GHETTO SUPERSTAR (28 page)

“Let me do the honors, li'l sis. That's what big sisters are for.” Adora took a sip of her Corona and relaxed herself.

“Nope, this one is on me.” Fabiola was adamant.

“That's crazy!” Adora shot back. “Let someone else set the bitch straight.”

“I need to handle this on my own, sis. But you can come with me though.”

“Let's ride then.”

“Let's ride?” Viola asked her daughters. “Have both of you gone mad?”

“Mama, this bitch ain't gon ever get it if I don't show her. You have to stand up to bitches like her to make them understand.”

“Watch your mouth, before I wash it out with soap.”

“Enough of this type of talk. Right now we should be enjoying each other's company. We'll talk about what we need to do about this other stuff later,” Casino said.

After the box incident, everyone ate, had a few drinks, then watched a movie in Casino's theater room. It had gotten late in the evening and Shug had to leave. Fabiola offered to walk Shug out.

“That Benz that Casino got for you is crazy, girl. I felt like Be-yoncé in that thing, and I can't even hold a note in the shower.” Shug and Fabiola laughed, partly because it was true: Shug's singing skills were nonexistent.

“And I like yours, too,” Fabiola complimented as they got to Shug's new Lincoln LS. “You know you going to have to give me a ride in it.”

“We'll do lunch later this week, or better, I can drive it when we roll out to go beat Royce's ass.”

“I like the second idea.”

re you sure that you want to do this, Fab?” Spade asked from the backseat of Shug's car. Earlier that morning he had discovered Fabiola and Shug's plans to confront Royce, so he forced them to let him tag along or he threatened to tell Casino what they were up to. “We're almost there.”

They had gotten Royce's Inglewood Cliffs, N.J., address from Taz, and before leaving the house they programmed it into the car's navigation system. The bottom left corner of the device now showed that they had traveled six hours and their ETA was less than five minutes.

Fabiola kept her head straight forward. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

A few minutes later, Shug was guiding the car up the driveway and parking at Royce's front door. “Let's get this over with.” Shug got out of the car, leaving her keys in the ignition.

“Let's,” Fabiola agreed after finishing off the rest of her bottled water. The girls walked up on the porch.

Spade got out of the car and grabbed the baseball bat he always carried with him for ass-kickings. He did a quick scan of the house; at least there were no cameras. He grinned devilishly when he checked out the place and saw the girls in motion. Why was he kidding himself? He knew he was going to be in big trouble. Casino was going to kill him when he heard about this shit. Shug was at the front door while Fabiola stood off to the side and out of sight.

They were in luck—too bad the same thing couldn't be said for Royce. She pulled the door right open with a telephone stuck in her ear. “Yeah, girl, I'm going to rock that mother—”

When Fabiola stepped into her sight, Royce's eyes grew twice their normal size. Before Royce could do anything, Fabiola caught her with a looping overhand right that knocked Royce off her feet and sent her phone flying across the yard. “Pull that bitch back out here,” Fabiola yelled to Shug, not wanting to add breaking-and-entering to the charge of assault if it went down like that.

“My girl ain't finished with you yet.” Shug grabbed Royce by the foot and dragged her out the door. Royce was too stunned and dazed to protest, especially when she saw that her freshly done lace-front wig was on the ground.

Petey heard the commotion and ran toward the ruckus. When he came around the corner of the foyer he saw two women wailing on his client and lover. When he rushed out the door to help out, he was held up by a man holding a baseball bat.

“Slow down there, chief. This here is between the ladies!”
Spade said, moving his jacket to the side so that Petey could see the gun on his waist. “Don't make it any more than that.”

Fabiola put it on Royce's ass like there was no tomorrow, screaming at her in between each blow. “Don't! Fuck! With! Me! Bitch! Ya hear me?” She wanted Royce to get it once and for all that she wasn't the one to be playing games with. “You were the stuck-up bitch that didn't want to sing the song,” she yelled as she kicked her. Then Fabiola heard a voice besides her own and Royce's screaming for Fabiola to get off her.

“That's enough, Fabiola,” Spade advised. “Don't kill the bitch. You don't want to go to jail for this bald-headed bitch. You got a career to worry about.”

If Fabiola wasn't in her right frame of mind before Spade spoke of prison, she was now. The possibility of losing everything for a nothing-ass bitch brought her back to reality. Casino and her mother were right. Why was she even there? She had nothing to prove, nothing to gain, yet everything to lose. Fabiola stopped hitting Royce and brushed the dirt off of her clothes. “Damn, that bitch made me break a fucking nail.”

The three left Petey to tend to Royce's bruises to her body and ego as they got back in the car and drove back to Richmond. There was no need to speed away before Petey or Royce called the police—they both were famous singers. If any warrants were taken out, Fabiola knew she would have to take responsibility for her actions.

After they were safely back, for now, at Viola's house, Fab and Shug told Viola all the details of the beat-down. Viola was livid.

“Child, are you crazy? You know this isn't going to be good for press, nor is it ladylike.”

“I think we might be okay, Ma. Everybody heard her threatening me on the radio. I don't think she's going to want what's left of her fans to know how I whupped that ass and dragged her
through the dirt. Besides, we have a great p.r. team,” Fabiola assured her mother, but Viola rolled her eyes.

“I know we do,” her mother reminded her, “and you're looking at that great p.r. team. If this gets out it's not going to be that easy to spin. You could go from being viewed as the sweet underdog media darling to the aggressor.”

Fabiola was about to address her mother's concern when she was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. “Excuse me, Mother, I want to take this.” She hit the talk button. “How are you, Taz? … You gotta be kidding me? … On the radio right now? … Oh my God. Thanks for the news, Taz, but I'll get back with you later. I have to go.”

o right in, Mr. Winn,” the secretary said after hanging up the intercom. “He's waiting for you.” Casino strolled into Johnny's lavish office with Tonk by his side. Once inside he removed his coat, placing it on one of the designer sofas, and took a seat across from Johnny's desk and crossed his legs. Tonk stood in the corner.

“Well, to what do I owe the visit of such a good friend?” Johnny greeted them. “How are things going over at Ghetto Superstar?”

Ignoring Johnny Wiz's question for one of his own, Casino asked, “How's your mother's heart nowadays?” The two men's eyes locked.

“It's fine. Thanks for asking.” Johnny smiled as he wondered why in the hell Casino was in his office. He would find out soon enough.

“Good, because I expect that it's going to have to be once she finds out that her only son—the great Johnny Wiz—is engaging in sexual relations with men. I don't think it's going to matter much that the man was very attractive.”

“You can't prove any such thing, and she would never believe a street thug like you anyway.”

“Well, she'll believe it when she sees this.” Casino fished a disc and portable DVD player from his briefcase. “I knew you were not a person that could be trusted, so I provided myself with a little insurance policy—well, in this case a rather lucrative one.”

The screen on the DVD player lit up with Johnny Wiz parading around a hotel room in nothing but a thong and black dress socks. A few seconds later what appeared to be a beautiful woman disrobed, showcasing one of the biggest dicks in the history of cocks. Johnny didn't look surprised at all. He grabbed the enormous swinging piece of meat and shoved it in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a month of Sundays. Casino hit the button to stop the recording.

“I told you that I didn't play when it came to things dear to me. And what did you do? You tried to sabotage my woman in any way you could.” Now he was in Johnny's face. “No need to piss your pants. I'm not going to kill you. This is only business. Certainly you didn't think that I would hand Ms. Sheena”—clearing his throat—“or should I say
Mr
. Sheena to you on a platter because you were my friend?”

Johnny didn't know what to say.

“No. It was business and I knew you'd bite. I always study the people that I do business with. By following you I learned your moves, your habits. I found out what had been rumored was not
a rumor at all; men are your preference, and I was sure that Sheena would be your downfall.”

Johnny's eyes teared up.

“There's no need to cry now—man up. It's time to pay the piper. You have to sacrifice something big to save something larger. This industry is full of sacrifice.”

“What is it that you want?”

“It's simple. You are going to sign over forty-nine percent of Wizard Entertainment.” Casino slid the papers describing the transaction across the desk.

“I can't do that,” Johnny attempted to protest. “My mother will kill me.”

“Do you want to kill her first? And how many business deals do you think you can close after the world sees you with your mouth full of another man's business?”

Johnny knew he didn't have much of a choice. It wasn't really his mother that he was worried about. But if that tape ever got out, he wouldn't be worth warm spit in this homophobic industry. Fifty-one percent of something was worth a whole lot more than one hundred percent of nothing. “Where do I sign?”

“Mr. Wiz, your mother is on line one.”

“Give your mother my best.” Casino smiled as he exited the offices of The Wizard Entertainment Group.

iola was bright eyed and bushy tailed, fully dressed, and having her morning coffee in the morning room of her new 5,000-square-foot house, when she got the call of an opportunity of a lifetime. She called out to Adora, “Are you on the phone with your sister? If so I need to talk to her.”

“Good morning, Mother, and how are your doing today?”

“You can save that proper shit for the interviews and your fans, Fabiola. Girl, I gave birth to you, remember? I's knows you's ghetto.”

All Fabiola could do was laugh. “Whatever, Mom. What's going on though? You never call me this early unless
there's something going on with the family or business.” Fabiola knew her mother like a Nikki Turner reader knew their favorite author's novels.

Now it was Viola's turn to laugh. “You know me like a book, child.” She chuckled a bit. “It's business all right, and it's great news. You're not going to believe it when I tell you.”

From the excitement in her mother's voice, Fabiola knew it was something big. “Try me,” she said, holding her breath for whatever it was her mother had in store for her.