Rumor Central

Book 0: Rumor Central

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

Genres: Young Adult

Synopsis

The teen reality show Miami Divas made media sensations out of Miami’s richest in-crowd, and Maya Morgan is one of them. Now Maya’s been offered her very own show, and she’ll do whatever it takes to step up the fame, and that includes spilling some secrets her friends wish were left buried. But as Maya gives up the goods, someone will do anything to shut her up. Between backstabbing lies and hard truths, this gossip girl has only one chance to make things right, before it’s too late.

Release date: May 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Audiobooks

Print pages: 272

Sample

“Ain’t no party like a Maya Morgan party, ’cuz a Maya Morgan party don’t stop!”

The sounds of the screeching crowd filled The Mansion, Miami’s hottest club. Usually reserved for the twenty-one and up crowd, tonight it was closed down just for me!

That’s because I got it like that. Just ask any one of the fifteen-hundred people crowded into The Mansion to celebrate my birthday.

Forget Sweet Sixteen, my Sweet Seventeen party was one for the history books. MTV was here filming, my reality show Miami Divas was taping our season finale, and the deejay had the crowd on their feet, leading them with the chant that everyone was singing.

“Ain’t no party like a Maya Morgan party, cuz a Maya Morgan party don’t stop!”

If I wasn’t on top of the world before, I was definitely on it now.

I stood in the VIP box overlooking the dance floor, waving my hands back and forth with the music. My swag was in full force. I was rocking an emerald green Valentino lace tank dress, some five-inch gold Giuseppe Zanotti peep toe pumps and enough jewelry to feed a small village in China. I’d gotten highlights in my jet black, long wavy hair and of course, my makeup was on point.

That’s how I roll. My mom says I’m “extra” but I say I’m about that life, that’s why when MTV contacted me last year about being on their show “My Super Sweet Sixteen,” I told them I was an extraordinary type of girl and I didn’t want to do any ordinary type of show. So, I was going to wait a year and do a Sweet Seventeen party.

They weren’t feeling me at first, but the way the cameraman was panning the hyped up crowd, and the producer was grinning from ear to ear, I knew they were feeling me now.

“Girl, this party is hot!” my friend, Kennedi, said as she bounced to the music. She was rocking a Versace royal blue jumpsuit and looked almost as tight as me. Almost.

“And you thought it wouldn’t be?” I laughed as I took another sip of my drink. “You know how I do it.”

She laughed, then looked around. “Where’s your little crew at?”

I knew it was just a matter of time. Kennedi and I have been friends since we were babies because our mothers had been college roommates. But she lived in Orlando now, so we didn’t get to hang as much. For some reason, she didn’t cut for my new friends, especially the ones from my reality show Miami Divas.

The show starred me and four of my classmates from our private school, Miami High. Don’t get it twisted; we weren’t your ordinary high school students. If you looked up fab in the dictionary, it would have our picture right next to it. Shoot, Kimora Lee Simmons named her company—Fabulosity—directly after me. (Well, that’s my story anyway.) But when you had more money in your purse than most people made in a year, you had no choice but to be fab. And me and my crew were all that and a bag of jalapeño chips.

There was my BFF, Sheridan Matthews. Her mom is world-renowned singer Glenda Matthews. Then, Shay Turner, who can best be described as my frenemy because she’s so ghetto-fabulous (and I don’t do ghetto) that we clash like oil and water. But her dad, Jalen Turner, is like the biggest basketball player in the country, so she was rolling in dough. The other crew members included Evian Javid, who had more money than all of us combined because her dad is this Middle Eastern billionaire; Bali Fernandez, who I just adore because he is so over-the-top and doesn’t care who knows it—including his uptight daddy who is some kind of Cuban diplomat. And then me—you ever heard of the Morgan Hotel chain? That’s right, I’m that Morgan. Don’t hate. Although if you did, I’d be used to it. I’m a five-foot-nine, caramel coated princess. When you put us all together, you had fabulousity at its finest.

I don’t know if Kennedi just didn’t like the crew or if she was jealous that Sheridan had taken her spot (that’s what she always said). So she didn’t like the others, but she despised Sheridan. And the feeling was mutual.

“They’re in the back doing some interviews,” I finally said, answering her.

She turned up her nose. “This is about you. Why are they doing interviews?”

I smiled. “Chill, Kennedi. It’s all good. My party is going to be part of the season finale.”

“I thought this was supposed to just be for MTV.”

“They worked out something.” I shrugged. I left all those kinds of details to my dad and our attorney.

She finally laughed. “Only you would be able to get MTV to change their whole programming lineup.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” my girl Lauren sang as she approached us. Even though the club was dark, I could tell by the way she was slurring her words that she was high as a kite. Back in the day, me, Kennedi and Lauren were inseparable. But her parents had shipped her off to boarding school and she’d turned into a druggie. Since I don’t do druggies, we’d drifted apart. Still, I knew she’d be too through if I didn’t invite her to the party, so I’d let her come, but I’d told her to leave all that drug mess alone. Obviously, she didn’t listen.

“What’s up, girl?” I said, shaking my head at her. She was too pretty to be messing herself up like that. She looked like a younger version of Jada Pinkett Smith and could’ve been a model or an actress. But now, she stayed too high to do much of anything. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry I was late. I was ummm, ah . . .” She started giggling.

“Yeah, we know what you were doing,” Kennedi snapped. We’d both tried talking to Lauren, but any progress we made with her was lost when she went back to school.

I turned my attention back to the crowd that was now jamming to a TI song. Lauren wasn’t about to put a damper on my party.

“Where’s your boo?” Lauren asked, looking around the VIP section, which held only about twenty people: my executive producer from Miami Divas, Tamara Collins, who also happened to be an old family friend; some MTV executives; my other friends from school, Chenoa, Chastity, and Ava; and a couple of my other close friends.

I smiled as my eyes made their way across the crowded dance floor to my baby, my first love, Bryce Logan. The definition of fine, Bryce had it going on—from his hazel brown eyes to his curly brown hair—he looked like he could be Chris Brown’s younger (and much cuter) brother. Bryce’s dad played for the Miami Dolphins, and it was his dream to do the same and he was definitely on his way as the star running back at Miami High.

“My boo is over there talking to his friends. I can’t wait to see what he got me for my birthday.”

“Probably a new BMW,” Kennedi joked.

“All I want to know is how can I find me a baller’s son?” Lauren said.

“Try saying crack is whack and you might be able to,” Kennedi replied.

Lauren looked insulted. “I don’t do crack.”

“Oh, sorry.” Kennedi shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Ecstasy, dope?”

I finally decided to step in. “Hey, you two don’t start. This is all about me today.”

Kennedi laughed and bumped me, almost making me spill my drink. “Girl, when is it not all about you?”

Before I could answer, Sheridan bounced into the VIP area. “Hey, Maya,” she said. “Come on, the producers are waiting on you.”

Kennedi cut her eyes. “Is Maya the only one you see?”

Sheridan stopped, looked at her, looked around, then turned to Kennedi and said, “Yep.” She took my hand and tried to lead me off. “Come on, girl.”

I could see Kennedi about to get worked up.

“Chill,” I mumbled. The last thing I wanted was any drama at my party. “I’ll be right back. Go get a drink. You know my mom is watching the punch like a hawk but I think Carl and his crew have some of the good stuff in the back.” I could tell the way Kennedi’s nostrils were flaring that she wanted to say something else. But she let it slide.

“Good stuff? I’m coming with you,” Lauren threw in.

“I don’t know how you can keep being friends with them,” Sheridan said as we headed to the back.

I stopped to face her. “Okay, I’m going to tell you like I told them. Today is all about me. I’m not trying to do the drama, ya feel me?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Sheridan said as she draped her arm through mine and giggled. “Girl, this party is sooo tight!”

I was glad she let it drop as we walked into the back room where they were shooting some scenes from the season finale of Miami Divas. The show had done well in our first year on the air. We’d been one of the TV station’s highest rated shows.

“If it isn’t the fabulous Maya Morgan,” Bali said as I walked over to where he and the others stood in a small circle waiting on direction from the producer. Bali was the flamboyant one of the group and today was no exception. He was Versace’d down—from the silk shirt to the skinny jeans. And his Loub-utoins were badder than mine.

“You know I’m sick over the shoes,” I told him as we air-kissed.

He stuck his foot out and wiggled it. “Eat your heart out, honey. One of a kind.” He leaned in closer. “But, missy, I need to talk to you about your guest list.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ummm, yeah, the two Pillsbury Dough girls that have been following me around the party.”

I laughed. I knew exactly who he was talking about. “You mean Nina and Tina.”

“Nina and Tina, Bina and Kina, whatever. Their names need to be Krispy and Kreme because they look like some fluffy glazed donuts.”

“Boy, stop,” I laughed.

“Unh-unh. Just a hot mess.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Believe me, if I could’ve left them off, I would have. But they’re my cousins.”

“Ugh, don’t tell anyone else that,” Evian added.

“Yeah, you need to get your fam off the buffet table,” Shay threw in.

I laughed. Leave it to my crew. You couldn’t even tell just 24 hours ago, we were arguing like crazy because they didn’t like the idea of filming the season finale at my party because as Shay said, “This show ain’t about her.” But as we always did, we’d worked through our differences. That’s because we were a team, in this thing together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!

The sound of thunder bounced off the walls of the small conference room at WSVV-TV. A Miami storm was brewing outside and it looked like a bigger one was about to jump off inside.

The thunder had to be messing up my hearing, though. Because I just know this one-Reese’s-Pieces-away-from-exploding mop head was not saying what I thought he was saying.

“. . . I’m sorry, I know this may be hard. But we really don’t have a choice.”

Fired?

Did he really say we were getting fired? All of us?

“I know this is not what you wanted to hear. . . .”

It sure wasn’t. When Dexter Garrett asked me and my fellow cast members to gather in the conference room at WSVV-TV, I just knew it was to tell us the station executives were caving to our demands. After all, we’d made this little funky no-name channel. It was tanking in the ratings, behind reruns of The Simpsons, until we came and did what we do best—shined like the North Star.

Everybody and their dog was talking about “Miami Divas” and after my fab party last week, they hadn’t stopped talking about me!

That’s why this craziness Dexter was talking wasn’t making any kind of sense.

“The season finale taping was great and all, but we’ve made the decision to go in a different direction,” Dexter said.

“Excuse me,” Evian said, standing to her feet and tossing her butt-length hair over her shoulder. Every time I saw her do that, I wanted to grab some scissors and cut some of that mess off. I heard those hood girls pay big money for hair like that.

“Yes, Evian?” Dexter said, blowing a long breath like he wasn’t in the mood for questions.

“So, you’re telling us that Miami Divas is no more?” Evian said, waving her Minx nails like they were some kind of magic wand that could make this foolishness disappear.

“What part of fired do you not get?” Shay snapped. She had a serious attitude and looked like somebody was about to feel her wrath. But then again, Shay always had an attitude about something.

“I’m sorry,” Evian snapped right back. “Where I come from, I don’t get fired. My family does the firing.”

“Well, you ain’t in India no more,” Shay huffed, rolling her neck, tossing her honey-blond hair like it was real. “You in Miami, chica.”

“For the one-thousandth time, I’m not from India! I’m from Dubai. And I don’t speak Spanish.”

“India, Dubai, Africa, it’s all the same.” Shay waved her off. Those two were like some old married couple, arguing one minute and best friends the next.

“Hey, Nicki Minaj,” Bali yelled at Shay,“can you and Kim Kardashian sit down and let the man finish? Obviously, he has to get to the part where he tells us this is all a joke.” Bali raised an eyebrow, turned up his lips, and gave Dexter a “go on” look.

Dexter ran his hands nervously through his hair. “Unfortunately, it’s not a joke,” he finally said. “Corporate has made the decision not to renew the show.”

So that’s what that crazy conversation from Tamara was about! She’d pulled me aside at the party to ask if I would be interested in my own show. Of course, I told her I would, but she made it seem like that was something for the future. She never said anything about canceling Miami Divas, which I definitely couldn’t appreciate because she was supposed to be a friend of the family—her aunt and my mom knew each other and she’d interned at my dad’s company.

Fired.

I couldn’t get that word out of my head. Why would Tamara talk to me about my own show if she was planning on firing me?

“But I thought we were doing great in the ratings.” That was Sheridan, speaking for the first time since we gathered in the conference room.

“You were just doing okay,” Tamara said, finally speaking up. I should’ve known something was up since she sat at the head of the table all quiet. She usually called the shots so the fact that she let Dexter begin should’ve been our cue that this wasn’t going to be pretty.

Tamara sighed heavily as she continued. “And well, quite frankly, with the demands you all were making . . .” She let her words trail off. Shay coughed loudly as she shot me the evil eye. She had been completely against us demanding anything, especially because, as she said, “It’s not like we needed more money.”

But it was the principle of it all. When we’d started the show, it was just a way to highlight our fabulous lifestyle, so we were all in it just for the fun. My dad is actually the one who convinced me that since we had blown up so well the first season, we needed to demand more money and perks and we shouldn’t take no for an answer. Everyone had been on board, except for Shay. Now, she was shooting us an “I told you so” look.

Whatever. I wasn’t about to take the blame for this. I hadn’t held a gun to anyone’s head and made them agree with me.

Anyway, I wasn’t about to beg for this stupid job. I’d had it going on before this show and I would have it going on after it.

I grabbed my custom-made ostrich Berkin bag, pulled out my Chanel sunglasses, and stood up.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said. “Maya Morgan doesn’t stay anywhere she’s not wanted.”

Tamara narrowed her eyes at me. “If Maya Morgan would shut up, sit down, and listen—”

“Hold up!” I said, raising my index finger in her direction. “You must think you’re talking to some lowlife or something because I’m not the one.”

Tamara took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Maya, please have a seat and let us finish.”

We faced off. I wondered if I should tell her to kiss my Pilates-toned backside, but up until today, I had liked Tamara, so I let her make it as I slid back into my seat.

“As Dexter was saying,” Tamara continued, “we are canceling the show. But . . .” She and Dexter exchanged glances. “We are keeping one of you.”

All of us sat straight up.

“What?” Sheridan said.

“You can’t do that!” Evian cried.

“We’re a team,” Bali said.

“Who are you keeping?” I tossed in as my heart raced. Everyone turned around to stare at me, but I didn’t care. I needed to know.

“Well”—Tamara hesitated as the room got quiet—“Maya, we’d like to keep you on board to head up the show I was telling you about. It’s called Rumor Central.”

I wanted to jump up and shout for joy and if I wasn’t afraid of breaking my five-inch Louboutins, I would have.

“Oh my God. So, like, what will I be doing?” I wasn’t even trying to hide my excitement, even though I could feel the other four shooting me daggers.

“Telling you about?” Sheridan said. “You knew about this?”

“You knew we were getting fired and you didn’t say anything to us?” Evian added in disbelief.

I shook my head, but before I could reply, Tamara said, “No, Maya had no idea they were canceling the show.”

“That’s right. I had no idea,” I said with an attitude. How were they getting mad at me?

“But you did know they were looking at you for another show,” Bali said, staring at me like he was trying to see straight through me.

“Boy, I was into my party. I didn’t know what she was talking about,” I snapped. They were really busting my bubble right about now.

“You are such a freakin’ liar,” Shay said.

. . .