Material Girl Read Online Free Page B

her childhood nickname.
    “I ain’t forgot that I owe you that li’l money.” Candy spoke while inhaling the smoke from a cigarette.
    “Last time I checked, five grand wasn’t li’l money.”
    “Aw shit, girl, calm down. I’ma give you back your money, but look ... I’ma be in town, right, for a few weeks. I wanted to know if I can come stay wit’ ya.”
    “What’s wrong with the Four Seasons? Normally you stay there.”
    “Well, you know I’m in between gigs right now.”
    Gigs meant sugar daddies.
    “Huhhhhhhhhh.” Dylan sighed, running her hand down her face. “I’ve been real busy, Ma. I wasn’t planning on having any company right now.”
    “Just spit out whateva you tryin’ to say, girl. Don’t beat around the muthafuckin’ bush. If it’s gon’ be a problem, then just let me know, ’cause Mama gotta make moves and fast. Huh,” she chuckled. “You ain’t gotta do me no favors. Candy gon’ be all right regardless. You already know how I get down.”
    “I never said it was problem. You can come. I don’t care.”
    “That’s my girl.” Candy snapped her fingers, pleased with the outcome. “Well, look, let me get a couple of my affairs together and I’ll be there, a’ight?”
    “Mm-hmm,” Dylan replied with her eyes closed.
    “I’ll holla.”
    Dylan didn’t even waste her time saying good-bye. She simply hung up the phone and hung her head low. Candy never came into town for just a visit. There was always something more. Dylan just hoped she wasn’t in any kind of trouble, but knowing Candy she probably was; and Dylan, being the softie she was, would have to bail her out like always.

“I got a secret it’s here in my heart, and I can’t even tell my friends.”
    —Kelly Price, “Secret Love”
     
    Chapter 3
     
    “ They told me round the hooooood, every time they see me I look good. ” Dylan sang Keri Hilson’s version of “Turn My Swag On” as she stood in front of her full-length mirror, posing from side to side. The brand new $500 dress she wore had a vintage romantic sensibility to it, but she wondered if it was too cute and not sexy enough.
    As a child, Dylan had come up with a theory that if you possessed the right clothes, cars, and accessories, nothing else in life really mattered—and it didn’t. Dylan never had to worry about a thing—not her mother, not Chauncey, not her insecurities, not the loss of her father, nothing. Money made all of it go away. It was like her armor. It made her feel good about herself. Without it she felt insecure, maybe because she knew that without it she had nothing.
    In high school, she was expelled for violating the school rules. Due to that, college was no longer an option. Instead of working, at the age of nineteen she traveled the world and began her short-lived career as a model. When Ford dropped her, she returned to the States. Dylan soon developed the reputation of a socialite, being identified as the leading “It Girl.”
    Dylan hung out with all of the beautiful people, from Diddy to Victoria Beckham. Truth be told, she was the one who encouraged Miss Lara Croft, Tomb Raider herself to ditch the Morticia Adams look and go for a more sultry vixen approach. A certain American Idol runner up didn’t even know what coming out of the closet was until she told him that nobody was buying his “I love women” act. And the infamous pint-sized Brooklyn rapper, well, she was still a work in progress, but Dylan hadn’t given up on her yet.
    After her failed attempt at modeling, she was bored with the Hollywood scene, so Dylan turned to acting. After two straight-to-DVD films, she was offered the opportunity to be Paris Hilton’s best friend on The Simple Life , but turned it down, a decision she regretted even to this day. Now, here she was, almost broke, with nothing to fall back on.
    Reluctant to let her choices affect her night, she took another look at herself and examined her outfit once more. The dress she wore was