Get Ready for War, page 20
17
Spencer
Caramel popcorn, check!
Twizzlers, check!
Mike and Ikes, check!
Two bottles of 5-hour Energy shots, check, check!
Night vision goggles, check!
Binoculars, check!
Rich in hotel with London’s man, ho check!
London in parking lot, dumb-diggity check!
Phone call to Kitty’s street team, juicy check!
Oh yes, oh yes . . . I can see the headlines now:
GUESS WHO GOT THE JUICE? SPENCER ELLINGTON DOES!
EX-RUNWAY MODEL RUNS NAKED FOR LOVE!
PSYCHO-SOCIALITE GOES CUCKOO FOR THE COCK-A-DOODLE
DO!
RATCHET, NASTY SUBWAY RAT LOSES EVERYTHING!
The thought of it was so juicy I had to lick my fingers. I fell back in my seat cracking up, watching London through my binoculars as she stormed out of the hotel lobby back to her car.
“Yeah, DogKeisha, I see you with your ghetto-tail self, pacing around looking all thirsty. I’m the one who sent that text to you, ho.”
I giggled, pulling out my throwaway phone, then scrolled back through the text messages I had sent to her two hours earlier. Dumb hoes were delicious to watch!
Have you seen your man today?
London had texted back: Who is this?
Ur Fairy Ho Mother. And I come bearing gifts 4 u
Then I followed it up with a photo of Justice at the hotel desk with a caption that read: Kaboom! Guess who stepped in the room? Spotted: 6 feet tall, fine Panty Droppa with whore! And she isn’t U
London replied: Who is this again?
It isn’t Justice cause he’s in a room gettin whacked off by a queen sleaze in the trap, queen sleaze in the trap
I giggled.
Poor little whore with nothing left to do. Whatcha gonna do when the cleanup woman comes after you?
I finger popped, feeling good. I should be a rapper. I could rap and Rich could sing my hooks. Then again, the way she likes to booty-pop-it up on stage, she could be one of my backup singers and dancers.
I got it, I got it. You gonna sit in the dark, watchin’ ya man like a hawk... while he and his new boo make a fool outta you . . . break-a, break-a, one-time . . . dingaling-aling . . . sit back and wait for the alarm to ring... ya man got his tongue stuck in that thing-thing . . .
Heeheehee.
I picked up my binoculars and zoomed in on London’s big face for a visual update. She was pacing back and forth in front of the car.
I should call the police on her for loitering.
Nah...I’d rather watch her kill herself when Justice comes out with Rich. Mmmph . . . hot scandal!
I laughed. “You can’t even keep Justice. Mmmph . . . and you think you gonna keep Anderson? Not! He’s gonna be with me. Think Rich is gonna be your best friend? Not! Right about now Hot Drawz is flipped upside down with the Panty Droppa! She’s putting it on him so good he’s calling out her grandmother’s name, Rovina Sue ‘Eat ’Em Up-Eat ’Em Up’ Gatling. Yeah, she got him in there porn-starring it up! Toes curling, biting down on his bottom lip. Oooh, yes! I know Miss Freaks R Us is doing him right. ’Cause she’s nasty like that. I raised her well. She is doing momma proud! Drop it on him, Rich! Drop down on him, boo!”
Ooooh, I was so dang amped!
I couldn’t help but giggle again.
I stuffed my mouth with a handful of Mike and Ikes, then washed them down with a swig of my energy shot. Boom! Boom!
I was floating on sugar!
Higher than a lampshade!
Happier than Co-Co Ming being lost in Boys Town!
I cracked up, picking up my binoculars again.
“You’re not the only trashy whore in town, Miss London. Miss I’m From New York. Miss Amazon Gone Wild. Miss This Is How We Do It. Miss Upper East Side Trick-A-Lot. Open your checkbook, ho. I bet you have more skid marks on your panty liners than you have zeroes in your bank accounts, Miss Brokeback Low-Money. I’m about to tear your playhouse all the way down.”
I usually didn’t munch on junk, but tonight was a special treat. I knew the minute I spotted Mr. Sexy Chocolate up on that stage and saw Rich hop her thick-in-the-hips, two-biscuits-and-a-shake booty up there with him that this was going to be a ringside moment. The circus was in session. The fat lady was about to sing. And the main attraction was loaded up on hot wings and beer about to start the freakfest. Whoooo-hoooooo! Ring the alarms, gosh-darn it!
“Freak on the loose. And she’s doing your man!” I screamed in laughter as I reached into my creep-creep kit and pulled out a pair of night goggles. I slipped them on and watched London all night.
It was already close to two in the morning.
Rich had stumbled up into the elevator with Sexy Chocolate around eleven thirty—how do I know? Because I was there. Duh—and I waited to see what floor it would stop on. Mmmph, the twenty-first floor. Then I sent London her first text at exactly eleven forty-three. I wanted to give Hot Drawz a chance to get stripped down first, before I reached out and touched a ho. That was my new community service project: the Reach a Ho, Teach a Ho project.
“Mmmph, just look at her. Pacing back and forth on them sausages she calls feet. I know them things gotta be fried down to the skin by now. Public works will probably have to come out in the morning to fill in the dents she done put in the road. Wasting taxpayer dollars on her dumbness!”
I decided to send her another text: U find ur man yet? oooh, oooh, U smell that? it’s sex in the air. and it ain’t with u!
London replied: Silly little girl. Tricks r 4 kids! My man is right here n my bed! So stop botherin’ me. Get a life. Dumb whore!
Liar, liar. Whore on fire! u better try the next trick’s bed. Ur man’s nowhere near U. He don’t even want u!
I zoomed in on her again. She swung open the car door, then threw her phone over into the passenger seat. Then the poor wretched stank-a-dank pressed her forehead up against the steering wheel. Her shoulders shook. Poor thing was crying over her boo. What a mess! She started banging the steering wheel, screaming with the windows rolled up. I took my phone and snapped pictures. Oh, this was priceless.
I laughed. This slore is nuts! With her big-faced, big-hand self! She’s just a big ole funky elephant!
I watched her blow her snout, then wipe snot away. Ugh, nasty! Then out of nowhere the selfish tramp sped off, like a wild woman. I screamed, knocking over my box of Mike and Ikes and spilling my energy drink. “Wait! Where you going, ho? Wait, wait, wait for me. Your man’s in the hotel! Twenty-first floor!”
I cranked up my engine and started following London. She was driving like she was a scorned bat fleeing hell. And now I saw why. Justice had sped out of the hotel’s parking lot and she was following behind his car. I swung around the bend to catch up to her and sideswiped the Dish the Dirt news van. My God. . . idiot, why don’t you watch where you’re going! “You’re supposed to be getting this trick’s news, not hitting me!”
I was pissed. I had Kitty on board and this ho was running out on me. My phone rang. “Tell me I did not just waste time and money for some ho-chase gone wrong,” Kitty sneered into the phone. “And then you’re out there hitting my news van. I have an irate driver on the phone with his hot cup of coffee tossed in his lap because you don’t seem to know how to drive. The man is shaken up.”
I huffed, “Well, he should have been watching where he was pulling out!”
“Spencer, the van was parked!” she yelled into my ear.
I gasped. “Well, he must have road rage, then. Who would get in my way knowing I’m on a mission?”
“Whatever, Spencer. You get me my story, or else!” The line went dead.
“Oh, whatever, Kitty. Bite me. And bite me good!” I yelled, turning another corner and running up on a curb. I pressed down on the pedal to keep up with Hoesha.
“Lonnnnnnnnnnnndon, I’ma ram your pipes in!” I screamed, trying to keep a discreet distance behind her.
She ran a red light, then swerved over onto the other side of the road, turning down a one-way street, going the wrong way. Now I was getting pissed. This trick was trying to do me in.
Ohmysweetluckycharms . . . Trickamona is trying to get me killed!
“This idiot! This is why she can’t keep a man. ’Cause she can’t keep up with him! What are you doing, trick? He hooked a left on West Cota Street, you dumb Amazonian roach! This makes no sense burning up good gas! What the hell is wrong with you, London? I see why I can’t stand you!”
I wonder if I speed up next to her and tap on her window and tell her which way he went she’d think that was strange, or would I have to Mace her down like a rabid dog? Mmmph. I’d probably have to twist her eyeballs out.
She merged onto Route 101 heading south back toward Hollywood. She drove like a fire-eating lunatic for almost ten miles before she finally swerved over onto the side of the highway, crying again.
I hit the lights and eased over a few hundred feet in back of her. Thank goodness it was still dark out, or my cover would have been blown.
I rolled my eyes. All those waterworks were burning a hole into my booty cheeks. Like who does that? Crying over a boy like that. I mean, really, strap on your big-girl lace thongs and get your mind right. Geesh.
My phone rang and it was Kitty calling back. I pressed Ignore, sending her straight to voice mail. I was not in the mood to curse her out for old and new Chanels ’cause I knew she couldn’t see straight, calling me with her craziness.
This was getting ridiculous. I sat and I sat and I sat, waiting to see what Trickalicious was gonna do next. I screamed when I glanced at the clock and realized I had been sitting in the car for ninety gotdang minutes waiting for this cluckeroo to make her next move. I felt like calling Rich and telling her to get her bloodline of hoodboogas to come pull a carjacking and leave London in the middle of the street stripped down to her drawers. Then I’d ride by and ask her if she had a ride.
I giggled at the thought.
“Oooh, oooh, no, no . . . I know what I could do,” I said to myself. “I can call animal control and report a wild mammal on the loose and have her harpooned. Yeah, that’s it!”
Oh, how I cracked myself up, thinking about all the devilish ways to destroy Miss Low-Money London. Now I saw why she couldn’t get her money up; she was just dumb and stupid. There was no dang way tire tracks shouldn’t be running up Justice’s back, but noooooooo . . . we were stuck on a three-lane highway in Santa Barbara. Where were the police when you needed them? I felt like running up on London in a ski mask and wig and Macing the back of her retinas for being so dang pathetic.
Kitty rang my cell incessantly, like the world was on fire. I ignored her. A few minutes later I spotted her news van speeding by. I guess they had given up. But I hadn’t. I was going to sit there until the sun came up and the last rooster crowed, if I had to. I’d eat up my snacks watching and waiting for this whore-heifer to pull it together.
“Ugh, you disgust me, you gutter rat,” I snarled, chomping down on two Twizzlers, then popping a handful of Mike and Ikes into my mouth. I took a shot of my energy drink. I felt the sugar shoot through my veins. I was glucosed up and started to hallucinate.
Yes, that was it.
I had to be seeing things when I saw a stretch limo speed by, then pull over on the side of the highway behind London’s car. I zoomed in on the target and screamed, crouching down in my seat. It was Anderson. Four thirty in the morning and he was out in his red cape playing Captain Save A Tramp.
What is he doing here?
Why would she be calling him?
That’s my man!
Why didn’t she call Panty Droppa?
London has this all the way jacked up, calling my boo bear this time of the morning. There were only two things these late-night calls were good for: doughnuts and neck bobbing!
Ohmygod, Anderson better not be playing me. I pulled out my cell and dialed his number, but quickly disconnected when he pulled it out of his jacket. Wait a minute! I have the game tied up. The game doesn’t have me tied up. I run this. I’m no man’s prisoner. I take prisoners.
I took another shot to the head.
I torture them.
I bring them to their knees.
Oh, noooo . . . bees in the trap. They had me messed up!
Relax, Spencer. Pull it together. Keep it calm. Let’s see what part of the game this may be...
I took several deep breaths.
Her window went down.
He leaned into the car. They were talking.
Oooh, I wish I knew what they were saying.
I already had my zoom lens on high and could see everything crisp and clear; everything except for what the heck they were saying. I couldn’t read their lips for skunk piss, dangit!
Maybe this was a photo op or something.
I lifted up my night goggles and peered through my binoculars, hoping for a closer look. London handed Anderson her cell. I frowned as he scrolled through it. What the sneezusjeezus does she think giving him her phone is gonna do?
Anderson said something to her, shaking his head as he handed her phone back to her.
Oh God, more tears! Here she goes with her Queen of Pathetic role again, crying. Maybe Rich was right; this tramp was really stupid. And here I thought she was being her usual two-faced self, but Rich was right. This ho-dog was sniffing up the wrong tree with her dumb self.
Anderson couldn’t care less about her. Poor, stupid London . . . sitting on the highway with her big hoofs pounding the pavement . . . but Anderson is about to come my way . . . ’cause I got that goodness...
I mean really, why would he want buffalo chips, when he could have a slim in the waist, pretty in the face cutie-boo on his arm? After all, I had beauty, body, and I gave good brain... I mean, I had brains, too. Heeheehee.
I got that wet-wet ... slurp ’em up, slurp ’em up ... got that bombness . . . bees in the trap . . . I’ma bring him to my . . .
Wait!
Why is he opening up the driver’s-side door? And why is London getting out of the car? And, wait, wait . . . why is Anderson’s driver pulling off?
Anderson walked London over to the passenger’s side of her car, opened the door for her, then waited for her to slide her monkey-donkey self in before shutting the door.
My mouth dropped open when I saw his eyes drop down to her behind.
Why are his eyes stuck to her behind like that? I should ram into the back of her car!
Anderson slid behind the steering wheel, then shut the door. I waited with bated breath to see what happened next. And then... and then...
He stroked her chin.
He tucked her hair behind her ear.
And then he did the unthinkable.
He grabbed London by her gizzard chin, guided her to him and planted . . . ohsweetgorillaandduckpoo . . . he kissed her!
That no-good, horny corndog kissed her on the lips! And he had the nerve to take his time kissing her, like the two of them were enjoying it.
Ohfortheloveofcleandrawersandmatchingbras! How could he do this to me?!
I screamed, gripping my binoculars with both hands as they kept kissing. I held them so tight that I could have easily snapped them in half as if they were Anderson’s neck. It looked as if he was nibbling and sucking on her lips, too. I felt myself getting more agitated by the minute as I imagined Stink Bottom sitting there with her Underoos sticking to her roach nest, getting all gooey-ooey inside from the kisses that Anderson should have been giving to me! His tongue was supposed to be dancing with mine, moving with heated passion, twirling around mine, making my treasures wet. Not hers!
Ohgodohgodohgod . . . his hand moved from her face to the back of her neck. He pulled her in more. He wanted a deeper kiss. Ohgodohgodohgoddangit!
They kissed and kissed and kissed, then he slowly pulled away, staring into her eyes.
Finally, the trick turned from him. They both fastened their seat belts. Anderson started the engine, then slowly pulled out onto the highway, driving off and leaving me parked on the side of the road with my bottom lip hitting the steering wheel.
I screamed, “Anderson Ford! I am going to crush you into a meat grinder then feed you to the sharks for licking and kissing all over that foul-mouthed septic waste! You nasty buzzard!”
My cell rang. Without thinking, I answered. “Wh-wh-whaat ?”
“Spencer, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Kitty screamed into my ear. “Where are you?”
I blinked.
“What happened to the secret boo? What happened to the story? You had my men out all night chasing ghosts! I can’t even count on you to get that right? This is a hot mess! You have wasted time and money! Spencer, Spencer... do you hear me talking to you?”
I blinked.
“He kissed her. He really kissed her. He’s been lying to me...”
18
Rich
What did I just do?
It must’ve been an out-of-body experience.
It had to be...
I knew I was on that stage . . .
I knew I went up to his hotel suite...
I knew we started kissing at the door...
My body was pressed up against his . . .
His kisses traveled from my lips, down my neck, over my collarbone, leaving a wet, warm trail along the center of my body...
Stop thinking.
Just breathe.
I can’t do that...
I had to get my mind right. My thoughts in order. I raced south down the freeway and I wasn’t sure if I was outrunning the wee hours of the morning or my life . . . All I knew was that I had to get out of there.
I’m not a cheater . . . Maybe this wasn’t cheating...
