by Nikki Turner
Before doing anything that morning I called Reggie to show him that I meant business. At first he didn’t answer, but when I called him the third time he finally picked up.
“This is Reggie,” he answered.
“Hi, Reggie. Nice hearing your voice. This is Melissa, the young lady you met yesterday at the restaurant.”
“Oh, yeah, my little songstress. How are you this morning?”
“I’m doing fine,” I lied, knowing good and well that I was doing bad as hell. The smell from the dirty hotel was haunting my every thought. “Are we meeting today?”
“Yes, but first I have to talk to you a bit to see what you need from me and how I can benefit from you. You know it’s all about money, right?”
“Yes, I know that. I’m trying to make some money myself, so I can’t knock you for managing yours wisely.” Reggie and I then talked on the phone for almost half an hour. He asked me a lot of questions to see who I’d worked with in the past and to see if I was bound to any contracts.
Reggie said he’d listened to my CD over and over because it was really hot and put together well. He said what really impressed him was the fact that he didn’t have to do much to make some money off my CD right away. All he had to do was mix and master the songs and get me to open for a few of his famous friends who were already signed. Overall, it was music to my ears. I couldn’t stop smiling to save my life.
As we went deeper in conversation I decided to make him aware of the sacrifice that I’d made to work with him. “You know, it’s a good thing you like my music and want to work with me, because after you left I got fired and my roommate, who helped me get the job, got mad at me and put me out, so I’m jobless and homeless.”
“A talented and pretty lady like you shouldn’t be working in a restaurant in the first place. I would have made you quit anyway because I need you to focus on your craft one hundred percent.”
“Well, how am I supposed to support myself without income coming in? I need a job to keep a roof over my head and food on my table.”
Reggie laughed. “Listen, baby girl. From now on you work for me on a paid weekly salary, but you have to do some grinding. I need you working hard in the studio, performing at shows, and doing some other side promotional ventures. As far as a roof is concerned, I’ll find a nice little apartment for you, so don’t worry about all that. You just have to play your part and I’ll play mine as your manager.”
Hearing those words was like hearing the man of my dreams saying, “Melissa, will you marry me?” This is the life that I was supposed to be living a long fucking time ago. You know, living in an apartment without worrying about the expenses, recording in a professional studio, and performing in front of an actual audience like a real star. In fact, I wanted to call Amanda and thank her for putting me out of her apartment because my life had just taken a turn for the better.
Later that evening I met Reggie at his studio and instantly began writing and working on some bangers. His production team loved me from the moment they met me, and for the very first time I was part of a family. Reggie put me up in a one-bedroom apartment and even took the liberty of helping me furnish it. He gave me his credit card and told me to buy new clothes, and sent me and the other girls on the label to get our hair and nails done on a weekly basis. After a while I parked my old beat-up ride and began to push various luxurious cars that Reggie had bought for his artists to share. Perception meant everything to him, so if you were associated with his label, you had to represent excellence in the streets. He was like a savior to me, and I showed my gratitude by being the best damn artist signed to his label.
Months passed and we were working on various projects when out of nowhere it happened—I began to receive recognition and started performing all over the city. Reggie promoted me everywhere he went by giving out samples of my demo, flooding the streets with flyers and posters, and arranging for me to host many events. The club owners and clubgoers liked what they heard, so in no time, I was being put on some of the hottest shows in Atlanta. They introduced me as Mel-J, the R&B princess of Big Dream Records, and I would melt. The other artists on the label, especially Shay, hated on me every chance they got but it never fazed me because I was on my way to the top.
One night after a big show in Decatur, Georgia, Reggie formally thanked me for all the hard work I’d been putting in. We were in the studio dropping off the microphones and other equipment when he began to pay me mad compliments.
“Melissa, you rocked that stage tonight, girl. You were born to be a star. I’m thinking about launching you full force.”
My eyes lit up with glee. I was so happy that he was proud of me, because to be honest, Reggie was very hard to please. He didn’t play around with money, so if you’re not on your A game, he’ll cut you from his team as if you were never there in the first place. So to hear him speak so highly of me made my heart swell.
“Well, I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t for my wonderful manager,” I assured him. “So when you say full force, what do you really mean?”
“I mean, leave all this local shit alone and start shopping you to some major labels like Def Jam, Sony, and Universal Records. With a voice like that, you need to let the world hear you.”
“Are you serious, Reggie? You’re going to try to get me signed with some major labels for real? That’s what I moved here for. This is what I’ve worked for all my life.”
“Well, baby girl, I’m going to make it happen for you. You deserve it because you work harder than a motherfucker. You’re going to have to do some hard work that you may not like, but it will be beneficial to you, I promise.”
“Oh, I’m willing to do anything, Reggie. Anything, just name it.”
Reggie moved closer to me, to the point that I could see the lust pulsating deep in his eyes. The truth is, I never fucked him before because his girlfriend was my stylist and she was always around. There were always weird moments when sexual chemistry filled the air but we’d never acted on it.
“Melissa, you know I like you and I know you like me. I think both of us could take this industry by storm if we play hard with the cards we’ve been dealt.” He moved my head slightly to the side and began passionately kissing my neck, which caused me to melt into his arms. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered in my ear.
“No, I’ve wanted this for so long, Reggie. I want you to make love to me right here, right now in this booth.” I then walked over to the power button and turned it on. “Let’s go inside and create some feel-good kind of music.” I unbuckled his belt and pulled him into the booth. Turned on with outrageous passion, he threw my body against the foam-filled wall in the booth and began licking me all over. I moaned in elation as he pulled my thong down and began to suck on my clit like it was a Blow Pop. “Oh, yes, baby. That feels so fucking good. Suck this tasty pussy,” I chanted as he sucked my clit in and out of his wet mouth.
The next thing I felt was my body being lifted off the ground while still being planted on top of Reggie’s face. The nigga damn near bench-pressed my pussy over his juicy lips as his long tongue explored me. My entire body felt like butter that was melting away in this man’s mouth. I closed my eyes tightly as I screamed and called out his name. “Reggie … Reggie, I’m cumming, baby!” Just knowing that we were actually recording this made me cum even harder. I couldn’t wait for us to listen to the music our bodies were producing.
As I mentioned before, my eyes were tightly shut, to the point that I didn’t see a damn thing, especially his friends Mike and White Boy walking into the booth. When I finally opened my eyes, the sight of them made me jump off Reggie’s face. “Oh, my goodness, Reggie. Your friends are watching us.”
Reggie held me tightly as he lowered me to the ground and climbed on top of me. “Come on, baby. Don’t worry about them. We’re a family. We play hard with the cards we’re dealt, remember.”
I had to take a real good look at this nigga because I didn’t understand what was go
ing on. Now, I’ve had threesomes and “thensomes” like I told you before, but I thought Reggie sincerely liked me. I didn’t understand why he would let his friends walk in on us like this.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “I thought you wanted us to be partners. I thought you liked me, Reggie.”
“I do like you, baby. But you have to keep the family happy if you want to be with me. Remember I told you that you’re going to have to work hard and do things that you may not want to do. Just tell me no if you want to stop because I won’t force you to be down if you really don’t want to.”
I laid on the ground and thought long and hard about the situation I was in. Reggie was paying my bills and taking care of my expenses, and at this point in my life, I couldn’t afford to lose what I’d worked for. Plus he was about to blow me up in the industry, so I guessed I could just charge this one to the game like I did the others.
“Okay, baby, let’s have fun,” I whispered into his ear as I opened my legs and looked back at his two friends. “Let’s all have some fun!”
That night we all became extra well-acquainted with one another. I fucked Reggie, Mike, and White Boy like a professional porn star, which led to other sexual episodes. Then all of a sudden Reggie began offering my services outside the family to local DJs, club owners, and anyone who he needed to do business with. I didn’t particularly like it, but he said I needed to do this to prove myself in the industry. To make matters worse, I ended up fucking Jay Spinz at Reggie’s command, although he did play my single “Your Eyes” on the radio. Every other week it was a different man and a different reason I had to sleep with him for the team. I was beginning to become emotionally and physically drained from it all. Deep down inside, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and the more I went against my better judgment the worse I would wake up feeling on a daily basis. It was getting to the point where I hated to walk past a mirror and see my reflection, because I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
One night I was coming out of the studio when White Boy and his brother confronted me about having sex with them. Reggie hadn’t left me any orders to, so I declined the offer and walked away. White Boy then grabbed my arm and began arguing with me. “Wait a minute, bitch. I’m not asking you for some pussy. I’m telling you to take off your fucking pants and open them legs.”
I pulled away and smacked him across the face. “Don’t grab me like that!” I yelled. “I am not fucking you or your brother, so get out of my fucking face.” Again I tried to walk away but his brother grabbed both my arms and threw me down on the floor.
“Look, bitch, don’t get righteous all of a sudden when it’s my turn to get some. From what my brother tells me, you don’t mind getting fucked, so open your legs or your mouth because I got a load to let off.” Their speech was slurred and imprecise, and it was evident to me that they were both drunk and high. I began yelling and fighting as much as I could but they were too strong. While White Boy pinned my arms to the ground, his brother climbed on top of me and spread my legs. Right before entering me, he said something that sounded too familiar. “Yeah, now it’s my turn to get some FFB.”
FFB? The first person who called me that was Jay Spinz, and now this motherfucker is raping me and saying the same shit. What the hell does that mean? It didn’t even matter at the moment, because I was being raped by two guys who chose to beat my ass too. For damn near thirty minutes I was forced to fuck both of them and perform oral sex. It was the worst feeling of my life, and I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy.
As soon as the nightmare was over I called Reggie because I knew he was going to take care of the situation. I told him what went down after he left the studio and just as I expected, he told me he was on his way to come get me. I could actually hear the concern in his voice.
Twenty minutes later, when I saw Reggie’s truck pull into my apartment complex, I ran out crying and jumped into his arms. “Baby, I told them no and they raped me.”
“Calm down and tell me what happened,” he said.
I told him every nasty detail. I couldn’t help but cry because I felt so violated. “White Boy and his brother took turns holding me down and raping me.”
Reggie became very tense and angry, as if he were the one who’d gotten raped. “Stop saying rape, Melissa. You can’t throw that word around like that. I don’t need that kind of attention for my label.” Wait a minute. If he didn’t want me to say “rape,” then what the hell was I supposed to say when two guys forced themselves on me after I told them no?
“Well, what should I call it, Reggie?” I asked. “I said no and they said yes, and had sex with me against my will. I think that’s called rape.”
“Again, I’m warning you to watch your mouth. White Boy has made me a lot of money and I can’t let you get him or his brother in trouble, so just forget about that shit. You’re acting like you never fucked him before.”
“Yeah, I did it for you, but I didn’t want to then, and I damn sure didn’t want to today.”
“So are you going to say I raped you too?” he asked, while looking at me like I wasn’t making any sense. “It’s the same fucking scenario, Mel. You didn’t want to fuck him the first time but you did, so how was he to know you really meant it this time?”
“Because I said no!” I screamed. “Look, I’m going to the police and telling them everything, and I’ll let them decide if I was raped or not.”
Reggie then began smirking like this was a laughing matter. “Did you forget that we have a tape of you fucking me, White Boy, and Mike in the studio? Shit, it was your idea to make it! What judge in his right mind is going to believe you? I got about a million motherfuckers who will come to court and testify that they fucked you. Do you know what your name is? They call you ‘FFB.’ I heard about you before I met you at the restaurant. They say there’s a bitch that’s talented as shit and she Fucks For Beats. Every producer in Atlanta knows they can give you a track and lay you down on your back. Give it up while you’re ahead, sweetheart.”
“So you were using me all along?”
“No, you were using yourself. I was only playing hard with the cards that I was dealt. Look, I can see that you’re going to be a problem for me now, so keep the clothes and everything else I bought you. You have two months to find yourself somewhere to live, and please just leave quietly with some dignity.”
No, no, no, this was not happening to me again. Was my life moving in a circular pattern? Was I back in the same fucked-up position once more? Worse, was my name really on the streets as FFB?
I didn’t wait for my two months to expire before packing my shit in my trunk and heading back to the dirty crack hotel that Reggie had taken me from. Because I didn’t have any other skills except music and being a waitress, I managed to get hired at Slabs Rib Shack, yet another demeaning job, but it helped me rent an apartment and paid living expenses. Atlanta wasn’t what I’d expected after all. To be honest, the music industry wasn’t what I’d expected either. I remembered Amanda warning me to put reality before fantasy. I didn’t understand what she meant then, but I sure as hell did now. I had to face the facts: I am not now and will probably never be a big star.
The whole situation of being raped and humiliated made me sick to my stomach, literally. I couldn’t hold down any food, and I kept getting sick. It was like I had a flu that I just couldn’t shake to save my life. It would go away one week and come back the next. Some mornings I woke up to what felt like the worst headache known to mankind. I guess going through the drama that I’d experienced had taken a toll on my body so deep that it was making me sick.
I was at work one morning vomiting everything I had eaten that day when Trina, a co-worker, came in to see if I was okay. I told her how sick and exhausted I’d been lately and she asked something that blew my mind. “Are you pregnant? It sure sounds like you are, girl.”
Oh, Lord, I didn’t remember the last time I saw my period, and the sad part was, if I was pregnant, I didn’t know w
ho the father was. My life was sinking further and further into the ground.
Trina gave me her doctor’s number and told me to give her a call. “She’s an excellent doctor, girl. Call her and tell her what’s going on with you. She will help you with any decisions you make. Trust me, she’s awesome.”
So the very next morning I called Dr. Lawrence and made an afternoon appointment. I told her everything that had been going on with me lately. She took some notes and gave me a full physical. Afterward she sent me to a lab to get some blood drawn for a pregnancy test.
After taking those damn tests, she told me that she’d call me as soon as she got the results, in a day or so. I thanked her for seeing me on such short notice and went home to lie down because I was feeling tired as hell. Before I even made it home, I got a call on my cell from her office telling me she needed to see me back in her office the next morning. Oh, my God, I thought. I’m about to get more bad news. I can barely take care of myself, much less bring a life into this world. What am I going to tell Dr. Lawrence when she asks me about my child’s father? I can’t say “Well, I slept with like a million niggas and got raped by two, so I have no clue who the fuck the father is.”
A Star Was Born
I was back in Dr. Lawrence’s office bright and early the next morning. My appointment was for 10:45 a.m. but I was there at 8:00 a.m. The thought of being pregnant made me sicker than I had been all month. First of all, I wasn’t ready to share my life and time with anyone, including a baby. Having a child means that your every moment and your every step is spent being a mother, and most important, that has to be your purpose for living; there’s no break in that. Second, I damn sure wasn’t ready to dismantle this well-defined body that God blessed me with. I wasn’t prepared to see my waistline increase ten sizes, my nose stretched way across my face, and even worse, I wasn’t mentally prepared to see one fucking stretch mark on my abs. Yet the greatest anxiety-producer of all: Who was the damn daddy, and where would I begin looking for him? I got so apprehensive I had to walk outside to catch a breath of fresh air.