GHETTO SUPERSTAR

by Nikki Turner

  “Welcome to the Omni Hotel, my name is Jenny. How may I help you?”

  “Yes,” Fabiola said, “I'm here to see Johnny Wiz for lunch. Can you tell me what suite he's staying in?”

  “We don't give out our guests' room numbers.” The desk clerk had been approached by young ladies trying to find out what room the music mogul was staying in all morning long.

  “He's expecting me.”

  The desk clerk looked skeptical, but said, “Okay then. Give me your name and I'll check to see if you're on his registry for approved guests.”

  “Fabiola,” she said, “Fabiola Mays.”

  The desk clerk's fingers danced on the keyboard of her computer for a fraction of a second and then stopped. After looking at something on the screen, the clerk tapped the keyboard a couple of more times. “Ms. Mays. Mr. Wiz is staying in our presidential suite. Here's the room number and a card to activate the elevator to go to that floor. Again, I'm sorry if I've caused you any inconvenience.”

  Fabiola wanted to rub it in but thought better of it. Instead she said, “No, not at all. You've been nothing but helpful to me.” Once on the elevator, Fabiola looked around at the gold-tinted mirrored walls. The elevator carpet was thick and plush. The gold elevator buttons lit up like stars in the sky as jazz music serenaded Fabiola from what had to be the best sound system on any elevator in the world.

  A girl could get used to this real quick, Fabiola said to herself as she puckered her lips in the mirrored doors. She then turned from left to right, checking out her profile. She was satisfied with what she saw. By the time the elevator reached the top level, Fabiola felt good. She knew that she was going to produce results and she didn't even have Mommy by her side to guide her. Fabiola took a huge breath as she stepped out of the lift. She was about to knock on the door of the presidential suite but she heard what seemed like a heated conversation going on inside and didn't want to interrupt. Plus, she didn't want to mess up her lunch date by barging into the middle of the heated debate. So she took a seat on the suede day bench outside of the suite.

  “Mother, I thought you are suppose to be with friends in Switzerland, enjoying yourself. You are not suppose to be worried about business.”

  A voice over the speakerphone responded, “Son, you forgot I am the business. Your father and I built this company before you were ever even thought of.”

  “Yes, I know, Mother, but I've been a part of this company since I was in your womb. So, literally, Mother, I was born into this. And I've watched and learned from every single business decision that has been made in the past thirty-five years.”

  “Yes, and I've been running this company for over fifty years, and I still feel that some of the artists you are signing are nothing that I would have taken a second look at.”

  “Yes, Mother, but this is a new day with new times and a lot has changed.”

  “Whatever happened to wholesome girls with voices like Roberta Flack, Aretha Franklin? You sure haven't picked any of those lately. That mess you been choosing sounds like cows screaming. It's a mess!”

  “Mother, what time is it anyway in Switzerland?” Johnny knew that there was no use in trying to win an argument with his mother.

  After the voices died down, Fabiola waited for a few minutes before knocking on the door.

  A butler wearing a uniform opened the door. “Right this way, Ms. Mays. Mr. Wiz awaits you.”

  The butler took Fabiola's elbow, ushering her inside the suite. “May I take your coat?” Fabiola handed the butler her mink jacket.

  She couldn't help but be impressed by Johnny and the way he went all out to make the lunch so special for her. “Mr. Wiz, I am Fabiola Mays. I admire your work, your company, and your overall vision. Been watching you on television for so long and it's such an honor to meet you.” Fabiola extended her hand out to him.

  Instead of shaking her hand, he grabbed it and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  “This is really very extravagant,” Fabiola said to Johnny Wiz. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.” Over in the corner, there was a man playing a soft song on a baby grand piano. Flowers were everywhere, perfuming the room, and lit white candles cast a luxurious glow. The whole setup was stunning.

  “I am the president of the company, so my accommodations should be nothing less than presidential.” He flashed his pearly whites, holding a glass of champagne in his hand. By the look of the emptied glass and the half-empty bottle sitting on the table, Fabiola figured he probably already had a few drinks.

  Fabiola could not believe that she was standing before the great Johnny Wiz himself. He was even more overwhelming in person. She had studied his interviews on every music and business network that had ever had him on. His personality always overflowed with cockiness and confidence as he discussed his company and the entire collection of platinum recording artists that he had under his umbrella. Fabiola took it all in. Johnny Wiz had light-reddish skin with a dusting of freckles around his nose. His body was as fit as a pro athlete, despite the rumors that circulated about him having had liposuction and numerous other forms of cosmetic surgery. His hair was sandy brown and was cut short. But his most striking feature was his gray catlike eyes; staring into them made Fabiola feel like he could read her mind.

  Johnny knew he was being studied, but he was accustomed to it; he used the time to look Fabiola over. He'd seen a lot of beautiful women, but the pictures of Fabiola did her no justice—she was simply gorgeous. “You are even more stunning in person than you are in your photographs,” he said, putting his hand on her face.

  “Thank you so much.” Fabiola closed her eyes for a split second. “But I am more than a pretty face, Mr. Wiz, I am the total package actually.”

  He smiled and took another look at her. “You really are. You are beautiful and so very talented. Your voice is so old-school, but yet so fresh and new at the same time. I listened to your demo just about the entire way down here.” He nodded. “You are definitely what this industry needs.”

  Yes! She thought. I'm in! That compliment meant everything coming from the head honcho of the music game. It was the stamp of approval Fabiola had been waiting for. Finally someone gets this!

  “Thank you so much!” she said enthusiastically. “Would ya, would you,” she said, getting all tongue tied, “like to hear me sing in person? I would like to show that I am not just a studio singer. I can really sing.”

  “You don't have to thank me, it's really the truth.” He smiled at her. “You are very marketable. And I like how we'd be able to change your looks. You could be very versatile. I see you being a trendsetter in the best way.”

  “Thanks again. So let me sing for you …”

  Fabiola launched into an old-school song—“Someone Like You” by Patti LaBelle—to let him see that her voice is something that his mother would definitely approve of.

  “Bravo, Ms. Fabiola! Bravo!” He stood up to clap. “You are right: You are so much more than a pretty face, your voice is absolutely beautiful. It really is, but at the end of the day, you are what you are, a pretty face who happens to have a voice that can be reckoned with.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Wiz. That means so much coming from you.”

  “Well, The Wizard loves your voice, your look, your energy, and he possibly is going to sign you.”

  “Oh my goodness. I want to scream.”

  “Please don't.”

  She laughed and he said, “So we must celebrate! Would you like a drink?”

  “No, I don't drink,” she lied to him. She wasn't about to drink at a business lunch.

  “Not even champagne or a shot of Hennessy, perhaps?”

  “No thanks,” she said with a slight smile to let him know that she wasn't being rude. She was eager to get straight to the point. “There's a lot of things that I feel you all could do with me in regards to getting my career off the ground—of course if you decide to sign me.”

  “Sweets, we work
with the best of the best. We have the cream of the crop on board in terms of producers, songwriters, publicists, studios, A&Rs, and artist development teams—these people make up the machine that drives my company. We not only work with platinum-selling artists, we create them. Everyone on our label is a huge star and we have pop, rock, and rap icons on our roster. The Wizard settles for nothing less than the best.”

  “Yes, I know this, and I didn't mean to offend you,” she said. “I've been studying this industry practically all my life,” she said.

  Johnny put his hand on her face. “You know, you are so gorgeous that if you couldn't sing, I would probably make you my wife,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “I didn't mean to digress from the topic. So, you say you've been studying the industry for a long time?”

  “Yes, my sister jokes that I was only conceived to become a megastar.”

  “Well, I'm not sure if you really know how this music thing works or not. I mean the books and the television specials can't always depict the way things really work.” He didn't give her a chance to respond. “I can take you to the top.” He pointed up toward the ceiling. “I can make all your dreams come true. I can make you a rich woman with fame and fortune beyond your wildest imagination. But in return, what are you willing to give?”

  “I am willing to give it all I got. I've already been doing a lot to get to this point. I've been taking voice lessons, every dance class you can think about. I work out seven days a week, eat the right foods. And I am willing to bring that same discipline to make the label happy.”

  “All you got, huh?” Johnny sat down on the burgundy-, green-, and gold-striped couch and looked at her.

  “If you sign me I promise you I will be the hardest-working singer you've ever seen come through the doors of The Wizard Group. I will sing my heart out. I don't use any drugs, I'm not caught up with any men, nothing. All I focus on is my singing and songwriting.”

  “Good, because that's exactly what this industry is about: sacrifice. Sacrifice for all your dreams to become a reality.” He took down another double shot of Hennessy, and by the look of his bloodshot eyes she could tell that he didn't need any more.

  Fabiola began to pour out her heart. “I am willing to sacrifice, for my dreams, my career, and a better life for me and my family.” Her voice betrayed a passion that seemed to come from her heart and soul, arousing Johnny Wiz even more than he had been when he saw her walk through the door.

  “You are so beautiful.” He slurred and then he stroked himself through his pants. Fabiola was mortified—she didn't know what to do or say. So she pretended like she didn't see anything.

  “You do something to me that I can't put my finger on,” he said in a seductive melody as he rolled his eyes in the back of his head and continued to stroke his bulge. All of his smoothness was going out of the window. He was losing cool points at a rocket-climbing rate, but still Fabiola kept her composure.

  “You are in power now. At this very moment, you could make me do things that I'd be sorry for later. Write checks, sign you to a deal that my board members would question, make me promise ridiculous things that I would regret later.” He released his dick from the restriction of his pants; it stuck straight up in the air. “What are you willing to do? Are you going to execute your power?”

  Fabiola looked down in disgust. She was completely taken off guard by Johnny's boldness. She had heard of studio rats having to fuck their way into a recording contract, but she never imagined that one day she'd find herself in the very same predicament.

  “Sir, the talent is in my voice.”

  “Yes, and a lot of girls have the talent and unfortunately talent doesn't always get you through the door. Hell, sometimes it doesn't even get you through the door.” Him repeating himself let her know that he was a bit tipsy.

  She didn't know what to do. All sorts of crazy thoughts raced through her mind. Should she get up and leave now? And then lose everything? Maybe she should call her mother, but then her mother would know that she really didn't have it under control like she said she did. She wanted to cry because it wasn't suppose to turn out like this, but she managed to keep her composure as Johnny continued.

  “It's about sacrifice. You are twenty-one years old, old enough to make your own decisions. Take your destiny in your hand.” He nodded toward his manhood.

  Fabiola was dumbfounded. The chance of a lifetime was right in front of her. What she had been practically living every day of her life for, what her mother and sister had been sacrificing so much for so long in the hopes that this day would certainly come, was right there, and she didn't want to fuck it all up by making the wrong move in this delicate situation.

  Johnny could tell she was fighting with conflicting feelings. “Touch it,” he tried to urge her.

  “Johnny, I don't want us to get into this … not now,” she said in a soft but firm tone, not wanting to piss him off.

  “Baby, you have to make up your mind. I'm very interested in you—all of you—but how interested are you in me?” He grabbed her hand and put it in his lap. He wanted her to stroke him but she didn't. “That's it,” he moaned. Fabiola quickly removed her hand.

  “Johnny, please don't let this get in between us,” she begged.

  “You got my time and my attention.” He looked her in the eyes. “Now don't blow it,” he said. “You are almost at the pinnacle of your dream, and you only have a few steps to take, but it's a long ways back down. You have to decide if you want it or not.”

  She looked at his average-sized freckled dick and knew that if she put it on him that he would want more, but that didn't necessarily mean that he would keep his word and sign her. Should she become a whore to the business? This was the day she had been waiting for all of her life, but she had no idea that it would come with this kind of price.

  “Baby, it can be so, so e-zee for you. It's up to you.” He was still stroking himself, licking his lips. “But you are running out of time.” The pace of his stroke intensified. “It's either the bed or you can leave.”

  Fabiola knew that her entire life was at stake. No one will know what I did but him and me. She tried to assure herself as she kicked off her stilettos. Clips of her mother's overjoyed smile and her sister giving her a high five when she returned home with the deal flashed through her mind.

  “That's right,” he coached when her shoes came off and she began to undo one of the buttons on her blouse. “I know that pussy is so tight and wet for me.” His tongue darted out of his mouth like it had a mind of its own. “Oh, Daddy-O is horny for your pussy” He licked his lips when she undid another button. He could now see the black lace bra she was wearing. “Oooh, I just can't wait for you to turn me out Virginia style. Show me that Virginia really is for lovers.”

  Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she watched him continue to stroke himself faster, talking to her like she was a whore. “You're making the right decision. You are going to be a huge star. America's sweetheart! I can see your name in lights.”

  Fabiola saw that Johnny was in ecstasy and knew that once again he'd get what he wanted, but just as quickly as the thought crossed her mind she snapped out of that thinking. “Johnny, I don't want to do this.” Those words made him lose his erection.

  “It's your choice. No one is forcing you to do anything. Either you do or you don't. If you don't—no deal; if you do—deal. Make your decision now.”

  Fabiola slipped her shoes back on and fastened up her blouse.

  “The bed or bounce?” Johnny Wiz laughed.

  “You're going to have to enjoy your bed alone, Johnny. I'm sorry that you feel as you do.” Tears were in her eyes.

  “I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that you are such a selfish little bitch. Now get the fuck out.”

  “I'll make it to the top without you, Johnny.”

  “Over my dead body, bitch.” Johnny lost his cool sitting on the sofa. “And I mean that. Get the fuck out. Do your talking while you're walking and don't let the door
hit you.”

  “I would have liked for it to be with you, but …” She was trying to appeal to his logical side.

  “Apparently not,” he cut her off.

  “Like I said, with or without you I'm going to see you at the top,” she said, snatching her coat and pocketbook from the butler, who looked as if nothing unusual was going on.

  “Bounce, bitch. Out of here,” Johnny snarled.

  “Enjoy your bed … ALONE!”

  “Oh, it's never alone, you little bitch. There are thousands of bitches like you that will do what you won't. If you didn't know, you know now. You were lucky to get this high up. Bitches like you know what the business is from the get-go; they don't play Ms. I'm-a-Stuck-up-Bitch like you.” As she was opening the door, Johnny continued, “That's right. Get the fuck out of my shit before I call security.” Fabiola slammed the door, almost knocking the pictures off the wall. She was angry at how disrespectful he was to her and lost control.

  From the other side of the door she yelled, “Only bitch-ass niggas call security, you freckle-face bitch.” She thought of G.P., who never called the police. “They handle their own business.”

  Johnny got off the couch and walked over to the door. “Didn't I tell you to leave, bitch?”

  For a split second she thought about all the poise, manners, and professionalism she was supposed to have, but Johnny Wiz had violated and they were indeed out the door.

  “Bitch, you better get out of my motherfucking suite, you tramp-ass bitch,” he said almost like he was talking out of the side of his neck.

  She continued to speak up for herself. “All 'Cause I wouldn't let you fuck me? 'Cause I wouldn't let you put your freckled dick up in me?”

  “Actually I wanted to fuck you in your ass, bitch,” he yelled through the door, not caring who heard him. “After I put it in your mouth. Now get the fuck from in front my door, bitch.”

  “Make me, punk muthafucka,” she screamed back at him.

  “Bitch, you are done in this world. You gon' be sucking dicks for a profession. The only place you gonna be able to get a job in this country is a whorehouse.”