Captain Save a Hoe

by iiKane

  “To bake a cake.”

  Georgie chuckled, relieving tension.

  “Seriously Georgie, they can seize your assets, freeze your accounts, or worse, throw you in jail. The IRS always gets their man… so look, gimme a few days, maybe I can straighten this thing out, okay?”

  “Hey, that’s why you get paid the big bucks,” Georgie winked as he and Niia stood.

  Abe stood and they shook hands.

  “And please, for Christ’s sake Georgie, pay taxes! Mrs. Akimbe, very nice to meet you. Take care of my guy over here, will ya?”

  “I will,” she smiled sweetly.

  When they got to the elevator, Niia turned to Georgie and asked, “What did he mean throw you in jail? Can you go to jail for zees taxes, Georgie?”

  He waved it off.

  “It’s nothing baby, believe me. Just shit they tell people to scare ‘em up.”

  She pushed up on him, leaning her body against his and straightening his tie.

  “They better not, because then I’d have to break you out,” she simpered seductively.

  “Oh yeah? How you gonna do that?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Besides, what would I tell your son?”

  “We ain’t even gotta,” he began, before what she had just said hit him over the head. He looked at her, wide-eyed. She nodded excitedly, the smile making her face glow.

  “You mean?”

  “I mean!”

  Georgie lifted her off her feet and spun her around, making her giggle like a little girl. He kissed her, then embraced her tightly, singing “If this world were mine…”

  Georgie was on top of the world.

  The birth of a child is a milestone in any man’s life, giving him another reason to breathe. It both humbles and exalts you at the same time. He couldn’t wait to see Niia grow both full and round, symbolizing the growth of their bond. Sometimes, he could look into her eyes and see the future, but then the light would shift and he would see only his own reflection. As promising as tomorrow seemed, there was still the allure of today. Georgie and Niia were young and living the fast life. Runways stretched from coast to coast and continent to continent, bridged by the smooches of air kisses, the popping bottles, bubbles, bubbles, endless bubbles cascading down cups that runneth over.

  They inhaled life, scarfing it down with greedy abandonment because Georgie believed himself invincible and Niia believed in him invincibly, which rendered her invincible too. Their delusions were grand in scope, tragically weighted on wings as the sheer speed of their flight was bound to melt away, drip, by drip, by…

  “Don’t let it drip on your dress; hold your head back,” he instructed Niia as blood ran from her nose.

  She was sitting in front of her vanity mirror. He was looking at her through the mirror, standing behind her in his tuxedo.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she snickered, her voice nasally because she had her nose pinched with a towel.

  “It’s not supposed to, it’s a coke bleed,” he chuckled.

  They were on their way to a roast being held for Jon Peters, the man whom so many in Hollywood told Georgie that he reminded them of. He had to admit, he was looking forward to meeting a man who started as a stylist like him to become the head of a million dollar studio. Everything was fine until Niia’s nose began to bleed.

  “Ma believe me, this batch we got tonight is fuckin’ fire. You don’t have to sniff so much to fly. All I did was a two and I can’t feel my toes,” he chuckled.

  She laughed as she checked to make sure there was no blood on her face.

  “I thought it was just me. Is it hot in here?”

  Georgie went over and stepped into his shoes. When he turned around, she was standing up. He couldn’t help but just look at her and admire her beauty. The white chiffon silk, off-the-shoulders gown, beaded with Swarovski crystal cascading from breast to floor, and matching crystal beaded mules, complimented her smooth, chocolate skin.

  “Damn Ma…you’re beautiful. You’re like a fairytale princess,” Georgie remarked, solemnly.

  “Georgie, stop. You’re going to make me cry and ruin my makeup.”

  “Okay, okay, I forgot that pregnant women are emotional. Want a pickle?” he cracked, grabbing his dick at her.

  She laughed, but not her usual laugh; it was more of a nervous titter. The phone rang. He turned to the nightstand to answer it.

  “Yeah? They sent the white one, right?”

  “Georgie.”

  “Because everybody’s gonna be in black ones. Okay, we’ll be down. When it gets here, call me.”

  He hung up and turned to find Niia laid out on the bed.

  “Ma, the limo’s on the way, but if you start that shit, I’ma ruin your dress,” he joked, checking his bow tie one final time in the mirror.

  When she didn’t get up, he walked over to her.

  “Niia stop playin’ Ma. Come on.”

  She didn’t move.

  He looked down at her face. Her expression seemed to be frozen in swoon. She looked like a sleeping angel, like she always did when he watched her sleep, except for one thing.

  There was no glow.

  In that moment, he played back and listened to what he had only heard before.

  “Georgie,” she had said.

  Now, on replay he could hear the quiver of uncertainty in her tone.

  “Is it hot in here?” she had asked and he could see soft beads of perspiration on her neck. Standing, she had felt a sway, one that had made her sit down. Her skin felt clammy.

  His name would be the last word that she would ever say.

  The cocaine literally stopped her heart. Mercifully, she only felt a slight pinch and then she was gone.

  “Niia,” he whispered, but deep down, he knew that it was useless. When it finally hit him, his knees buckled.

  “No…no…no please,” he prayed, backing away. “Niia!!!”

  The sound of his agony spurred him to act. He snatched up the phone, dialing 911 furiously.

  “I need an ambulance now! Please hurry, please!”

  “Where are you, sir?”

  “She’s dying, please.”

  “Sir, where are you?”

  “I – I don’t know,” Georgie replied, realizing that he didn’t even know his own address.

  He never had a reason to. He simply drove to and fro by route. He knew the street, but his anxiety made him forget even that.

  “Sir, I can’t…”

  “Trace the call! Trace it!” he barked, then let the phone fall to the floor.

  He paced once then mumbled, “That’s it, movement; have to keep her moving, moving, moving…” he repeated, like a mantra.

  Georgie carefully lifted her limp body up and pulled her to her feet, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Come on baby, just gotta move, the ambulance is coming. Hurry upppp! Stay with me please,” he begged, the tears beginning to fall. “Dance! We have to dance; dance with me baby, please…just dance with me once more,” he sobbed.

  He was eight-years-old again, dancing around his room with his doll, wishing God would make her real, praying that God would keep her real. Her voice echoed in his ear, how she had said it for the last time.

  Georgie You said you would protect me.

  Georgie, I trusted you.

  Georgie, I thought you loved me.

  “Please God, I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry.” His whole body wracked with sobs. “Just dance. Remember our song, if this world were mi – ne, I would place at your feet all that I own, you’ve been so good…”

  He could no longer hold her up, and him as well. He slowly fell to his knees, laying her on the floor, his tears glistening off of the Swarovski crystals on her dress. He rested his head against her womb and he cried like he had never cried before.

  Many of Black Hollywood’s finest turned out to pay their respects to the African star that would never be. Ironically, even though Niia�
��s death was news in Hollywood, because she was not well known, it failed to register a blip in the rest of the country. Even the Los Angeles Times only gave it back story status, basic boilerplate: the type of an article where only the names change.

  African Actress Dies of Cocaine-induced Heart Attack

  Eight million and one.

  Being that American remained unaware, the rest of the world did also—namely Cameroon, and Niia’s family. It would be months before they learned of her death, thanks to Alphonse, who relished the opportunity to beat her one more time.

  For this reason, Georgie had her buried in Philly on the other side of his grandmother, right next to where he planned to be buried. He tried to console himself with the thought that if they couldn’t be together in life, they would be together in death.

  After the funeral, after the condolences, and even when the sun had begun to turn its back, Georgie stood graveside, with Stephanie right beside him.

  “It was a beautiful service. Sidney sang like an angel,” Stephanie remarked.

  “Yeah,” Georgie replied, but he had barely heard the song.

  Stephanie took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Baby, I know this is painful. I know it hurts, but in times like these when we feel weak, we have to trust in the Lord. He’ll make it right because He can do anything.”

  Georgie looked at her, emotionless.

  “Even God can’t change the past.”

  “No, but you can change the future, Georgie,” she replied, much too quickly to have processed his words. “Do you think you can do this again? Is this the person you want to be? No, is this the person you can be or is this just the person you want to be just because you can?” Stephanie questioned.

  “This will never happen again,” he said, with a grit in his tone that said it was his pride speaking.

  “Don’t you even know what this is? Because I don’t think you do. No, matter of fact, I know you don’t. But until you do, baby it will happen again,” Stephanie answered and kissed him on the cheek.

  She was the first to see Skye approaching. She hugged and kissed Skye then turned back to Georgie.

  “I’ll see you at home,” she said, then walked away.

  Georgie and Skye stood side by side as the cemetery workers approached with their shovels. He had seen when she arrived with Guy and had been aware of her presence the whole time. It comforted him like a warm hug, even though she kept her distance. She knew that she didn’t have to stand beside him to be close.

  After several minutes, Georgie said, “…I didn’t even know how to tell her family that she’s gone. I tried everything. I even reached out to Alphonse…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “I failed her, Skye. I wanted to bring her family to her, but I took her from her family instead.”

  The masked anguish in his voice made Skye fight to keep the tears hidden behind her shades. She wanted to finally tell him, she understood why he did it, but the words wouldn’t come, because to do so would have been to make a mockery of the pain that she was still feeling, seeing the ring he was still wearing.

  “Abe told me what happened. Did they freeze everything?” she asked.

  Georgie nodded.

  The IRS had seized all of his assets and froze all his bank accounts. All he had was a few scattered thousands, his jewels and the Corvette that Skye had bought him.

  “I – umm – talked to Benny. I told him all about you back story, your whole Giorgio thing, the reason you had to leave Philly and he thinks it would make a great movie. He wants to talk to you about buying the rights,” she explained.

  “I appreciate that, Ma. Tell him I’ll be in touch,” he replied, giving her a grateful look.

  She nodded, then began to watch the cemetery workers.

  “Do you need money?’

  “I’m good.”

  “No you’re not,” she giggled softly, pulling a check from her crotch and handing it to him.

  He looked at it; it was signed but there was no amount on it.

  “It’s blank.”

  “I know.”

  They looked at each other for a moment before he said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. It’s your severance. You’re fired.”

  He chuckled.

  “I can’t blame you.”

  “At least until you get your head together, and Georgie, you really need to. I do, too. This…Niia has made me look at my life. I’ve decided to get help for my problem. You should, too,” Skye proposed, a hint of pleading in her tone.

  “I’m the problem. Where am I supposed to go for that?” he replied, bitterly.

  She turned his face to her.

  “I’m getting ready to work on my next album. I’m going to get a little place in the Caribbean, something simple. Quiet. Come with me, okay? Let’s just go away, you know, breathe.

  Georgie looked into her eyes and in that moment realized how much he loved Skye, how much she loved him, but deep down, they could never be together.

  He caressed her cheek, thumbing away a tear, and said, “Skye, I love you…so much, but right now, I can’t be the man you need me to be. I don’t know if I ever will. You don’t deserve that, so I’d rather leave you whole than leave you with one.”

  “Georgie, I…”

  “Me too, Ma. Believe me, me too!” he tenderly cut her off, anticipating her objection. “Do you know how sick I’m going to be seeing you walk away? But Ma, it’s for the best. I’ll let you go before I burn off your wings.”

  She wanted to ask him, if he were her could he watch her walk away? If he were her, could he be the man she needed him to be? She wanted to say, Anya’s not coming back, I’m here! Me! She left you Georgie, but when are you going to leave her?

  But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled his lips to hers, one last time, smiled into his eyes and said, “Poor Georgie…all I ever wanted was to hear you say my name.”

  The slight furl in his brow told her he had no clue…

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Georgie,” Skye remarked, no longer able to keep the tears shaded, as she backed away.

  “You too, baby…you too,” he replied, and even though it took everything in him, he managed to turn and walk away.

  Georgie couldn’t see.

  He was staring into the emerald green eyes of actress Vanessa Lauren as she sat in the stylist chair in her dressing room, but he just couldn’t see.

  “So what do you think?” she asked, playful flirtation coloring her tone.

  “I think you’re beautiful, but umm, what would you like me to do?”

  “I was hoping you’d surprise me. Everybody says you have magic hands. Go see Giorgio, he can see what other stylists can’t imagine,” she giggled.

  That was Georgie’s gift. To be able to look at a woman and see not only the way she was, but who she could be. But since Niia’s death, he couldn’t focus on the vision.

  He looked at her again, cocked his head, walked behind her, lifted, felt and played with her hair, but…nothing.

  “Ma…I’m sorry. I can’t,” he admitted.

  Vanessa looked at him sympathetically.

  “I understand. I know about your loss. I’m sure it took a lot out of you. Rain check?” she winked.

  He smiled.

  “Sure, and it ain’t even gotta rain.”

  But Vanessa was just the beginning. At first, Georgie thought, just a little more coke, just a few more drinks and he would get back what he had lost, only to find himself getting lost in it. Slowly, word got around that Georgie had lost his touch, and the calls became fewer and less frequent, drying up faster than a puddle in an Egyptian desert.

  “Fuck hair,” he mumbled, removing the parachute for a free fall, the bottom of the bottle fueling his bravado.

  Two days later, he called Benny. The next day, Benny sent someone to see Georgie. The first thing he thought was, Pamela Anderson. That’s who she looked like with voluptuous breasts and tapered, slender hips. She
wore eyeglasses and a suit made for business, but underneath he could tell that she was anything but.

  “Georgie, so nice to meet you. I’m Heather. Benny sent me?” she said as she stepped inside.

  Georgie shook her hand then closed the door behind her.

  “Yeah okay, I’m glad he did.”

  She smiled appropriately.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Whatever you have is fine.”

  He returned with two wine glasses and a bottle of Zinfandel. He handed her a full glass.

  “So what’s the word,” Georgie asked, sitting down across from her on the couch.

  “Well…Benny says he absolutely loves the story! He says he definitely wants more detail, but from what Skye’s already told him, he’s sure he can get a mid-sized budget approved,” Heather explained.

  “Music to my ears. Who’s gonna pay me?” he quipped.

  “I’m not sure, but you know Benny, he’ll definitely swing for the fences.”

  “Tell him I want Will Smith; he’s from Philly too. I mean, he ain’t as fly as me, but that would be asking the impossible, huh?”

  They laughed.

  “Confidence. I like that.”

  “Glad you approve,” he sipped, offering a refill that was readily accepted. “So what’s the numbers we’re talking?”

  “Benny says fifty thousand and ten percent net.”

  “Dah dunt chhsssss,” Georgie said, providing the rim shot motioning as if he were playing the drums to her punch line. “And for my next joke…”

  “No joke, Georgie. Benny says it’s a helluva offer. You’re free to call him if you like,” Heather suggested sweetly.

  Georgie chuckled.

  “Come on Ma, I’ve already negotiated three movie deals, one for Skye and two for my wife and everybody knows net stands for nothing ever tabulated,” Georgie quipped, with irritation building under his chuckle.

  Heather sensed it, too.

  “Maybe you should call Benny.”

  Georgie sipped his Zinfandel. He knew that Benny was lowballing him because he knew Georgie was in a bind. He knew that if he was still with Skye or Niia was still alive, Benny would be offering twenty times as much. In Hollywood, perception is everything, and Georgie was perceived as a bloodied swimmer in a sea of sharks.