Not A Good Look Read Free Page B

defiantly, like a little kid. “No, never that. I was just wondering why they walkin’ around half-naked like it’s summertime, and it’s cold outside.”
    â€œThey are doing a photo shoot. They’re some little girl singing group. Kinda like y’all, but they can’t blow like y’all can.”
    Kinda like us? That’s really funny. There is no way in the world anyone’s gonna ever see me doing a photo shoot with no clothes on. That’s for no-talent chicks.
    Truth continues, “I’m gonna go ’head downstairs ’cause I’m already late. Y’all can chill and watch TV, and somebody will probably come up and get y’all something to eat. You straight with that, wifey?”
    Dreya nods and returns Truth’s kiss. He untangles himself from her and dashes down a flight of stairs. Dreya looks like she wants to follow him, but she doesn’t. She sits down on a leather couch and we follow her.
    â€œY’all betta not embarrass me up here, especially you, Bethany, with your thirsty self,” Dreya says.
    I guess I’m looking real lame right now, because I brought my homework, but whatever. I’ve got a calc test tomorrow, and I don’t flunk for nobody. I don’t care if they do have a record deal.
    This is a pretty fly spot, for real. There’s a big flat-screen TV on the wall, surround sound, and theatre chairs. Somebody spent some serious cheddar on this spot.
    Just as I finish up my homework, a pretty, brown, video-vixen type walks into the room. She’s got a lace front wig that hangs nearly to her waist, fake eyes, fake boobs, and probably a fake behind, but at least she’s fully dressed. I wonder what she looked like before the enhancements.
    â€œY’all want something to eat?” she asks.
    Dreya looks her up and down. “Who are you?”
    The girl laughs. “You must be Truth’s little girlfriend.”
    â€œI’m his wifey.”
    I have to swallow the laugh that threatens to explode out of my throat. Dreya is hilarious without even trying. As if a girl who looks like this chick would be interested in Truth’s broke, on the come-up self. Dreya sounds really desperate right now.
    â€œWell, I’m the receptionist, baby girl, and the hospitality committee. Do you want something to eat or not? We’ve got lasagna and pound cake in the kitchen.”
    My eyebrows lift involuntarily. She just said the magic word for me. Lasagna is one of the world’s most perfect foods.
    â€œI don’t know about her,” I say while holding on to my grumbling stomach, “but I’m hungry. I would love some lasagna.”
    Dreya cuts her eyes at me like she wishes they were a knife. It’s whatever. I haven’t eaten since lunch and it’s dinnertime.
    The vixen smiles at me. “Well, come on then. Big D said to roll out the red carpet for y’all.”
    â€œWho’s Big D?” Bethany asks.
    â€œHe’s the man who owns this studio.”
    â€œAre you his girlfriend?” Dreya asks.
    â€œSomething like that.”
    I don’t wait for Dreya to make up her mind about whether or not this girl is a threat. I’m hungry and the scent of freshly baked lasagna has made its way to my nose.
    When Bethany stands up, too, Dreya reluctantly joins us. We follow the vixen down the hall, and for real, her butt has to be fake. Each cheek is moving like it has its own personality. Those kinds of booties don’t grow naturally, do they?
    The vixen girl shows us to the kitchen nook area where we slide into a booth. Dreya’s mean mug is slowly evaporating as the girl serves us hot, steaming plates of cheesy lasagna.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” I ask the girl, tired of thinking of her as the vixen in my head.
    â€œIt’s Michelle, but everybody calls me Shelly.”
    â€œNice to meet you. I’m Sunday, and this is Dreya and Bethany. We’re a