Her father dropped down onto the sofa next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Watch Anna make her money, baby girl,” he assured her.
“Okay, people, here’s the story. Stick to it,” Anna assured them with a smile that was an odd mix of wickedness and niceness all at once.
Dionne was heading from the ladies’ room when Reggie suddenly stepped into her path. “Hey you,” she said, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. “You look nice.”
And he did in his all-white dress shirt, vest and linen pants with a fresh pair of Air Force 1s.
“You, too.” Reggie reached out and grabbed her hand.
Dionne frowned a little as she pulled her hand away gently. “I got to get back to Starr,” she told him.
“How is she?”
“Much better. Thanks.”
Dionne eased past him.
“Hey, Dionne, I thought we was hollerin’ or whatever,” he said, licking his lips as she turned to face him.
As the sounds of old-school Big Daddy Kane filled the air, Dionne crossed her arms over her chest as she eyed him. “You want the truth?” she asked him.
“The whole horny-vibe thing you’re giving off is a turnoff because I’m not giving up the goodies to you or anybody else,” she told him with the kind of confidence that would make her mama proud.
Reggie reached up and smoothed his skinny hand over his fade. “I really like you, Dionne,” he admitted. “For real.”
Dionne leaned back against the wall as she tilted her head to look at him. “Then start fresh. Come correct. Tighten up your game. Trust and believe I am not your ordinary Pace Academy girl. I’ve seen things some of these bourgie girls will never see,” she told him, surprised by her own honesty. “If you want to talk to me then cut the crap.”
Reggie tossed his head back and laughed. “Dang, you straight up, huh?”
Dionne nodded. “Pretty much all day. Every day.”
“Okay, then let’s start over,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Reggie.”
After a slight pause she slid her hand into his. “I’m Dionne,” she told him, with a soft smile.
“Excuse me, everyone. Please make your way out to the backyard,” came the announcement over the loudspeaker.
Dionne gave Reggie another smile. “I gotta go,” she told him, before turning and quickly making her way through the massive crowd of people to the VIP area.
“Gift time,” Starr said as she grabbed Dionne and Marisol’s hands and pulled them behind her as she followed the bodyguards clearing a path for them and her camera crew through the people.
But what do you give a little girl who already has everything? Dionne wondered.
The cool October air felt good against their skin as the Pacesetters came to a stop next to Starr’s parents. Dionne smiled as Starr fidgeted in her Louboutins. She was so ready for her present.
“Happy birthday, Starr!”
The colorful lights and explosion of fireworks filled the sky. The entire crowd of people oohed and aahed at the spectacle.
With her head tilted to the sky, Dionne wished Hassan was there with her. Getting over him wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be.
“Look, star-shaped fireworks,” someone exclaimed.
As the fireworks came to an end, Dionne looked around at the still-upturned faces of the partygoers. She smiled as Starr’s father—looking fine in his white-on-white tux—grabbed his wife around the waist and kissed her.
“Honk-honk!”
Everyone turned at the sound of the car horn. A collective gasp raced through the crowd as the fireworks were completely forgotten.
Starr let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement. “Ohmygod, Ilovemyparents. Ohmygod, Ilovemyparents. Ohmygod, ILOVEMYPARENTS!!!”
Pulling up to a stop on the rear driveway was a brand-new gleaming Range Rover HSE in a light sand color with twenty-two-inch rims. The interior was customized in khaki or sand with hot-pink trim complete with her name and little star symbols in the headrests. Marcus stepped out of the Range Rover to stand beside it in his black-on-black uniform.
Starr hugged her parents quickly before she rushed over to her gift.
As the crowd surrounded Starr and the car, Dionne fell back a bit. She really had to stop a moment to take it all in. She went from 16th Avenue in Newark to hanging out with famous people at private parties at mansions in New York.
She grinned.
Life was pretty fa-bu-lous.
thirty-six
Marisol
October 5 @ 2:00 a.m. | Mood: Reflective
There was no sleeping for the Pacesetters. They all were still excited from the party and wide-awake even though they hadn’t slept. They lounged in their colorful pajamas on the floor in the center of Starr’s room. The music was pumping from Starr’s surround sound system. They had glass bowls of their favorite snacks on the floor between them.
Marisol was reading a book—since she was abstaining from using her laptop.
Dionne was loading pictures of the party onto her Facebook page.
Starr was revising her list of things to go over with her party planner for the brunch tomorrow. “My mom said the publicist is trying to squeeze some of the party photos on Essence’s site,” Starr said.
Marisol looked over at Dionne and then at a very bored-looking Starr. “I didn’t notice a photographer.”
“And thus our instructions for them to stay out of sight were heeded,” Starr drawled.
Dionne laughed as Marisol tossed a small star-shaped pillow at her friend.
“Does your dad’s publicist get photo approval?” Dionne asked.
Starr looked at Dionne with a surprised expression. “Dang, you’re a quick learner, girl,” she said with a smile.
Now it was Dionne’s turn to toss a pillow.
Marisol had to duck to avoid having it hit the top of her head.
Starr caught it with ease. Of course. “She has a friend that works at the magazine and she’s going to tell us for sure tomorrow.”
Marisol shrugged, forcing herself not to care as she closed the book. “The sleepover in the pool house was fun but this is better,” she said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, we couldn’t talk ourselves to sleep like we normally do,” Starr said as she put down her glittery notepad and fuzzy-topped pencil.
Dionne looked up from her laptop. “Some of the girls were watching us so hard. Thank God we didn’t miss and fart or something.”
The girls all giggled.
“That’s all a part of being a Pacesetter,” Starr reminded them. “In life you either lead or you follow. I’d much rather be a leader than a follower.”
“And there are plenty of lost souls who need someone to follow,” Dionne drawled as she typed something on her computer. “Style and swagger ain’t nothin’ to play with.”
“Ooh, did y’all see the white jumpsuit Inez had on…with a red thong!” Starr frowned and shivered at the thought.
“That was nothing compared to Kimmie’s sweating in her white jeans,” Dionne added.
Marisol just eyed them both.
“Well, I heard that some of the boys tried to sneak into the cigar room,” Dionne said.
“They’re stupid. Nothing but old men smoke cigars,” Marisol said with a frown.
“Okay,” Dionne agreed before she grabbed her brush and worked the tangles from her hair.
Marisol looked up when Starr nudged her with her foot. Starr winked at her and then nudged her chin up in Dionne’s direction.
“Well, I also heard that some girl was spotted by the bathroom with Reggie,” Starr said slyly.
Dionne’s head shot up and her eyes were wide. “Who?” she asked with much too much attitude.
“Wow, someone is sounding big-time jealous,” Starr teased.
“That’s a big nothing,” Dionne said.
“You didn’t kiss him, did you?” Marisol asked with a frown as she reached into the large bowl of jelly be
ans on the floor.
Dionne shook her head.
“Good, because he’s probably a playa anyway. All boys are,” Marisol said firmly.
She didn’t miss the way Starr and Dionne exchanged a long look.
“I was putting his little horny self in check always tryna be fresh on the low like I’m DumbDumbDaDa and don’t know what he means.”
“Well, he’s a cutie,” Starr assured her.
“Trust me, I know that and so does he.”
The girls laughed and gave each other some dap.
Marisol fell quiet as Starr and Dionne continued to go through the ever-changing list of Pace Academy Hot Boyz. Marisol wasn’t at all in the mood for crushes. She rose to her feet and walked over to the closed patio doors.
She’d reclaimed her fabulosity but would she ever reclaim her happiness? The weight of her parents’ marriage was on her shoulders.
“Marisol! Who looks better, Souljah Boy or Sammie?” Dionne asked.
“They’re both cute,” Marisol said, turning away from the patio doors.
“No, you have to pick,” Starr stressed, as she took the brush from Dionne and attacked her hair, sculpting it to her head before she tied it down with her silk hair scarf.
“Okay, Sammie,” Marisol said as she slowly walked back over to reclaim her spot on the floor. “I like his style better. Souljah Boy’s killing me softly with those shades and military shirts all the time.”
“Oooh, I co-sign that one,” Starr agreed.
“Okay, Starr, Bow Wow or Omarion?” Dionne asked, shifting her laptop from her lap to the floor.
Starr tapped the hairbrush against the palm of her hand. “Well, both are my boys…but I say, Omarion. And you two better not tell them I said that,” she warned as she pointed the end of the brush at both of them.
Marisol gathered her hair up in her hands and then quickly twisted it into a topknot as she laughed and continued to play Who Looks Better. Being away from her parents, she could almost get lost in the girls’ frivolous talk about boys and forget the tension and unrest between her parents. Almost.
thirty-seven
Starr
October 5 @ 10:00 a.m. | Mood: Thankful
Starr had been the first one up at eight o’clock thanks to her vibrating cell phone alarm clock she held in her hand. Since they hadn’t gone to sleep until 3:00 a.m., she figured she would make up for it after the brunch—the finale to her Fierce and Fabulous Fashionista Fifteen weekend. Starr allowed herself a little leisurely “pamper me” time before she exited her spa bathroom to find her mom sitting on her bed talking to Marisol and Dionne.
“Morning, birthday girl,” Sasha sang in her famous raspy voice that had earned her legions of fans.
Starr smiled as her mother stood and held her close to her chest, rocking her back and forth. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment, reminding her of when she was just a toddler and her parents would hug and kiss her like they couldn’t get enough. “Thanks, Ma,” Starr said.
“You’re welcome,” Sasha said, patting Starr’s back before she released her. “You girls get dressed. Everyone should be arriving in a couple of hours and your camera crew is already here. Oh, and so is the makeup artist.”
That made the Pacesetters all jump to attention and scurry to their feet. Sasha laughed.
“I got dibs on the bathroom next,” Dionne called out.
“No, I do,” Marisol asserted.
“Starr, throw on a robe and go get your hair and makeup done. They’re setting up in the game room,” Sasha said over her shoulder before she left the room.
Starr did just that, thinking it was so hilarious for Marisol and Dionne to argue over a bathroom in a house with at least six bathrooms. She was headed down the stairs when she looked out the large window over the second-story landing and spotted Jordan’s car slowly pulling up the brick-paved driveway.
Starr paused as her heart pounded at the very thought of her ex-crush. Would she ever get over him? Would he release his claim on her heart?
“Hey, there’s my Starr.”
She turned and watched as her father jogged down the stairs, already dressed in a linen camp shirt and jeans with all his jewelry and swag in place even this early in the morning. “Hi, Daddy.”
He paused next to her on the stairs. “Oh, Jordan’s here.”
Starr didn’t miss the sideward glance he gave her. “Yeah, I see.”
Cole Lester wrapped his arm around Starr’s shoulder and pulled her close to him to plant a kiss to the side of her head. “Did you like your surprise last night?” he asked.
Starr’s entire body went warm as she thought of how that surprise had caused her to faint. “He did okay,” she said lamely.
“Okay?” Cole balked.
Starr just shrugged as she looked up at her father.
“Okay, I know what. Let’s just stay in our lanes. Shopping and partying?”
Starr smiled. “I got it. Making hit music?”
“I’m all over it.”
They bumped fists before her father jogged down the stairs alone. Starr purposefully waited, taking a seat on the upholstered chaise under the window because she didn’t want to bump into Jordan on his way to her father’s studio.
When she did finally venture down the stairs, she still had Jordan on her mind. All of her plans for them to be the power couple at Pace were ruined because Heather was serving it up like hotcakes.
No rides to school with her boo. (She had already decided that Jordan looked like a boo.)
No rolling up to the upcoming formal together—where they would have been named King and Queen of The Ball—of course. No cutesy couple nicknames like Tomkat, Brangelina. They could’ve been Starrdan or Jorstarr or something like that.
Starr pushed aside all her silly thoughts.
There was no need crying or dwelling over spilled milk.
Starr was enjoying the brunch just as much as her party last night. She took a sip of her nonalcoholic mimosa as she surveyed everything in the huge white tent on the west lawn of their estate. The tent had been completely transformed with a dozen round tables, flower centerpieces, draped silk and glittering chandeliers. The buffet of eggs, sausages, bacon, fruits, pastries, pancakes and miniature quiches was as appetizing to the eye as it was filling. Everyone who was invited attended and fully complied with Starr’s dress code of “pretend you’re going to church.” Three long tables held all of her birthday gifts that she still had yet to open—well, almost all. The present from Jordan was unopened and buried deep in her closet.
Starr had no plans to open it, but she didn’t quite have the nerve to send it back to him either.
“Oh, my God, this seafood quiche is sooo good,” Dionne said as she took another mouthful.
“Well, how about you get that little tidbit off your chin because the cameras are pointed this way,” Starr told her.
She smiled as Dionne whirled in her seat, turning her back to the camera.
Starr had a good time but she had to admit that she was tired and ready for the weekend to come to an end. She sought and found the eye of her party planner, giving her the cue to wrap up the brunch.
Starr accepted the cordless microphone that someone handed to her and rose to her feet. Moments later the waitstaff wheeled in carts laden with silver-wrapped gift boxes. With her hair in a jazzy curly hairdo, her makeup flawless and her strapless ballerina-styled dress she didn’t feel a bit of nervousness having all eyes on her…until she spotted her father and Jordan headed across the lawn toward the tent.
Starr quickly turned away so that they were out of her line of vision. “I just wanted to thank you all for coming out this weekend—especially those of you here who are my VIPs—and celebrating my Fierce and Fabulous Fifteen with me. As a token of my thanks, here’s a little sum’n sum’n for you all to remember a weekend I know I will never forget.”
Even Dionne and Marisol were surprised as they were handed gift boxes.
“What’s th
is?” Dionne mouthed to her with a curious expression.
When one of the staff handed Jordan one she started to storm across the room and snatch it from his “been all on Heather” hands but she forced a stiff, fake smile instead.
Everyone oohed and aahed at the netbooks.
“Each one has been preloaded with a video documenting the entire weekend and only those of you here are getting one,” Starr told them.
Starr looked around as everyone played with their new gadget. She was glad the videographer was able to stay up all night editing so that it was ready for today. She was sure her father’s wallet had a lot to do with it. And it was worth it as everyone swarmed around her to offer their thanks.
Starr reveled in the spotlight.
She was a Starr after all.
thirty-eight
Marisol
October 5 @ 4:00 p.m. | Mood: Completely Confused
Marisol was exhausted by the time her driver pulled up in front of their Saddle River estate. She grabbed her tote, slid on her shades and climbed out the back of the silver Jaguar. Her driver set her Louis Vuitton suitcase beside her.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Rivera,” he said, before walking back to climb into the driver’s seat of the Jaguar.
Marisol pulled the handle of her suitcase up and pulled it behind her as she climbed the steps to their minimansion.
“Hello, Miss Rivera,” Porton the gardener greeted her as she walked past.
“Hello, Porton.”
Once she entered the house, she felt like she could finally get some sleep.
“I’m home,” she hollered as soon as she closed the front door.
She smiled at the two maids dusting the foyer as she left her suitcase and went in search of her parents.
“Just the girl I want to see.”
Marisol turned, surprised to see her mother walking out of the kitchen behind her. “Come,” she beckoned Marisol, taking her daughter’s hand to wrap around her arms as she led her into the atrium off the living room.
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