Get Ready for War (10 page)

“Yo, c'mon, chill, baby, you wildin' out, for real.”

“C'mon hell, punk. Don't ‘baby' me. Get your dirty hands off me!” I started kicking his shins and stomping on his feet, causing him to shuffle around the room while trying to hold my arms.

“Yo, chill, London. I don't wanna hurt you, yo.”

“You've already hurt me! There's nothing else you can do to me that you haven't already done. Whyyyyy, Justice?! Why would you do this to me?”

He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me up from the floor while I continued kicking and screaming, and pinned me down on the bed. I tried to wiggle free of his grip, but he was too strong for me. “GET OFF OF ME, Justice !”

“No. Not until you calm down. Stop tryna fight me. I don't wanna fight wit' you, yo.”

“You started it, punk! You put your hands on me first! You called me all kind of nasty names.” I was crying loud and hard, almost choking.

“Chill, London . . .”

I wasn't hearing him. The only thing ringing in my ears were the mean, nasty things he had said.

“C'mon, London, stop it! I really don't wanna hurt you, yo.”

“Do it then, punk!” I screamed, not caring who heard us. I tried to wrestle myself free.

He started laughing. “Yo, why you buggin'? Chill, chill, chill, London, yo. I'm sorry, baby. Stop wildin' out, yo. Calm down.”

“Get off of me!”

I bit his arm.

“Oww!” he yelped, letting one of my wrists go. I slapped him. “See. Now you pushin' it, yo.”

“Get off of me!”

“Not until you calm down.”

I couldn't calm down. I was a hysterical mess!

“Calm down, hell! I want you out of my house! And out of my life, Justice! I can't keep doing this with you.”

“C'mon, baby. You don't mean that.”

“I do, I do, I do,” I kept repeating, hoping I could convince myself that I really did. “I swear I do. Get off of me! I'm done with you.”

“C'mon, baby, chill. Forget the plan. If it's gonna have us beefin' 'n' fightin' like this, then I ain't even beat, yo. You mean too much to me.”

“Stop it! Just stop it with your lies, Justice. You already told me how you feel.”

“That wasn't me, yo. I was mad, baby. You know when I get mad I say all kinda crazy ish. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put my hands on you . . .” He kissed me on the lips. I tried to bite him. He laughed. “See. You still wildin', yo. I said I'm sorry, baby. So you need to chill, and let ya man love you.”

I stared at him. Tears falling unchecked.

“You know I love you, girl. I can't wait to spend my life with you. Remember that night I asked you to marry me?”

I shut my eyes. I didn't want to look at him. Yeah, I remembered it. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. But I wasn't going to tell him that. I didn't want to think about that. I was still stuck on how he had played me in front of Rich. How he had told me off and put his hands on me. I was too heartbroken to think of anything else. He did me in.

“Yo, baby, on e'erything I love, when you said
yes
, that was the happiest night of my life.”

I wanted to smile. But I couldn't. No matter what, I didn't want to lose him. But I didn't want to hurt anymore, either.

I missed his touch. God knows I did! I missed the way his body felt on me. His hand started roaming my breast, traveling down to my waist, then to my butt. “Let me love you, baby. You want ya man to make you feel good, huh, baby? Let me make sweet love to you, London . . .”

My brain was screaming
NO!

But my body was moaning
Yesssssss!

“I love you, baby . . .”

“No, you don't,” I sobbed.

He kissed me again. “Yes, I do. You're my world, baby.” He kissed me again. “You're so beautiful. Ain't nobody ever gonna love you like me. You're all mine, London.”

“Wh-wh-what about Rich? You want her?”

“Yo, eff that Pillsbury dough ho. I told you that broad ain't nobody. I want you, baby. I mean, she's a cutie and all, but she ain't got nothin' on you, baby.” He used his free hand and slid it up under my shirt, cupping my breast. “I've missed you, yo. I don't know why you be frontin'.” He whispered in my ear, “You turn me on, London. You always have.”

He tried to kiss me on the lips again. I shook my head.

“No, Justice . . .”

He licked my neck. “You know you missed ya man, baby. Why you be takin' me through a buncha changes, yo?” He kissed my tears. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”

“Stop, Justice. Get off me!”

“You know you don't want that. You just talkin', yo.”

I needed him.

I wanted him.

And I was willing to do whatever I had to, to keep him.

“P
ose for the camera.”

I looked up from my magazine and there was Co-Co Ming, staring at me with one manicured hand on his ultra-slim hip, holding a camera up in his other, smirking.
Sweetmercifuldragonslayer
... The enemy was everywhere today, starting with this fire-eating buzzard.

I hadn't seen this Brokeback Betty since that awful incident at Heather's pill party last week when he was up on the stage spinning around in his tight, white leather hooker shorts and black thigh-high six-inch boots, showing his bare chest and pierced nipples—dancing and prancing and high-kicking it like he was in the skid row Olympics. Mmph, he definitely earned the gold for head ho of the hoodrat pack.

He tooted his lips up. “If it isn't Miss Itsy Ditsy, the Lone Pampered Princess, left to defend the crumbling throne all by her dizzy self.”

I frowned. “Don't worry about the Pampered Princesses or our throne, sugarbooty. But what you better do is get your collagen up first, before you bring your flat-faced self over here trying to serve me. The Pampered Princesses are just fine.”

“Wishful thinking, boo.” He laughed. “Face it. The Pampered Princesses have now become past tense; has-beens. All the blogs have stamped you-all as Poo-Poo in Pampers.
Get it?
Hot messes. Your crowns have been snatched and stomped on. And your reign as Hollywood High royalty is over, daaaahling. So you might as well pack up your little one-girl show and run on home, because it's curtains . . . lights-out for all of you stuck-up, snotty hoes.”

I tilted my head, twirling a lock of my hair. “Ummm, you think?”

“Oh, I know, sweetie. Chop, chop! Who shotcha, boo?” he taunted, snapping another photo.

I glanced around the café, then down at my timepiece.
Where the hell is Rich?

Probably somewhere wrapping her thunder thighs up over some boy's shoulders
, I mused
. With her man-eating self.

Today was her first day back to school. And since Queen Kong London was suspended for the rest of the week, I couldn't wait to see how Miss Boom Bop It-Drop It was going to act without her sideshow rodeo ho beside her. This morning, when I spotted Rich at her locker, I walked right up to her, tossed my hair to the side and said, “Café . . . twelve sharp. Be there or get shredded,” then strutted off to homeroom without giving her a chance to respond.

I hated to admit it, but London was right. We needed to get this media mess under control. Their shenanigans were destroying our reputation. And we needed to at least
act
like we had each other's backs, even if we couldn't stand each other. And, after talking to my boo bear, who helped me to see that storming out of London's house yesterday wasn't the way to play my hand, I decided being cordial to Judas's sister... uh, I mean London, wouldn't be that torturous considering I'd be snuggling with her boyfriend while smiling up in her face. So I texted Rich last night and told her that I agreed to get along with them—for the moment.

Anyway, Rich was already five minutes late. And now I had to deal with this little Pekinese look-alike. All I wanted to do was read the latest edition of
Ni-Ni Girlz
, drink my strawberry smoothie, and sext with my boo bear. He had already sent me two nude pictures of his . . . heehee, well. Let's just say, my most favorite part of the male anatomy. Speaking of which—if Anderson didn't start shaking out the chocolate goodies soon, I was going to end up collapsing from deprivation. It's bad enough I was starting to get the shakes every time I was around him. I needed my fix for something thick, dark, and chocolate. And I needed it NOW! But he was still holding out!

“What, cat gotcha tongue, Miss Cuckoo?”

I crossed my legs, trying to pinch back my frustration. “You know what? You keep standing here snapping pictures if you want. But I'm about three seconds from slopping gravy up on your biscuit, boy.” He blinked, staring at me like he had no dang clue what I meant. “Oh, rice cakes, don't act like you're stuck in brown sauce. I
said
I will smack you upside your head. Now keep talking slippery and see what I slide you.”

He wagged his finger. “Aaah, temper, temper.”

I pulled in my bottom lip, trying to keep it classy and cute. I had on a new pair of strappy seven-inch Roger Vivier pumps and really didn't want to break a heel off in his face, but he was really, really asking for a stomp down. I glanced at my watch again. Now Rich was fifteen minutes late. This was ridiculous! I told that ho twelve sharp!

I jumped up from my seat. “You better ring the alarm, chopsticks, before you find yourself chopped in the gotdang throat. Don't think I won't. Now I asked you to high-step it on away from this table and you still wanna flap your egg roll at me. Well, guess what, Miss Ring-Ding-Dingaling? I'm not London. And I'm not Rich. You might toy with your little pierced nipples, boo. But you won't toy with mine. I will smash your shutters out.”

He threw his manicured hands up in surrender. “Oooh, cranky, cranky, I see. What, no bathroom stalls today?”

I rolled up my sleeves. “I don't do stalls, so get your yippity-yap straight. But since you think you know so much, I got some ‘One Time for Your Mind,' Miss Moo-Moo Peek-A-Boo. And I'ma give you to ten to back it up out of my face before I skin your scalp back.”

I yanked open my handbag, keeping my eyes locked on him. “You've been real frisky, Co-Co. Ten... but WuWu ain't here today, boo. Eight... and I'm not serving up Skittles, sweetie. Six... you think you can prance over here and disrupt my day and not get skinned. Four... see, Heather with her ole junkie self might have escaped my wrath, but you will feel my fury.” I pulled out a pair of Sundragon nunchucks, whipping them up over my shoulder as I walked around the table.

The café fell silent.

Co-Co started walking backward, real slow. “Now, now, Spencer. Let's not do anything rash.”

“Oh no, stink-stink,” I sneered, doing a figure eight, passing the nunchucks underarm, then striking left and right, then wrapping it around my waist. “You came over here tossing daggers.” I repeated the motions. “And now I'm about to put a rash upside your egg noodle.”

Co-Co spun on his heels and started running, flailing his arms in the air while everyone in the café started laughing.

I scanned the whole café, narrowing my eyes and pointing while doing another series of figure eights with my nunchucks. “And the rest of you can get it, too! This table is off-limits, period! Do you hear me? Off. Limits! Now try it. And see what I dish you. I will beat the sweet and sour out of your mouths.”

A few people gasped. Everyone else went back to what they were doing. I walked back over to the table, tossing my nunchucks back into my bag, and took a seat.

I finished flipping through my magazine. Rich finally showed up, tossing her Louis up on the table. I looked at my watch, then up at her. She made a face, twisting her glossed lips up. “What?”

I slammed the magazine shut. “Thanks to you taking your slow sweet time, I had to deal with that Chinatown piñata.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Dang, girl, are your ears clogged with wax or something? I just told you, Co-Co Ming. I had to get him right. And you're all late and wrong. Seventeen minutes and thirty-six seconds, to be exact. I told you to meet me here at twelve sharp.”

“You know what, hooker? Don't do it. You don't run me. And you're not running the show here, so take down that stank attitude before you get smacked down. I'm still seconds from beating your face in for pulling that machete out on me yesterday.”

“Oh, puhleeease, Rich. Your imagination is so extra.”

“And so is your mouth, so shut it before I put a fist in it. I'm soooo not in the mood for you.” She pulled out her chair and sat.

“The feeling's mutual. Still, we made a truce to get along, so let's. Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

She furrowed her arched brows together. “What?”

I repeated. “Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat? Remember when we used to play that game?”

“Yeah,
and
?”

“So we're playing it now. So pick one.”

“I'm not playing no games with you, girl. What I look like? Didn't you just pull an axe out on me?”

I chuckled. “Oh, Rich, let's not dwell in the past. That was yesterday. And this is today. That's part of your problem. You don't know when to let stuff go. Now, truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

She huffed. “What is the point?”

I looked around the café, then back at Rich. “Look around you. Do you see anyone else sitting at this table besides you and me? Would you prefer that we sit and play Miss Mary Mack or some mess instead of staring at each other like two fools? And you know a) I'm not a fool and b) I don't do you, either.” I jumped up from the table and snatched open my bag. “But you are starting to get on my doggone nerves.”

Rich's eyes popped open as she placed a hand up to her chest. “Clutching pearls, clutching pearls. Whew, violence. This time I will call the cops on your Looney Tunes behind. Because if you think you gonna give it to me the way you did Lexi Matthews two years ago then you got me messed up.”

“Wait one ding-dong minute. I was taking up for you. And you know I always had your back and never let anyone mess with you.”

“I had yours, too. I cursed her out and then I ran to come and get you.”

I smiled, sitting back down. “Exactly. And then we tore her up together.”

“Yeah, and we gave it to her real, juicy, and good. With a lot of gravy on it.”

“A whole lotta gravy. Boom, bop, and dropped her all up and down these halls.”

“And being suspended and paying that hundred grand was well worth it.”

“Like a shoe sale!”

“Freshman year, we had some good times back then.”

Rich tilted her head and stared at me. “Yeah, but you've changed.”

“No, I didn't change. You did. But I'm not gonna sit here and go on all night... I mean, all day with you about it. So, truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat? And I'm not gonna say it again.”

“And whatchu gon' do? Stab me? Get all low budget and hood on. You better be thankful I'm bougie. Now truth.”

“Did you kiss Bobby Landers underneath the table when we were in eighth grade?”

“Yes. We were experimenting.”

“Is that how you got that cut on your lip?”

She frowned. “Yeah, from his braces.”

“Okay, another one. Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?” Rich picked truth. I took a deep breath. “Do you miss our friendship?” Rich shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “Just tell the truth. Nothing extra.”

“Yeah. I miss it.”

I reached over for her hand. “Me too.”

“Truth, dare, consequences, private, or repeat?”

“Private,” I said. Rich leaned up in her seat, waiting. “I was pregnant two summers ago.”

Her eyes popped open. “Whaaaat,
you
? By who?”

“RJ,” I confessed.

Rich's face went blank. “RJ, as in
my
brother,
RJ
?” I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you were messing with my brother two summers ago, too?”

I nodded again. “We kept it on the creep-creep.”

“Did he know you were pregnant?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Why didn't you tell him?”

I shrugged. “What was the point? He went back to England. And I . . .” I took a deep breath. “Remember when I had to be rushed to the hospital from school?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. The same time you had that fight with Lexi.”

“Yeah.” I felt myself getting choked up. “I had a miscarriage that day. She hit me in my stomach.” My eyes shifted away.

Rich blinked. “Oh, wow. Lexi made you lose your baby. She was the cause.”

I nodded my head.

“Did you want to keep it?”

I couldn't speak. I just nodded.

“Why?” she whispered.

My eyes met hers. “Because all of my life the only thing I've ever wanted was unconditional love. And I really thought having RJ's baby would give me that.”

I dabbed under my eyes with the backs of my fingers.

“Do you wish you didn't lose it?”

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, I know everything happens for a reason. And I definitely wasn't ready to be a mother. Shoot, I'm still not. The ugly thought of having my stomach stretched out, and my gorgeous shape ruined.” I eyed her, tilting my head. “Having my waistline look like yours... mmmph, no thank you. I'd take death by lethal injection first.”

She frowned. “Spencer, don't get it crunked up in here. We're doing good so far and I'm trying to feel sorry for you.”

I giggled. “I'm just saying, Rich. I mean, who wants to have stretch marks and their stomach jiggling when they walk? I know I don't. So, in that sense, I'm glad I lost it. But it still hurt because I had lost a piece of . . .” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, breathing in memories of RJ, trying not to cry. He's the only boy I ever gave my heart to. And no matter how many other boys I sexed or toyed with, RJ still had it.