by Nikki Turner
As soon as he was off the stage, he had a one-track mind. Don was trying to take a sniff of the powder he had creased in a crisp Franklin before Beijing showed up. He was greeted by Dazzle.
“You rocked dat shit,” she said, putting her paper bag full of money into her locker and securing the lock.
“You did yo’ thing too, boo,” he replied, trying to get rid of her so he could take his edge off.
“I know. Told you I was the best one around these parts. I think I’ll make a nice accessory to your stage performance,” she boldly stated. “Maybe a few videos … I can put together a fresh routine for all of your songs. What do you say?” she asked.
“You gotta talk to my baby, Beijing. She’s not only my wifey, but she’s the boss too.”
“I’m going to find your boss lady right now.”
“And shut the door on your way out.”
By the end of the night, the girls might have flocked to throw pussy at him like a feline giveaway at the ESPA, but Don wasn’t fazed by any of it. Beijing was his queen, and there was no girl on earth that could fuck with her. But there was a boy running a close second, that went by the name of Heron.
Don took a sniff of the magic powder, and fell deep into a dope fiend nod.
CHAPTER 6
The Burning Bed
Over the next few weeks Don was swamped with all kinds of paid gigs. When he wasn’t performing he devoted the rest of his time to putting in work at the studio. Finally Beijing and Don had arranged for a quiet night in to enjoy each other’s company and watch the premiere of Don’s new video.
“Is there anything else you need before I leave, baby?” Beijing yelled to Don as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and put the strap of her Gucci pocketbook on her shoulder. She was going to get some takeout, maybe some Chinese, and then come back and cuddle up in her boo’s arms, and together they would watch the video. She could not believe the way things had happened for them. He had blown up overnight, he was on everybody who was anybody’s remix, his single was number one on the charts, and now his video was about to premiere … and the checks were rolling like cars to the drive-thru at McDonald’s. Damn, life was good.
“Baby?” she called out to him again. After he didn’t respond the second time, Beijing walked back into the bedroom to see what was consuming so much of his attention that he couldn’t answer her. Probably has the volume on the TV turned up too loud, she thought, but after entering the bedroom and laying eyes on him, Beijing shook her head in disappointment.
With the aid of about half a dozen pillows, Don was propped up in the middle of the queen-sized cherrywood bed. His arms were folded and ankles crossed. His head angled forward, bobbing on its skinny neck. Don’s eyes were closed and a lit cigarette dangled from his full black lips. To a person who didn’t know any better, he appeared to have dozed off, but over the past couple of months Beijing had learned a lot from observing Don, and boy did she know better.
Minus the cigarette with the inch-long ash on its tip, she had seen it all too many times before. Don was nodding off once again, and it damn near broke her heart.
Beijing pinched the cigarette from his mouth; before she could make it to the ashtray on the nightstand, some of the ashes barely missed the end of the bed on their way to the tan-carpeted floor.
“Don,” she said, shaking him. “Wake up, Don, wake up. Honey, wake up.” She tapped him roughy, several times before getting any type of response.
When his eyes popped open, they were red and glassy. The pupils were tiny pins. “I’m not asleep, baby, I’m just watching the tube,” he said and pointed to the television.
“Look, man, you got to stop this bullshit.” She leaned over on the bed to look him in his face. “That shit isn’t healthy, safe, or sexy for that matter.”
“You overreacting, I’m just a little tired—that’s it, that’s all,” he repeated. “Thought you were going to da sto’.”
He didn’t want to get into that other conversation with her because it always started an argument. They saw it two entirely different ways. With her it was simply “Say no to drugs”—that was it, that was all, no ifs, ands, buts, or supposes about it. And in his eyes, everybody in the entertainment business got high off something, one thing or another—at least all the people in his circle did. Everybody that is … besides her.
Beijing despised drugs with a passion. She had seen firsthand what drugs could do to someone. In her eyes, drugs made people lie, steal, cheat, kill, sell themselves and the ones they loved. Her sister was still lost in the eye of the drug storm, and Beijing wasn’t going to get sucked into it, in no way, shape, or form.
She sucked her teeth at his lame excuse but left it alone for now. “I am, that’s why I was calling you. Do you want me to bring you anything specific back?”
“Naw, I’m cool.” Don grinned. “What time is it?”
Beijing glanced at her Movado watch. “It’s six fifteen.”
“Dat late already?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Then you better hurry up and get back so we can watch the video together. Girl, you know how much we worked to make this shit happen.” Johnny Wiz had made good on his word in the nine or ten months since Beijing had asked for his help. He had made Don a superstar who was on his way to becoming a megastar, just as he’d promised. Beijing played a major role in every step of the way, as Don’s assistant, publicist, stylist, manager, and every other hat he needed her to wear. Somewhere along the journey to stardom, she had fallen for Don. He was talented, sexy, and treated her like a goddess—that is, until the dope started getting in the way. She had been hoping and praying it was just a temporary phase.
“I’m not going to miss it,” she assured him. “I’ll be back well before seven thirty.”
Don looked into Beijing’s eyes, then pulled her down to the bed. “Come here, my sweetness.” He took her into his arms and gave her a huge hug. “And I’ll be waiting for you with open arms when you return,” he said in that cool way he had of speaking. Then he broke the spell of the sweet moment and started channel-surfing with the remote control in his hand, his eyes riveted on the television.
“Oh, umm, if dat nigga Deuce, ummm, don’t hurry up and show, I might need you to stop off somewhere and pick me up a lil some to hold me over till he get here,” he said casually.
“No you didn’t! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?” Beijing screamed at the top of her lungs. “I ain’t no fucking drug-runner, nor mule, no trafficker, and I damn sure ain’t no damn drug transporter, Don.” She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to ask her to pick up a package of drugs for him. “Oh, I know good and well your ass is high as gas, asking me some shit like that.”
Without giving him time to say another word Beijing was on her heels and out the door. Don was on the doorstep, saying something as she was about to back away in her Lexus. She rolled down her window to see what he wanted.
“Don’t be late either, because you always late. Beijing, I really need you to be on time,” he pleaded.
“I will be.”
On her way home from the restaurant, her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Beijing. This is Dazzle, the dancer you met at the strip club.”
“Oh yeah, how are you?” She remembered the woman, who had a body like a superhero.
“I’m fine. Is this a good time?” Dazzle asked.
“I can spare a couple of minutes for you.” Beijing knew that Dazzle was following up with her to see about performing on the road with Don.
“Well, I won’t take up a lot of your time. I’ve heard of you and saw how you operated that night I met you and I would love for you to manage me.”
Beijing was shocked. “I really don’t know much about the adult entertainment business.”
“You seem to know business, and it’s clear you know entertainment. I think you could do something to help me get us some money.”
“I don’t know.” Beijing was baffled.
&n
bsp; “Look, you just need to think about it. I got a lot of talent,” she confidently said. Then she whispered as if someone was listening in on their conversation, “Look, I’m not in denial, I don’t have much education and I need money. I’m not going to front like I dance to put myself through school or the baby needs shoes—nope, none of that. I dance because I like nice shit and you need money to get it. I’m not ashamed to say that my only assets are that I got a pretty face and a drop-dead body. And the bottom line is I will use what I got to get what I want.”
“I hear you,” Beijing said, after the brazen confession, “and I could respect you knowing what you want.” She didn’t agree with Dazzle’s thoughts about herself, but she drew the conclusion To each her own.
“There are a lot of pimps in this industry,” Dazzle broke the temporary silence. “I am looking for someone who could point me in the right direction and not exploit me while doing it. I believe that person is you.”
“Why do you think I’m the person for you?”
“People talk. I’ve done my research, and I saw firsthand how you handled Teflon the Don’s BI.”
Beijing didn’t know what to say, but she did know pussy was power and she could see with her own eyes that being in the right place at the right time could generate a nice piece of change. Beijing didn’t overlook the fact that Dazzle’s tricks and treats might come in handy to her one day.
Before Beijing could speak, Dazzle said, “Look, before you say no, just think about it and keep me in mind. After all, you are the concierge to the rich and famous and the go-to person for a lot of things for a lot of people. So put me on your roster of things you may need to produce.”
Beijing felt odd, but she agreed. “I will definitely keep you in mind if anything arises.”
After they agreed to stay in touch and ended the odd call, Beijing looked down at the dash for the time
“Okay. Thanks again for thinking of me,” Beijing said in a mystified tone.
The digital clock in the car glowed 7:03. Time was slipping through Beijing’s fingers.
As if it had a mind of its own, her right foot pressed down on the accelerator a little harder. She was about to make a right off Lennox when her cell phone rang. The Lexus rounded the corner with ease as she pulled up in front of the building.
Beijing’s bladder was begging to be relieved. She jumped out, slamming the car door with one hand and clutching two bags of Chinese food in the other, rushing to the condo. She put her key in the front door lock, walked in, and immediately realized that something just wasn’t right. She sniffed the air.
Smoke … and when there was smoke, there was always fire!
Beijing dropped the Chinese food, not caring the least bit where it landed, and rushed down the hall toward the bedroom where the foul odor seemed to be lurking from. The freshly buffed hardwood floors caused her to lose her balance and slip.
Bam! She hit the floor hard. Face-first.
“Shit!” she screamed.
As she rose quickly, her balance was off, causing her to twist her ankle and break the heel on one of her new to-die-for Giuseppe Zanotti shoes in the process. Her ankle throbbed as she held on to the wall.
At first she thought the wastebasket was responsible for the stench. Then she looked and realized that it was the comforter on the side of the bed closest to the wall.
“Oh my God!” she yelled, but neither her high-pitched scream nor the fire disturbed the slumbering Don. “Don! Don! Don!” she called out to him, but he was oblivious. I will deal with this motherfucker later, she thought. First she had to deal with the emergency at hand.
She needed to get the fire out before it spread to other parts of the house. There was no time to try to locate a fire extinguisher, but thank God there was a vase filled with roses on a table next to the television. Beijing grabbed the vase, throwing the flowers to the side as she hopped over to the trash can. She emptied some of the water from the vase on the small fire and then got more water from the sink, along with a towel, to extinguish the rest of the fire on the comforter.
After conquering the potentially disasterous situation at hand, a tightening in her bladder reminded her about the other emergency that had her racing into the house in the first place. Just as she started running like a track star toward the bathroom, knocking down any-and everything in her path, her body chose not to cooperate. She could not control her bladder anymore.
She screamed in momentary defeat, “Fuck me! Will you just fuck me all over please! This is some damn bullshit.” She peeled off her soaking-wet panties along with the rest of her clothes and got some clean towels from under the sink, where she noticed the fire extinguisher box sitting all the way in the back. She took one of the towels and wiped up the mess she’d made, then placed one on the edge of the tub for when she got out of the shower and the other on the sink for just in case. The entire time she lathered up and rinsed off under the hot water pellets shooting from the showerhead, with tears in her eyes she cursed Don out.
All of it was his fault: the condo almost burning down, her breaking her heel of the shoes that she just had to have—and only got to wear one time, the food landing all over the place, her urinating on herself and on the floor … hell, in her mind the list could go on forever.
Beijing stepped out of the shower feeling better than she had before she got in, but not a lot better. At least her ankle didn’t seem to be damaged too bad; it just hurt like hell. She reached for the lavender-scented baby oil, squirted a substantial amount on her washcloth, and began to use it to dry off and moisturize her body at the same time. The water magically vanished, and in its place a beautiful sheen appeared, causing her chocolate-brown skin to radiate with what appeared to be an inner glow.
Don walked past her as she left the bathroom to go into the bedroom and get dressed. “What happened to the damn food, baby? Shit’s everywhere.”
Before she could respond, Don had softly shut the bathroom door behind him. “We got two minutes before the video jumps off.”
“Don, are you even concerned that you almost burned the house down?”
He ignored her and didn’t say a word. She decided she’d approach him when he came out of the bathroom.
After sliding on a pair of Seven jeans and a camel-colored shirt that was the same color as the stitching in the jeans, she went to brush her hair in the bathroom, but the door was locked.
She banged on it and then screamed, “Why’d you lock the door? Open the door, Don.” She tried banging again, but there was no response. So she kicked the door. As she waited, she caught a glimpse of the smoke detector on the ceiling in the hall.
“You took the fucking batteries out of the smoke detector, Don?” she asked.
She could hear him inhaling what she knew was that shit up his nose.
“You need to stop that shit!” Beijing screamed from her side of the door.
“Don’t want to stop” were the words that came from the other side. After two or three more snorting sounds, he shouted, “You should try some of this here shit”—another sniff—“you know you like its benefits.”
He had to be talking out of his ass. She sighed. “What benefits?” she asked. “That shit don’t even work for you no more. For real,” she shot back at him, wanting to bruise his ego.
“Don’t be modest. You ain’t that modest when I be putting the wood down on you for hours at a time. You know you like the perks of the dope dick.”
“I just can’t believe you are addicted to that shit. That shit is disgusting and it makes you look bad. Dude, you ain’t even aware of your surroundings.”
“One thing for certain,” Don reasoned, “you may be on the other side of the fence one day.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she shouted and went into the bedroom to gather some of her things up, throwing everything that would fit into her overnight bag.
“Yes, you will.” He took another sniff. “You gonna need something to lean on one day. Believe that shit! Ev
erybody needs something to escape at times.”
“You got me mixed up with one of dem hoes or one of your groupies!” She was going to start in on him, but she realized that the only important thing was getting him help before he really hurt himself. “Real talk, Don, you really need to go to rehab!”
“I’ll wait until the day come when we can go together,” he sarcastically said to her.
Beijing was so pissed off, she stormed out of the house without even realizing that she’d forgotten her purse. The car door was unlocked so she put her bags in before returning to the house. When she stormed back in to get her Gucci bag, she saw that the bathroom door was now slightly ajar. She couldn’t resist peeping through the opening.
“I can’t believe this shit,” she murmured.
Don was still in the bathroom sitting on the toilet, pants all the way to his ankles, but what she couldn’t believe—or didn’t want to believe—was that he was sitting on the porcelain throne with yet another lit Newport stuck in his mouth, and he was semiconscious at best. Somewhere in his mind he was wrestling with the heroin, and the drug must have been winning. The drug must have finally pinned him down to the proverbial mat because—Bam—a loud noise arose when he fell off his throne, passed out.
Beijing rushed in and put out the cigarette from his mouth for the second time that day. “This shit is fucking over. You can kill yourself on your time, but not on my fucking watch.” She knew he was in no condition to understand but she had to get it off her chest. “I’m done, finished, out of here. I refuse to let you take me down that road with you—willingly or unwillingly. Audi 5000!”
Beijing took one last look at the man she thought could possibly have been the man of her life before making her final decision.
She recited the words at the top of her lungs as she wrote them out in her mocha lipstick on the mirror: Good-bye, Don. Holla back when you get to rehab!
Then she walked not only out of the room but out of the house and out of his life.