Antebellum (3 page)

“Why breakfast, man? Don't white dudes ever sleep late?”

“Not when they have meetings in four cities within twenty-four hours. I'm glad you got dressed, 'cause you have to leave for that soon.”

“Aight, what else is goin' on?”

“At three o'clock, the local radio station will be set up at Birchtown Mall. You're going to be on air with them for about an hour, to give the kids getting out of school a chance to come and see you. After that, you'll sign some autographs and leave.”

She paused to make sure I was cool with everything she'd said before she continued.

“The concert tonight is going to be a small one. The club is tiny compared to some of the others where we've been. They're already sold out of tickets.”

“If the club is so small, why am I performing there?” I wrinkled my brow. The image of performing in a one-room shack popped into my head.

“The owner has a lot of contacts and the club is the most popular one in town. The cover charge is really high and drink prices are ridiculous, but that's how he can afford you.”

The massive crowds and seas of fanatical women had spoiled me. I wasn't feeling in the mood for a tiny crowd, no matter how much they were paying me.

“I don't know, I'm thinking maybe I should cancel it. We could call 'em and say I'm sick or somethin'. Have you seen the place?”

SaTia responded without turning her eyes from her laptop screen. I hated it when she did that, even though I never told her so.

“Of course I've been there. I go to all the locations where you're supposed to perform beforehand.”

“What did you think?”

“What the guy lacks in size he makes up for with presentation. It's amazing inside. It's definitely worth it, despite the small crowd.”

I nodded my head and walked over to make some coffee. I could hear SaTia's fingers gradually slow down and then stop tapping on her keyboard, as if something was grabbing more and more of her attention. She tried to disguise her hurt feelings with an attitude as she spoke, but I had known her for too long to be fooled.

“So what, you don't trust me to schedule good shows for you anymore? Is that it?”

My sidekick had her own way of letting me know she cared. With my back turned to her, I grinned. By the time I turned to face her, black coffee in hand, my mouth had formed a slight, almost insignificant smirk.

“No, I still trust you. I was just feeling a little full of myself. It's all good, though. I'll kill 'em like always.”

“Good. 'Cause you know, if you don't trust me to look out for you, you can always find another manager.”

She played this game every once in a while, and I have to say, she was always more direct than I was. She knew I wouldn't hire another manager as long as she made herself available. And I knew that she would always put more effort into looking out for me than she needed to.

Though the thought of not having her around made my stomach knot up, I pretended to shrug off the comment like I always did.

“Whatever. Can we just get down to the limo?”

She briefly cut her eyes at me, then softly closed her laptop and began to pack it away. I put on my designer Dolce & Gabbana shades, brushed off my limited-edition Nikes and put in the diamond-and-platinum grill I had custom-made a few months back.

No sooner than we'd stood up, ready to walk side by side as always, SaTia's BlackBerry rang. I was content in knowing that she was always taking care of my business. She spoke briefly to one of my endorsers about rescheduling a commercial shoot, and had her technology back in her pocket by the time we reached the elevator.

“You don't have those stupid teeth in, do you?”

The elevator door opened and we both stepped in. The car looked like the shrunken bedroom of a king. I took in the beauty surrounding me while feeling my stomach drop from the descent. SaTia glanced up and saw our reflections in the mirror that doubled as a ceiling. I looked up as well, pressed my teeth together, and opened my lips to show off the precious metal and stones temporarily filling my mouth.

I thought briefly about how stupid I would look doing that if there wasn't $100,000 worth of shiny stuff behind my lips.

SaTia cringed and dropped her eyes to look forward again.

“I don't think you will ever know how ridiculous those things make you look.”

“Image sells and ordinary is boring. My fans want me to be the star they made me.”

The line rolled off my tongue like a bowling ball gliding down a lane. It had become my get-out-of-jail-free card for the last two years.

That's what the execs—Mr. Rose included—told me when I first started out, and that's what I lived by. Always be the person your fans want you to be.

“The guys should be in the lobby waiting for you.” SaTia glanced over at me. “Orlando texted me and let me know the cameras are already down there, so be prepared for pictures. All the guys know you have a meeting to go to, so we're going to drop them off at the local mall before we head to the restaurant.”

“Why is it that my boys get to have more fun than me?”

“Because you're working.”

“So what are they doing?”

“Living off of you.”

As if on cue, the elevator stopped and the door opened. Three men and one woman, each armed with a high quality camera and a persistent ability to never leave me alone, started flashing pictures. The first two snaps would have blinded me if it wasn't for the shades I was wearing. The next two hundred or so were a breeze. I turned on the swagger and walked out of the elevator as if I owned the world and everything in it.

Brian, Henry, Ray, and Orlando were sitting on the lush couches in front of the door. They appeared to be even more sluggish than I was, but when they heard all the commotion and the cameras flashing, they rushed over to me.

“What's good?” I said as I gave them dap.

They were guys I'd grown up with. We rhymed together in high school. So, as was the rule, when I got big, I brought them with me. I made sure that they were each working toward a solo album, but for now they just backed me up on stage. In order to set themselves apart, they all had alter egos—Brian was Ballin-B, Henry was Hard-Knock, Ray was Reason, and Orlando was O-Dog.

“What happened to the chick from last night?” Orlando asked as he walked beside me. The other three were pushing the camera people back so we could move.

I shook my head and looked down at my undecorated palm.

“I'll tell you in the limo.”

The one white reporter, Allen, had been following me since before I made it big. For that, he was always either the first to get his questions answered, or the only one I responded to. He stood away from the vultures, but still in the path between the elevator entrance and the door. A taller Middle Eastern man held the camera while Allen controlled the microphone.

All my boys knew Allen, so they let him through to me when he walked up to us.

“Moe...Moe. Why don't you say hello to some of your fans out here in Miami?”

I always laughed to myself when Allen asked me questions. He'd been on the job a long time, and I'd seen him cover a lot of different artists. Every other celebrity he interviewed, he addressed by their stage name. Not with me, though. He didn't want to risk it.

I took a deep breath and made sure my mask was on nice and tight. Then I leaned in to the microphone.

“Yea, yea, yea! Dis here is Da Nigga, and you been knowed what it do, baby! Deez Nutz records foreva! Knowhatimsayin! I'm da sickest ta eva sneeze out a rhyme and da hottest ta eva burn up a track! Call all da ladies wid da phat bootie back and double D rack and tell 'em holla at ya BOY! YEA!”

I guess a little bit of me died inside as I spoke, but I was rich, so it didn't matter.

2

A
limousine is the most magical thing in the world. It's like a portal into an alternate reality. I've known hustle-on-the-corner-Uzi-carrying thugs who've stepped into a limousine and climbed out as reformed members of an upper-class society. There's just something about those long, shiny monstrosities that convinces you that you're important, that the world needs you to succeed. Limousines are so magical that people don't even have to see who's riding inside. All it takes is for one to slowly roll past, taunting you with the tinted windows up, for you to think, “Wow, whoever is in that thing must be really special.”

In the end, they're the only things on earth that can change a man's social status while air-conditioning him and providing him with free alcohol. That's why I always had SaTia order one to meet us at the airport of whatever city I'm visiting, and drive us everywhere until I leave. Unless I was back home in D.C., whenever you saw me traveling it would be in a limo.

The one we were all in now looked like someone had knocked over a spaceship and put chrome rims and Goodyear tires underneath it. I didn't even know they made limos like it. I gave SaTia a nod of approval when we first got in and she shrugged her shoulders as if it wasn't anything special. I guess that's why I kept her around.

As the limo pulled away from the hotel, I tried to take my mind off of the meeting I had coming up. Ray, Brian, and Orlando sat on the seat that stretched down the middle of the limo. I sat at the back, with Henry on one side of me and SaTia on the other.

If I knew my manager, she wouldn't say a word until the guys were out of the car. Meanwhile, my homeboys started their conversation, even before they had a chance to get comfortable.

“Yo, last night? Last night was off da chain!” Ray gave dap to the guys sitting beside him as he spoke with a grin. “What da hell did those white boys give us?”

Orlando exhaled slowly as he sat back and nursed his crotch.

“I think it was X, dude. That or Viagra. I ran through at least six chicks last night. My dick feel like a skinned knee.”

“Naw, they had a bunch a' different stuff.” Ray still seemed excited from the previous night's escapades. “I was on some straight-up, whacked-out, psychedelic stuff. I swear I banged out an angel last night, homie. Wings and halo and all! And I gave her da business!”

“That's gotta be some kinda sin or somethin',” Henry said, laughing along with the rest of us as he spoke. “You goin' to hell, dude.”

“Naw, I ain't. I mean, she was an angel, so I was real nice to her. Ain't cuss at her or nothing.”

“But you still blew da back out, right?”

“Most def.”

“So you goin' to hell.”

Ray turned to me for support. I was still laughing.

“Moe, man, tell dis nigga just cause you give a' angel da pipe don't mean you automatically goin' to hell.”

“It's common sense, though.” Henry turned to me as well. “You cain't have rough sex wid no angel and still go to heaven...”

I looked back at Ray, who looked genuinely concerned about his fate in the afterlife, and I fell out of my seat. I laughed so hard that I strained my stomach muscles. Brian and Orlando were both leaning over, too. Brian was slapping the seat with his palm while Orlando was trying to catch his breath.

By the time I composed myself, my eyes were bloodshot. I looked at Ray again and saw two of him instead of one.

“You...you do know that you ain't really screw an angel last night, right?”

“I mean, yeah... I know...but still, you shoulda seen her, dogg...”

I shook my head. Ray was pitiful.

“Don't let no drugs fool you, dude. It was probably a crack-head.”

Orlando cracked up again, but not as hard. His lungs couldn't take it, and his crotch was still on fire. When he finished catching his breath, he looked up at me.

“So what'd you end up trippin' off of?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“I 'ont know, man. Probably X. I ended up wid this chick wid a donkey booty.”

Brian shot straight up in his seat.

“So Phatback found you, huh?”

I must've looked confused, because Orlando stepped in and clarified.

“Phatback was the name we gave the chick you got with. She got to the hotel 'round two in the afternoon wid her girls yesterday. All she did was ask where you was at. We partied a lil bit while you was still at the photo shoot. We even broke her girls off. But she had dat radar on, boy. Soon as you came back, it was a wrap.”

“Why I cain't remember her from last night then?”

“'Cause you was high all day yesterday. You told me have a blunt ready fo' when you came back from da shoot, so I gave it to you soon as the limo pulled up. We got blazed 'fore you even got back in da hotel. And dat was before we met da white boys.”

I was getting ready to ask another question, but I felt the limo make a sharp right turn. When I looked out the window, I saw the mall entrance.

“Alright, listen guys...” SaTia finally broke her silence. “Our meeting with Mr. Rose shouldn't take any longer than an hour. You all have the credit cards, but don't overdo it. The last thing we need is to start hearing about misappropriation of funds.”

Each one of my friends shut up when she spoke. When she finished, they each nodded their head, gave me dap and got out of the limo.

It had always been like that, back since junior high school. SaTia was just one of those girls nobody wanted to cross. Straight from the ghetto, but everybody recognized she was going places. All the players would make excuses about why they wouldn't holla at her—but they all realized she was out of their league. If you gave her a pickup line, she'd either treat you like a cute puppy or like an idiot. Neither one did much for the male ego.

Imagine my surprise when in the ninth grade, she told me she'd fallen in love with my words.

“Why are they so afraid of you?” I asked my manager as the last of my friends jumped out of the limo. She ignored me, giving preference to her BlackBerry. The limo began to pull off, and had gotten to the end of the parking lot when the limo driver got my attention through the intercom.