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By RESHONDA TATE BILLINGSLEY
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.Copyright © 2013ReShonda Tate Billingsley
All rights reserved.
"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.
Excerpted from RUMOR CENTRAL by RESHONDA TATE BILLINGSLEY. Copyright © 2013 by ReShonda Tate Billingsley. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
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