GHETTO SUPERSTAR (17 page)

“Fab, you can outsing that bitch on your worst day,” Shug said.

“She's good,” Fabiola admitted. “I think that's Royce.” Although she didn't show it, Fabiola was a bit starstruck for a second, not believing that she was about to record in the same studio as the R & B sensation Royce, a female artist who was signed with The Wizard Entertainment Group. She had three hit singles off her first album, which went gold, and was working on her second.

“That is her, chile; I could spot that bad weave anywhere,” Shug said, getting a laugh. “We need to introduce that poor girl to Sheena.”

“You ain't lying,” Fabiola cosigned.

“Hell, nah,” Adora cut in, looking at them like they were crazy. “We ain't about to turn the competition on to our best-kept secret.”

“I know that's right,” Shug said.

“Stop! Cut the music,” Royce announced. Her voice boomed
out the studio speakers. “I'm not singing this line, Taz.” She was shaking her head as if to say, “no way, no how.”

“Stop crying,” Taz screamed back, “and just sing the fucking song.”

“I don't feel like I should be singing these types of lyrics.” Royce exited the recording room.

“You sing what's on the paper. That's it, that's all.”

“It's too explicit.” Royce held her ground.

“Why do I always have to get stuck with the hard-to-work-with musicians?”

“'Cause you in this bullshit-ass studio,” one of Royce's sidekicks said.

Taz stood up. “You do what I tell you to do. Now get back in the damn booth and sing the damn song.”

“Pick a spot on my body and fill it with your love …
I'm not no fuckin' ho. This is supposed to be a love song not a fuckin' freak show.”

Fabiola wondered if Johnny Wiz had slept with her. She had learned after her meeting fiasco that it was rumored that he had slept with every woman that came through the company's doors.

“I'm not changing my song,” Taz said. “That's it! Fuck that! Period!”

“I'm not going to sit here and let you talk to my artist like that,” Royce's manager, Petey, stepped in with a little bass in his voice.

“I will talk to whoever I fucking feel like talking to, however the fuck I feel like it,” Taz held his own.

“Why are you being so stubborn, Taz? It's only one line of one song,” Petey tried to reason.

Royce was pacing the floor running her mouth. “I ain't gonna sing shit.”

“She can sing the song the way I wrote it or get the fuck out of my studio.”

“Hold on, Taz, I'm paying for this studio time,” Petey said.

“You ain't paying for shit, the record company is,” Taz reminded Petey “And they ain't sent the check yet, so as far as I am concerned it's charity work I'm doing now.”

“Fuck this, Petey,” Royce demanded. “Call Johnny. We'll see what Johnny has to say about this.” She smirked at Taz as if she had just trumped him. “He is not going to like you talking to his favorite girl singer like this.”

Fabiola's question was answered. Johnny definitely had put that freckled dick of his up in her. Royce was under Johnny Wiz's spell.

“Call him,” Taz taunted Petey. “Johnny Wiz don't run shit over here in this motherfucker.”

Petey wanted to be able to handle the situation without involving Johnny, but Taz had forced his hand. He pulled out his cell phone and stepped toward the waiting room to make the call. Royce stormed off to the restroom.

“You running in that bathroom to snort a little of that shit, huh? Maybe some of that love boat will make you get yo mind right enough to sing this song.”

“That phone call with Johnny gonna make you change the song so that I can sing it.”

“This shit is too crazy,” Adora said to her sister. “Damn sis, we thought you were going to be entertaining us but shit, this is just as good. You know I likes drama!”

After hearing a knock, Shug yelled to Taz, “There's someone at the door!”

“Well, get it then,” he screamed back, looking at her as if it shouldn't have been that difficult for her to figure out. Then he screamed at Royce through the restroom door. “You can call anybody you want to call. I ain't changing shit.”

Adora opened up the door and three girls came in, sashaying
past them straight into the studio with Taz. One of them bent down and licked the inside of his ear.

Petey walked back in the room with Taz. “Here.” He handed Taz the phone.

“Hold on a minute,” Taz told the groupie. He then took the phone out of Petey's hand and spoke into the receiver. “What up?”

Fabiola tried to keep up with the one-way conversation while tuning out all the small talk of the other girls that had just come in.

“I ain't changing the song,” Taz spat. “It's my song. I wrote it.” He paused to listen. “I know it's one line, that's why I ain't changing it. I'm tired of compromising my work. … Then if I change it, I gotta give that bitch fucking credit on a song I wrote.” He listened for a minute, then spoke again. “Johnny, no disrespect, but I'm not going to change one word for the bitch, so if she want to blow the opportunity to be on a hit, then that's up to her. I really don't care either way. She can sing the song or bounce—her decision.” Taz handed the phone back to Petey and followed the groupie into the other bathroom.

“It's your choice,” Petey said, looking at Royce. “You don't have to sing the song if you don't want to.”

“Let's go.” Royce grabbed her bag and followed Petey out. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, holding her head high as she walked out the door.

It didn't take long for everyone in the studio to figure out what was going on in the bathroom. Homegirl must have had one helluva head game, because for the next four and a half minutes, the only music in the studio was Taz's moans.

Fabiola, Adora, and Shug just looked at one another; each one was waiting on the other to give the word to get the fuck out of there. But none of them said anything.

Taz came out of the bathroom fumbling with his pants and
sporting a satisfied smile on his face, when he noticed that Royce and Petey had left. To be sure, he walked to the waiting room. No Royce or Petey, but Fabiola and the other girls were there. “Which one of y'all can sing?” he asked.

Fabiola raised her hand.

“What the hell you waiting for then? Get up off your ass and get in the damn booth. We got a fucking hit song to finish. Shit!”

“I know that's right,” Shug commented, “what one won't do, another will.” She turned and gave Adora a high five.

“Where's the song you want me to sing?” Fabiola was cool and willing to roll with the punches.

“This is the song.” Taz handed her the paper with the lyrics on it. “First, I'm going to play you the melody, then you can sing it however you feel. We'll go back and smooth it over afterward.”

“No problem.” Fabiola looked at the handwritten song, then glanced at her friend and sister with raised eyebrows and walked into the booth, closing the door behind her.

Taz tapped the mic. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” He dropped the music and she listened for a minute, then he spoke into the mic. “I'm going to cue the music now; just sing what you see on the paper.” The moment Fabiola began to sing, Taz became entranced. He didn't scream at her. He didn't stop the session. He just kept smiling.

“That's my sister right there,” Adora bragged. “Do your thing, gurrl.”

“Sang that shit,” Shug cheered.

A star was being born right in the middle of his studio. Taz was still bopping his head with a giant smile on his face when she came out of the booth. “What's your name?” he asked. Things had moved so quickly he didn't even know the name of his new star performer.

“Fabiola.” She smiled. “Casino sent me.”

“It don't matter who sent you, what matters is that we now have a hit on our hands.” Fabiola could hear the potential in the song as well, but she held her cool. While Shug and Adora went berserk, Fabiola only smiled. She had to keep her game face on. The last thing she wanted Taz to think was that she needed him so bad that he felt he could invite her into the bathroom next.

“Are you up to finishing the song and maybe one other?” Taz offered.

“I'm definitely up to it.” Fabiola smiled again.

“Then let's get back to work. You need water, weed, or anything?” He was patting his pockets as if he could pull whatever she asked for right out of his pants.

“I don't do drugs, but water would be fine.”

“You sure that's all you need?” Taz was far more relaxed and accommodating with Fabiola than he was with Royce. Maybe it was because he was as excited about the song as Fabiola, or it could have been a result of the mind-blowing head he had received in the bathroom.

“If you had some hot tea that would be great.”

“Somebody make my star some tea. We need to treat this voice like precious cargo.”

Fabiola smiled while looking up to thank God. But she was careful not to get too overjoyed. She'd seen a sure thing slip from her fingers time and time again.

Seven hours later the song was done. Everyone danced around the studio hyped up. Fabiola called Casino and played the song for him over the phone.

“I like it,” Casino said, happy to hear the excitement in her voice.

“You do?”

“Yeah, it's hot and sounds like it's a hit,” Casino assured her.

When Taz came to the studio the next morning, he found Fabiola waiting for him on the stoop writing in her notebook.

“Where your li'l posse at?” he asked.

“I left them asleep in the hotel,” Fabiola said with a smile. “But I couldn't wait to get back here and get back to work.”

“Good,” he said. “I like a hard worker.”

“I've been working on some songs. Would you mind listening to them?”

“A'ight.”

After a few hours of working on some songs that Fabiola had written, Taz sent her out to the corner store for a snack and some fresh air. While she was out, he made a phone call.

“Yo, Johnny,” he said into the phone, “this Taz.”

“I know who it is; it's the nigga that kicked my artist out of his studio yesterday,” Johnny responded.

“That's old news, baby. I got something that'll make up for that ten times over.”

“I'm listening.” He hid his curiosity behind a sigh.

“I found a thoroughbred. The song ‘Touch Me’ that I wrote—the one that you really liked?” Of course Johnny knew what song he was talking about; it was the same song his girl Royce was supposed to have done. “Well, this chick I found did her muthafuckin' thing with it.”

“Really?” Johnny asked. He was always on the lookout for new hot talent. Today an artist was the next big thing; tomorrow she was old news. “This thoroughbred, is she marketable?”

“Do a chicken have feathers? Hell yeah, she's marketable. She has the face, the body, swagger, and the voice. And there's something new about her voice; she's not trying to do what everyone else is doing. I'm telling you, Johnny: She's the real deal, sho nuff, Holyfield. None of that put-together studio shit that's being played on the radios all day. This girl is”—Taz tried to come up
with a proper comparison—“a cross between Aretha Franklin and Gladys Knight with some new-age shit thrown in.” Johnny had never heard Taz this excited about anything. “You should stop by and hear the song. …”

“What's her name?”

“Fabiola, and she's from Virg—”

“I know her,” Johnny cut him off, “and she doesn't have what it takes—too many problems.”

“What type of problems?”

“Drama, drugs, ghetto, ahh, man, just too many issues, too many to iron out,” Johnny lied.

This couldn't be the same girl I spent the last day and a half with
, Taz thought. “I was with her all day yesterday and didn't see a sign of any kind of drug use. From what I could tell, she seems like a hard worker.”

“Well, I don't want anything to do with her ghetto ass or her momager. And if I were you I wouldn't fuck with her either.”

“I think you got her mixed up with someone else. The girl I'm talking about is the sweetest, most humble girl you ever want to meet—a real Southern belle.”

“It's her all right. She almost tricked me, too. I almost made the mistake of signing her awhile back.”

“What happened?”

“I saw through her charade just in time, that's what happened,” Johnny said in an annoyed tone.

“Aren't you the same person that told me that as long as an artist can record and perform, the rest of the bullshit could be worked out?” Taz didn't feel like Johnny was being totally honest with him.

“Not this one. She's a lowlife.”

“I hope this has nothing to do with what transpired between me and Royce?”

“You crossed the line with Royce, but that's not it,” Johnny told him. “Been there, done that. Tell you what: Give me a call next month when I may be able to stomach some more of your bullshit, and I will send you studio work, but in regards to that Fabifolla or whatever her name is? She's definitely out of the question, next month, next year, or the next life.” The phone went dead.

When Fabiola returned from the store, she noticed a sour look on Taz's face. “What's wrong?” she asked.

Taz shook his head, then removed the Cartier glasses from his face and wiped the thick lenses. “Let's get back to work,” he said.

While he and Fabiola were working hard at trying to create a mini promotional album, Taz couldn't stop thinking about the conversation he had had with his brother the night before. Travis was doing his time in West Virginia now. Other than to let his brother know that he was doing fine, Travis expressed one other thing to Taz: to make sure he played fair by Casino.

Casino had met Taz's younger brother, Travis, while they both were serving federal time in Atlanta. Travis never forgot how much Casino looked out for him, and made it known that if ever he could do anything to return the favor, all Casino had to do was ask.

Time flew and by the wee hours of the morning, Taz and Fabiola had gotten a lot done in a short time. They had recorded four songs, but only “Touch Me” was completely mixed. “So, you go back to Richmond tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, wishing that she could stay in the city longer and work in the studio. She was truly in her element. She had been waiting for the opportunity to be able to do what her heart yearned to do.