Carl Weber Presents Full Figured 6: Plus Size Divas

by Electa Rome Parks

  “We got an invite to one of the hottest tickets in town tonight.”

  “That was one of your friends who called you, huh?”

  “Of course not,” she admitted, her face going deadpan. “Just one of the concierges from our hotel. Of course, she thinks we’re best buds, so that helped getting us into the show as last-minute additions.”

  “Gift card tip?” I joked, not really joking.

  “No. Of course not,” she corrected me, speaking deliberately as if behind a lectern in community college or something. “Because if I really tipped her then she’d realize she’s not actually my friend and just the help. Duh. Stick with me and you’ll get the rules down before you go back to Texas.”

  I shook my head and followed, admittedly enjoying the way people stared at us. We were like a couple of stars, or at least reality show stars, depending on who was doing the watching. And I’ll be damned, we were really going see Royal T. Daniels in concert. My sister Anitra loved her some “Royal T.” as everybody called him these days. If I got close enough, I’d be sure to get a picture with him just to irk the living hell outta her. Even though I’d learned she was only my half sister, I could still give her full grief.

  From what Ladonna shared with me, this was a private concert for about fifty people, us being fifty-one and fifty-two. When we exited the private VIP elevator on the top floor, Ladonna got the gawkers she wanted as we were escorted past them inside the theatre and seated at a plush curved bench in a prime spot near the stage.

  As the rest of the concertgoers filed into the horseshoe-shaped theatre, I read the tiny invitation on our table by candlelight. It wasn’t just Royal T. in concert tonight, but his special guest Natalia. Now this was some unexpected shit, for I’d followed Natalia since she won the US Icon singing competition years back.

  “Oh, my God! Natalia’s here, too,” I hissed giddily as I grabbed Ladonna by her arm.

  It felt good to see a homegirl from H-town going platinum and winning Grammys. I mean, besides Be-yoncé. Kelly Rowland also had done good since going off to Europe, but she was really from the ATL. I had all of Natalia’s albums and used to dance by myself to her video for “All Is Love.”

  “Why yes. I forgot. Isn’t she from Texas too? Heh. You’re practically homegirls,” Ladonna commented with a chuckle as she got the attention of one of the premium hostesses. “A magnum of your finest champagne please. None of the cheap stuff. Oh. And a couple tequila shots too. Top shelf,” she requested with a flip of her hair that drew the attention of more than a few gentlemen in attendance with their dates.

  “Do you ever get tired of spending money? Or drinking?” I asked softly so as to not ruffle her feathers. After all, Ladonna was responsible for me being able to party so much harder on this trip. And she didn’t know it, but she’d given me a tiny lifeline with some of those gift cards of hers.

  “Not in the least, Amiss,” she asserted, making the s’s sound like z’s at the end. “The more I spend, the more I help folk. And the more I drink, the more I spend. Thus I serve a purpose in the big wheel, dear. When you grow your business and move up a tax bracket or so, you’ll probably feel more philanthropic yourself.”

  How in the hell did she succeed in making me feel guilty over not being as reckless a spender as she? As the lights began to dim and the emcee took the stage, I quickly took out my phone before everything popped off.

  Change of plans for 2nite. Next door @ Stratus. A private concert on top of the world. Will let you know when it’s over.

  I texted Julian, feeling a little something about wanting to keep tonight’s excitement going. I only had one more night here and maybe personally thanking him for his gift might benefit both of us. Did he take charge behind closed doors as he did in public? A girl could wonder.

  Good. Now I don’t have to chase you down. Have fun.

  Julian replied, making me a little anxious as my feet fidgeted beneath the table.

  “Have you gotten laid since you been here, girl?” Ladonna dared to ask. Of course she’d dare.

  “Not yet,” I said smartly with my mind on the future.

  “Yet, huh?” she said with a wink, casting her eyes at my phone as I stored it. “Well, here’s to ending that,” she toasted with a raised shot glass as the night’s entertainment began.

  I almost coughed from the tequila’s burn, but fought it. Savoring the heat going down as Natalia took the stage and told everyone to get up on their feet, I obeyed.

  Natalia went through a medley of her hit songs with most of the people up and dancing, some yelling at the top of their lungs to the words of their favorites. The kids could have their overstuffed party scene on the Strip without me tonight. My own private concert with one of my favorite singers no more than six feet away was more than I ever could ask for. It was enough to have a sister speaking in tongues, but that was probably just the combination of endorphins and bubbly.

  Before she began her final number, Natalia took a moment to thank her best friend Amelia back in Houston for writing some of her most recent number-one hits. When she asked if anybody else was from H-town, I was the one who dared to holler. I’ll never forget her pointing at and me and saying, “Well all right now!” before going into her last song of the night . . . “All Is Love.”

  Oh my God. Did she read my mind?

  Just kill me now.

  My skirt suit had enough give in it to allow me to attempt my dance moves from when I was . . . ahem . . . a few sizes smaller. And ain’t nobody telling me I didn’t nail ’em either. When her two backup dancers saw me matching their moves (at least in my mind), they actually paused to come off the stage and dance with me.

  All the people on our side of the theatre, including Ladonna, began cheering me on as Natalia sang her ass off, extending her notes and riffing better than Be-yoncé at an awards show complete with a hair-blowing wind machine. When she wrapped it up and brought the house down, I was out of breath, but still found the energy to clap and jump for my girl.

  “Bitch, I did not know you could move like that,” Ladonna proudly admitted as we returned to our seats for the brief set change and emcee segment. “I need to find you back in Texas after all this is over. Maybe we could hit up Miami for a weekend.”

  “Yeah . . . whooo . . . that . . . would be nice,” I huffed while dabbing the perspiration from my forehead. I was messing up my makeup, but fuck it. “As long as you don’t call me ‘Amiss’ ever again.”

  “It’s a deal, Artemis,” she agreed with a nod and wink as she signaled for more drinks and a few more napkins to our table. “But I’m still calling you ‘bitch,’ bitch.”

  Before Royal T. came out, Natalia returned to mingle with the concertgoers, smiling and posing for pictures as the camera phones came out in full force. So this is how a private concert of this caliber goes. No limo to whisk the people away, but actually kickin’ it with folk? If Ladonna didn’t give that concierge one of her $500 gift cards, I was gonna find her and give one of mine.

  “Do you want me to take a picture of you with Natalia if she comes around?” Ladonna asked, seeing my starstruck eyes.

  “Yes. But only if she comes nearby. I don’t want to act like a groupie,” I instructed her.

  “Hey, H-town,” a woman’s voice called out from behind me. I knew it from interviews on Entertainment Tonight and numerous awards shows, usually during acceptance speeches.

  As I went wide-eyed, Ladonna smirked and motioned for me to fork over my phone.

  “She close enough now, bitch?” she joked in a low voice.

  Chapter 18

  “Thanks, y’all, for coming out tonight,” Natalia said as she shook both our hands. Up close, she was just as cute and pretty as she looked in her videos. “I know this is Royal T.’s gig tonight and I’m just a special guest, but I appreciate the love from fans like you.”

  “Are y’all on tour together?” I dared to ask, trying to rein in my curiosity. So many questions I wanted to ask of someone whose
life probably wasn’t a whole lot different than mine growing up. It’s just that I’d never come so close to speaking with a celebrity before. That is, other than Mattress Mack who did the TV spots back home for his store, Gallery Furniture. And that’s when I went there with my mother to pick out a sectional and he gave us a good deal. Okay. Rambling. I’ma shut up.

  “Talking about it,” the songstress admitted with a nod of her head and wry smile. “It’s a matter of our schedules syncing. And the money being right, of course.”

  “I know that’s right,” Ladonna interjected at the mention of money. Of course she would. “I’ll bet tonight’s appearance fee was quite lovely.”

  “I ain’t gonna complain. Vegas isn’t really my scene nowadays, but it’s a business, so I do what I do. Besides, Royal T. lives out here, so it made sense.”

  “A business. I know how that is,” I groaned. I’d been doing my job while hating it simply because I had to. Just like being cheated out of my hard-earned bonus back home, it was a business decision.

  “Oh? What is it you do, Artemis?” Natalia asked.

  Holy shit, she called me by my first name. “I . . .” I began, wanting to be perfectly honest with Natalia. What I did would be past tense now because I hadn’t a job to which to return.

  “Artemis owns a collection agency. Soon to be Fortune 500, but she hates to brag,” Ladonna matter-of-factly volunteered before I could decide on what to say.

  “Well go ’head on, girl! It’s so uplifting to see a sister making it, especially one from back home. Keep up the good work and I’ll have to look you up next time I’m in H-town.”

  “Uh . . . okay!” I gushed, still pissed at Ladonna for embellishing what was already a lie.

  As Royal T. was about ready to make his appearance, I quickly took another picture with Natalia, even daring to post it to Facebook and Instagram for all the people worrying about me back home to choke on it. Natalia provided me with her assistant’s number then hustled away to snag a seat at the back of the theatre to watch Royal T.’s number. I was still in hella disbelief over Natalia just kicking it at our table and being as genuine and natural as can be.

  The lights went black as the anticipation for Royal T. built. I stifled a giggle as some of the women jockeyed for position close to the stage. Even in the dark, I could make out Ladonna adjusting them damn breasts again and checking her breath. Didn’t Royal T. have a pregnant fiancée anyway?

  When the lights came back on, Royal T. stood there with three dancers, opening up with “Where Dem Hands At?” his high-energy dance track that kicked the party into overdrive. I loved his “Smooth Criminal” style though with that little fedora of his, electric dance moves, and those full lips. If I got a picture with him too, people back home were gonna be too through with me.

  Like Natalia, Royal T. went through a medley of his biggest songs, hopping off the stage and dancing through the crowd with his dancers in tow. When he strutted by us with a spin move, Ladonna clumsily bumped against him, her breasts coming menacingly close to putting an eye out. All intentional, of course.

  “Yeah. He might get it tonight,” Ladonna presumptuously declared to me, visually stalking the singer/actor /performer in the darkened theatre with her squinty eyes. No wonder she was so eager to drop a night of club hopping for this. I ain’t mad at her because if he were to take me by the hand and offer to bounce, I’d be like flubber.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been my pleasure to spend this night with you, but for my last number, I . . . I’m having a little difficulty with my throat,” he said, hamming it up with his acting ability and charm.

  On cue, the audience let out a collective “awwwww” as his dancers fawned over him , faking concern for his imaginary ailment.

  “So I’ma do my best to finish strong . . . but would like one of you ladies to join me on stage and help me out.”

  “Me! Me! Pick me!” Ladonna screamed, joining the chorus of other roaring women who were in near riot mode. All that was missing was a pair of panties to go flying through the air. I just chuckled as I assumed Royal T. had somebody already singled out by his boys or from when he danced through the audience.

  “Now, it’s my understanding that my girl Natalia found out she had an extra backup dancer among y’all. Is that sexy, sexy lady still out there?” Royal T. asked as he cocked his fedora back. How did that hat stay on his head when he was moving? As Ladonna scowled at me, I suddenly felt flush.

  “Well, pretty miss in the white skirt?” Royal T. asked as a spotlight suddenly shone on me. “What I wanna know is . . . can you sang, too?”

  Chapter 19

  “Uh . . . you do know the words to this song, right?” he teased me. “I mean . . . because if you know Natalia’s stuff and don’t know mine, my feelings will be really, really hurt.”

  “I know your songs, Royal T.! I wanna have your baby!” somebody yelled from the audience.

  “Easy, lady! It’s just a concert!” he yelled back, causing everyone but the girl to laugh.

  “Are we up here to sing or what?” I pressed as I guided Royal T.’s arm closer so I could speak into his mic, joking now as I loosened up. My knees had quit knocking, but my palms were still sweaty. And I wasn’t about wipe them on white.

  “You heard the lady,” he said to the anonymous, unseen people working the controls. “Let’s go!”

  The sudden eruption of colors and sounds on cue startled me to where I almost fell in my Louboutins. But Royal T., being the consummate showman, was swift and caught me just in time in those powerful arms of his as if the whole routine were planned. He performed most of his final song, “You Know You Wanna,” with me awkwardly standing there looking pretty and shaking my hips while he danced around me, a cyclone of swagger and sexiness. As I nervously joined in to sing the words to the chorus with him, I spied an impeccably dressed man standing alone who wasn’t there a moment earlier. Once my eyes adjusted to the lights, I recognized him.

  Julian Jackson.

  My persistent gentleman was somehow here. He grinned as if overcome with a mixture of surprise and amusement, bringing a blush to my cheeks.

  When we mercifully finished our duet, Royal T. had me take a bow to my own share of applause, then gave me a warm embrace and kiss on the cheek before ushering me back from whence I came.

  “I seriously can’t bring you anywhere, Miss Wallflower,” Ladonna jealously taunted in a good-natured way as I rejoined her to watch the finale from our seats. “You’re a regular star magnet, ain’t ya, my friend?”

  “So that’s why you keep me around, huh?” I teased as everyone in the place stood to applaud Royal T.’s amazing performance.

  Julian came upon our table as the clapping faded to be replaced with the mumbles of people milling about, looking to leave, network, or “get another drink in this bitch” as I overheard somebody say.

  “Artemis, I had no idea,” was all he said, his mouth agape as he took both my hands firmly in his and kissed me on the cheek opposite the one Royal T. had graced with his full lips.

  “Neither did I,” Ladonna added as she inspected Julian then winked at me.

  “Julian, this is my friend Ladonna. Ladonna, Julian,” I offered.

  “Julian Jackson. Pleased to meet you, Ladonna,” he said as he stuck his hand out to shake hers.

  “Do tell,” she replied as she awkwardly hugged him instead, another one of her oversized purses almost assaulting the man’s back in the process. Damn thing didn’t even go with her outfit, but who was I to say. I was surviving off her kindness in the most.

  “How’d you get in?” I asked, remembering what Ladonna had said.

  “When you texted me where you were, it wasn’t hard to figure out. Especially once I saw you up there. Wow,” he marveled, pointing toward the stage where Royal T. had just performed. “It was a private occasion, but I desperately wanted to see you and got impatient. And as you know, I’m not without my means. I’m a VIP member at both Aquos and Stratus, soo
o . . .”

  “See, Artemis, this is certainly the right kind of man for you. Well, for anyone in their right mind,” Ladonna said, feigning a swoon.

  “I don’t know now. How can I compete with someone as accomplished as Royal T.? I mean . . . music and movies? I certainly saw a different side of you tonight. Should I be jealous, Artemis?” Julian asked, his eyes blazing with an intense fire that felt more desirous than controlling. Nothing like seeing another man covet something you want—even if faked for a song—to get the blood flowing.

  “Jealous? Only if you’re insecure, babe,” I said, back to jousting with Julian as I liked. Think he liked it too because he kept coming back for more.

  “Touché,” he remarked. “I think we need a round of shots,” he called aloud as he sat with us. Amazing how both he and Ladonna were used to people doing things at the mere sound of their raised voice.

  As the waiter delivered another round of shots, Royal T.’s people hastily set up a line for those in attendance for a short meet ’n’ greet.

  “You better hurry and get in line,” I implored Ladonna after downing my last shot for the night. It no longer burned at this point, but seeing Julian looking all good ’n’ shit was generating some heat in another place.

  “For a photo with Royal T.? Why? I have plenty already of him, except you’re in all of them,” she jabbed with a roll of her eyes. “Lines aren’t my thing. I’ll just cut later or he’ll send his people over. But right now I need to go powder my nose. You coming, dear?”

  “Be right back,” I said to Julian, squeezing his knee as I stood up. He reciprocated, his palm drifting over my calf as I left with a grin.

  On our way to the restroom, Ladonna bumped people with her purse all along the way, apologizing to some at least. Somebody was gonna yank it off her arm and stomp on it if she wasn’t careful. I had no idea of the brand, but it couldn’t be worth less than a grand based on her standard of living.