GHETTO SUPERSTAR (15 page)

“Step away from Mr. Wizard,” his giant security guard ordered.

Johnny Wiz turned around and said, “Your daughter blew it at lunch. Her name is shit in this industry.”

“Please, Mr. Wiz, I will do whatever you need me to do to make this entire situation right.”

“Good. I already told her what you need to do to me to make this right. Just ask your daughter. She knows in depth how you can get back in my good graces.” He fixed his coat and walked off.

“Mr. Wiz”—Viola ran over after him—“please … please.”

Another security guard stepped in front of Viola, blocking her path to Johnny Wiz. “I'm going to have to ask you to step away now,” he said in a no-nonsense voice. “Please, ma'am, don't make me use force. I really don't like beating up women, but I will if I have to.”

Viola stood there with tears in her eyes, devastated, not knowing what to do. But one thing was certain: She was going to get to the bottom of this, and Fabiola had some answering to do.

She rushed to join the rest of the family backstage. Viola grabbed Fabiola by the hand. “I need you to come with me. Adora”—she looked at her other daughter while maintaining a firm grip on Fabiola—“finish packing your sister's things and we'll meet you outside.” Viola led Fabiola to a restroom and locked the door. Shug followed closely behind while Sheena helped Adora. Shug knew that everybody thought that shit had hit the fan, but the hurricane was about to come through once Viola got to the bottom of the events from earlier today, and Shug knew that her best friend would need her.

“What happened earlier today?” Viola paced back and forth while Fabiola leaned on the sink.

“Mommy, he tried to make me have sex with him.”

“And?” she said, looking at her youngest daughter.

“What do you mean
and?”
a shocked Fabiola repeated, not believing what she had just heard.
“And
I decided that I wasn't going to ho myself to him.”

Viola hauled off and slapped Fabiola across the face. Fabiola
grabbed her cheek as tears rolled down her face. “You have fucked up every fucking thing that I have worked so hard for. All the shit that I've done for you is in fucking vain.” But Viola wasn't finished. “You have just about signed your death warrant to the key people at the top of the food chain. I worked my ass off your entire life to get you here and this is what you do to me. You selfish little bitch, you!” Viola screamed. “What was so horrible about giving the man a little pussy if that's what it took? You fuck G.P. and all those other sorry motherfuckers who ain't giving you shit but a wet ass, and the nigga that's going to make you rich and give you an opportunity to be a star you turn your nose up at him like he's some type of monster!”

The tears were rolling down Fabiola's face uncontrollably now. Even though G.P. was the second person she'd ever had sex with, the harsh words from her mother still hurt her.

“How dare you do this to me? To your sister? How dare you do that to Johnny? Do you know how much it cost to gas a jet and fly across the country to see you? How fucking dare you?”

“How dare I? How about
how dare him
for trying to make a prostitute out of me?” Fabiola looked up at her mother, mascara running down her face. “You know what, Viola, because there's no need to call you Mommy, a mother would never want her child to prostitute herself for a music deal with an asshole like Johnny Wiz.” Fabiola shook her head. “For a moment when I was inside that room with him I considered it. I thought, What would I lose if I just let him have sex with me one time? Well, right before I let him put his nasty perverted hands on me the answer came: my self-respect. My self-respect would be the cost. If I don't have my self-respect and my word, I don't have shit, Viola.” Fabiola wiped the tears from her eyes. “I'm sorry I fucked
up your
dream! And all I can say is that at forty years old with a
little luck you'll be able to have another child to make your dreams come true. Thank you for everything, Viola.”

Fabiola stormed out of the restroom into the waiting arms of Shug and Adora. “Boo, I am sooo sorry this happened to you. I am,” Shug said.

“Hey, Fabiola, I just wanted to say hi and to tell you how unfortunate it is that things didn't go the way you intended them to go tonight,” Toy taunted, interrupting their group hug. “Oh, and if you need a real job, the hospital is always hiring.”

“Toy, this isn't the time or the place for yo shit,” Shug added.

“She has a real job”—Adora stood up for her little sister—“she's a singer. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, you're such the protective big sister, huh?” Toy sneered.

“You ain't seen nothing yet.”

“Don't be mad 'Cause your sister can't keep her man, and I know why.” She raised one eyebrow.

“And if you don't want me to be the grand finale getting your ass tore out the frame, then you better get the fuck outta here, bitch.” Adora looked Toy up and down and Toy knew that she meant business.

After Toy stormed off, she said, “One day we'll see. It'll all come to light.”

“But you get the picture, bitch.” Adora screamed back at Toy.

“Was Toy's ugly-ass about to get beat down?” Sheena tried to bring some humor to the tense atmosphere. She caught the tail end of the spat as she was coming back in from putting her bags in her car.

* * *

Fabiola lay in bed crying most of the night, and when she wasn't crying she wondered how things would have been different had she made the decision to sleep with Johnny Wiz.

etting off the phone with Rose, who had cussed her out for two hours straight, only confirmed what Viola knew in her heart: She had crossed the line. Fabiola was right; no real mother would have asked her daughter to sell her body, especially not for a record deal. What did that say about her confidence in her daughter's talents?

Although she felt bad, she couldn't help but reflect on just how close they had come to true stardom. Viola held the cell phone in her hand. Should she try one more time? she wondered. No, it was no use. Every time she had tried to call her daughter, she either got the voice mail or the call just got disconnected. But Viola wasn't a quitter, and she
refused to let Fabiola become a quitter either, even with their backs against the wall.

“You have another visitor, I see,” the nurse said, nodding toward the guest sitting in Casino's room. They had just returned from a physical-therapy session. “Do you want me to help you with your shower now, or shall we attempt it later?”

Casino looked into the eyes of the visitor who had the exact same eyes and features as the young lady that had been coming to see him every day for the past few weeks. Even if he had never met her before, Casino would have known that this was indeed Fabiola's mother.

“Later,” he told the nurse, while looking in Viola's eyes.

“Then hit the call button when you're ready,” the male attendant said with a smile as he exited the room.

“Pardon my intrusion, Mr. Casino,” Viola said after the nurse left the room, “but I didn't know where else to turn.”

Casino observed the desperation on Viola's face. “Please, call me Casino, and lose the ‘Mister.’ And you're not intruding at all. It's a pleasure to see you. Your daughter tells me that you were concerned about my well-being after the small misfortune I suffered.”

“I hardly call being shot as many times as you were a small misfortune,” Viola pointed out. “From my understanding, a man half your age may not have survived the injuries that you suffered.”

“Then I'm glad I wasn't half my age.”

Viola couldn't help but laugh. Sensing something heavy on her mind, Casino said, “You said you had nowhere else to turn. How can I help you?” he asked.

“It's Fabiola.” Viola cut to the chase.

“Is she okay?” Casino asked. Viola didn't miss the concerned look that crossed his face. Seeing that this man cared about her daughter helped her not to feel as uneasy as she had been when she came in.

“First, I need you to promise me that you won't tell her I came here.”

Casino replied, “I can do that. Now, what's going on?”

“She's not in any danger; not physical danger, anyway,” Viola said. “She's more of a danger to herself than anyone else.”

“That can be the worst kind of danger,” Casino said, “but if I'm going to be of any help, you're going to have to be just a little more specific.”

Viola thought about the last conversation she shared with Fabiola. “You selfish bitch,” she had said to her daughter. Shaking her head, she brought her attention back to Casino and continued, “You know how when some children are young, you can ask them what they want to be when they grow up and they give you an answer so fast it hardly looks like they thought about it? Then a week or so later you ask them the same question and they give you a different answer?”

“Indeed, my son wanted to be a lawyer when he was a kid … then a fireman … then football …”

“Well, since Fabiola was old enough to talk the only thing she ever said she wanted to be was a singer and songwriter, and she's damn good, too. Most of them studio tricks whose music is being played on the radio can't hold a note to Fabiola, but all of that means nothing in this industry if you don't get the right break or maybe get under the table and please the right man.”

“I'm not sure what it is you think I may be able to do?” Casino questioned.

“Fabiola has known that she could count on me from the time the doctor showed me images of her on the ultrasound,” Viola said proudly. “I breached that faith yesterday. Her losing faith in me may have caused her to lose faith in herself, and if she doesn't believe in herself she might as well be dead.”

Those words hung in the air for a while before she continued.
“She has lost respect for me because I said some harsh words to her out of anger. She highly respects your opinion. I need for you to reinforce her faith in her ability to pursue and obtain her dream.”

“Although that's a pretty good start, I think it takes a little more than faith to accomplish a dream,” Casino said. Then, feeling a sharp pain in the thigh of his left leg, Casino kneaded it with the palm of his hand.

“Are you okay?” Viola asked with a look of concern.

“Best feeling in the world right now,” Casino said, still rubbing his leg. “It was only a short while ago that I couldn't feel anything in my legs. I'll take a cramp any day.” He switched back to the original topic. “Besides faith, what will it take to carry Fabi-ola to the next level?”

“A radio hit.”

“Then what's the problem? I've heard her sing. She's amazing. Is it money?”

“Money will always help, but her biggest hindrance is being stuck in this little city unable to network with the people that do for a living what she needs to happen,” Viola said. “Relationships are very important in this industry.”

“More important than the finished product? Nothing in business is more important than the bottom line.”

“Try telling that to one of the most influential men in the entire music industry. A man who yesterday suddenly developed a personal vendetta against Fab because she wouldn't let him have his way with her.”

Casino paused as he took in this information. Viola held her breath, wondering what he was thinking and if he could help her. She looked at him sitting in a wheelchair. Any other man might look helpless without the ability to get up and walk around the room, but Casino seemed to exude power from every cell of his body.

“There's always more than one route of travel to reach a desired destination,” he finally said.

“Is that so?” Viola asked attentively “I'm all ears.”

After Casino told Viola what kind of tricks he could possibly pull out of the hat, Viola only had one question. “Would you like to go into the record business with me?”

“We could explore that later, for now let's just focus on getting Fabiola on the right path.”

Casino's words were like music to her ears.

* * *

The incident with Johnny Wiz placed Fabiola into a vulnerable state of mind, but it was nothing in comparison to the way she felt after being slapped across the face and called a selfish bitch by her mother. And the pain of it all was no less severe a day later.

The only people Fabiola had spoken to since the showcase were Shug and her sister. Ocean called once; probably because his mother asked him to check on his little sister. The only reason Fabiola answered the phone was because she didn't want to give him any reason to come over to the apartment. Shug was enough company as it was. Fabiola wished that she would have never let her in, but she didn't want to be alone either—she didn't trust herself alone.

“Gurl, you got to get yo ass out that bed and do something.” Shug stood over Fabiola's bed. Fabiola pulled the covers over her head, dressed in a pair of old gray sweatpants and a white athletic T-shirt.

“Do what? All I know how to do is write and perform, and a nigga took that away from me.” Fabiola's voice sounded sullen coming from under the comforter.

“I don't know, gurl, but you ain't gonna find the answer in
bed under the covers!” Shug said and stood there glaring at Fabi-ola with her hands on her hips.