Bad Romance

:::Chapter Seven:::

:::Part One:::

:::Save The Last Dance:::

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I want your love and I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love and all your lovers’ revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

‘Bad Romance’
-Lady Gaga

*

It was another bothersome Monday on the restless campus of Brompton University. My alarm shrieked at me mercilessly from across the room on my desk, emitting that nerve-grating sound that resembled one thousand people dragging sharpened fingernails over a blackboard over and over in an abrupt rhythm. I opened my bloodshot eyes that ached from not nearly enough sleep. I couldn’t tell you last time I had a decent night’s sleep. Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart?

The green digital numbers on the stupid alarm clock were flashing, informing me that it was now 7am, time to get up. Fuck that! I covered my head with my pillow in a frivolous attempt to drone out the irritating sound, but as expected the shrieking seeped through the material with an even more annoying muffled wail.

I yanked the pillow off of my head and flung it with all my might praying that it would knock the devil clock to the ground, breaking it forever so that I could go back to sleep to live in my dreams of Him that would never come true. The heavy foam stuffed pillow sailed through the air then merely thudded the clock of Satan softly, then spitefully shoved my beloved Blackberry sending it skidding across the length of my desk to meet its doom.

Aint that a bitch!

I flinched at the sound of my phone falling to pieces on the thin scratchy carpet, all the while the alarm clock continued to mock me with that awful sound.

Guess I have to get up. Wearily I rolled out of my bed, turned off the alarm and repaired my life force with a frustrated scowl colouring my puffy features.

I pressed the power button and watched my BB come back to life, all the while praying that there was nothing wrong with it. The home screen showed up perfectly putting my heart at ease. Nothing to worry about people, the blackberry is A-okay; all is right with the world.

Glad that it hadn’t suffered any apparent damage, I put my phone back down on my desk and was about to hop in the shower when it buzzed and tinkled.

Who the hell is bothering me this early in the morning?

I glanced at the illuminated screen: ‘Your Kryptonite’ wants to add you to their contact list- ACCEPT/REJECT? Who the hell is this? I haven’t given my pin to anyo-oh-my-God, you have got to be kidding me! As the realisation of who ‘Your Kryptonite’ may be dawned on me, my palms became clammy. I almost caused another BB catastrophe in the space of a minute. Your Kryptonite; only one person would be arrogant enough to have such a conceited screen name.

Jade Washington.

True to his word, he had used his powers of persuasion and obtained my pin from one of my 47 contacts. If I ever found out who it was, they were going to pay dearly. If I wanted any-old-body to have my pin, I would do as the so-called ‘networkers’ and beg-a-baitness desperados did, and post it on my Facebook profile. I had in fact taken the more subtle (but equally tacky) route of the ‘inbox me’ approach to avoid unwanted requests such as this one that was staring up at me right now. If I hadn’t endured the displeasure of conversating with Jade to the point that his legendary allure had become tarnished with arrogance, then I would undoubtedly be salivating like a eager female fan at a Trey Songz concert about him adding me to his infinite list of contacts.

Fortunately, I know better: REJECT.

I smiled to myself feeling a rush of empowerment. I had just rejected THE most unrejectable person in THEIR world. Manabadman!

I knew girls that would sell their souls just to be pursued by Jade Washington and here I was shrugging him off as if he was some any guy. Jade is the epitome of THAT GUY and I am blatantly disregarding him like it’s nothing. That’s true badmanism!

I know what you’re thinking, you wanna be Unfamous so why are you turning down one of their rulers? Unfamous by association is the easiest (but most unrated) road to take to the top, which is what most females and a few neeky boys did, but after the mix-up I had put myself through last term trying that shit with Carter Johnson, I was determined to make it on my own.

I had been doing the ‘socialite’ thing with Carmen for a while now but it really wasn’t getting me anywhere. It was fun at first but after a while raving, comedy shows, fashion shows, variety shows etc, all becomes very blasé. Because we revolve in the same circles as the Unfamous, it’s always the same venues, the same DJ’s, the same music and the same bloody people, causing the same bloody conflicts to be brought to light. It’s tiring.

I think being a socialite is more Carmen’s scene; raving is like crack to her, which is one of the reasons why she and Amari work as a couple. Amari goes to raves for a living (to DJ of course) and Carmen lives for raving. What could be more perfect?

I had given modelling some consideration, but as I’ve said before, my physique is not built for fashion. With thick hips and thighs, and a more than ample helping of breasts and bumper made me more suitable to be a Candy Mag glamour girl...that’s a straight no-go-area in my book, and I wasn’t about to be some rebore Facebook model. No one rates Facebook models.

Fontaine was already the model of our little collective with her svelte 5”8 frame, flawless dolce leche skin and her famous sun kissed mane of untameable curls that gave her that watered down ‘ethnic’ look that was perfect for the mainstream media; black, but not too black.

Yoshi’s position in the group couldn’t be challenged simply because we all lacked her artistic talent and love of Anime/Manga. Yoshi’s talent is uncommon in the Unfamous world, so it meant that she was more sought after due to lack of competition, and the fact that she was Ace’s...um...non-girlfriend didn’t hurt much either -Unfamous by association, with added talent to validate it. She had recently teamed up with Manny on his ‘Tokio Rain’ clothing line to design some black Manga characters for his ‘Dark Hoshi’ collection. Once Manny drops that line, Yoshi will blow up. Lucky break or what?

Each of them were doing something that worked for them, but then there was me, the leader of the gang, who was totally clueless.

There’s always the latter option of being bait for the sake of being bait, but the Unfamous don’t really respect that...unless you’re a guy (they can get away with most things, like being irritating slags like Jade for one). As long as you have an occupation that ties into your un-fame, then you’re Unfamous-ness is validated.

Yoshi, Carmen and Fontaine are all validated. Shit, even Ty’s validated, without him even trying once again! Shaquille got a glimpse of one of Tyson’s animation projects and got him to create an animated opening for his YouTube show –The Shaq Attack, and now he has passed the 2000 friend mark on Facebook. Stupid boy. It bugs me when the others surpass me, but it’s even worse when it’s Tyson because I know he doesn’t even care about being Unfamous. I just want to punch him in the face sometimes. I NEED to be validated, not just so I have an excuse and a better chance of beating Mr Popularity, but so that I give the Unfamous a GOOD reason to remember me once we all grow up and realise how petty and superficial we were when we were younger. Even though my drama from last term was now old news, that was all that those people associated me with.

Hello, My name is Rio Greene and I am Nathaniel Gibson’s desperate ex-girlfriend.

When I finally figure out what occupation I’m going to take up, I’ll banish that memory from their minds. I’ll be Rio the ‘insert-bait-job-here’ chick, and they will love me!

I set the phone down again, and this time I made it as far as the bathroom door before it vibrated and tinkled a different tune.

This was not another BBM request; from the sound of the tinkle, it was a text message.
I eyed my phone suspiciously from across the room before giving into curiosity to see who had texted me this early on a Monday morning. Part of me feared the worst. What if it was my gassed up ‘Kryptonite’? Then I considered the more likely possibility of it being Tyson texting to remind me about our scheduled ‘I’m banging out this coursework’ session this afternoon in the baitest computer room on campus –Joe Crankford –where we would spend hours feebly trying to complete our coursework but would inevitably end up writing bugger all.

It was almost the end of January, which meant that EVERYONE would have coursework that should’ve been completed over the Christmas holidays to hand in, therefore EVERYONE would be in the computer rooms. We could just as easily do our work in our dorm rooms, but where’s the fun in that? People like Tyson and I that were foolish victims of quality gas would be situated in Crankford, while the people that had better intentions of buckling down and getting their work done would be in one of the quieter rooms missing out on the hype.

Ultimately, everyone that went into the Crankford building entered it with the best intentions...then we’d cross the threshold, take a seat where most of our friends were, and then it was all downhill from there. We’d par off the idiots that had to hand in 3000 word essays the next day and hadn’t even written so much as a sentence, move onto more trivial topics like the latest episode of Eastenders, gas up Facebook and Twitter from our BB’s (even though there were perfectly good computers in front of us because we were THAT cool). After all of that, we’d start gossiping and end up streaming a flurry of adulterated insults about the most scandalous topic. Eventually (after hours of doing fuck all) we’d each admit to ourselves that coming to Crankford to do coursework was a stupid idea and leave. You can’t buy memories like that.

I grabbed my phone and sighed when an unknown number scrolled across me screen at the bottom of the ‘new message’ alert. It definitely wasn’t Tyson, so It had to be Jade as he seemed to be the only person adamant on bothering me at such unreasonable hours of the morning.

My thumb hovered over the button that would reveal the message that I was sure would make me want to cut up my sim card into tiny undistinguishable pieces, but (though I would never admit to it out loud) would flatter me all the more because he had gone as far as to actually get my phone number.

This is 2010, the age of the Blackberry; people don’t call/text each other anymore –what for? Why use regular forms of communication like everyone else when you can be exclusive –I use the term EXTREMELY loosely –and ping each other.

I pressed the button and the message appeared:

*I took the liberty of taking you number as well as your PIN (I knew you wouldn’t mind ;D). I figured that your attitude problem may compel you to ignore my BBM request so I took your number as insurance. See you Friday sexy, Jade x*

For fuck sake! Why me?

I contemplated switching my phone off to avoid more unwanted contact from Jade ‘Guess what? Not only am I hot, I’m a stalker too’ Washington, but decided against it; partially because as much as I it irks me, I am secretly happy, but also because, well...why would I be without my Blackberry ON PURPOSE? Shit don’t make no sense!

I liked that Jade wasn’t about to give up on me so easily, but I planned to make him work for my attention 10 times harder than before to see how much rejection he could handle before he gave up.

*

I had patiently endured two long-ass lectures and one equally long-ass seminar and was now kicking back with my friends in the economically decorated Joe Crankford computer room NOT doing my coursework. My half-written essay was glaring at me from the sleek white Apple Mac computer screen silently yelling at me to start writing, but my attention was elsewhere as I had suspected it would be.

I was currently posted along the side of Tyson’s long torso with his slim yet well-defined arm wrapped securely around me, forcing me to respire his heady aroma of Lynx Africa and Dark and Lovely hair oil. At the other computers in our little area was Fontaine, Ace, Tyler, Manny, Damon and Shaquille who was subjecting us to watch the ‘Kat Stacks getting slapped’ video over and over whilst pointing and laughing like the jerk he was.

As I had mentioned earlier, Shaquille was Tyson’s friend who had the wildly popular YouTube show ‘The Shaq-Attack’, so as far as everyone else was concerned Shaquille could do no wrong, even when he was wrong. I didn’t think the video was funny.

“Bruv, look how man has her on the floor,” he cackled after the Superhead wannabe was smacked out of her chair by some thug. I rolled my eyes,

“How can you laugh at that? It’s not funny,” I said sitting a little straighter against Tyson’s side. I felt his braids brush my cheek as he glanced down at me. Shaquille turned to address me,

“Yes it is. Rio, you can’t tell me she didn’t have it coming,” he chuckled,

“I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, but she’s a chick. I don’t rate no man that puts his hands on a female like that. It’s wrong,” I replied sneaking a glance at Ace. Although Yoshi likes to pretend that we never saw the horrid marks on her arm, I still hadn’t forgotten. Ace furrowed his brow at me –I guess he had caught my little look, therefore noticing my indirect. I made a mental note not to make eye contact with him for the rest of the day.

Shaquille shrugged his brawny shoulder that looked like excessively too much muscle for a boy so small. I guess he compensated his lack of height with masses of time in the gym,

“Fine, whatever, that’s your opinion and I’m not saying I agree with hitting females, but there comes a time when some chicks get OVER gassed and take the PISS and a slap is the only thing that will keep them from doing it again,”

“I hear that,” Damon chimed. Damon was built like Shaquille, but he had the added bonus of the height, which made his stature the most menacing out of Tyson’s clique. I shivered at the thought of him putting his hands on a chick. A slap from Damon looked like it would equal INSTANT DEATH!

“Oh shut up, that’s why you man aint got no chicks,” Fontaine scoffed,

“Taine what you talking about? All man does is have chicks! The numbers are just beginning to dwindle ‘cause you keep turning them,” Shaquille fired back with a cheeky grin. Fontaine rolled her eyes,

“What can I say, it’s a gift,” she said flicking her bouncy mass of curls. It was no secret that Fontaine swung both ways now. Since she’d hooked up with Lacey she didn’t want to keep it on the down low anymore because ‘Lacey is so frikkin hot’, as she’d liked to tell us all the bloody time as if we cared that her girlfriend was pretty. She’s a chick fam; she’s irrelevant to my hormones.

“So how is little Lacey doing anyway?” Tyler asked licking his small lips, his clear blue eyes shining with lust as they swept over Fontaine’s long slender legs that were currently enclosed in a pair of black thigh high boots. As irrelevant as Lacey was to my girls and I, the fellas did nothing but fantasise about illicit ménage trios including them, Fontaine and her sexy lady friend. Like that was ever going to happen...but then again, with Fontaine, you never truly knew, which was probably why these lot kept electing themselves for the role of the lucky guy.

Fontaine smiled amused by Tyler’s transparency,

“She’s cool,”

“That’s good to know still. Tell her I said wha gwan,”

“Will do Tyler,” she smirked giving him the thumbs up,

“What for? These times even if Lacey was interested in getting some dick it wouldn’t be Tyler’s raw meat looking white boy ding-a-ling,” Tyson interjected. The boys (all except for Tyler of course) burst out laughing,

“Man said raw meat!” Shaquille howled rubbing it in. Tyler kissed his teeth,

“My dick don’t look like raw meat fam,”

“It’s pink aint it?”

“I dunno, ask your girl,”

“OOOOOH!” we chorused in unison.

I felt Tyson’s body go rigid beneath me. Told you he was sensitive about his midget and his boys knew it too, so whenever they wanted him to lay off of them, they made a crack about Angelica and Tyson’s pride would keep him quiet for a while.

I looked up at him and saw his liquid brown eyes turn solid,

“I told you lot before_”

“Yeah, yeah ,yeah we know. Jam man Ty, it was just a joke,” Shaquille interjected before Tyson could drone on anymore. I silently thanked him. I loved Ty and all I wanted was to see him happy, but my God Angelica is not worth the energy he puts into her. The sooner he realises this, the happier we will all be...me especially. Maybe if I ask him nicely Damon will give her the instant death slap.

We resumed our senseless chatter and continued to avoid actually doing any work. The atmosphere was back to fun loving normality when I heard the entrance door swing open. I peeped around Tyson’s arm to see who was coming to join the party and the moment my eyes locked onto him I wished I hadn’t.

“Yo Nathaniel, what time do you call this?” Shaquille hollered sliding his seat over to make space for the last person I wanted to see.

*

©The Unfamous 2010. Shakira Scott All Rights Reserved.

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Hopefully I will have finished the rest of the chapter within the next few days, in the mean time, comment and keep inviting your friends. Remember the target is 2000 members ;) Scotty x