Lights, Love & Lip Gloss

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “Freeze. Pause. Rewind! Am I seeing things? Am I?” I snapped.

  Knox stood up. “Chill. There you go. Calm down. We were just playing a game.”

  “Calm down?! I’m sick of this trick being all up in your face. Every time I turn around, here this tramp is!”

  “Slow down on the tramps, boo,” Nikki interjected. “Your problem is with your man, not me.”

  “Don’t call her names, Rich.” Knox frowned, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

  “Maybe I should go,” Nikki said, rising off the bed.

  “No, you don’t have to leave,” Knox said.

  My heart knocked and something in my head exploded. “No, you don’t have to go ’cause I won’t be long. I’m done with you, Knox! You let some funny-lookin’ Burger King bird step to me?! Are you crazy? Now I know you’re tricking up on this thot! Here I’ve been trying to reach you for two days—”

  He tsked. “Where you been calling, ’cause you sure haven’t been calling my number! Don’t play me, Rich. You know I’ve been the one calling you for two days and you’ve been sending me straight to voice mail!”

  “I’ve been stressed!”

  “So you avoid your man!”

  “Yeah, especially if my man is laid up with some reckless broad!” I eyed Nikki and dared her to say something. She didn’t open her mouth. Instead Knox stepped in.

  “Don’t call her another name!” He clenched his jaw.

  I placed my hands up on my hips. “Slore!” I couldn’t believe this. Part of me wanted to stop the argument, but the other part of me wanted this ish to be over with so I could be about my day and go about my way. “You steppin’ to me behind some losin’ creep! You’re a real pussy-azz douche bag, Knox! Eff you and this whole whack setup you got going over here. This is why I don’t deal with corny asses, anyway. You’re boring. Your life is boring. Your whole existence is boring. The only thing you good for is sweatin’ me! Thank you for showing me the light. I can now see the yellow brick road to freedom. I see a real man coming my way!”

  He frowned. “Oh, so is that what this is really about? You want a so-called real man, or you already got one? Is that why every time I turn around you’re missing?”

  I popped my eyes open. Tilted my head. And said, “Blank stare. Duh, idiot. I go missing ’cause I’m stressed! Up here pregnant with your whack baby. I’m about to give birth to boredom. Yeah, that’s what I’ll name it, Boredom Knox. After its no-good daddy who wants to play video games with some trollop. Both of you—”

  “Pregnant?!” He paused. Frowned. Looked me over and then spat, “It ain’t pregnant by me. And if you are, it ain’t mine! You better go and find your real man who’s the real baby daddy. Don’t come over here trying to trap me. I don’t do insecure.”

  “Insecure! You stoop to calling me names now. Is that how you doing me now after all we’ve been through?”

  “That’s your mind playing tricks on you just so you can have a reason to pick a fight and break up. You wanna go, Rich, you wanna dead it? Done. All of this extra you doing is stupid. I woulda had more respect for you had you just told me you wanted to take a break. I—”

  “It is you, Knox!” I stamped my foot, jabbing a finger over at Nikki. “You’re the one laid up in the bed getting your foreplay on.”

  He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Rich, you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Eff you, Knox! You’re lucky I don’t take it to your throat, coming at me all crazy. And you know what? Don’t you worry about this baby! I got this! And besides, I pissed out all of your lifelines, so you’re right! It ain’t yours! In my Maury voice, You are not the father! Drops mic . . .” I snapped my fingers in his face. “Dismissed!”

  “Yo, it’s time for you to bounce. For real . . .” He paused, pulling another deep breath. “Get. Out. Now.”

  “Yeah, I’ma bounce! As a matter of fact you can watch my booty bounce, ’cause you will never bounce up on it again!” I turned and stormed out, expecting him to come behind me, begging and pleading for my forgiveness. But he didn’t. Instead, as the door slammed behind me, I heard Midnight laughing.

  I rode around for hours. Thinking and thinking. And thinking. Wondering what I was going to do now. I wanted to . . . for once . . . make my own decisions. Do what I wanted to do. And right now... right now... at this moment...

  I wanted Justice.

  I turned off the exit and made a left toward Manhattan Beach. And before I let doubt sink in or any thought that told me this was crazy . . . I pulled into the parking lot, slammed my car into park, and rushed up the stairs to Justice’s door.

  Don’t . . .

  Stop it. No doubts... no doubts...

  I should . . .

  No...

  I pounded on Justice’s door and I could hear footsteps approaching. I pounded again and I could see the peephole’s cover slide back.

  “Justice,” I said in a panic. “I know you’re mad at me. I get it. I messed up. One too many times. But. I can’t stay away from you. I miss you. I want you back. I need you in my life. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I can’t lie to you anymore.” I paused and he didn’t say a word.

  I continued. “I ended it. I broke up with Knox. And I’m here because this is where I belong.”

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  My heart dropped through my stomach and I felt soooo stupid. Tears filled my eyes and I was doing everything in my power not to cry.

  Just leave.

  I glanced at the door one last time before turning to walk away and just as I approached the stairs I heard, “You came all this way to give up that easy.”

  Justice.

  Tears covered my face as I turned around and walked over toward him. He met me halfway and I broke, clutching onto him. “Now,” he said, wrapping his strong arms around me, “you can come inside.”

  17

  London

  “Oh no! Oh no!” Spencer snapped, sweeping into my bedroom suite unannounced, uninvited, and definitely unwelcome in all of her finery. “You’re still in bed in that same nasty nightgown I left you in yesterday, wallowing in your pathetic-ness? Dear baby Jeezus, snatch the wheel! I’m about to slide into a ditch! Enough is enough, you selfish slore! Can’t you see death doesn’t want you? So stop lying around waiting on the grim reaper to come save the day, hon. He isn’t coming. And heaven isn’t waiting for you either. So you might as well accept your fate here on Earth.”

  I sighed. “Spencer, I don’t need you darkening my doorway with all of these unnecessary visits. Aren’t there any cliffs you can go jump off?”

  “Oh, you better cool your fanny pack, ma’am. There’s no need for that confrontational tone.” She tossed me the latest issue of Juicy. I blinked. My mouth gaped open. There I was. On the cover, in my father’s arms, clutching onto him for dear life, being carried out of the Japanese restaurant, Nobu, after my meltdown in the women’s bathroom. The heading read: MED CHECK! PAMPERED PRINCESS KNOCKED OFF THRONE AND FLIES OVER HER CUCKOO’S NEST!

  I winced, turning the magazine facedown on the bed. I didn’t need to see more, or read the gossip spewed inside. I already knew the story’s outcome.

  “And then there was this,” Spencer said, tossing the latest issue of Teen Vogue at me. On the back cover there I was. In a full-page ad for the perfume Pink Heat. I cringed, felt myself tearing up. I stared down at the girl in the ad. She looked beautiful. Confident. Self-assured. Flawless. She was clearly an imposter. That wasn’t me.

  “I liked hating you better when you were an uppity snot ball. At least you were halfway cute in an Animal Kingdom kind of way. But this mess you’ve become, London—weak, helpless—is disgusting.”

  Oh, really? You think?

  I’d been home for over a week and this had become my life: therapy twice a week with some flat-faced woman who probed and prodded, trying to get inside my head. It wouldn’t be so bad, talking to someone, if it didn’t hurt my eyes to look at her. She looked like a Peking
ese. Anyway, her ugliness was the least of my concerns. Popping pills—for my mood, they claimed—was. But all the medication did was make me sleepy, and had me feeling like a zombie. Then there was this chick here. Spencer. Being harassed and tormented by her every day.

  She wasn’t just effen crazy. She was psycho certified. She was put-her-away-and-throw-away-the-key, nut-nut crazy. And she was also extremely cunning, extremely loaded, and extremely vindictive. And she had the queen of media as her mother. That alone made this girl extremely dangerous. I had to really stay three steps ahead of her. After the stunt she pulled the last time I was at school, ambushing me in the bathroom stall, I was convinced more than ever that I’d have to keep my frenemies close and this beyotch even closer.

  I still didn’t know how in the world she was able to get into the girls’ lounge when I’d locked the door. Or at least I thought I had. My stomach was so tore up and on fire that day from a late-night sugar binge that I was practically delirious. So I can’t be for certain if I did or didn’t lock it.

  All I knew was, I was never more mortified than I was when the stall door practically flew off its hinges and a camera flashed, catching me with my bare essentials exposed. This chick had no shame! No couth! No home training. She was living proof that money—and this little trust fund brat had access to plenty of it—definitely didn’t (and couldn’t) buy class.

  Snap, snap . . .

  “Umm, hello? Hello? Earth to she-dog! Have you heard a word I’ve said the last five minutes?”

  I blinked Spencer back into view. And there she was, hand on her hip, an arm extended and her fingers snapping in my face. She was wearing a short plaid skirt and white blouse and a pair of killer heels. Her faux Catholic-schoolgirl look was eerily almost believable save the fact that she had horns and carried a pitchfork.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Oh no. Oh no. Please do not tell me you’re about to turn on the waterworks and start that pitiful sniveling over your torrid scandal. There’s no need for pissing out of the eyes. So snap out of it! You’ve wasted enough tissues on tears. Let’s face it, London. You’re a failure. We all know you’re an emotional shipwreck. We get it. The whole world knows what a pathetic loser you are. But if you think I’m going to sit around and wait for you to get fitted for a pair of cement heels so you can stomp the bottom of the Pacific Ocean with the rest of the sea monkeys in your family, you have another gotdiggitydang think coming.”

  I pushed out an exasperated breath. “Spencer, why are you here again?”

  She shot me a nasty look. “London, don’t do me. You know I’m here to nurse you back to health and help you free your cluttered mind. Apparently, you’re still hooked on crazy. So whatever loony-tune meds your doctor has you on are obviously not working. But no worries . . .” I eyed her as she rummaged through her oversized YSL bag. “I have just what you need to jumpstart your caboose and get your rump-a-dump from out of those filthy sheets.”

  I stared at her with a frown, realizing she was holding a manila envelope in one hand and a water gun in the other. She fanned herself with the envelope.

  “Whew, I’m about to turn up the flames. I hope you can stand the heat.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What are you crazy-talking about now, Spencer?” With lightning-quick speed, she was attacking me with a heavy stream of water, soaking my face and hair. I screamed, hopping out of bed.

  Spencer giggled. “That’s right, you sleazeball otter, get up outta that death trap and face your demons. Get it up! Get it up! Get it uuuuuup!”

  “Ohmygod! What do you think you’re doing?”

  She kept her plastic gun pointed at me. “I’m doing what your parents can’t seem to do. Put the heat to your seat and get you out of that bed.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m up! Satisfied?”

  “Nope.” She squirted another stream of water at me. “I want your ugly face washed and that knotty hair smoothed out and that funky nightgown trashed. You’re making my eyeballs ache.”

  “Then get out. I didn’t invite you here.”

  “And I’m not leaving either.” She planted herself in my sitting room, crossing her legs. “So go fumigate. You smell like street trash.”

  I stormed into my bathroom, slamming the door. Pissed that Spencer had come and, once again, disrupted my day of isolation. I removed my clothes. Stared at myself in the mirror, then quickly shifted my eyes from the reflection staring back at me. I showered and washed my hair. Twenty minutes later, I stepped back into my bedroom to find Spencer stretched out on my chaise, her heeled feet crossed at the ankles, flipping through my black portfolio book.

  “Mmph,” she grunted, tossing the book to the floor as I crawled back into my bed. At that very moment, Rich whisked into the room in grand, over-the-top fashion, the scent of her perfume sweeping through the air around her.

  “Mmm . . . surprise!” She strutted toward the center of the suite, then paused, taking in the room. Her designer blouse dipped dangerously low, practically flashing her boobs. Her eyes landed on me. There was a glint of something sparkling on her left hand, ring finger. I blinked, my gaze zooming in on her glistening finger, then back up at her, then down to her hand again.

  “I’m getting married!” she announced gleefully. No hello. No so sorry to hear what happened to you. No I apologize for saying hurtful things to you and about you. Nothing.

  My mouth dropped.

  Spencer’s eyes popped.

  “You’re getting what?” Spencer asked, shock registering in her tone and on her face. “Married? To whom? Knox?”

  I held my breath in anticipation—wishful, hopeful thinking rearing its way into my heart and mind. Maybe her and Justice’s little fling was officially over.

  Rich scowled. “Knox? Girl, no! Miss me with that. I dumped him this morning. I have no time for some little boy who wants me to play the backseat to his fraternity and his little silly fan club. No, thank you. Been there, done that. I’ve moved on to a real man—a man who loves me for me, a man who wants to honor and obey me. A man who knows how to come home and appreciates a good woman like me.”

  “You mean a freak like you, don’t you?” Spencer questioned smugly, narrowing her eyes at Rich. “Is he fine, quick drawz?”

  “Yasss, honey! And has the body of a Greek god.” She fanned herself. “Sexy. Rugged.”

  “Ooh, ooh,” Spencer said excitedly, clapping her hands. “Milk chocolate skin sliding over thick muscles, huh? Finger-lickin’, melting-all-over-your-tongue gooey goodness, I bet.”

  Rich bounced her shoulders and shook. “Yasss! And his swag’s on ten. No, twenty. And he’s holding a double-barrel in his CKs, boo.”

  Spencer bounced in her seat. “Oooh, do it, boo! Bang-bang beat it down, momma!”

  “Yasss, yasss. Down to the ground!” Rich popped her collar. “You know how I do it. Big dawg artillery, honey!”

  I couldn’t believe how the two of them carried on as if I weren’t even in the room. I cleared my throat, meeting Rich’s gaze with annoyance. Her dark stare bordered somewhere between amusement and challenge. It was clear. Rich wanted a battle. She’d come prepared to duel it out.

  But why?

  Spencer eased back into her seat, rolling her eyes. “You selfish, inconsiderate stank-a-dank, trick-a-lot! How dare you flounce your rump shaker in here announcing this kind of news in front of the enemy?”

  Enemy?

  I blinked. Surprised at how quickly she’d flipped on Rich. Then again, it didn’t take much for Spencer to go bat-crazy.

  “Why was I not told about this so-called engagement when you were all up in my house snot-nosed and crazy, huh? You wait to do me in front of Big Foot!”

  Rich rolled her eyes. “Screech! Clutching pearls! Lies! Spencer, don’t. Do. Me. You’ve never seen me snot-nosed and crazy! I don’t do that! I don’t drop tears over a man. And I definitely don’t try to kill myself over one.” She shot an icy glare over at me. “Is that what you tried to do, London? Kill yourself
over some boy who didn’t want you? Poor thing.”

  I cringed. Shifted my body weight in bed. It felt like Rich had jabbed a blade to my neck and twisted it. Before I could respond to her cutting remark, Spencer butted in. “Rich, I told you to play nice. Not come over here and be messy.”

  “Oh no.” Rich swiveled her neck in dramatic fashion, pointing a finger over at Spencer. “What is this, save-a-thot day? Is London your new charity? Since when you start taking up for her?”

  Spencer twirled the end of a curl around her finger, pursing her lips. “Oh, you really want me to squirt fire in your mouth, don’t you? You know I don’t like this trick. But I’m not going to drag her when she’s already down. And if you had any compassion, you wouldn’t do it either, Rich. Now stop being so odious. And have some decency for once.”

  “Odious?” Rich stamped her foot. “Bish, you got me confused. You don’t smell any odors on me. That’s your breath. Nothing stinks on me. I bathe every day.”

  Spencer and I gave her a blank stare.

  “I didn’t say odiferous,” Spencer lamented, rolling her eyes. “I said odious. Big difference.”

  Rich sucked in a breath. “Spare me the details, Spencer. Jealousy is so not cute on you. I mean, really. It’s not my fault you can’t get a man, unless he’s someone else’s; or unless he’s really, really desperate for a pipe cleaner. Don’t hate my fabulousness, sweetie. Hate the fact that you can’t be, won’t ever be—me. So stop being selfish! For once, stay in your lane and just be happy for me.”

  Spencer blinked. “Uh-huh. Oh, I’ll be happy for you all right.”

  “Good. Now fall back and let me have my shine. If you act right, I’ll let you be my maid of honor. Otherwise you’ll be banned to the back of the church, passing out programs.” Rich shot a look over at me. “Mmph. It smells like death in here. So you’re just gonna sit in that bed like a zombie with that pitiful, stupid look and not even say hello? Or congratulate me? Or apologize to me for that mess you pulled down at Club Tantrum?”

  “Last I checked, this was my house. And I didn’t pull any mess down at the club. You did. Just like now. Everything is always about you, Rich.”