Dirty Little Secrets (11 page)

During one of my rare moments of studying, Jason phoned to say that he was on his way to pick me up. That was fine by me;
I was more than happy to close my English book and take an extended break. I hoped my mogul had told Jason that he wanted
to see me because the last time I saw T-Roc he seemed a little put off that I declined his invitation to his crib. I’m sure
he hadn’t gotten that type of brush-off often.

Jason and I went to the label, where I sat for a while without T-Roc saying two words to me. He was busy running a label,
and I started to wonder what I was doing there. It was amazing to see him at work because he was a very hands-on type of guy
and an extreme perfectionist. When something didn’t go exactly the way he wanted, he had no qualms about having a tantrum
right in front of everybody. After two hours of no one saying a word to me, Jason emerged. “Are you hungry?”

“A little bit.” Actually I was starving, but that was too much information.

“Cool, we’re going to pick up some food and stop by my friend’s house to chill for a while.”
Cool
was Jason’s favorite word, I thought to myself.

My mind was made up. If I was presented with another invitation by T-Roc, I would not decline. I had a strong inkling that
he was the friend Jason was talking about. We stopped at a soul food restaurant called the Shark Bar, Jason picked up the
food he had ordered, and a short time later we pulled up to a brownstone in the city. I took a quick look around the quaint
neighborhood while Jason rang the doorbell. I was bubbling over on the inside when T-Roc answered the door. He greeted me
with a sly smile
and said, “Hello, Tyler. How did you do on your English test?” His question threw me off balance, but I quickly regained my
composure.

“It went great;” I said shyly, and gave a smile. On the outside, the building looked historic and old-fashioned. On the inside
it was all high-tech and ultramodern. Here I was, sitting and eating barbecued salmon, yams, and rice with my crush. It was
too good to be true. The three of us were laughing, joking, and enjoying the delicious food. After a couple of hours Jason
said he had to run an errand. That was fine with me, because I could finally have some alone time with T-Roc.

“Tyler, what school do you attend? Not high school, I hope.” I tried to get a read on T-Roc’s face because I couldn’t tell
if he was serious or playing.

“NYU.”

“What’s your major?”

“Journalism.”

“Oh, you look very young; how old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen later this year,” I said eagerly, not wanting to seem so young.

“Don’t rush it, pretty girl. There will come a time when you’ll be wishing you could push your age back, not forward.” As
T-Roc talked, my mind began drifting off, thinking about the hundreds of cute girls he had conquered and the many more who
would follow me, But you know what? I didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t have cared less. When I wanted something, that is what
I wanted—no ands, ifs, or buts about it! At this moment in my life, I wanted to know what it felt like to make love to T-Roc.
I didn’t care if it turned out to be a one-night stand, because personally I thought that would be more romantic. This guy
was a known ladies’ man, and I wasn’t naive enough to believe I could change him or that I
would be “the one.” Every girl he slept with was probably trying to lock him down, so I figured I’d do one better and treat
him as a casual sexual encounter. This was about me fulfilling yet another one of my fantasies, no more and no less.

We began kissing, and I started feeling myself getting aroused. “Tyler, how about we go upstairs where we can get comfortable?”
T-Roc took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom where a huge plush bed awaited us.

Leaning back on his bed, he said, “I want to watch you undress.” My mind began racing, and the shy, insecure, and self-conscious
side of me took a seat as the other side—the bitchy, fiery, and confident side—showed its face. I gave him a look that said,
Oh please, I’m not taking off my clothes for you. All these episodes in my life are like movies to me, and I’ve created scripts
that have to be exciting and fun. I knew sleeping with him was going to happen, but I couldn’t let him think that he would
just snap his fingers and my clothes would fall off. I had to make him believe that he had somewhat coerced me.

“No, baby, I don’t think so. This isn’t Scores, and I’m no stripper.”

“Pretty girl, I just want to see you naked. Please.” I did have on a soft pink Natori bra and panty set that I wanted him
to view. If I wasn’t comfortable with anything else, I pretty much always liked my figure and enjoyed showing it off in cute
under-garments. I didn’t want to seem too eager to please, though, and this was my script, so I needed to start setting the
pace. In my mind I was telling T-Roc to back it up, buddy, I’m running this show. I sauntered over to the bed and began kissing
him again. His lips were so soft and his skin so smooth. He was being very gentle with me and taking his time letting me explore
his body. He led my hand down to his hardness so I could feel how aroused
he was. His hands were slowly moving up my skirt, and he began gently squeezing the flesh of my thighs and buttocks. He got
anxious and started to unbutton his pants and tried to push my head down to give him a professional.

Now I might do a lot of things, but I was not about to give him head. That performance is strictly executed for my man, and
he definitely wasn’t that. Some women prefer to give a professional over sex, but I think that it is way too personal and
should only be shared with a select few.

“Nah, that’s not happening, T-Roc. I don’t know you like that to be giving you head.” After a little back and forth, he finally
accepted that it wasn’t going to happen, and we moved on to taking off our clothes and making love. T-Roc made love with the
same passion and intensity he had in his professional life. He was a good lover, and the experience was pleasurable.

Once he reached his climax I could close this chapter. It was like wanting something and getting it, and then being done with
it; because most of the time it’s never what you think it’s all cracked up to be. This sexual encounter with my crush was
no different. I got up and began putting on my clothes because I was ready to go. I never like to sit around and engage in
small talk after having sex with someone unless it’s my man.

“Where you trying to run off to?” T-Roc asked with irritation in his voice.

“I’m sure Jason is coming back soon, and I want to be ready when he gets here.”

“You want to be ready for what? To leave?” He seemed surprised and offended by my suggestion that it was time to go.

“Well, aren’t we finished here? You got yours and I somewhat got mine; what’s left for us to do? Talk? I don’t really care
for all that.”

“Aren’t you a feisty little bitch? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Unless I was misinformed, your name is T-Roc, and I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

T-Roc walked toward me and firmly grabbed my hair, pulling my neck slightly back. “You pop a lot of shit for an eighteen-year-old
brat from nowhere. You need to decide whether you want to remain a nobody with your schoolbooks and English tests, or if you
want to be somebody and keep me as a friend.”

“Oh,” I said, with my head still tilted back, “that choice is easy.” T-Roc smiled and relaxed on the grip to my hair, assuming
the crucial decision was a thumbs-up in his favor.

“I’d rather be my own nobody than your somebody.”

T-Roc had the look men get when they’re about to bitch slap you. Just then, Jason walked in. T-Roc released me, as if he didn’t
have a choice due to Jason’s arrival. Relieved, I couldn’t get out of T-Roc’s house fast enough.

After my short-lived but memorable encounter with T-Roc, I decided to focus on school and my pursuit of stardom. I also worked
additional hours at my part-time job when I could. It was basically for clothes. I decided after my brief introduction to
the glamorous life that I had to invest in some new designer outfits. I also went on a couple of auditions, but I wasn’t being
consistent with the grind work necessary to get any sort of break.

Early one morning my agent called about an audition for a music video for a hot up-and-coming R&B group. He assured me it
wasn’t one of those typical music videos with every girl running around naked, so I said, “Okay, why not give it a try?” I
got the lead, playing the waitress girlfriend of one of the group’s
members. The next day we started shooting, and it was inspiring sitting in the chair having professional people do my hair
and makeup, and styling me. This could be the beginning of better gigs to come, I thought.

Both the owner, who was also a rap star named Tah Tah, and Mark, the CEO and co-owner, were at the shoot. Tah Tah, coming
off his fourth multiplatinum CD, seemed to be a real gentleman, and Mark was charming in his own way. But he definitely had
an overinflated ego. The shoot wrapped for the day, but they summoned me to be back early the next morning, and so I yearned
to go home and crawl into bed. The moment I stepped outside on the pavement, however, Mark was standing in front of his white
Benz with an “I’ve been waiting for you” demeanor.

“Hi, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mark gestured for me to come over.

“What’s your name again?” Mark asked as I made my way to his car.

“Tyler Blake,” I said. I didn’t want to be bothered with the egotistical record honcho, but he was the CEO and was overseeing
the music video.

“What do you do besides music videos?”

“Actually I don’t do videos. I’m an actress, but my agent thought this would be easy work, and it pays decent money. I also
attend NYU; my major is journalism.” I didn’t like Mark’s attitude, and I decided to make it clear I wasn’t some dumb, desperate
industry ho whose greatest ambition was sucking his dick for a part in a video. When I slept with T-Roc I did it because I
was attracted to him and wanted to. To have sex with Mark would be more like a job then an adventure.

“That’s cool, but have you ever thought about getting into the music business?”

“The music business?” I paused. “In what capacity?”

“A rapper.”

I burst out laughing. “I can’t rhyme.”

“Never say can’t. Female rappers are big shit right now. Look at Lil’ Kim, Foxy Brown, and Eve. We’re trying to find a badass
chick right now to be the first lady of our label. You fit the look perfectly. With your face and that body you’ll be the
hottest chick out there.”

“I don’t think you heard me. I can’t rap.”

“Baby, I got this. You have an excellent tone to your voice, and you speak well. I can have Tah Tah or one of our other rappers
write your rhymes. All you would have to do is make a sellable delivery. You think all those female rappers out there is writing
their own shit? Hell, no! You know how many niggas got Jay-Z on their payroll as their ghostwriter?”

I was listening to Mark, wondering if he was serious. Or was this some type of over-the-top ploy to get me in bed? But then
again there were at least ten pretty girls on the video set who would have willingly dropped their panties for him, so all
this gassing wasn’t necessary if he wanted some pussy. But me as a rapper? That was a stretch. I finally said, “I don’t know,
Mark. I never really envisioned myself as a female MC.”

“Think about it tonight, and we’ll talk further in the morning.” I agreed to do that and headed home. On my way I stopped
by a newsstand and picked up
Source,Vibe,
and
XXL.
I sat on my bed flipping through the magazines to see who the hottest female rapper was and what music producers were lacing
their tracks. When I saw Lil’ Kim being ghetto fabulous with the Christian Dior and the bling bling, I thought being a female
rap superstar might not be all that bad.

“Did you think about what we discussed last night?” Mark asked as soon as I arrived on the video set.

“Actually I did. I’m curious to hear what your game plan is.”

“We’re wrapping up early today, so how ’bout coming with me to the office so we can iron out a few things?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” I shot my last scene around two o’clock in the afternoon and was dressed and ready to leave with
Mark within twenty minutes. When we got to his office, there were platinum plaques everywhere and the setup was immaculate.
I sat down on a plush red couch as he went through some papers while handling a business call. Obviously LaFamilia Records
was on top of its game, and Mark knew it.

“My head A and R is going to join us so we can throw some ideas around.” The next minute a tall skinny guy walked in.

“What’s up, Mark?”

“What’s going on, Cassidy? This is Tyler, the female rapper I was telling you about.” Cassidy checked me out and nodded his
head in approval.

“Yeah, she’s hot. We can do big things with her. What’s the name looking like?”

“I wanted you to help me come up with a couple of ideas— something hot and sexy like the artist herself.” The two of them
kept going back and forth like I wasn’t even in the room. Not once did Cassidy ask to hear me rhyme—or even if I could. Their
only concern was image and packaging.