The Liar's Club by Layla Jordan

Author:Layla Jordan [Jordan, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-758-26250-9
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2001-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

24

Sinclair

First of all, I think Jaleesa has a lot of balls slithering up and wrapping her arms around me like a boa constrictor. We ain’t cool no more, and I know I don’t have to text her ass a memo for her to know that shit. I don’t buy her innocent act. I know that heifer would fuck a Mexican donkey if it meant an acting gig. I know the shit doesn’t involve me, but I just can’t see Brijetta flipping her lid and laying home girl out for no reason. If I have to choose a side, then I’m Team Brijetta all the way.

Still, I do like how this soap opera drama has Omar munching down on antacids like Skittles. In no time he’s dumping me back off at the house and mumbling something about seeing Spencer. I barely get the passenger door shut before he peels off again with a plume of smoke jetting out the tailpipe.

Whatever. I head on into the house, needing a drink. I don’t waste any time, either. Climbing the stairs with a dry martini in one hand, I finally push the bullshit with Omar to the back of my mind and focus on my real problem: Kwame. As much as I want to believe it, he was not a figment of my imagination.

How did he find me? Actually, there’s a number of ways he could have found me, any number of Hollywood magazines could’ve ran a picture of me with Omar. Not that many of them care to report on all the behind-the-scene CEOs and studio heads, but Omar and Spencer were tallying up quite a catalog of moneymaking hits–and success always got people’s attention.

Still, I can’t picture Kwame or any of his people paying that kind of attention to shit that goes on in La La Land. No. He would’ve had to do some digging.

Felicia.

I freeze at the top of the stairs. Would he have been able to track down my mother? That question only floats in my head for half a second before I have my answer. Yes. Kwame was like a hound dog when it came to sniffing out information. Damn. I should have kept my mouth shut.

The strange thing about my relationship with my mother is that as much as I hate her, I still love her. No matter how many times I ran away or how many times she fucked up or put me in fucked-up situations, I always boomerang back to her. I’d always drop off food at whatever crack house she was huddled up in or slip her some money or shoes when need be. Every time I’d tell myself that it would be the last time, only for me to show up the next week to do it all over again.

And since I’ve been in California, I’ve sent money through the church she claims to have saved her. Since she hasn’t killed herself off that shit she’s been smoking yet, I’m inclined to believe her.

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