Famous by Simone Bryant

door as Starr’s doorbell chimed. Marisol went back to pacing and Starr used her remote to turn her TV to her surveillance camera.
    â€œWhat in the heck is she doing here?”
    Marisol turned and eyed the pretty redhead on the screen.
    â€œWho is she?” she asked.
    â€œNatalee Livingston,” Starr said, turning her attention back to the computer. “Her dad and my dad are in business together, and my mom and her mom want us to be besties. Picture that happening.”
    Marisol’s eyes went from the TV to the door to Starr and back again. TV. Starr. Door. “Aren’t you going to let her in?” she asked, watching Natalee examine her nails.
    â€œI didn’t invite her,” Starr said.
    Marisol’s eyes widened. “That is so rude, Starr. Let the girl in,” she said, crossing the floor to pull the door open.
    â€œHi,” she said, her voice husky. “I’m Natalee.”
    Marisol stepped back just as Dionne stepped out of the bathroom in her practice gear: shorts, tank top and long colorful socks. “I’m Marisol and that’s Rainbow Brite aka Dionne,” she said with a friendly smile.
    â€œHa-ha,” Dionne drawled.
    Natalee walked into the suite, looking casual chic in a camel-colored ostrich-skin leather jacket with a matching cashmere-and-silk blend asymmetrical sweater and velvet straight-leg pants. Long, gold chains pulled it all together. The color was phenomenal with her deep reddish-auburn hair. “Hey, Starr,” she said.
    Starr barely raised her hand in a wave.
    Marisol rolled her eyes. “Love, love, love that outfit.”
    Natalee smiled. “Thanks. I just love Gucci,” she said.
    â€œSo does Starr,” Dionne said from her spot on the floor as she pulled on her sneakers.
    Marisol’s eyebrows shot up as Starr whipped around to shoot Dionne a vicious dagger with her eyes as Starr made her way into her walk-in closet. “Starr, can you get dressed now, please?” she said, remembering her date with her dimpled football player, Percy.
    She grabbed her cell phone from her pocketbook to text him.
    Â 
    C u @ the game
    Â 
    â€œThere goes my baby…”
    Marisol opened her text.
    Â 
    Wear the T-shirt I got u. U r my good luck charm.
    Â 
    Her smile was brighter than the Friday night lights of the football field.
    Â 
    :)
    Â 
    â€œThere goes my baby,” Natalee sang low in her throat as she flipped through a magazine.
    Marisol’s eyes shot in Natalee’s direction, surprised by the pure blue-eyed soul that came from her mouth.
    â€œLoving everything you do…”
    She looked at Dionne. Dionne looked at her. They gave each other the meaningful eye like “Did you hear that?”
    â€œOh my God, your voice is off the chain,” Dionne said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.
    Natalee looked up in surprise. “Me?” she asked, pointing to herself with a gold-tipped finger.
    â€œSí,” Marisol said.
    â€œThanks,” she said. “My dad’s always telling me to stop singing so much.”
    â€œYou like R&B?” Dionne asked.
    Natalee nodded. “I like all kinds of music,” she said.
    Marisol gave Dionne another meaningful stare before she turned to Natalee with a huge Kool-Aid grin. “You sound…”
    â€œBlack,” Dionne said bluntly.
    â€œSoulful,” Marisol finished.
    Natalee removed her leather jacket. “Do you two go to Pace, too?” she asked, changing the subject.
    â€œYeah, sure,” Marisol said dismissively with a wave of her light brown hand. “Do you know any Mary J. Blige?”
    Natalee nodded, her glossy curls brushing against her face. “Love her My Life CD.”
    â€œMe, too,” Dionne and Marisol said in unison.
    They all laughed.
    â€œLife can be only what you make it,” Natalee sang, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she sang from her soul.
    Marisol felt goose