Divas Don't Cry by Ni-Ni Simone

Author:Ni-Ni Simone [Simone, Ni-Ni; Abrams, Amir]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

28

London

Istood in front of the open doors of the Sub-Zero, leering desperately into its icy depths. Seeing Justice and Rich in the parking lot of Hollywood High yesterday, all lovey-dovey, had brought up so, so many memories and feelings.

Hurt and betrayal clawed at my heart the worst of them all.

I was over him. But I wasn’t over what used to be my so-called friendship with her. That snake, that skank, had really hurt me. She’d turned her back on me. Didn’t even have the decency to accept my apology and try to act like she wanted to be friends again. Time and time again, I’d offered her an olive branch. And she couldn’t even be woman enough to know how to be civil. But what did I expect? Rich was a barbarian.

I knew it was bound to happen. Running into Rich with Justice. But I hadn’t expected it to be on campus. And then Rich—mmmph. The nerve of that messy tramp to grab all over Justice, her hands gliding all over his body and then... and then . . . lifting up on her tippy-toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. Being all territorial and clingy, marking her claim to her man. Girl, bye. If what she had with Justice was all that, she wouldn’t have had to put on a borderline burlesque show for my benefit.

Now would she?

Mmmph.

“Goddammit,” I hissed. “Where are you?”

God, no, no, no! I knew I’d hidden it. But where in the heck was it?

Frantically, I searched for my secret stash. Ah, yes. There it was. Hidden beneath slabs of ribs and a beef brisket.

Ice cream.

A carton of butterscotch pecan, it was exactly what I needed to throw myself into an immediate sugar rush. My mouth watered in anticipation.

I knew I didn’t need it. Ice cream was the enemy. I had a love/hate relationship with it. It loved my hips and booty. And I hated its power over me. And yet I needed it, its cool, creamy sweetness. Something to soothe me, to ease my rattling nerves.

It was just a matter of time before Rich and Justice would most likely land on the cover of some filthy gossip rag with a full-page spread. Calling them the face of young love, the hottest young couple in Hollywood.

God, gag me. Please and thank you!

Ugh.

I reached for the carton of ice cream and then slammed the freezer’s door. I grabbed a large spoon out of the utensil drawer, then sat at the breakfast nook. Licking my lips, I pried off the tub’s lid, then gazed lovingly down at the rich swirls of butterscotch. Spoon poised over the tub, I hesitated.

If I eat this, I will suffer later.

Girl, go for it. You know you want it. Yolo, boo! Eat it and be merry.

I groaned inwardly.

The thought of being plagued by cramps and bloating, crawling to the bathroom, and clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl in the middle of the night should have been motivation enough for me to toss the twenty-five-dollar pint of heavy cream and sugar down the drain.

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