by Nikki Turner
“We'll do lunch later this week, or better, I can drive it when we roll out to go beat Royce's ass.”
“I like the second idea.”
TRACK 26
Girl Fight
re you sure that you want to do this, Fab?” Spade asked from the backseat of Shug's car. Earlier that morning he had discovered Fabiola and Shug's plans to confront Royce, so he forced them to let him tag along or he threatened to tell Casino what they were up to. “We're almost there.”
They had gotten Royce's Inglewood Cliffs, N.J., address from Taz, and before leaving the house they programmed it into the car's navigation system. The bottom left corner of the device now showed that they had traveled six hours and their ETA was less than five minutes.
Fabiola kept her head straight forward. “Yeah, I'm sure.”
A few minutes later, Shug was guiding the car up the driveway and parking at Royce's front door. “Let's get this over with.” Shug got out of the car, leaving her keys in the ignition.
“Let's,” Fabiola agreed after finishing off the rest of her bottled water. The girls walked up on the porch.
Spade got out of the car and grabbed the baseball bat he always carried with him for ass-kickings. He did a quick scan of the house; at least there were no cameras. He grinned devilishly when he checked out the place and saw the girls in motion. Why was he kidding himself? He knew he was going to be in big trouble. Casino was going to kill him when he heard about this shit. Shug was at the front door while Fabiola stood off to the side and out of sight.
They were in luck—too bad the same thing couldn't be said for Royce. She pulled the door right open with a telephone stuck in her ear. “Yeah, girl, I'm going to rock that mother—”
When Fabiola stepped into her sight, Royce's eyes grew twice their normal size. Before Royce could do anything, Fabiola caught her with a looping overhand right that knocked Royce off her feet and sent her phone flying across the yard. “Pull that bitch back out here,” Fabiola yelled to Shug, not wanting to add breaking-and-entering to the charge of assault if it went down like that.
“My girl ain't finished with you yet.” Shug grabbed Royce by the foot and dragged her out the door. Royce was too stunned and dazed to protest, especially when she saw that her freshly done lace-front wig was on the ground.
Petey heard the commotion and ran toward the ruckus. When he came around the corner of the foyer he saw two women wailing on his client and lover. When he rushed out the door to help out, he was held up by a man holding a baseball bat.
“Slow down there, chief. This here is between the ladies!” Spade said, moving his jacket to the side so that Petey could see the gun on his waist. “Don't make it any more than that.”
Fabiola put it on Royce's ass like there was no tomorrow, screaming at her in between each blow. “Don't! Fuck! With! Me! Bitch! Ya hear me?” She wanted Royce to get it once and for all that she wasn't the one to be playing games with. “You were the stuck-up bitch that didn't want to sing the song,” she yelled as she kicked her. Then Fabiola heard a voice besides her own and Royce's screaming for Fabiola to get off her.
“That's enough, Fabiola,” Spade advised. “Don't kill the bitch. You don't want to go to jail for this bald-headed bitch. You got a career to worry about.”
If Fabiola wasn't in her right frame of mind before Spade spoke of prison, she was now. The possibility of losing everything for a nothing-ass bitch brought her back to reality. Casino and her mother were right. Why was she even there? She had nothing to prove, nothing to gain, yet everything to lose. Fabiola stopped hitting Royce and brushed the dirt off of her clothes. “Damn, that bitch made me break a fucking nail.”
The three left Petey to tend to Royce's bruises to her body and ego as they got back in the car and drove back to Richmond. There was no need to speed away before Petey or Royce called the police—they both were famous singers. If any warrants were taken out, Fabiola knew she would have to take responsibility for her actions.
After they were safely back, for now, at Viola's house, Fab and Shug told Viola all the details of the beat-down. Viola was livid.
“Child, are you crazy? You know this isn't going to be good for press, nor is it ladylike.”
“I think we might be okay, Ma. Everybody heard her threatening me on the radio. I don't think she's going to want what's left of her fans to know how I whupped that ass and dragged her through the dirt. Besides, we have a great p.r. team,” Fabiola assured her mother, but Viola rolled her eyes.
“I know we do,” her mother reminded her, “and you're looking at that great p.r. team. If this gets out it's not going to be that easy to spin. You could go from being viewed as the sweet underdog media darling to the aggressor.”
Fabiola was about to address her mother's concern when she was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. “Excuse me, Mother, I want to take this.” She hit the talk button. “How are you, Taz? … You gotta be kidding me? … On the radio right now? … Oh my God. Thanks for the news, Taz, but I'll get back with you later. I have to go.”
TRACK 27
Thug Politics
o right in, Mr. Winn,” the secretary said after hanging up the intercom. “He's waiting for you.” Casino strolled into Johnny's lavish office with Tonk by his side. Once inside he removed his coat, placing it on one of the designer sofas, and took a seat across from Johnny's desk and crossed his legs. Tonk stood in the corner.
“Well, to what do I owe the visit of such a good friend?” Johnny greeted them. “How are things going over at Ghetto Superstar?”
Ignoring Johnny Wiz's question for one of his own, Casino asked, “How's your mother's heart nowadays?” The two men's eyes locked.
“It's fine. Thanks for asking.” Johnny smiled as he wondered why in the hell Casino was in his office. He would find out soon enough.
“Good, because I expect that it's going to have to be once she finds out that her only son—the great Johnny Wiz—is engaging in sexual relations with men. I don't think it's going to matter much that the man was very attractive.”
“You can't prove any such thing, and she would never believe a street thug like you anyway.”
“Well, she'll believe it when she sees this.” Casino fished a disc and portable DVD player from his briefcase. “I knew you were not a person that could be trusted, so I provided myself with a little insurance policy—well, in this case a rather lucrative one.”
The screen on the DVD player lit up with Johnny Wiz parading around a hotel room in nothing but a thong and black dress socks. A few seconds later what appeared to be a beautiful woman disrobed, showcasing one of the biggest dicks in the history of cocks. Johnny didn't look surprised at all. He grabbed the enormous swinging piece of meat and shoved it in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a month of Sundays. Casino hit the button to stop the recording.
“I told you that I didn't play when it came to things dear to me. And what did you do? You tried to sabotage my woman in any way you could.” Now he was in Johnny's face. “No need to piss your pants. I'm not going to kill you. This is only business. Certainly you didn't think that I would hand Ms. Sheena”—clearing his throat—“or should I say Mr. Sheena to you on a platter because you were my friend?”
Johnny didn't know what to say.
“No. It was business and I knew you'd bite. I always study the people that I do business with. By following you I learned your moves, your habits. I found out what had been rumored was not a rumor at all; men are your preference, and I was sure that Sheena would be your downfall.”
Johnny's eyes teared up.
“There's no need to cry now—man up. It's time to pay the piper. You have to sacrifice something big to save something larger. This industry is full of sacrifice.”
“What is it that you want?”
“It's simple. You are going to sign over forty-nine percent of Wizard Entertainment.” Casino slid the papers describing the transaction across the desk.
“I can't do that,�
�� Johnny attempted to protest. “My mother will kill me.”
“Do you want to kill her first? And how many business deals do you think you can close after the world sees you with your mouth full of another man's business?”
Johnny knew he didn't have much of a choice. It wasn't really his mother that he was worried about. But if that tape ever got out, he wouldn't be worth warm spit in this homophobic industry. Fifty-one percent of something was worth a whole lot more than one hundred percent of nothing. “Where do I sign?”
“Mr. Wiz, your mother is on line one.”
“Give your mother my best.” Casino smiled as he exited the offices of The Wizard Entertainment Group.
TRACK 28
News Flash
iola was bright eyed and bushy tailed, fully dressed, and having her morning coffee in the morning room of her new 5,000-square-foot house, when she got the call of an opportunity of a lifetime. She called out to Adora, “Are you on the phone with your sister? If so I need to talk to her.”
“Good morning, Mother, and how are your doing today?”
“You can save that proper shit for the interviews and your fans, Fabiola. Girl, I gave birth to you, remember? I's knows you's ghetto.”
All Fabiola could do was laugh. “Whatever, Mom. What's going on though? You never call me this early unless there's something going on with the family or business.” Fabiola knew her mother like a Nikki Turner reader knew their favorite author's novels.
Now it was Viola's turn to laugh. “You know me like a book, child.” She chuckled a bit. “It's business all right, and it's great news. You're not going to believe it when I tell you.”
From the excitement in her mother's voice, Fabiola knew it was something big. “Try me,” she said, holding her breath for whatever it was her mother had in store for her.
“Are you sitting down?”
This must really be big news. Fabiola took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Okay, I'm sitting. Now, what's going on. Please fill me in!”
“What have you been dreaming about ever since you were a little girl?”
“To be a singer,” Fabiola answered without a second thought, “and thanks to hard work”—Fabiola got sentimental—“and those who love me—like you, Casino, and Adora—that dream has come true, and I love you all for what you've done for me.”
Hearing her daughter say those words made Viola a little misty-eyed. God only knows she and Fabiola had gone through their share of mother-daughter spats getting here. “Thank you, baby, but what else have you always dreamt about doing? Think a little harder.”
“Mother,” Fabiola said, not having the time or patience for playing guessing games, “just tell me whatever it is that you want me to know.”
Viola couldn't hold it in any longer, so she blurted out, “They want you to perform at the Grammys Sunday night.”
She couldn't have heard right. “What did you say, Mother?”
“They want you to perform at the Grammys as a surprise performer. It's in two days and they know it's short notice, but it seems that one of the scheduled artists had to back out due to an unfortunate accident.”
“Oh my God, Mother! The Grammys! I've wanted to perform at the Grammys ever since I was able to sing. Hell, before I was even able to carry a note.” Then suddenly her tone changed. “What song am I going to sing? What am I going to wear? What about my hair? What about my—”
“Calm down, baby,” Viola cut in. “No need to panic. Everything is going to be fine. Let us take care of all the particulars. All you need to do is sing your heart out on that stage come this Sunday night. Just promise me that?”
“I will. Oh yeah. When do I leave?”
“First thing tomorrow morning.”
“Good”—she let out a sigh of relief—“because I gave Keys my word that I would come see him play tonight.”
“That's fine, but make sure you don't stay out too late because you must be on that plane.”
“I will. Nothing and I mean nothing is going to make me miss that plane. I can promise you that.”
“Well, okay then, my darling superstar. I am going to start making all my calls to get everything in order. I will call you back.”
“Okay, Mother, but can I ask you one question before you go?”
“If that'll make you feel better, go ahead.”
It didn't really matter, but Fabiola just wanted to know out of curiosity. “Whose place did I take?”
Viola smiled. “Royce's.”
That was all the inspiration, revenge, and drive that she needed. That alone would make her sing the roof off the building.
* * *
“Guurrrl, that nigga Keys did the damn thang up in that piece tonight,” Adora gave praise to the piano player from Ricky's dis-functional band. Keys had been wanting to do a solo jazz gig and finally he took the plunge.
Fabiola was so proud of Keys. “That ain't no lie.” She took a quick peek over at her sister before putting her attention back on the road. Adora was definitely a few ounces of Grey Goose over her limit. They had been together since the morning running errands—shopping and paying bills—and Keys's performance at the Infantry Blues Café was a great way to cap off the evening, or start the night. The strongest thing Fabiola had drunk was Pepsi Zero—she never drank and drove. Besides, Casino would never let her hear the end of it if he found out that she did. She was al-ready breaking one of the conditions he had handed her along with the keys to the convertible Mercedes by driving with the top down after dark.
It was a quarter after one and the wind was blowing through her hair as she glided down the black asphalt streets—joyriding—listening to her own CD playing one of the hottest songs in the country The repeat button was glued to the on position and she couldn't stop thinking about how in less than twelve hours she would be on a flight to Los Angeles, and less than twenty-four after that onstage performing at the Grammys. Dreams do come true. Her thoughts were interrupted by a beeping sound, and the fuel light came on. “I'm pulling over at that Shell; we a hot second away from pushing this bad boy.”
“That wouldn't be a good look for neither of us, gurl,” Adora admitted. “I need to stop anyway; my mouth is dryer than week-old refrigerated cornbread.”
“Okay”—they pulled into the station—“then I pump and you pay” Fabiola handed Adora a hundred-dollar bill.
“Bet”—she took the folded Franklin—“but we gonna have to cut this party short. If you don't get home in time to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before your flight, you know good and well that Mom and Casino is gonna blame me for keeping you out. It don't even matter that I ain't the one driving a damn thing.”
“Chile, I ain't worried about no sleep. That's the last thing on my mind. Nothing is going to make me miss that flight. And push come to shove, I'll sleep on the plane tomorrow morning.”
Fabiola got out and stood between Pump 4 and her car watching her sister sashay toward the Shell station, which doubled as a convenience store, to pay the cashier and get something to drink. She expected Adora to stagger, but surprisingly, Adora glided across the parking lot in four-inch heels, as graceful as a ballerina. She smiled as she thought about her sister being tipsy as hell but still on point as she listened to herself coming through the speaker.
“Since when did superstars start pumping they own gas?” someone voiced.
Fabiola looked up to find the owner of the voice. Damn, she thought, Toy. Not letting a hating bitch steal her joy, she said, “Hey, girl, how you doing?”
“I'm good,” Toy said with a crooked smile. “You look cute.”
“Thanks, girl, you do, too.”
Toy swallowed the hollow compliment whole. “What you doing in these neck of the woods by yourself?”
“Oh, girl, I'm not by myself,” Fabiola corrected. “My sister's in the store standing in that long-ass line. I had the honor of pumping while she stands on her feet in that small-ass cramped store to pay” She smiled as if she was getting the be
tter end of the stick.
“Adora?”
“Yeah, girl, who else? That's the only sister that I have.”
“Right,” Toy said, ignoring the sarcasm, shooting her next question. “Are you and Casino still together?”
“Sure are,” Fabiola reluctantly answered. “Why do you ask?” She knew Toy was fixing her lips to say something twisted, but there wasn't anything a no-good hating broad like Toy could say or do to deflate the bubble of good fortune she was riding on. She had a man who adored her and had her back, her song was at the top of the charts, and it wouldn't be long before the entire world would know her name.
Bluntly Toy shot from the hip. “Do you and Adora share him, too?” Caught off guard, Fabiola was momentarily speechless, and Toy knew it. “I mean, since you had no problem sharing G.P. with your sister and all.”
“Girl, please” was all Fabiola could come up with. “You crazy as shit.”
“Oh, you didn't know, huh?” Toy cracked a disturbing chuckle. “That's how it always goes: The main girl is always the last to know. Well, it's true: Your adorable sister, Adora, is fucking G.P. They tried to keep it on the down-low, but honey it's the talk of the town. Sorry I had to be the one to break the mind-blowing news.”
“You a sad bitch.” Fabiola shook her head and cut loose. “You have nothing better to do than fabricate lies about people.” She replaced the gas pump handle in its proper place.
“I may be a sad bitch, but it's true—yo sister been fucking yo man from day one.”
Truly caught up in the conversation, Fabiola didn't even see the two guys were beside her until she heard, “Give me everything out your pockets, your pocketbook, the keys to this fly-ass whip, and those Gucci boots you're wearing, too,” the shorter of the two jackers said. The deep voice sounded cartoonish coming from such a small body; he couldn't have been much taller than five foot three. If he hadn't been holding a foot-and-a-half-long machete, Fabiola probably would have tried to take him out with a swift kick to the nuts.