teachers.
“Okay, and?”
“And that’s the way it’s going to be from now on.” She seemed like she was taking pleasure in delivering that message.
“And I repeat, and?”
“Yeah, you can try to act all big and bad, but we’ll see how you feel when nobody has anything to say to you.”
“I’ll feel just fine.” I turned to walk away. So now, the whole school was playing juvenile games.
I saw Valerie later, right before I walked into my seventh period. “So, are you in this pact not to talk to me, too?”
“No, of course not,” she said.
I wasn’t going to point out how she’d all but avoided me all day long. I didn’t know if it was because of the pact or something else had happened.
“You know I really don’t care about some stupid pact.”
“That’s what I told everybody,” Valerie said.
I stood in silence for a minute, then said, “So they’re trying to get you in on it?”
“Yeah, but I’m cool. I didn’t have many friends before, so it’s no biggie,” she said with a laugh.
Wow, so they hated me that much? “Well, whatever.”
“Look, everyone is just mad at the whole Bling Ring, cheer stuff,” Valerie said.
“How are they mad at me? They need to be mad at those thieves.”
She smiled like she wanted to say something more. Instead, she just said, “I gotta get to my last class.”
I couldn’t believe I was bothered by all of this so I pulled out my cell, ducked in the stairwell, and called Tamara.
“So, they’re giving you the whole silent treatment?” Tamara said once I’d filled her in. “Boy, I don’t miss high school.” She actually sounded like she thought all of this was funny. “Well, the Drake concert is next week. I guarantee you, if anyone is hating on you, they’ll quickly get over it the minute Drake takes the stage.”
I heard what she was saying, but for some reason, I felt like things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better.
Chapter 36
This was the life! That’s all I could think as I took the last of my packages and put them in the trunk of my car. I’d been shopping all day and the great thing was, I hadn’t spent a dime. Tamara had actually given me her station credit card and told me to go buy some new clothes. She actually gave me permission to use five thousand dollars. I would’ve preferred ten, but I took what I could.
My phone rang and the caller ID showed the number from the TV station.
“Hello,” I said, answering.
“Hey, Maya, it’s Vicki from the research department.”
“Hey, Vicki,” I said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I need to verify what month you said that original Bling Ring break-in happened. I’m trying to pull the police report. They might be tied to another break-in at the mansion of the head coach for the Miami Dolphins.”
I wanted to tell her that they didn’t need to check a police report. The Bling Ring was definitely responsible for that, according to Bali. But since that one hadn’t been caught on tape, I kept my mouth closed.
I gave Vicki the info. That’s one thing I loved about the research team. They were on it, so I’d let her do what she did.
I hung up, dropped my phone back into my purse, closed the trunk of my car, and walked back around to the front.
“Well, well, well. Can I go with you?”
I looked up to see two thuggish-looking guys in saggy pants. One of them had long dreadlocks and a tattoo on his neck that said KILLER. The other wore a black hoodie and had eyebrows that seemed to make one long hairy line across his forehead.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping around them.
“Killer” jumped in front of me to block my path. “Why you gotta act like that?”
“ ’Cause she’s one of them uppity chicks,” the unibrow guy said.
“Excuse me, I really need to go.” I pushed him to the side. I guess my adrenaline was up because I pushed him harder than I had expected and he immediately grabbed a fistful of my hair.
I screamed, but he didn’t care. “Oh, you the type of chick that likes putting hands on a dude? I guess you like it rough!”
<
br /> “Killer” slammed me up against the car. My heart raced as visions of me getting raped and beaten and left to die in the parking lot flashed before my eyes.
Where in the world was security when you needed them?
My fear seemed to calm him down. “Ummph, you a fine young thang,” he said, running his bony hand along my thigh and up my skirt.
“Get off me,” I said, finding the strength to push him again. He stumbled back but didn’t let go of me.
“Ooh, and a feisty one,” he said.
“Please,” I begged as he tightened his grip on me. “Don’t hurt me. I don’t have any money.”
The other guy snatched my Louis Vuitton. “Let me see. Shoot, this purse itself gotta be worth a couple of hundred.”
Idiot. That was a custom-made, patent leather Louis Vuitton that had cost my dad six grand. Needless to say, I wasn’t trying to boast about that right now.
He reached in and grabbed my wallet, then pulled out two one-hundred-dollar bills. “I thought you said you didn’t have any money.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“You’re a liar,” Killer said, squeezing my arm tightly. “An uppity liar. And me and my boy here, we like to teach uppity liars a little lesson.”
“Yeah, maybe then they’ll learn to keep their mouths closed and stop running around telling people’s business,” the other guy said.
My eyes widened in shock.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Killer continued.
“I’m gonna keep this money.” He stuffed my two hundred dollars into his pocket. “As a service fee. But let me make this clear. You have diarrhea of the mouth and it’s time for you to shut your trap.”
A thousand questions ran through my mind. Were they serious? Or was this a coincidence? I couldn’t believe someone would actually hire these guys to rough me up.
Killer loosened his grip, then ran his sloppy tongue up the side of my cheek. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry because I sure would like to get a taste of you.”
I felt like I was going to throw up, but I was so relieved when he released me. I fell back against my car.
“Come on, man, let’s go,” Unibrow said.
Killer blew me a kiss as he followed his friend. He pointed a thick, stubby finger at me. “Remember, you’ve been warned.”
They laughed as they disappeared among a row of cars.
I knew I needed to get up and go find security, but I was too scared to move. And all I could hear were the words, “You’ve been warned,” and my gut told me that wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.
Chapter 37
I watched my parents sit at the breakfast table in their usual position—my dad sipped coffee and buried his head behind the newspaper and my mom thumbed through one of her many fashion magazines. They both were fully dressed—as if they’d come to breakfast any other way.
They finally looked up and noticed me.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” my dad said.
“Hey,” I said. I walked in slowly and sat at the table. Sui appeared out of nowhere (she had a way of staying out of sight just enough to show up when needed) and set a glass full of orange juice down in front of me.
Dad was back behind the paper.
“Hi, honey,” my mom said. Then her radar must’ve gone off because she narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”
I so wanted to tell them about the attack yesterday. But I’d tossed and turned all night, trying to decide if I should tell them what happened. But my mom would blow a gasket and I couldn’t chance her trying to make me quit my job. I knew this was getting serious though. I could no longer pretend that this was just someone from school trying to scare me. Still, my gut wouldn’t let me say anything—yet.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Why you ask?” I shrugged off her question like it was the craziest thing ever.
My dad lowered his paper. “You look . . . upset,” he said. My mom smiled.
“I bet it’s about Bryce,” she said.
“Eeewww, um why would I be upset about that?” I asked.
“Breakups are never easy, sweetheart,” my mother said, patting my hand. “But believe me, you’ll heal.”
I hated when she tried to get all mushy and hypersensitive with me. I didn’t want to talk about Bryce, not because it hurt to think about the way he had dumped me, but mostly because I didn’t want my parents to know I had lied. They had no clue that it was Bryce and not me who had broken things off. I still secretly held on to my vow to make him regret that move.
But I had told my parents that I’d called it quits with him, and hoped they’d never find out it had actually been the other way around. They didn’t need to know all of the details; all they needed to know was that he and I were no longer together.
“You know, sweetie, my first love was a boy named Charles Swanson. You know, the movie director?” my mother said.
I rolled my eyes. Of course, I knew. She only told me every other day. I was just surprised she was saying it in front of my dad. But he didn’t seem fazed. Probably because while Charles Swanson was an award-winning director, he was also on his third very public divorce.
“Mom . . .” I said, cutting her off before she went into her speech on how my dad had stolen her away.
“Sweetheart, it’s obvious Maya doesn’t want to talk about her breakup,” my dad said, going back to his paper. “She’s focused her priorities on more important things. Which is the smart thing to do, if I must say so myself.”
My mom paused, studying me. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked me again.
“Mom, I’m good.” I frowned. “I’m, like, loving life right about now. I mean, why do you keep asking?”
“Oh, honey, it seems like something’s on your mind. I’m just checking, making sure everything is okay. You have anyone interesting on your show?” Mom asked.
I was gulping down the orange juice when she asked about the show. But that was just the break I needed. I was thrilled she had changed the subject. If we talked about the show, I wouldn’t have to worry about her digging too deep and pulling out of me what had happened last night, or anything else about Bryce.
“OMG! I am so hyped.” I grinned.
Instantly, my mother’s eyes began to twinkle. She smiled and looked at me like an eager puppy, a cute one, but a puppy nonetheless. I put the glass of juice down and started in about the interview.
“Drake is coming to do a concert on campus and it’s all everyone can talk about,” I said. “And then, I have an interview with Nicki Minaj this week!” Tamara had shared that bit of news yesterday after I’d called her just before I went to bed.
I hoped the excitement in my voice would be enough to keep her off the Bryce topic. I watched as my mother’s perfect eyebrows bunched together and she tilted her head slightly.
“Nicki Minaj?” she asked.
I sighed dramatically, and rolled my eyes.
“Mom! Please. Do. Not. Tell. Me. You don’t know who Nicki Minaj is,” I said, and rolled my eyes again. This time the atmosphere had changed and I was glad for the lighter mood.
My dad’s newspaper collapsed and he popped his head and nose into our conversation.
“She’s only the hottest female rapper around today,” my dad said and stunned me to silence.
Blank stare.
I was at a complete loss for words as he tried to school my mom on Nicki and her music. The craziest part was he actually sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
“Some Nicki Minaj songs are pretty good, like ‘Fly.’ Some are just okay, like ‘Moment 4 Life.’ But some are not so good, like ‘Super Bass,’ ” my dad continued.
My mouth was on the table as he talked, like he was some kind of new-school rap historian.
“It’s got a good beat, but the way Nicki dresses and acts with guys, well, I don’t know that it’s the example I want you following. She curses in almost all of her songs. I think that’s why you see so many teenagers cursing all the time—it
’s what their favorite celebrities do.” He shrugged.
Both my mom and I were stunned. When she finally found her voice, she asked dad. “Uh, and how exactly do you know so much about this hot female rapper?”
“Well, when you have a teenage daughter, you make it your business to know these things,” my dad said. He smiled in my direction, but I was still in a state of shock.
Clearly I had been underestimating him. If you would’ve told me that my dad not only knew who Nicki Minaj was, but could also rate her songs, I would’ve called you a bold-faced liar! My dad had no way of knowing how many cool points he had earned with me this morning.
“Besides, Nicki is a client.” He smiled.
“Of course,” my mother said, seemingly relieved that my dad wasn’t leading some kind of secret double life.
My mom turned her attention back to me. “So, she’s coming on the show then?”
“Yep, and she’s gonna talk about her new album and movie role.” I left off the part about her sharing her dirt about the beef with her manager. No need for the crazy looks from my dad.
“Yep. I’m supposed to go backstage and interview her, so everyone is stoked about it. It’s all everyone is talking about,” I said.
“This sounds so exciting. Do you know what you’re gonna talk to her about?” my mom asked.
Even if she didn’t mean it, I was glad she was trying.
“Well, I already know just about everything there is to know about her. I mean, I do do my homework, Mom.”
By now, my dad had turned his attention back to his newspaper and I felt a bit better.
“I know you do, honey. I know you take your job seriously and I’m so glad that you’ve found something you enjoy after all of that drama surrounding that other program,” my mom said.
I hated when she went back to that mess that had gone down with Miami Divas. It was so obvious, even a blind person could see, that those other girls (and Bali) had no talent whatsoever. I actually liked doing a show by myself a whole lot better.
In the past, if we all didn’t agree on something on the show, it would turn into a big argument and nothing would get done. But now, once I sign off on the ideas the producer and I come up with, it’s smooth sailing from there. And when it came to Rumor Central, that’s what I needed. Smooth sailing. Between Bryce and what had happened last night, I didn’t need any extra drama.
Rumor Central Page 14