Real As It Gets (4 page)

T
he newsroom of WSVV was a flurry of activity. Reporters, producers, and interns were running around like crazy.

“Where's the fire?” I asked Sonnie, one of the news producers, as I walked up to the main desk. I didn't usually make my way to this side of the building, but I'd finally gotten in touch with Savannah. She was in rehab now and had agreed to give me an interview when she got out. So, I'd left school right after lunch and come into the office to try and dig up some background info on other designer drug cases.

“Girl, it's a middle school that has had seven kids overdose,” she said, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper. Before I could reply, the desk phone rang. “Hey, this is the police department calling back,” she yelled to no one in particular before snatching the phone up.

“Wow.” I was grateful I worked on the entertainment side. I was only doing the drug stories as it pertained to celebrities. The idea of having to deal with that kind of stuff day in and day out, I definitely wasn't feeling.

“I guess I'll just come back,” I mouthed to Sonnie, who had the phone nestled between her shoulder and her ear.

“Yeah, this is major so I'm not going to be able to get anyone to help you for a while.”

“Cool,” I replied.

I had just turned to walk away when I heard her say, “Oh no, so four of the kids have died?” she said.

I couldn't take any more. The news side was so freaking depressing. I made my way out of the newsroom before they completely ruined my day.

I had just sat down at my desk when my boss, Tamara, knocked on my door.

“Hey, Maya. Lynn from news wants to know if you have any contact information for Chanel Jackson.”

“The actress?” I asked.

“Yeah, apparently, her little sister is one of the middle school kids that overdosed.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Wow, this stuff is out of control. I just left the news department and it's chaos.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. We got a tip today on another celebrity. I just don't get it. This K2 is supposed to be the cheap stuff, so why are all these rich people indulging in it?”

I shrugged. I had long ago stopped trying to figure out druggies.

“I don't know Chanel, but I can try to make some calls,” I said.

“I appreciate it. They have your story for today lined up.” She pointed to the folder on my desk. I picked it up and began sifting through it. Of course, we were reporting another K2 story. I had an eerie feeling that things with this drug were about to get even more out of control.

My cell phone rang as I was reading over everything. It was my mom.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, answering. “I can't talk long. I'm about to go on the air.”

I still had two hours before taping, but the last thing I felt like doing was sitting up on the phone with my mother.

“Hey, sweetie. You could at least say ‘how are you, Mother?' ”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “How are you, Mother?”

“Thank you. That's much better. I'm fine. Your father wanted me to check and see how things are going with Travis since neither of you has bothered to let us know.”

I wanted to ask my mom if she didn't have some charitable or community work to concern herself with, but instead I said, “Sorry. Things were hectic yesterday, but he got situated fine.” I looked at my watch. It was now four o'clock. “Why didn't you just go ask him?”

“Because he's not here,” she replied.

“What do you mean, he's not there?” He should've been home by now. He didn't get his car until next week so I didn't know where he could've gone, unless he hooked up with his friend again.

“Just what I said,” my mother continued. “I got in about fifteen minutes ago and he wasn't here.”

“Let me call him,” I said. “I'll call you back.”

My mom had barely hung up before I was punching in Travis's number. It went straight to voice mail.

I brushed away thoughts of my cousin. I had too much work to do. I wasn't about to babysit him. He was a big boy, and he'd make his way home soon enough.

I
didn't know why, but I wanted to hang out with my cousin. I'd scored my Savannah interview, and Travis had spent the week making up for being such a pain. He'd turned back into the old Travis, keeping me in stitches because he was always cracking jokes. That's why, when I finished taping the show, I hightailed it home to hang out with him. I'd changed out of my work clothes and into some comfortable leggings and a tank top and was making my way down the hall to Travis's room. He'd gotten his car, hooked up with one of his boys, and been on the move all week. But today, we were hanging out—whether he wanted to or not.

I was just about to knock on his closed bedroom door when I heard him say, “Come on, stop crying, Ma.”

Instinct made me pause my knock midair and lean in a little closer. (What? I'm nosey. I don't try to make a secret of it.)

“Mama, please stop crying,” Travis begged. He paused, then said, “You need to ask Uncle Myles to pay for the surgery. Why don't you let me ask Uncle Myles?” Another pause. “Okay, fine. I won't ask. But that's just crazy. That's your brother.... So what are you going to do about your medication then? I can't believe they expect someone with no insurance to pay three hundred dollars for some pills.... Okay, whatever. Can you get Mrs. Winston next door to take you down to Western Union? I'll send you the money for your pills.... Don't worry about it. I got it handled. I'll get the money.... No, Ma. I got a job.”

I raised an eyebrow. That was news to me. In the past week, Travis had gone to school and come home. He'd hooked up with some of his friends, but as far as I knew, he hadn't gotten a job.

“Okay ... I love you, Ma. Try to get some rest. You kicked me out so you wouldn't be stressed out and you're still stressed out.... Okay, okay. I'm kidding. I know you didn't kick me out. Just rest, okay? I love you. Bye.”

I waited a few minutes, then knocked. “Hey, what's up?” he asked after telling me to come in.

“Nothing. Just seeing what you were up to.” I had a million questions swirling through my head. What was wrong with Aunt Bev? Why didn't she want him to ask my dad for help? I wanted to know what kind of job he had. But from the look on his face I knew he wouldn't tell me the truth anyway. So, I just tried to steer the conversation in a general area.

“So, how are you liking it here?”

“It's cool. This”—Travis motioned around his oversized bedroom—“takes some getting used to. Shoot, our whole apartment could fit right in this room.”

Like me, Travis was an only child. He did have an older brother who died when we were seven. Terrance had been a part of a gang and had died in some kind of retaliation shooting. I'm sure that's why Aunt Bev wanted Travis to leave New York. I didn't understand why she just didn't move. No way would I live in some place where I was scared to go to sleep at night.

I plopped down across his bed. “So, what was it like growing up in the ghetto? Did you live in one of those tall, crime-ridden, rundown buildings?”

Travis spun around in his chair and laughed. “You've been watching too many episodes of
Good Times
.”

I frowned. “Ugh, I don't watch that show.”

“Well, it was hard living.” Travis smiled like he was recalling some good memories. “But it was home. Me and my moms and my friends, we may not have had much, but we had each other. I mean, I know that sounds like some corny greeting-card stuff, but it's the truth.”

“So, you're in a gang?”

“Nah. After what happened to Terrance, I would've given my mom a heart attack if I'd gotten caught up in a gang. We had basketball, so the gangs left us alone.”

“What happened with you and basketball?”

He shrugged sadly. “Got kicked off the team.”

“Where's your dad?” I remembered my mom and dad talking about how he'd just up and left when Travis was a little boy.

Travis shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

An empty silence hung in the room until I said, “So what kind of trouble have you been getting into?” I asked.

“Look, girl, you interviewing me for your TV show? If so, you need to be paying me.” He held his hand out and rubbed his fingers together. I ignored him and kept talking.

“What about girls? You got a girlfriend back at home?”

That made him smile. “You know I got some shorties I've been hanging with, but Brooklyn is a long way and I knew y'all had all those
mamacitas
down here, so I had to let all the New York girlfriends go.”

“Umph. Girlfriends, plural, huh? Yeah, I bet you were breakin' hearts left and right.”

“Nah, it ain't even like that. I was trying to start fresh. Stay out of trouble, ya know?”

“What do you mean, was?”

He had this look like I'd caught him or something, but then he quickly recovered. “I'm just sayin'. I'm just trying to make my moms proud.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. I pulled out my phone and punched the app that accessed our security monitor. I pushed the camera button and saw who was at the gate.

“What is Sheridan doing here?” I mumbled as I punched the key to open the gate. I jumped up from the bed and went down to meet her at the door.

“What's up?” I said, opening the door just as she came up the walkway.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling. “Just thought I'd drop by and see what you were up to.”

I frowned. Sheridan didn't usually just drop by. Then, when I looked at the way she was goggling at Travis, who had appeared in the doorway behind me, I said, “Unh-unh. I told y'all. Not happening.”

Sheridan laughed as she pushed me out of the way and walked inside. “Girl, please. You said you were off. I just came to hang.”

Travis smiled as she pointed to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. We weren't doing anything.”

Something didn't feel right, and I was about to call them on it when my phone rang. I glanced at them, then turned my attention to my phone. The number was from the station.

I punched the talk button. “Hello.”

“Hey, Maya, where are you?” my executive producer, Tamara, asked.

“I'm at home.”

“You know the kids who had the drugs yesterday? One of the girls is brain-dead.”

“What? She was like fourteen years old.”

“Look, her friends who were getting high with her want to talk to
Rumor Central
. Now.” Tamara had on her no-nonsense voice.

“Now?”

“Yeah, they'll be at the station in an hour and a half. Can you get here?”

I paused as I glanced over at Travis and Sheridan, who were sitting on the sofa giggling and whispering.

“Well, I was just about to—”

“Look, Maya,” Tamara said, cutting me off, “if you can't do it, just say so. I'll try to find someone else.”

Images of the last girl who'd tried to take my job—my former assistant, Ariel—flashed through my mind. My position as host of
Rumor Central
was a hot one, and I constantly had to watch my back from people trying to take me off my throne.

“Nah, it's cool,” I finally told her. “I'm on my way.”

“Good,” Tamara replied like she'd had no doubt I would come. “When you get in, go straight to hair and makeup. I'll make sure all the details are waiting on you. See you in a bit.” She quickly hung up the phone before I could say anything else. I sighed, then turned to Travis and Sheridan.

“I just got called into work, major story.” I pointed to Sheridan. “You gonna roll out with me?”

Travis spoke up before she could respond. “No, she can stay and watch a movie with me.”

“Yeah,” Sheridan said. “You're the superstar, not me. So I'm just gonna chill and watch a movie with Travis. I've been dying to see this movie.”

I looked at her like she was stone-cold crazy. “You've been dying to see
Batman
?”

“Actually, it's
The Dark Knight
,” Travis corrected.

I tsked. “Sheridan doesn't even like movies like that.” I put my hands on my hips. “And I don't think it's a good idea to be leaving her here alone with you.”

“Maya would you chill? We're just watching a stupid movie.”

I looked back and forth between the two of them. Sheridan had a stupid look on her face.

“We're in your parents' house. What do you think is gonna happen?” Travis said.

“Besides, it's not even like that,” Sheridan added.

I relaxed a bit. “Okay, fine. Travis, tell my mom I got called in.” I ran upstairs to change, but I swear, it looked like the two of them were happy to be alone.

I
t had been a long day at school and I was just glad the day was over. I was starving and in the mood for something I very seldom had—a big fat, greasy burger. I didn't indulge in junk food (the cameras weren't kind to big girls), but today, Smashburger was calling my name.

“Sheridan,” I said, catching up with her at her locker right after the last bell rang. “What are you about to do?”

“Nothing.”

“I am starving. Let's go get something to eat.”

“Ummm,” she stammered, her eyes suddenly darting up and down the hall like she was on the lookout for someone.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked.

“N-nothing.”

I was too hungry to try and figure out why she was acting strange. “Well, did you hear me? I said, let's go get a burger. My treat.”

“I can't go,” she said hurriedly. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

“But you just said you weren't doing anything.”

“I know, but ummm, I forgot about something I was supposed to be doing right after school.”

“What's wrong with you?” I studied her for a minute. She was acting really strange.

“Nothing. I just have a lot of stuff on my mind.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said, throwing my book into my locker. I had just closed it when Travis walked up. “What's up, cuz?” I said, turning to him. I was so hungry, I'd treat him to something to eat. “Sheridan is too busy for me, so it's me and you. Let's go get something to eat.”

“Well, ah, actually—” he said, glancing over at Sheridan, who immediately looked down. “Actually, we were about to go—” Sheridan gave him a look, and he stopped talking mid-sentence.

I folded my arms across my chest. “About to do what?”

“Nothing.” Sheridan immediately jumped in the middle of our conversation. “We weren't about to do anything.”

“Girl, please.” Travis grabbed Sheridan and pulled her toward him. “Maya ain't my mama. Me and Sheridan 'bout to roll out and get something to eat.”

“Roll out?” I said, confused. “Like together?”

Neither of them said a word so I said, “So, what, y'all an item now?”

“Yep,” Travis said confidently.

“You've been here all of two weeks and now you're hooking up with my best friend. Although I should probably say
former
best friend since my BFF didn't see fit to tell me she was getting with my cousin.”

Sheridan took a step toward me. “Come on, don't be like that,” she said. “I just knew you would be trippin' if you knew.”

“You were right about that,” I snapped.

“You're more than welcome to come with us,” Sheridan said, trying a flash a fake smile. She knew I was pissed. I didn't want the two of them hooking up because when Travis broke her heart, I didn't need her getting mad at me.

“I don't believe this.”

“Come with us, Maya,” she said.

I shook my head. “Nah, I don't do third wheels so enjoy your date.” I threw my hands up as I walked off.

I had just made it to the corner in the hallway when I heard, “Is Maya being dumped by her BFF?”

I turned to see Shay and her group of hyena girlfriends standing around, gawking.

“Umph, it looks like there's trouble in paradise,” added Chenoa, one of the cheerleaders I'd exposed in a story last year.

“Hey, Chenoa, you still in the trickin' business?” I asked. She took a step toward me. I wanted to tell her don't go there with me because I wasn't in the mood.

Chenoa and a few of her fellow cheerleaders had actually run an escort service out of Miami High. It had been one of the first stories I'd done on
Rumor Central
, and she hadn't been able to stand me ever since then. I don't know why, since Daddy Dearest had gotten her off. But my story had also shut down their little side hustle.

Of course Shay would hang out with anyone who hated me. Shay was ghetto royalty. Her dad played for the Miami Heat—well, when he wasn't on suspension for fighting, drug use, and everything else. I would give it to him, though—he was one of the best in the league, which was why he still had a contract.

“What's up, Maya? How's the show going?” Shay asked, fake as all get-out.

“You don't watch?” I asked. I had to bite my tongue, because I was about to tell her she might want to watch and take some notes on how to be fab on TV, something she obviously didn't know since she was one of the ones they'd cut from our show,
Miami Divas
. But I had tried to make peace with her because I'd needed her help last month when I had been trying to catch someone who had hacked into my email account. We would never be cool like that, but I didn't need any unnecessary drama so I left it alone.

“Nah, I don't watch. I can't seem to find time to fit it in my schedule,” Shay said nonchalantly.

“Do you need some friends?” Chenoa asked in a baby voice. I just wanted to pop her in her eye.

“Nah, I'm good in the friend department,” I told her.

They glanced over at Sheridan, who was giggling as Travis whispered something in her ear.

“I heard you didn't even know they'd hooked up,” Chenoa said. “I knew. We all did.”

Several of the girls nodded. They all made me sick. “Well, good for all of you. I really have more important things to do than worry about who anyone is getting with.”

“Do you really?” Chenoa said. “I thought that's how you got famous, getting all up in someone else's business.”

“Whatever,” I said, turning to walk off. I just needed to ignore all of them.

As I made my way out to my car, I glanced over my shoulder at Travis and Sheridan. They were acting like two lovesick lovebirds. I didn't know what had me angrier, the fact that everyone at school had known they had hooked up and I hadn't, or the fact that they'd hooked up, period.

I wanted to tell Sheridan that when my cousin left her on the side of the road in tears, she couldn't come crying to me. But I knew my BFF—she was going to have to learn the hard way.