by Nikki Turner
“Send the police,” Death Wish choked out the words. “Somebody is trying to kill me.”
“Slow down, sir,” the dispatcher said. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Death Wish.”
“Is that your real name?”
“My name is Jr., Bartholomew Kitten, Jr.”
“Bartholomew,” the dispatcher repeated, “how old are you?”
“I'm thirty-seven.”
“And where are you right now, Bartholomew?”
“Why you asking me all these damn questions, bitch? I'm hiding behind a fuckin' speaker. I knew these niggas in Chi-town were crazy. They trying to kill me. I'm not like them, I grew up in the church choir—I'm no gangster.”
The dispatcher could hear the fear and desperation in his voice. “Don't worry, Mr. Kitten, the police are on the way.”
“It's about time. I am a tax-paying citizen,” he cried.
Later that night another Wizard artist suffered a setback: Jupiter Jazz's tour bus was vandalized. All of the tires were flattened and someone spray painted JOHNNY WIZ IS A WOMANIZING PERVERTED BISEXUAL BITCH on the side of the bus in neon-green script.
“And the disasters for The Wizard didn't end there,” the female correspondent featured on “Music Lifestyles” reported as she went through a laundry list of misfortunes that had befallen Johnny Wiz's artists that week. “Meanwhile, at the hotel of another one of The Wizard's artists, Slakey Jake and his entourage were robbed at gunpoint of all their jewelry. The estimated value of the stolen goods was over a million dollars.”
Johnny turned off the television in disgust, and was deep in thought when he was interrupted by his secretary's voice over the intercom. “Mr. Wiz?”
“What?” he yelled a little too loudly, startling her somewhat.
“I have Zink's manager on the phone. Also, Petey and Royce are here to see you.”
Johnny was in no mood to talk to anyone. “Take a message.”
“It's about the security, sir.”
“I told them that I have the best security money can buy,” he spat, “and shit just happens sometimes. This week was an aberration.” Now all he had to do was to convince himself of that.
Casino was almost in tears. He hadn't laughed so hard in a long time. “Job well done,” Casino said proudly to Tonk.
“Thank you.” Tonk smiled, glad he could be of assistance to his boss and longtime friend. “What do you think that nigga Johnny Wiz is doing right now?”
“He's fucked up, I'm sure.”
“You betta bet that Johnny Wiz is somewhere hiding, not taking one single phone call,” Tonk said. “He should know that you don't play with fire, because you will get burned.”
TRACK 19
Security Issues
athan Walshenberg was a legend. With more than forty years in the music biz, Nathan's work was not only still relevant, but prevalent. He was responsible for launching some of the most iconic pop, jazz, and R & B stars of all time. The mention of his name garnered the respect and admiration from old-school, new-school, and up-and-coming artists alike. Most performers only dreamed of one day being in the same room with a man of his stature and greatness. Once a year in his hometown of Philadelphia they got a shot to rub elbows with Nathan.
It was Nathan's thirtieth annual red-carpet charity dinner for underprivileged children. At $50,000 dollars a table, all the heavy-hitting players were in the building to show respect for Nathan and support the cause on this beautiful star-filled night. Held in an elegant, elaborate tent that was decorated like a sultan's castle, Madonna, Diana Ross, Diddy, 50 Cent, Sting, Elton John, Eminem, and Dr. Dre were just a few of the stars that were out and about that night.
Nathan and Casino went a long way back, but this was the first year that Casino was in attendance despite twenty years of personal invites from Nathan himself. Casino never had a real reason to rub elbows with any of the people in attendance. But Fabiola had entered his life at just the right time, and ever since the shooting he knew he wanted to take his life in a new direction. The $50K was a small investment for Casino, because it not only put him in a room filled with influential key players, it would also put him in the company of Johnny Wiz.
Johnny Wiz almost hadn't come; he was still trying to maintain damage control over all the disastrous events that had taken place last week. He may have appeared as arrogant and as confident as ever, but on the inside it was a different story. He was worn out mentally and in total despair. He was even worried about something crazy happening at this event; something that would cause him more problems—problems with Walshenberg. He was listening to the imaginary news report that was playing in his head of how something else related to him went wrong. In the middle of his thoughts, someone approached him.
“Johnny Wiz,” Casino called out, greeting the man in front of him eye to eye. Casino smiled and grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray of a tuxedo-clad waiter. “How are you? You look like you could use one of these.”
Johnny Wiz eyed Casino as he tried to remember where he knew the man from, but he couldn't place the face. Since only “key players” were invited to this function, Johnny didn't want to offend anyone that could be beneficial to him in the future, especially now.
“Yeah, I do,” he said with an outstretched hand.
“I heard about all the security issues you've had recently A damn shame. It must have caused an uproar with your artists and sponsors.” Casino's sympathetic manner put Johnny at ease.
“Yeah, things got pretty awkward for a moment,” Johnny said, the champagne—his third glass—loosening his tongue and helping him to let his guard down a bit.
“I can imagine.” Casino sipped his drink.
“When you get to be as successful as I am, you have many enemies. It could be anyone,” Johnny confided in Casino, who had a way of getting complete strangers to confide in him.
“You pissed off a lot of people, huh?” Casino smiled. “That's what happens when you are at the top of your industry; you have to make tough decisions, and everybody is not always happy.”
“I'll drink to that.” And he did, tilting the glass back to finish the last drop. “You seem like a man that knows his business. What do you do?” He waved the waiter over for another glass of champagne.
Just then Nathan approached them.
“Casino, my man.” Nathan extended his hand. “So glad to see you.”
Johnny watched as Nathan embraced Casino, and he could see the brotherly love between the two men.
“When do you fly back out?” Nathan asked.
“I'm here for a couple of days.”
“Good, you must stop by for dinner before you leave. I am sure that the Mrs. would love to see you.”
“Does she still cook a hell of a pot roast?”
“Still the best.”
Johnny wanted to know the connection between the two. As he sipped on his bubbly he wondered why he didn't already know Casino. He watched Nathan and concluded that Casino must be a real stand-up guy or somebody important to know, if he had actually sat down to eat at Nathan's house. He knew how protective Nathan was of his wife and family.
“You two met, I see.” Nathan finally acknowledged Johnny. “So there's no need for any introductions.”
“Yeah, we did.” Casino nodded, but Johnny was too embarrassed to admit that he didn't know who Casino was.
“Well, Johnny, you may be able to seek out some of Casino's expertise. I know it saved me years ago.” Nathan lowered his voice a little bit. “His consulting is the best money could buy.” Just then someone from Nathan's staff came to whisk him away. “Casino, call me,” he said before leaving.
Casino looked at Johnny and knew he had the fish on the hook. “You asked me before Nathan joined us about what I do. Well, I have a top-notch security team that can make all your recent issues go away.” Johnny looked into Casino's eyes and there was something about his manner that told Johnny that this man had the power to do what he promised�
�that plus the fact that Nathan seemed to have so much confidence in him. Johnny Wiz was willing to do whatever he had to do to make his problems go away, and especially to get his nagging mother off of his back. If that took some money to fix it, then so be it.
“Where do I send the check?” Johnny said with a smile and a chuckle. Casino didn't respond, but instead put his glass up to his lips, never losing eye contact with Johnny. “Seriously, who do I make the check out to? I'm willing to bet that you are a man of your word.”
“You can bet your last on that. Even when all the chips are down, all we have is our word.”
“So, Mr.—you know we've been talking and I didn't even get your name or your company?”
This was going easier than Casino had expected. “Mr. Winn. Casino Winn.”
“Well, Mr. Winn, do you really think you could help a new friend out with his pest problem?”
“But of course,” Casino said. “I'll be glad to help out a new friend, not to mention that any friend of Nathan's is a friend of mine.”
“Then it's settled. All you have to do is tell me what it's going to cost me.”
“That's what's so great about friends; I wouldn't take a friend's money. It's about brotherhood. It's about us being the lowest on the totem pole.” Johnny Wiz was a bit offended, because he didn't consider himself at the bottom of anybody's anything. Normally he would have said so, but at that moment he just listened as his new friend continued. “We, as black men, have to help one another, and if I can help a brother out of a bad situation, I will. If the shoe was on the other foot, I would want to think that I could count on you to help me out.”
“Definitely, brother.” Johnny nodded and extended his hand. “Anything you need, Casino, anything.” Johnny leaned in a little closer. “If I can help out in any way, shape, or form, let me know.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course!”
“Well, maybe there is something you could do for me. I have a very talented artist that I am working with. She's as talented as they come, yet I'm catching hell trying to get her career off the ground. You know this industry—it's unbelievably hard to get radio spins, exposure, concert appearances, distribution. And the thing of it is, I promised this little lady that I would make it happen for her.”
“Don't worry about it. Consider it done.” Johnny shooed off Casino's concerns with his hands. “Those are all such small things, my brother. I have radio by the balls, and distribution by the jockstrap. In fact, have you heard of my rapper Teflon Don?”
“My girl loves him.”
“Well, he has a hit song that we need someone to sing the hook on. It was written for Royce, but with the wig incident I'm not ready to put her on a project like this. I can have the track sent to you. Once she hears the track, later in the week I can fly her up, put her up, let your girl drop the vocals, and it'll be as simple as that. This will give her lots of exposure.” Johnny Wiz passed Casino a cigar. “What do you think about that, friend?”
“That would be wonderful.” Casino lit the cigar. “My girl really can sing, too.”
“What the fuck?” Johnny threw up his hand. “If she can't, then once we get done with her in the studio she will sound like she can,” he assured Casino with his signature Johnny Wiz cockiness.
Both men were sitting, enjoying their cigars together, celebrating the beginning of a blossoming relationship. Casino thought about Fabiola and smiled. He didn't feel that now was the time to burst Johnny's bubble and reveal Fabiola's identity, but that time would come soon enough.
TRACK 20
Collaboration
y the next morning, Fabiola and Casino had an appointment at one of Johnny Wiz's studios for her to collaborate on a song with Teflon-the-Don. Before arriving, Casino had already told Fabiola that Johnny Wiz had somehow had a change of heart.
They rode the elevator to the eighteenth floor of The Wizard's offices, and when the doors opened Fabiola felt like she was stepping into pure extravagance. The marble floors glistened, the ornate oak furniture looked stately, and expensive, beautiful artwork adorned the walls. An assistant greeted Fabiola and Casino and offered to escort them to one of the recording rooms. All of Johnny Wiz's staff had already been told to give Casino and his artist the VIP treatment. Before they made it to the studio, Fabiola went to the restroom and Casino was intercepted by Johnny Wiz. He greeted Casino with a handshake.
“So, everything is all set up for you. I've given strict instructions to my entire staff to treat your artist with the same treatment as they would our own artists. Speaking of which, I never even got your artist's name.”
Casino saw Fabiola walking up behind Johnny, returning from the restroom. “Here she comes now.” Johnny turned to lay his eyes on Casino's pride and joy.
It couldn't be, Johnny thought.
“Fabiola, meet Johnny Wiz. Johnny, this is our next megastar.” Johnny Wiz just about shit a brick.
“Yes, the very talented Fabiola Mays,” he said, taking her hand into his and kissing it. “We've met before,” he mentioned to Casino as he tried not to sweat.
“Really?” Casino played dumb, enjoying every minute of watching Johnny eat crow.
“Yes, we have,” Fabiola said. Johnny looked at Fabiola and didn't see one uncomfortable bone in her body. She appeared as confident as ever and looked at Johnny warily.
“We met before a while back and had a little misunderstanding.” He smiled. “And it was nothing but that—a little misunderstanding.”
“Johnny, you know it was more like a big misunderstanding!” she informed him.
“Yes,” Johnny said with as much humility as he could manage, “you are right, Ms. Mays. It wasn't small. Indeed it wasn't. But let's say, for the sake of argument, that I was having a bad day which resulted in our misunderstanding becoming an ego moment, which sometimes us men have.” He smiled at Casino, looking for him to agree.
“Well, those times are dead concerning Fabiola, right?” Casino said, not matching Johnny's smile.
“Yes, of course. As far as Ms. Mays is concerned, I think we should focus on why we are here: getting her album off the ground. I've done so much more with less, and for you the sky is the limit! You can't deny, Ms. Mays, I've told you before you are very talented. So, let's let bygones be bygones. My good friend Mr. Winn and I have big plans for you.”
“Why thank you so much, Mr. Wiz.”
“Call me Johnny,” he instructed, sounding corny.
One of the employees cut in. “Mr. Wiz, Teflon is waiting in the studio.”
“Ms. Mays, let's not keep him waiting. Once you put your vocals down we've got a surefire hit and we all are going to make lots of money.”
Fabiola loved the idea of doing a song with Teflon Don; he was one of the hottest rappers out right now.
“Come this way and let me show you to the studio and introduce you to the producer you will be working with,” Johnny said.
The equipment was state-of-the-art and was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Hands down it was the Bentley of recording studios and made Taz's studio look like skid row in comparison.
Teflon-the-Don was in the studio although his part of the song was already completed, and he seemed genuinely pleased to be working with her. When she walked in she was a little nervous, but Teflon greeted her, “Fabiola, it's nice to meet you.” He kissed her on her cheek.
“It's such a pleasure to be working with you.” She put her pocketbook down.
“Naw, li'l momma, the pleasure's all mine. Yo, I fucks with that ‘Touch Me’ shit. You wrecked that shit. And I know with me and you together, our shit's gonna do numbers.”
“I pray,” she said modestly.
Teflon made sure that Fabiola was comfortable in the studio and catered to her as if she were his little sister making it easy for her to drop any nervousness she might have had.
Once Casino saw that Fabiola was all situated and in her zone, he asked Johnny, “Can we go somewhere else to talk busine
ss in depth, man?”
“Sure.” Johnny led Casino to his plush office.
Sitting behind his oversized oak desk, Johnny said, “My artists have concerts and events lined up this week. Can you assure me that everything will be taken care of?”
“You can let everyone know that you have the best security in the country and all is well. Just supply me with an itinerary of their appearances and make sure that Fabiola stays happy, and I will personally stay on top of your issues.”
“I spoke with Nathan again this morning, and he assured me that if the situation can get under control, then you are the man for it. Having Nathan speak so highly of you and cosign for you is enough. I really appreciate this, man. You're saving me a lot of Tylenols and Motrin.”
After meeting Fabiola, Johnny Wiz suspected he had been played and that meeting Casino after the week's fiascos wasn't as much of a coincidence as it appeared. But he wasn't mad, because game recognizes game. Although he hadn't been played in a long time, the tables had been turned on him and all he could think was: May the best man … or woman come out on top.
Casino stayed at the studio a little while longer after the conversation with Johnny, and once Fabiola took a small break he told her he was leaving.
“Call me if you need me, baby. I have to make a few runs, okay?”
Although there was a peace treaty in effect and Teflon had gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable, Fabiola knew that she was still on Johnny's turf and didn't want to be left alone there, because in her eyes Johnny still could not be trusted. She decided not to ask Casino to stay because she didn't want to appear to be too clingy “I'll be just fine,” she said. “But don't forget that you promised to take me to that Italian restaurant tonight.”
“How could I? You've only been reminding me since last night.” He gave her a peck on the lips and left.
Everything went according to plan. Teflon and Fabiola completed the song, talked about other projects that the two of them could come together on, and most of all Johnny was on his best behavior.