Vengeance (26 page)

That made me even more upset, even though I am sure his intentions were the opposite. He realized it and tried to make it sound better.

“That’s not to say that I have a romantic interest in any of them. It means that I’m a man who is still waiting for that special person to settle down with. I can’t find her without exploring the possibilities.”

“There’s that term: ‘settle down.’ Why do men make it seem like they are walking into the gallows when it comes to being with one woman?”

“My father said it best one day when he was talking to me and some of my friends in college. He said that most men don’t have an issue with saying yes to one woman. They have an issue with saying no to all their other options.”

“Is that your philosophy?” I asked with a smirk. “You’re keeping your options open?”

“You make it sound like a criminal act. People should take their time to find the person who complements them in every aspect of their lives instead of trying to pretend like the differences won’t matter in the long run. Women tend to fall quick and hard and then wake up one day and realize that they have nothing in common with the man lying next to them, except for great sex.”

“I’ll give you an amen on that and add in a high five and a foot stomp with it. There are a lot of transformers running amuck on the dating scene. I hear the stories about bitch-assness and fuckery all the time.”

“Not bitch-assness and fuckery?”

“Yes, that’s the typical behavior of community dick and water cooler dick men.”

“You are hilarious.” Jonovan poured himself some more wine. “You’re definitely going to have to break those terms down for me.”

“
No hay problema
but
no es bueno
.”

“Let me find out that you speak Spanish?”

“A little. Enough to know what the hell people are talking about when I’m touring. I also know enough French, German, Italian, and Japanese to get by.”

“So what did you just say?”

“I said
no hay problema
, which means no problem, and
no es bueno
, which means it is not good.”

“Gotcha!”

“So bitch-ass behavior is when a man acts effeminate, like a little bitch, when it comes to handling his responsibilities as a man. Throwing tantrums, trying to place the blame on the woman for their own spineless behavior, and running away instead of staying and facing the music when the shit hits the fan.”

“Okay, that was enlightening. What is fuckery?”

“Fuckery is when every day begins and ends in drama because a man can’t keep a dick in his pants. Instead of just staying single and doing him, he has to string a bunch of women along, pit them against one another like two dogs in a fight, and he causes a bunch of confusion and ruins several lives simultaneously, sometimes the lives of their own children. The men who think they’re setting a good example for their kids by seeing their mothers crying themselves to sleep each night, with or without bruises, and then falling in way over in the morning in time to share a bowl of sugar-laden cereal with them before they leave for school, stressed out and angry.”

“Wow, you sure have a low opinion of men!”

“Not all men, but you asked me to explain the terminology, so I am. You want me to stop?”

“No, but let me get some more wine.” Jonovan downed that glass and poured another as I went on.

“Now the difference between community dick and water cooler dick is rather simple. Community dick is a man who sleeps with a bunch of women in the same vicinity, or a group of women within the same social circle. Like Leon blowing out Amy’s back in the morning and blowing out Marigold’s back that night.”

“Marigold?” Jonovan laughed. “So community dick would be a dude who’s sleeping with two best friends?”

“Or cousins, or sisters. Possibly even a mother and daughter combo.” I poured some more wine as well. I was tipsy, so I was talking mad shit at that point. “Water cooler dick is a man who, like the name implies, is fucking a lot of broads at his place of employment. Let me backtrack for a hot minute and add that most community dicks don’t have jobs. Their careers are making dozens of babies, claiming only some of them, and hitting up their various women for money.”

“Hmm, okay.”

“Now water cooler dick has chicks all confused. Their first mistake is lusting after people at work. The men have it made because the fact that they work together gives them a legitimate reason to keep their sexcapades on the down low. They convince each and every one of them that they are the one, but they’re full of so much bullshit in their colons that it’s amazing that it’s not trickling out their mouths when they speak.”

“This is fascinating,” Jonovan said with much sarcasm. “You’re funny.”

“The drunk mind speaks the sober heart.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“The women who are sexing the same man in the workplace end up dealing with foolishness while clocking dollars and sometimes end up scrapping in the lunchroom over the man while he is in the broom closet eating another chick’s snatch for lunch.”

“Damn, the visual on that one!”

“I’m sure you’ve seen it all,” I said with a giggle. “But you get my point.”

“Yes, and thanks for breaking that down for me. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you hate men?”

“I don’t hate men, but I do understand them. I believe that most men are capable of love. However, I don’t believe they understand the parameters of being in love. They’re given a blueprint for excuses to justify their actions, but is there ever truly a justification for damaging someone else’s spirit? And just because a woman accepts their behavior and lets them get away with it, that doesn’t make it right. A woman’s ability to accept pain doesn’t mean that she deserves it.”

“I really like you,” Jonovan blurted out. “I enjoy listening to you speak, and watching your lips move. I don’t mean that in a sensual way, either, and it’s not a pickup line. I’m happier when you’re around and when you open up to me. I’m glad you feel comfortable doing it. When you told me what happened to you when you were a child in Guyana, that meant a lot to me and, as promised, I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else, nor will I.”

We sat there in silence, staring at each other. I was not a trusting person, but maybe that could change. Marcella had kind of gotten to me during our last visit. That was why I had called Jonovan. An excursion to a private island off the coast of Norway was a bit over the top for a first date, but that was the life I was living. There was no reason to downplay my lifestyle to prevent him from being intimidated. If we did hook up, it would all become a part of his life as well. But could it ever work? I’d seen a lot of men who were extremely successful in their own right cave under the pressure of having a celebrity wife, and vice versa. The one big difference between some of my counterparts and me was that being famous was not a factor for me. I loved to create, sing and dance, and perform in front of crowds but, after that, I craved solitude.

I kept staring at Jonovan. I could tell he was starting to feel uncomfortable and possibly even regret what he had expressed to me. The true question wasn’t whether he could handle being with me, it was whether I could handle a relationship, period.

“Did I say something wrong?” he finally asked.

“No. I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“That’s just what a guy aims for. Telling a woman that he’s feeling her and discovering that her mind was someplace else while he was saying it.”

“I heard every word you said, and my thoughts pertained to it.”

“In that case, a penny for your thoughts.”

I sighed and closed my eyes for a brief moment. Then I looked him in the eyes. “This entire thing is out of my element. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been on a date. Pathetic but true. You’re a nice man, and I enjoy being in your company as well. But I need to take this slow.”

“I understand and I’ve got nothing but time.”

“It was asking a lot of you to come with me and leave your father.”

“I have a home aide there with him. He has to be watched around the clock, whether I’m in town or not, and I still have to work. I can’t always be there with him.”

“I still appreciate you coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

Jonovan and I had a blast on Daddy’s island. It could accommodate up to fifty guests spanned out over the nine buildings. Being that it was only the two of us and the staff, we were able to go from structure to structure and continued to have deep conversations with each other. I felt so bad about not admitting that I was Caprice, but that was not an option . . . never could be.

We had a nice dinner for my birthday in the dining room by candlelight. The chef on the island prepared an excellent meal of meatballs with brown gravy, herbed potatoes, creamed cabbage, and cucumber salad. He made an apple cake and rhubarb pudding for dessert and we switched from wine to Christiania Vodka, native to Norway.

We listened to jazz music throughout our meal and then slow-danced for about an hour to a mixture of old-school love ballads and recent freakier and mostly sexually explicit music. Our bodies meshed well together, and Jonovan had no idea that it was the first time that I had been so close to a man, dancing like that, in decades.

We most certainly did not have sex that night, but we did fall asleep together in a hammock by the ocean . . . with the sun out.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

11:19 a.m.

Atlanta, Georgia

A
re you sure you want to go?” Antonio asked. “They’re going to mob you in a clothing boutique.”

We were on our way to Cherie’s couture joint. It amused me when I heard a lot of chicks on YouTube—another pastime of mine because I was alone a lot—bragging about how they were sporting couture this or couture that and then posting links to where they could be purchased. That was true “hood rat” mentality, because a real couture experience is when fashions are designed to meet the specific requirements and measurements of clients. The word “couture” means sewing, not fashion, like they believe on the street. A video and a link where you can choose a size between 2 and 24 or XS and XXXL was couture?
Get the fuck out of here!

Cherie was the real deal, though. Her store was called Ascending Trends, and I actually liked a lot of her designs. I had strung her along for months, like Bianca, and made it seem like I was ready to actually let her be my stylist. Nikki had called her the day before to set up an appointment, which meant that I should’ve had an exclusive window with her. But I was no dummy. I had been around the block a time or two. Once when I was on tour, I asked one of my backup dancers to set up a hair appointment in this small hick town we were staying on the outskirts of on our way to a major venue. When I got there, a lot of people “just happened to drop by” after work to see him, or make an appointment for the following week in person. I’d never seen so many chicks whose hair was recently done and already on fleek show up in a salon. He finally admitted that he had “mentioned it to a few people” and they ended up asking me to take photos and I even had Diederik go out to the limo and scrounge up some headshots for me to autograph for them.

I loved the fact that my fans loved me, so on the rare occasions when I was bombarded by them off the cuff, I didn’t mind. I wasn’t actually stuck-up like so much of the media portrayed me to be since I rarely did interviews. I was motherfucking cautious because, as I stated before, opportunists will come out the woodwork and guzzle down that glass of water while others are still debating about what to do about it.

So Cherie was guaranteed to have mentioned my impending visit to at least some of her clients, especially the reality show broads who would jump at the chance to take photos that they could tweet or update their statuses with. They were all over the place, so it was not a big deal for someone to take a photo with them, but it was a big damn deal for them to take one with me. I was prepared and looking cute and sexy for the onslaught of nonsense. My hair and nails were real, though. No need to fuck with perfection with weaves and gel tips. I took good care of myself, outside of the occasional cutting back in the day, in spots not visible to anyone, and it showed. Some women are naturally beautiful and others look tore up from the floor up without all of their “gear” in place. I wasn’t tripping on them; whatever worked to land men. I wasn’t checking to land a man—just make my millions.

A lot of the men who complained about being gold diggers truly had a lot of nerve. They would go around flashing their fancy cars, expensive watches, earrings, and chains, and brag about their mansions and hefty income and then turn around and get mad when women only wanted them for their money instead of their average dicks. An even swap wasn’t a swindle, so the men got their trophies and the women got their bank to pay for their weaves, nails, clothes, and whips. It all panned out.

I was glad that Jonovan was not like the other men who I’d run across in my life. We had been spending a lot of quality time together, when time permitted, and I was really starting to fall for him. I could tell that he had already fallen for me but was afraid to admit it since he knew that I had such a low opinion of the majority of men. I’m sure that it was also tripping him out that a woman like me would seemingly be sweating a man like him. I would call him day and night, ask him to come over, and I had even been over to his place a few times to help him take care of his father. One time I even did household chores, including cleaning the toilets. I hadn’t cleaned toilets since 1987, when Caprice ran away from Grandma’s house. I was beginning to understand what the term “nose wide-open” meant. I was beginning to focus a lot of my attention on Jonovan, sometimes opting to be in his presence over being in the studio completing my album. But being around him was also helping me with my songwriting. I was able to relate some of my lyrics to real-life experiences for a change.

I was also still having my sessions with Marcella. I had managed to open up to her more and more. I didn’t tell her what I had done to Herman. There is a huge difference between values, morals, and ethics. Values are rules that people attempt to adhere to. Morals are the basis on which people judge or evaluate other people. Ethics are professional standards. If I had told Marcella about how I had set up Herman, she would have followed her professional ethics and revealed it. No damn doubt about it.