GHETTO SUPERSTAR (26 page)

“P-put”—her breath caught—“it all the way in. D-don't you want to get wet?”

Casino was hard as penitentiary steel for real, and he wished she were there with him. “I'm going a little deeper,” he continued the role play “Do you feel it?”

“Do I?” Fabiola had the vibrator on high, her legs stretched straight out, muscles taut, toes curled under the balls of her feet. “Please don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop”—breathing hard—“Uh … Uh … Uh.”

“I'm not going to stop, baby. You want me to put it in deeper … harder.”

“Oh my God,” Fabiola shouted her imagination into overdrive. “P-please d-don't s-stop, I'm almost th-there …”

Casino was happy one of them could get off that way. “Then enjoy the ride, baby, enjoy the ride.” And she did.

asino, Tonk, and Spade were gathered in Casino's sitting room, when the telephone rang. Tonk picked it up, “Hello? It's for you.” He handed the phone to Casino.

“Who is it?” Casino asked, phone in midair.

“Fabiola's mother?”

Casino answered with an amused look on his face. “How are you, Ms. Mays?”

“You can call me Viola just like everyone else, Mr. Casino.”

“Okay. Then I must insist that you leave the ‘Mr.’ off of my name—Casino will do just fine.”

“Fair enough,” Viola agreed.

“Now that we have what we should call one another out
of the way, to what may I ask do I owe the honor of this call?” Casino asked.

“Well, it's about Fabiola.”

“I figured that much. What about Fabiola?”

“I want to start a record label for her, and I want you to be partners with me.” Viola just put her cards on the table, not knowing how Casino would react. She was willing to throw long shots—that's how bad she wanted to make this happen.

“I think that's a wonderful idea—I even have a name for it.” Ever since Casino had had the talk with Tonk he had been thinking about the exact same thing. “How about we call it Ghetto Superstar? That is, if that's all right with you?”

“I'm not sure about that name, Mr. Casino—why ‘Ghetto Superstar’?”

“So now we're back to the ‘Mr.’ stuff?” Casino teased.

“I'm sorry, M—I mean, Casino. It's just such an odd name for a record company. Why that?”

“Because Fabiola will be a superstar, and she was born and raised in the ghetto. What could be better fitting?”

“Now that you put it like that, I think I like it. It has a sort of ring to it.”

“Then all we have to do is talk to the lawyers to draw all the paperwork up. How about I get back to you tomorrow with all the formalities?”

“That'll be wonderful,” Viola agreed and hung up the phone.

Casino placed his phone back on the hook as well. Now he looked to Tonk and Spade. “Where were we?”

“I've been keeping my ear to the streets. I heard a pair of twins may have been responsible for the attempt on yo life, Pops. Word is they up-and-coming killers-for-hire; teenage wanna-bes dat go by the names Li'l Ali and Baby Hova.”

Casino was quiet for a second, and Spade continued, “The information
I got is pretty reliable, Pop. Better than anything else we've come up with,” Spade said.

“But,” Casino questioned, “is it enough to have them killed in retaliation for something they may or may not have anything to do with?” He looked at both Tonk and Spade.

“I think it is,” Spade said. “If for nothing else then to send a message to the next son-of-a-bitch that might have some'en stupid on his mind.”

“What about you, Tonk?” Casino asked his longtime friend and employee.

“I want the coward bitches that done this shit to you dead as much as anybody else in this room, but I'm not sure if killing two kids that we
think
may have committed this unthinkable and unacceptable violation against you is the way to go.” He shrugged. “I mean, we need to know who they are working for and why this was even done. This shit is bigger than those twins, but then on the other hand, I say shoot the fucking messengers.”

No one spoke for several minutes. “The answers we are searching for could be as simple as watching the Wildlife Channel,” Casino said.

“Pops, with all due respect.” Spade looked at Casino like he was still under the influence of medications. “What the hell does National Geographic have to do with us returning the favor by putting some well-placed bullets in the head of a couple of clowns that probably tried to kill you for a few pennies?”

“If you take the time to pay attention, nature can be a blueprint not only for most of man's problems, but for most situations in life.” Casino intertwined the fingers of both of his hands in the form of a steeple. “Take the lioness for instance: The lioness sits on the hill for hours watching every move of the entire herd until she is sure of her prey She's not trying to set an example to the gazelles that her team runs the jungle. She has a purpose
for her fatal tendencies—usually hunger. But even on the brink of hunger, and the burden of feeding not only herself, but her mate and offspring, she waits until she is sure, and when she moves she is unstoppable.”

“Okay, Dad. I understand what you're saying. I'll keep my eyes open and my ear a little closer to the street. But if and when I find out them punks' hands are dirty, will you let me teach the next lesson?”

“Deal.” Casino patted Spade on the back. “This meeting is adjourned. Anybody hungry?”

Before he could chow down, the phone rang again. It was Fabiola excited about the news her mother had just called to give her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Casino.”

“Don't thank me. Your mother is basically the brains, I'm just bringing the necessary funds that you all need so that the world will know your name and talent.”

“That's a big part of it.”

“I am excited about the venture though, I will admit.”

And indeed he was, but before he could focus on his future, he had to close a door to the past.

ver the next six months, not only did Casino and Fabiola grow closer as a couple, but their business soared. With the influence of radio play and the take-off of “Boss Chick,” there wasn't a shortage of majors wanting to join forces with Fabiola and the independently owned Ghetto Superstar Entertainment.

Viola's dream was finally coming true. Fabiola was a major player and well on her way to becoming a megasuperstar. All of Viola's hard work and studying the industry was finally paying off. She took an early retirement from her factory job to help run the fledgling record label for Casino.

Casino loved the idea of being the CEO and face of the
label. Fabiola sold more than a million copies of her début single, and they owned the entire pie, distributing the slices to their proper places. Casino was finally totally legitimized, or so it seemed—but he knew he still had to be careful of the FBI and IRS. It was a known fact that they didn't think a black man, with or without a formal education, deserved to have real paper in their world—not legally anyway. But this was a damn good start, and Casino took full advantage of it. Flossing!

Viola didn't take her job lightly. With the help of some pit bull attorneys and some advisors and consultants, she worked out one of the most lucrative first-time deals for Fabiola and Ghetto Superstar Entertainment in the history of Def Jam, or any other major for that matter. The deal was sealed two weeks before Fabiola's twenty-third birthday, but to let them tell it, her industry age was twenty-one. Her birthday, in conjunction with her new deal, was cause for a celebration; something befitting a star.

Wanting to keep his money circulating in his hometown whenever possible, Casino informed Viola of the plan and Viola did what she knew best. She called in Bambi, the best party planner on the East Coast, who just happened to live in Richmond and was known for her extravagant and flawless parties all over the country.

“So, what exactly are your expectations of me?” Bambi asked both Casino and Viola.

“I just want her to know how special she is to me and I want her to feel like the queen of the night.” Casino stopped the sentimental spill and thought for a second. “Just the biggest damn party Richmond, Virginia, has seen in this conservative-ass muthafuckin' state since Ulysses S. Grant stormed this bitch. And money is not a factor. You think you can handle something like that?”

“Not a problem, Mr. Winn. What would you like the dress code to be?”

“Nothing less than fabulous,” Viola blurted out, and Casino beamed.

Bambi consulted with everyone close to Fabiola and Casino for input on what direction to go with the event, ultimately choosing to go with a white-carpet extravaganza. On the night of the party, just as Bambi had planned, the event took on a life of its own, and Bambi was loving every minute of what she had created. Before anyone knew it, the party turned into paparazzi heaven. They loved her. Fabiola was quickly becoming a media darling. Everyone showed up at Fabiola's party: Johnny Wiz, Teflon-the-Don, Taz, Death Wish, Ching-a-Ling, Ricky and the band, various heavy hitters and industry players, plus other singers and entertainers who wanted to either show their support or just plain old be nosy and freeload on good food and champagne.

The locals that were lucky enough to receive an invite didn't miss their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to party with the people they normally saw only on television. It was the first time that Richmond's underworld hustlers, players, and ballers attended an event with the city's black high society. It excluded none—even the mayor was there celebrating with a glass of champagne. No one wanted to miss it. The locals that couldn't get in stood outside. Richmond's police department was on hand to help the licensed security guards tackle crowd control.

“Damn, it's so good to see the hometown showing love like this,” Fabiola said to Shug from the backseat of the white Phantom that Casino had rented for her birthday.

“Ain't it? And you can say what you want to say, but the city has surely represented for you,” Shug said, holding a glass of
champagne in her hand and enjoying every second and perk of being a part of Fabiola's entourage.

Casino was already inside. He thought Fabiola should make her grand entrance a little late, and she did. The white Phantom pulled up and they sat in the car for a while, just watching the crowd admire their ride. After sitting there about five minutes, Fabiola told the driver it was showtime. He went around and opened the door, and all the people could see was her blingedout Giuseppi Zanotti shoes hit the pavement and next came her hand. Then there she was. Dressed to kill in a backless white short dress completely rhinestoned out—the bystanders were in awe and they began screaming, “Fa-bu-lous!” The reflections of the diamond bracelets that were on her long white gloves played tricks with the special-effect lights when she did the Princess Diana wave to the crowd as she stood for a few seconds letting the paparazzi and fans alike take pictures of her. She did a step in repeat with several reporters as she made her way down the white carpet and into the lavishly decorated club.

As Fabiola was being escorted by the people that were fortunate enough to have an invite, but not prestigious enough for VIP, Toy ran up to her.

“Girl, how come you haven't returned my calls?” Toy grabbed Fabiola's hand as she walked past. “I forgive you though. I know you be really busy with all this music business. Girl, I knew you could do it. I knew you could. You said you were going to do it and you did. Congrats!” She blew it all out in one long hot breath.

“Thank you, Toy. That was nice of you.” Fabiola smiled as she kept it moving.

“Why is she in here?” Shug asked Fabiola once they were out of Toy's earshot.

“Because you always need some haters to bear witness to your successes, don't you?”

Both girls laughed.

When Fabiola stepped through the door, she had to admit that everything was magnificent. Everywhere Fabiola looked there were white flowers of all kinds: orchids, roses, carnations, catalillies, and one or two she didn't recognize. The entire place smelled like a florist's shop. And Fabiola, of course, was the center of attention. Everyone took the time to seek her out, wishing her a happy birthday and congratulating her on her success. Not wanting to crowd Fabiola or look like the overzealous boyfriend, Casino played the cut and kept a low profile while never letting her out of his sight. Whenever any one person took up too much of her space or time, he would send Tonk, Adora, or Shug to bail her out.