Fiona Love (9 page)

“Big. You gotta come to the car. Her highness is not available for public viewing,” Netty said, laughing into the cell. “
Okay? You know how we do. That lead cat from Transplants is in here too, so don’t be surprised. He’ll be down,” she told them.

Cleo watched narrow-eyed as Tino played with Fiona’s fingers. To her credit, Fiona was so
chill she quite obviously didn’t give a shit.

“Look at this chinky-eyed bitch!” DJ B-Head yelled when he slipped his slender, light skinned self into the car a few minutes later. “
What you on tonight, homey?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows at Netty.

“Get outta here with that lame ass rap,” Ne
tty laughed. “We wanna talk records, records and nothing but. Whatchu got?”

“
I got you. You gon’ dance from the moment I turn my tables on til’ the moment I turn ‘em off.” He promised. “Cleo, you gon’ handle that other thing?”

Cleo nodded without breaking in her cell phone conversation.
“Andrea,” she said to the group, then began to talk logistics. Big was interested to hear the party locale might be moving.

According to Andrea, Tino’s crib was fabulous.
The publicist was practically salivating at the publicity opportunity.

“Like your show,” Big
told Tino.

“Thanks, man.”

“Well, I’m out.” He nudged Fiona. “Somebody put me up in this swank ass hotel last night, but I’m movin’ into my boy’s crib, and I need to check in with my next gig so I gotta bounce. Peace.”

“Pe
ace,” Sugar and Netty chorused.

“Gimme a
call tomorrow, Big,” Cleo said.

“Bet! Feef Love!”

And he was gone.

“He’s hug
e in Chicago,” Cleo told Tino.

******

“Miss me?” Daney asked later.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I’m driving to the airport now. I’ll be there for the party, but I can only stay a day then I gotta go back out for a job.”

“That sucks, boo.”

“Yes, it does. What color panties you got on?”

“Ain’t wearin’ none.”

“No?” Daney laughed. “I wish I was there to see it.”

“Me too, pretty. I think I’ma go lay down
and pretend like you are here.”

Daney laughed huskily. “You better be th
e only one touchin’ my stuff.”

“Who I’ma mess with out here?”

“Mr. Transplant.”

“We had a meeting today. Oh, and he gave me
a lil’ teddy bear. I was gon’ give it to momma’s angel, but I lost it somewhere.”

“Good
,” Daney pronounced, laughing. “What color bra are you wearing?”

“Ain’t wearin’ one.”

“Lord, girl. What are you wearing?”

“This sheer black dress Netty wants me to stretch out before the party. I have three costume changes.”

“You’re a star, baby.”             

Fiona’s husky chuckle made him shiver. “You wanna be
my entourage?”

“Only if you be mine.”

“Done,” Fiona said promptly.

“Not so fast. Being my entourage is very demanding. You have to deal with Buck, my manager Paul, my agency and –”

“And?”

“Me.”

“I got that,” she said confidently.

“Yeah?”

“When I see you I’ll prove it.”

Daney thought about the last time they were together. She’d come up while he was watching a tape his agent had sent over and
slid into his lap naked, a joint smoldering between her long fingers. She’d stared at him silently while she smoked, and all thoughts of the Oscar-winning work of the director who wanted him for a small part flew right out of his head.

Sugar had just given her some kind of exfoliating treatment, and she’d smelled of a
pples. She leaned in to kiss him, and Netty snuck in and took a picture, smoke drifting between their joined lips. Fiona hopped up and chased her assistant from the room naked, but she came back with the picture, which she showed to him before she deleted.

“I’ma have me some naked pictures taken, but it’s gon’
be an organized shoot with a pro, not this Internet accident waiting to happen type hype.”

Even before her statement, he’d known better than to try talking her into keeping it, but she’d been luscious. Super sexy with acres of silky brown skin so
plump and healthy looking he’d wanted to take a bite out of the camera. He ended up bending her over the back of the chair and fucking her standing up, his pants around his ankles.

“I can’t wait,” he said now, shifting in his seat and st
roking a sympathetic hand over his cock.

“My party gon’ be off the hook. Completely OC. I got people comin’ in from Chicago, LA and maybe Europe if Mechante’s punk ass don’t get fucked up and miss her flight, which she probably will. My spot gon’ look like a flophouse. Cleo rented portable cots to set up.”

“Deluxe portable cots,” she informed Fiona. She was gathering Fiona’s receipts and papers for the week to record, file or shred. “Is this from the Coach store? Fiona, you promised! I don’t feel like dealin’ with Lotty’s tightwad ass!”

“I went into the studio before I left home,” Fiona told Daney, ignoring her cousin. “Did I tell you?”

“Yeah. They let you hear something?”

“Yeah. My boy played a rough cut of the song. You can’t even tell it’s me. It’s tight. Natty’s threatening to play it at the party.”

“You don’t want people to know it’s you?”

“It’s not
that, and he ain’t gon’ do it. It’s just so different. I wonder how people will react.”

It struck him that Fiona meant exactly what she said.
It wasn’t that she cared exactly, but she was curious. The unlikely scenario of the single bombing would probably have hurt her feelings, but the pain would have been fleeting. She sang because she loved to, there was no other reason. The intense passion that drove her to create had nothing to do with public approval, and these days it had nothing to do with money. Her artistic temperament was one of the reasons he couldn’t get enough.

“Where’d you go today?”

“Nowhere.”

“
You stayed in the house again?”

“Why would I go out? I got staff to bring me whatever I need. You know I don’ like
being photographed like some freakin’ side show at the zoo. And since they announced my HBO spot, it is way too hot in these streets for me.”

“You’re smoking.”

There was an irritable pause. “So?”

“You said you were gonna quit.”

“Can’t.”

He lau
ghed. “Whaddya mean you can’t?”

“What I said! And don’t start. If it ain’t you it’s Netty. If it ain’t her, it’s Cleo. Damn! You know I’m not doin’ good right now, and –”

“Hush!” He laughed softly. He secretly loved that most nights when he called she was home. “You’re gonna love your birthday present. Wait a minute. Buck’s texting me 911. I’ll call you later.”

“Peace.” Fiona looked u
p as Netty entered.

“Daney?”

“You thought I was talkin’ shit to Tino?”

She shook her head no. “
Uh-uh. He at the door. Mechante sent you this, and Flora this.” Netty placed two boxes on the bed.

Fiona reached for them then
paused. “At my door right now?”

“Yep. Says he wanted to drop in so h
is entourage could meet yours.”

“Send Suga
r in here,” Fiona said, examining the boxes.

Good old Mechante. They wrote regularly, but more often than not Mechante sent beautiful, thoughtfully chosen gifts that she ‘picked up on my travels’ in lieu of an actual letter. Her distinctive monogrammed stationery fr
equently held no more than a handwritten phrase or two in any color ink except blue or black. Red was a favorite. This gift wasn’t even a birthday present, since Van Cleef and Arpels had delivered a fabulous bracelet for Fiona last week.

Sugar knocked, and
watching from the desk as Fiona got up to adjust her cleavage, Cleo groaned and threw her hands up as though beseeching the sky.

“Are you reacting to our g
uest or to something I bought?”

“Whatchu
’ think?”

“Ain’t nothing gon’ happen,
C. I promise.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear, girl.”

******

Netty put her in a shiny black low-neck leotard and sheer dishwasher panel pants with a w
ide leg. “We gotta save that sheer dress for your stellar first outfit change.” She put a pair of silver satin slippers with a modest two-inch heel on her girl’s feet and huge, gleaming white gold hoops in her ears. Fiona’s hair was pulled and spritzed into its full natural glory, and her lips were kissed a clear, shiny red.

“Damn,” Tino said when he saw her. “This is what you wear
around the house?”

“No,” Fiona told him. “Before you got here I wasn’t wearing
anything.” She waited for his laughter, then turned away to give him his first view of her creamy back. “Drink?” she asked, from behind the refrigerator door.

“Whatchu got?”

“Beer, juice, Perrier.”

“Beer.”

Fiona pulled out a six pack of Corona and set it down on the counter beside a bottle opener. “What’s your full name again? I can’t keep calling you Transplant Tino when people ask.”

He laughed. “Tino Bernardi.”

His boys walked in with Cleo.

“This is Paulie, my manager Johnny and my cousin Matteo.”

“Call me Teo,” he said, shaking Fiona’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, fellas. This is Netty,
and you’ve met my cousin Cleo.”

“Shall we adjourn to the TV room?” Cleo asked, passing out the beer and winking at Teo, who blushed at being caught staring.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Tino asked.

“Sugar in there,” Netty said. “Beauty gir
l,” she explained to the group.

“Come on in my room,” Fiona told Tino and led the way to the bath off of her bedr
oom.

He
looked around with interest. She knew what he was thinking when his eyes stopped on the huge tumbled bed. He was wondering how long before he was lying in it.

Fiona sat down at her dressing table
and tapped a joint on the back of her hand like a cigarette.

“You gonna wa
it out here for me?” he smiled.

She nodded. “You
think I’ma leave your ass alone in my boudoir?”

He just laughed.

They drank way too much. When the beer ran out they dozed, sprawling around the family room like bar flys without bar stools. Fiona even allowed Tino to put his head on her lap while they watched old episodes of Sex in the City.

“Are you supposed to be smoking wi
th your voice?” He rasped once.

“Shut
it.”

Netty woke her around eleven to hand her the pho
ne. “Daney.”

“Hey pretty,” she rasped, sliding out from under a sleeping Tino. There was a damp spot on her thigh from his breath.

“Sleep already? You must be hiding out.”

“I didn’t do it.”

He laughed. “Got your standard answer ready, huh? I should be there late tomorrow. You gon’ be around?”

“Yep. My activities have been limited by this fuckin’ throat. You, Netty and my baby are the only ones I talk to these days. Besides, I never do much around my birthday.”

“Except birthday.”

“Exactly. I can’t wait ‘til you get here,” she
said. “I was going over my play list to give to Big, and I swear I’ve fucked you to every song on there.”

“Don’t say that.
You’re gonna give me a cramp.” He never failed to rouse at the sound of her voice. “Somebody asked me if we were dating today.”

“Press?”

“No, a friend. He thinks you’re smokin’ hot. Apparently I’m not the only one who’s been crushing on you for years.”

Fiona laughed softly
. “Whatchu’ say?”

“I said yeah.” He said promptly, and h
is voice was noticeably deeper.

“Good.”

Daney chuckled. “Night, babe.”

“Good night.”

Chapter six

After taping for her Transplants episode wrapped, Cleo told Fiona, “They want you for another two shows. The producer told me they’ve never been so glad to have an actress crap out at the last minute. Apparently, you proved to be a fabulous substitute.”

Fiona
got the gig because the actress in question taped part of one episode before falling victim to a drug binge and being forced into an intensive rehab program out of state.

Cool, Fiona mouthed.

Media furor around the tapings was fierce. Short TV teasers sizzling with sexual tension seemed to run on a loop the station was pushing them so hard. In the first one camera angles followed the curvy lines of Fiona’s flawless figure faithfully as she walked with her entourage.

For a few long seconds they strode together in sync. Netty looked earthy and lush, Cleo was petite and polished, and Sugar embodied a pinup Amazon with her hourglass figure poured into vintage Herve Lager. But it was Fiona, standing in the middle in a screaming red sundress that bared all of her shapely shoulders and th
e top curves of her breasts, who caught and held the eye.

As the air date approached they began t
o show clips from the episode. One featured a dance sequence. Fiona’s character was in a rehearsal when Tino’s character Roan came in and started acting up. They shooed everyone out, and she gave him a solo performance so hot, it made Daney uncomfortable to watch it.

He saw
the entire episode with Fiona the first time she saw it. He’d grunted after this particular bit and said, “I don’t think you could look better.”

Fiona just laughed. “I oughta! You don’t know what Cleo and Netty put me throu
gh gettin’ ready for this.”

The tabloids had latched onto their usual flirting-on-the set story, insisting that Fiona and Tino were a couple, that Daney had been replaced by a look-alike. Paparazzi began to tail Fiona so hard she had to exercise some pretty evasive
maneuvering to get any privacy.

“As soon as the party for the season opener is over we’re outta here.” She told the girls, who nodded. They’d been ready to go. New York was sunny and nice, but it was still New York.

Daney was in his element. Somehow he’d managed to get even more gorgeous. He seemed taller amidst the skyscrapers and aged trees in Central Park. It was as though the city had imbued him with a portion of its chutzpah. Everyone in New York seemed to know Daney, and they liked him.

“How you know him?” Fiona would ask of the third guy on the street who’d struck up a conversation that day.

“We’re doing a little business together.”

“What he do?”

“Distribution,” he’d say. Or, “He owns a gallery,” or “He runs a restaurant,” or “He makes – and runs a shop in –” The list of his interests appeared to be endless.

“It’s Tino.” Netty said, pulling her mind back to the presen
t as she handed her the phone.

“Peace.”

“I’m outside, lemme in.”

“He’s at the door.”

Sugar let him in.

“I fucked up,” he told them. “I was trying to give the paparazzi the slip
, and they boxed me in. I panicked and came here so now God knows what’ll happen. Sorry.”

Fiona shrugged. “Fuck it. You know th
ey want me for two more shows.”

He grinned. “Yep. Great, huh?”

“What time’s Daney getting in?” Netty asked deliberately.

“Three hours,” Cleo answered. “We shoul
d leave in 30 minutes.”

“I can pick him up alone.”

“Your man’s comin’ in town?” Tino asked.

Fiona nodded. “Everyb
ody in my party is VIP,” she sang, and Tino grinned.

When Fiona picked Daney up from La Guardia airport she made no mention of the nights Tino had stayed over. What was the point of that full disclosure shit when you had nothing to hide? The girls were there as chaperones. True, Tino had found his way into her bedroom once or twice, bu
t she always put his ass out.

“You act like you pay rent,” she told him once. “Like you the man of the house, sleepin’ in the queen’s bed.”

Now she sat behind the tinted windows of her friend Boomer’s cherry red Escalade smoking out the sunroof, waiting for Daney to appear or for the skycap to move her along. Her phone rang.

“The dressmaker has extra fabric, and she wants to know if you want gloves to go with your final dress,” Netty asked.

“No.”

“The gloves might be nice.”

“No.”

“Thin,
very delicate, fitted to the elbow. Handmade. Yes?”

“Yes,
” Fiona said, knowing Netty wouldn’t stop until she agreed.

“Excellent! They’ll
be the perfect, old-fashioned touch. You have to come in tomorrow to get your hand measured.”

“Uh-huh.” Fiona answered absently, inhaling an
d scanning the doors for Daney.

“Boomer just called to ask if there’s gonna be a room for him.”

Fiona laughed. “It’s his crib! You and Sugar or Cleo may have to double up. Cool?”

“Sure. What
else? Oh, the bakery lady called to say that she can’t do that plum filling for the flat cake. Apparently we just missed the right season for plums, but the round tiered cake came out fabulous. She sent over the sample. It was ridiculously moist and good. I couldn’t save you any, sorry.”

“That’s fucked up,” Fiona said mildly. Cleo wouldn’t have let her eat it a
nyway. She exhaled, her head tilted toward the roof. “Substitute?”

“Tamarind?”

“Too tart.”

“Strawberry?”

“Too seedy.”

“Cherry?”

“Cherry, peach and banana? Don’t that sound weird to you? It’s almost too fruity.”

“Yeah, but so wa
s plum, peach and banana.”

“Why you didn’t say something earlier? Hold on.” There was an airport employee standing at her window. Fiona rolled it down and removed her sunglasses. “Hi. I’m not supposed to be here, right?”

“No, you can’t park here because – Fiona Love! I’m a huge fan. When are you coming out with another album?”

Fiona laugh
ed. “You don’t like my movies?”

“I haven’t missed one y
et, but I love your music too.”

“I might have something for you to taste soon. Is there any
way I could stay here for a few more minutes? My friend should have landed by now, and you know how it is with the paparazzi in airports.”

“No problem! What flight is your friend on? I’l
l check to see if it’s in yet.”

“United 769 from LA
. Netty.”

“Yeah?”

“Lemme call you right back.”

The skycap was talking on his walkie talkie. “It landed a few minutes ago,” he came back to report. “Why don’t you scoot up a little and pull closer to the curb? I’ll make sure you don’t get a ticket.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rodney.”

“Thank you, Rodney. I appreciate your help.”

Ten minutes later Daney appeared.

He looks beautiful
.

Fiona
rolled down the passenger window to yell, “D!”

He turned, and the smile that lit up his face had her hand on the door handle, ready to hop out and jump into his arms. She restrained herself, and managed to look composed when he threw his duffle in the back and slid in.

“Hey, boo,” she rasped, offering him a sexy sideways grin.

“Hey,” he said and pulled her into a bone-crushing squeeze and a kiss that left her gasping.

“Well,” she whispered, when he finally let her go. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you missed me.”

Her phone rang.

“Peace.”

“What about the cake, yo?”

“Shit! I don’t know. Now that you mention it all that shit seems over-the-top for one dessert. Pick whatever you think people will enjoy most.”

“Carrot cake.”

“That’s your favorite.”

“People like carrot cake.”

“No, Netty. Just get a carrot cake for the house if you want one.”

“‘
Kay. Give Daney a kiss for me.”

Fiona laughed. “Kiss
him yourself when we get home.”

“Hold on, Cleo just walked in.”

Daney had been busily raising the skirt of her dress. He grunted when he found she was again sans underwear.

“Feef.”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you fuckin’ in the car? Could you please wait like 20 minutes until you’re at home?”

“The windows are tinted, dude.”

“I don’t give a shit! Use your fuckin’ head, for fuck’s sake! I—” Fiona heard Netty yelling something in the background before the phone slipped from her hand. Daney had just slipped two fingers between her –

“Fiona!” two irritated female voices yelled from the floor of the car.

She scrambled for the phone
and asked a breathless “What?”

“You need to go by the spot
and proof the final gift bag shit.”

“Can’t you do it?” she aske
d Cleo. “You know what I like.”

“You have the car, asshole. I can’t find the fuckin’ keys to the Benz!
You know I hate New York cabs.”

By the time she and Daney made it home he’d already given her one orgasm, while she was driving no less. He fell asleep after they fucked that first time. He’d been working flat out, cramming things in so he could be out
here with her. Fiona wasn’t sleepy, but she lay there beside him, drowsing and enjoying the way his weight dipped the mattress and caused her body to bump up against his.

“Wake up. I got the script for the next Transplants show.” Cleo shook Fiona’s shoulder. “It’s great, but you and Tino are doing some serious making out.”

Fiona held a finger over her lips and pointed outside.

“For
real? I thought there wasn’t gonna be anything overt, only implied,” she said once they were in the kitchen, flipping through the script. She read the scene Cleo was pointing out with an imperious finger and whistled. “Shit.”

“Andrea says it’s probably been fleshed out because the first show went so wel
l, and there’s been all that extra heat from the tabloids.”

“I know, but damn.” There was silence as she read a few pages. “HBO is a bitch, ain’t they? Well, let’s sit down and go through it, see what we can do. They ain’t gettin’ ready to put me out there like this. I hate to think what’s gon’ happen when the shit actually airs!”

Cleo shrugged. She couldn’t argue with the truth.

Things had gotten bad after that last crop of pictures of Fiona and Tino
were released. They’d been having dinner with the director and one of the show’s writers, but the two men had been cropped out, making it look like she and Tino were leaving the restaurant alone. After that, she, Tino and Daney stayed in the tabloids and entertainment rags almost daily. Most of the stories were silly bull shit, but others were down-right hurtful.

“What the fuck is up with all this controversy?” Fiona demanded of Andrea when she arrived in response to her boss’ pissy phone call. “Did all the other interracial couples on the planet vanish? Tino, who couldn’t give a shit about anything he can’t drink or smoke, actually called to give me his sympathy behind this.” She shook the tabloids and newspapers her publicist had brought with her. “What are you doing ab
out it?”

“We’ve got briefs pending with Peopl
e, the Tribune, the Post and a stringer from AP is scheduled to come through tomorrow morning to talk movies and Transplants,” Andrea soothed. “I’ve also got several calls in to my guy at Entertainment Tonight, but I think the SOB may be on vacation. Either that or he’s been fired. He usually calls me back immediately.”

“Did you see this shit about me not dating Black men anymore? Have they seen my damn baby?”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. To be photographed in public with Flora, let people see her. It might curtail the anti-Black man stuff a bit since you’d be holding the truth. It’d be a distraction if nothing else.”

“Well?” Fiona asked Cleo.

“I thought you didn’t want the baby in the mix?”

“I don’t. But this shit is getting out of control. I don’t want my fans to
think I’m like that.”

“Start your Twitter account.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. She’d been resisting entering the Twitter-verse for more than a year and planned to hold out as long as she could.

“
I could have a friend come through and take some snaps of you and Flora, and then we’ll –”

“Or you could write a letter to your fans and post it on your web site,” Cleo suggested, knowing Fiona did
n’t want to use Flora that way.

“Yes! I’
ll do it right now. Andrea, I want this shit up today, this afternoon.”