GHETTO SUPERSTAR (19 page)

“I'm not Fabiola, I do blow trees,” Adora shot back.

“If you know what I know, sis, you would hit it til you finish, cuz Shug's ass be blowing more than some dang trees,” Fabiola commented from the backseat.

“You got that right,” Shug said with no shame in her game.

“That's why I smoked my half first.” Adora took one last toke of the exotic weed and then passed the rest to Shug.

“Fuck you, Adora.” Shug took a hard pull on the stogie while trying to hold the smoke in and said, “Like you got virgin lips up on your face.”

Fabiola's phone vibrated, and she fished through her tote bag in search of her incessantly vibrating cell phone.
Where in the hell is 609 from?
Fabiola thought. She'd gotten several phone calls in the past two days from that number, but hadn't answered because she didn't know the number or because she was just too busy.

Pushing the call key, Fabiola answered, “Good evening.” There was a momentary silence. “Hello?”

The caller said, “So, you think you got what it takes to make it, huh? Congratulations.”

The voice sounded sort of familiar, but Fabiola couldn't make it out. “Thank you,” she said, “but who may I ask is calling?”

“I'm that easily forgotten? Funny how fame or shall I say chasing the dream corrodes the memory.”

Fabiola didn't have a lot of time or patience to waste on random prank phone calls. She had adopted Casino's no-tolerance policy on bullshitting. Just when she was about to hang up, the caller spoke again.

“It's me, Johnny Wiz. You do remember me, don't you?”

“Of course I remember you,” she said, but thought,
How could I forget you? You tried to take advantage of me in more than one way
.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you congratulations and to encourage you to enjoy everything that comes with fame.”

Fabiola was taken by surprise by Johnny Wiz's call and his acknowledgment that she had fame coming, not to mention his
gracious behavior. Before she could thank him, though, he continued.

“Because it won't last for long, you stuck-up bitch.”

Fabiola wanted to scream something back through the phone, something that would make her feel better about the situation, but it was no use; he'd already disconnected the call.

“Girl, who was that on the phone giving you fever?” Shug could tell that Fabiola was a bit distracted.

Dumbfounded, she couldn't even respond because she was trying to make sense of the entire conversation herself.

Then she heard what she knew was the beginning of her song playing. “Turn the radio up,” Fabiola demanded.

The radio jock's voice boomed from the speakers. “I'm going to give y'all partygoers a little treat. This new joint was produced by The Tasmanian Devil, and it's so hot I need to wear gloves just to spin this joint!” The song started playing in the background while the radio personality continued, “Here it is … Richmond's own, but about to be internationally known, Fabiola Mays's new joint, ‘Touch Me.’”

The girls erupted in cheers when Fabiola's song came on.

“They playing my song!” Fabiola shouted. “They playing my song!” Fabiola felt higher than any legal or illegal drug could take her.

Shug turned the volume up as loud as it would go, put the car in park, jumped out the car, and started dancing. Adora and Fabiola followed her lead. Before they knew it, they were singing, dancing, and screaming at the top of their lungs.
“Pick a spot on my body and fill it with your love …”
The girls got louder when they got to that particular line in the song, rubbing all over their bodies in the middle of the street. Cars were going by blowing their horns; some flashed their lights and some even made sexual propositions, but they ignored it all. The only thing
they were focused on was the tune blaring from the radio. The moment was worth a billion dollars. No one could steal it, destroy it, or take it away.

Fabiola was so caught up in the moment that she had forgotten all about calling anybody else to let them know about her song being played on the radio. “Dora, Dora!” she screamed to her sister. “Call Mommy and tell her to turn to the radio station. I'm going to call Casino.”

The blue lights from the police cruiser must have had the effect of a strobe light, because no one stopped dancing when the officer pulled up and got out of his squad car. Officer Brown initially thought that they were having car troubles, but judging by the girls' behavior it was clear to him that they were on drugs.

Officer Brown walked up to the women with his hand near his gun, just in case. “What's going on, ladies?”

Adora addressed the cop. “My sister's song just got played on the radio.” The officer followed her eyes to Fabiola.

“Why didn't you just pull the car over?” the officer asked. “You know I could give you a ticket for this?”

“How about we give you an autograph instead and just call it a warning?” Shug offered with a small chuckle, not really giving a damn what the officer did.

Officer Brown was only twenty-seven, and truth be told he was kind of excited for Fabiola himself.

“Where're you all on your way to?” he asked.

“To The Den, the new club in Shockoe Bottom.”

“I'll let you go without a ticket on one condition,” Officer Brown said. “You have to follow me to the club so that you won't start any more impromptu parties at traffic lights. Deal?”

“Deal,” they all agreed. The car was filled with giggles all the way to the club.

When Fabiola and her crew arrived at the club, word got out
that they were in line. A bouncer walked up to Adora and asked, “Are you Fabiola Mays?”

“No, I'm her sister, that's Fabiola.” She smiled and pointed to her sister.

“Well, the owner of the club wants you and your guests to come in compliments of him and enjoy the VIP treatment of The Den.”

“Are you serious?” was all Fabiola could say.

When they walked past the black velvet ropes and into the club, the dj played Fabiola's song, giving her a shout-out. “Ladies and gentlemen, Fabiola Mays is in the building. I repeat, there's a superstar in the house.”

Everyone started looking around for the new local star. Once they spotted her, Fabiola didn't disappoint. She was working the black-and-white zebra-striped backless catsuit that Adora had created for her. They had taken their seats in a private booth in the VIP section when G.P bopped up. He was wearing a colorful Dodgers jean outfit and a pair of alligator Air Force Ones.

“I'm glad you saved me a seat.” G.P. didn't wait for a response before scooting in the booth beside the new star. “Waitress”—G.P. waved his hand to flag down the passing hostess—“we need three bottles of your best champagne.”

“Are you aware that our best champagne is three twenty-five a pop?” the waitress said with a roll in her neck.

“No, I wasn't aware and frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a damn,” G.P. admitted. “Matter of fact, bring us six bottles.”

“Oh, and don't forget the twenty percent gratuity to go with that,” she cooed, warming up to the big spender.

“I got you, momma.” He winked at the waitress, letting her know that she could count on a good tip from him.

“Thank you, sir. And how would you like them: all together or one at a time?”

“All at the same time. Y'all got ice buckets big enough for them all?”

“I'm sorry, no, we don't.”

Fabiola sat back and watched the exchange. G.P. always was a showoff.

“Then bring them all together in individual buckets.” He handed her a hundred-dollar bill. “We having a party.” The waitress took off to fill the order and G.P. told everyone that would listen that Fabiola was his wifey They danced and drank the night away, and as always G.P. was the life of the party.

A few bottles of champagne later, the club was wide-open. “If you ain't up in The Den tonight for its grand opening, you done messed up,” the dj said over the airwaves. “Are we having a crazy time up in this piece or what?”

The crowd went berserk. “Hell yeah's” and “damn right's” could be heard from everywhere. The radio personality played Fabiola's song one last time, but this time he delivered a microphone to the VIP booth where she was sitting and asked her to sing along. Fabiola was caught off guard; she had no intention of performing when she left the house. She was just out to have a good time. Who would have thought that her night would take a turn for the better?

“Fuck that shit up, gurrl. Do the damn thang,” Shug screamed, cheering Fabiola on.

That was all the encouragement Fabiola needed to set the club on fire with her electrifying vocals. The record didn't even do her live voice justice. When she finished her miniperformance the entire club gave her a standing ovation—most yelling for an encore.

By the time Fabiola split from the spot, the alcohol had taken a toll on her, making her drunk and horny. The liquor had her so torn up that she barely realized she wasn't riding in the same
car she came in. G.P. was driving this one, and soon they pulled up to the Sheraton Hotel, where G.P. got them a room. All the champagne they had consumed made Fabiola's mouth taste dry and pasty.

“G.P., can you go get me something to drink—a water or soda?”

“Baby, I'm fucked up. I'm not carrying my ass back out this room 'til da morrow,” he said. Handing her a few one-dollar bills, he said, “Here, you need to go get us both something to drink from the soda machine. It's on the third floor.”

G.P. plopped down on the bed, and Fabiola sucked her teeth.
Are there no more gentlemen left in the world?
she thought to herself.
If he was any indication of today's chivalry, the women of the world were in trouble
.

Fabiola left the room, heading to the vending machine. The walk seemed to revive her some. She decided on water for herself and a soda for G.P. and headed back upstairs, regretting that she had consumed so much liquor.
Damn girl, you know this shit ain't really good for your body
, she thought to herself. When she stepped off the elevator she saw police all over the hallway rolling about twenty deep. Soon she heard a familiar voice.

“Why you mafuckers all up in my shit? I ain't got shit on me,” G.P. screamed at the police, who wore black nylon jackets with
DEA
stenciled on the back. “A nigga can't even make love to his girl without you mafuckers harassing them.”

“Once we find what we came for,” one of the DEA agents said, “you gon have plenty of time to make love. They gon love yo pretty ass up at Lewisburg.”

Fabiola didn't have to hear any more. Fabiola busted a U-turn and made her way to the lobby to call Shug to come and pick her up.

“Girl, what the hell is my life turning into?”

“You are living the life of a superstar. You know dem stars always got some type of bullshit going on.”

“But this is not how I want my life to be.”

“The difference between you and them is that you have a down-ass friend that will come and pick you up from wherever and whenever.”

“I know.” Fabiola was quiet looking out the window the entire ride home, thanking God for allowing her the opportunity to get out of the room before it got raided. Deep down inside, she felt like a complete fool. She had such an explosive night, her single got played on the radio, her live performance was unbelievable, and then she damn near got herself arrested.

As Shug pulled up in front of Fabiola's house, she said, “You cool, or you want me to come in?”

“Naw, girl, I am good. I just really want my life to have some structure. I sometimes feel so empty. I have no real boyfriend and it seems like when the music stops playing, I want someone to hold me. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Shit, who knows, maybe G.P. ain't the one.”

“Well, we know he ain't the one for you. You know we both know who you need to be with,” Shug said with a devilish smile.

“Who?”

“Casino, that's who,” Shug said, and Fabiola could not hide the schoolgirl smile that spread across her face.

abiola was trying to shake her hangover and the loud ringing of the phone wasn't helping her at all, so she grabbed the phone as quick as possible.

“Hello,” she said as she held her head to try to stop the pounding sound.

“Good morning, Superstar.” The warmth in Casino's voice quickly soothed her head.

“Hey,” she said in a tired voice, but perked up a little when she heard her song playing in the background.

“What's wrong? You still sleeping? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“You should know by now that it's never a bad time when it comes to you, Casino.”

“Then why don't you sound like a young superstar that just got her first single played on the radio?”

“Honestly?” she asked.

Casino shot back, “Why not?”

“Well.” She took a deep breath, ashamed to admit the truth. “I have a slight hangover.” She stretched the truth a bit, knowing that it was more than just a slight hangover. “You wouldn't believe my night if I told you.”

“You can tell me about it when you come over. Maybe I can nurse you the way you did me.”

Surprised to hear the good news, she asked, “Since when did you get home?”