by Zane
The concert went off without a hitch and I was more confident afterward. The Parisians adored me and my music, so by the third song, I was in my element. I put on one hell of a performance and was looking forward to really showing my ass the next night. In fact, I was going to make some wardrobe changes and wear something even more shocking and revealing on Sunday night.
I was in my dressing room when Hannah came knocking, and then walked in arm in arm with Paul. His brother was not with them, and I inquired about him after brief introductions were made. “Did your brother come to the show?”
“Yes,” Paul said uneasily. “He met a chick and they went to some club. Sorry about that. It was rude of him not to at least come speak.”
“It’s not rude at all. I was only wondering. Everyone is star struck by my presence and this is Paris. The place to get romantic with strangers.” I grinned at both of them and winked at Hannah. “You and Hannah have sure been getting along well. Every time I’ve looked around, she’s been on the phone with you.”
Paul looked at Hannah and grinned. He was roughly about the same age as her. He was kind of on the shorter side but still had her by at least two inches in her heels. He had a pudgy nose and dark brown hair and it was obvious that he had a full set of dentures. But he had a cuteness about him, and his personality seemed pleasant. I started to ease up a little on my concerns.
“So what are you two going to do tonight?” I asked. “Hannah has to take security with her, as a precaution. I hope you don’t mind. They’ll stay out of the way.”
Paul seemed uncomfortable then. “But I thought you were the celebrity? Why do we need security?”
Hannah cleared her throat and glared at me. “We don’t. Wicket’s just fucking with you. We’re rolling solo, Paul.”
“Are you sure?”
Hannah let go of Paul’s arm. “Baby, why don’t you wait for me out in the hallway. I’ll be right out.”
Paul shook my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Wicket. Great show, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I waited until he exited and closed the door behind him. Then I pounced on Hannah. “I thought we had an agreement!”
“Ladonna, it’s obvious that Paul’s not comfortable with that scenario, and I’m not blowing this opportunity.”
“Please, let’s just think about this. Even if the two of you hit it off, you live in two different parts of the world. How is any kind of relationship going to work?”
“I’m not worried about that at the moment. But I’m sure you would travel with me to see him if that’s what I want. Right?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Right?”
“I guess, but I need you with me.” I pouted. “You’ve always been here for me.”
“And I always will be. But you’re not a baby anymore. There’s a huge difference between fifteen and thirty-three. You know how to handle yourself. You’re Wicket, international superstar, dammit!”
We both laughed.
“I’ll be back at the hotel before sunrise. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out for drinks and hopefully back to his hotel room. That’s where the magic will probably happen. Did you see those architect hands?”
“I shook one of them, but I didn’t stare.” I giggled. “It was rather soft, though.”
Hannah grinned. “Exactly. I can’t wait for him to lay both of those soft hands on me.”
Hannah rushed from the room as I started stripping down to take a quick shower. I always shower after a show and before I head back to my hotel. A lot of entertainers wait, but I simply can’t take it. I need to rinse all the sweat residue off as soon as possible.
I ended up dragging my security detail to Crazy Horse Paris, also on Avenue George V. A cabaret club where a lot of celebrities hung out, the acts were very sensual and not to mention creative as all get-out. It was there that I first gained an interest in BDSM. When I saw this woman beat a man with a whip onstage, it made me feel some kind of way between my legs. I wanted to bring pain to other people, the way that they had brought pain to me. I wanted to humiliate them and give commands that they had to follow.
I stayed there until about 3:00 a.m., and then headed back to the hotel. Hannah wasn’t in her room when I got back to our suite. I drank some wine, took a sleeping pill, stripped nude, and passed out in my bed.
* * *
I woke up about ten and dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. When I came out into the living room, I noticed that Hannah’s door was now closed. She had gotten back safely. I ordered some room service and it took damn near an hour for it to get there. Once it did, I figured Hannah might be hungry, so I went to wake her.
I knocked lightly at first and she didn’t respond. I considered letting her sleep, but something urged me to knocked louder. I tried the knob and it was locked from the inside, making me wonder if she had brought Paul back to our suite with her. That would’ve been a first, but maybe he was sharing his room with his brother. I continued to knock, and then I started shouting.
“Hannah? Hannah, are you all right?”
Now I was escalating into a panic. I leaned my ear up against the door and heard nothing. I tried to ram my shoulder against it to get it open and then kicked it.
I rushed over to the phone and called the front desk, demanding that they send someone up right away with a key to the door. While I was waiting for them to come, I kept trying to get the door open and by that time, I was in tears. Something wasn’t right and I only prayed that she was okay. Just passed out drunk or high, even though she didn’t use drugs.
The three minutes or so it took a manager and maintenance man to arrive seemed like thirty. I was the first one in the room once they unlocked it. The bed was empty and still made. I rushed into the bathroom and collapsed.
Hannah was submerged in the bathtub and her wrists were slit. There was a straight razor lying beside the tub on the white marble tile. Blood was everywhere, from the water to the walls where it had splattered, and on the floor. I realized that I was sitting in her blood and screamed. They had to pull me out of there and out into the living room area, where the manager radioed for them to alert the authorities.
By that time, Daddy’s security detail was all over the place. They probably had assumed that I was still asleep until all the action started. I heard one of them, Thomas, on the phone with Daddy filling him in.
They had to sedate me to calm me down. I was moved to another suite while the Parisian forensics team and police took over the presidential suite. When I woke up hours later, one of the officers asked me a bunch of questions. Then she handed me Hannah’s suicide note, addressed to me. I’ll never forget what it said:
Baby Girl,
I’m so sorry about this. I know that we just talked about how much you need me and I do love you. I’m your best friend. Always remember that. But I’m tired. I’m tired of this life and being afraid of what people will think about me. I really believed that Paul was the one. That he could accept me for who I was and would fall in love with me. All my life I’ve searched for the real thing, and while we both know that I had some hit-or-miss relationships, I don’t want to grow old alone.
I hope that you will open yourself up to someone eventually and let go of the past. I realize how much your so-called friends hurt and betrayed you, but please don’t let them win. You have fame and fortune, but you deserve someone to share it with.
Please tell my mother that I died still loving her, even though she could never love me back after I decided to live as a woman. Please tell Richard thank you for taking me in along with you, and being tolerant of my lifestyle. He is an amazing man and he loves you dearly. Please remember that I love you.
Don’t blame yourself for this. It was a long time coming. I used to lie in bed at night and think about all the things I fucked up in my life. You are the only good thing that I have ever nurtured, and I am so proud of you. I just feel like I would make
a better ghost than a human being. So remember that I will always be there for you in spirit. I’m not sure if my soul will still be around. People tell all kinds of stories but who the fuck knows? I just know that I have had enough.
As my last act, I plan to leave the world the way that I wanted to live in it. I want to die happy, as the woman that I was. I am sure some will say that I was crazy, but it was not about that. Once I cut it off, there will be no turning back. My wrists will be the easy part.
Good-bye, Ladonna. May you continue to thrive and walk in your gift. Mourn me for a few days and then let me go. I know that you’ll miss me, and I’ll miss you, too. Please don’t get too emotional over my death. I’m happy now. Do me one last favor. I cut off my dick for a reason. Don’t bury me with it.
Love,
Hannah
Chapter Eleven
I was sitting on Marcella’s sofa with tears streaming down my face as I finished relating the events of that day.
“Maybe we should end this session for the day. I don’t want to emotionally drain you. We should take baby steps,” Marcella suggested.
I jumped up. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, it’s the second door on the left.” She pointed down the hallway.
“Thank you.”
I walked to the bathroom on wobbly knees and closed the door behind me. I closed the toilet seat and sat down and really let the pain release. I stifled my cries with a guest towel and then turned the faucet on to cover it up even more. The pain of discussing Hannah was almost unbearable.
After a few moments, I heard Marcella on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be right out,” I whispered.
It dawned on me that she may have been worried about me doing something crazy in her bathroom. After all, she was a psychiatrist and I had just finished recounting my best friend’s suicide.
I ran some water over my face, demolishing what was left of my makeup, took a few deep breaths, and then opened the door. She was standing there waiting for me, concern written all over her face.
“Are you okay, Wicket?”
“I’m fine.” I walked past her and went to sit back on the sofa. “This is the first time that I’ve discussed this with anyone since that day, except for my father.”
“Why do you think Hannah killed herself?”
“Like she said in the letter, she was sick of the intolerance of this world. It wasn’t about that guy, Paul. It was a culmination of fifty-four years of suffering. I understood why she did it; not sure if that makes me as frustrated with the world as she was. But I’ve been suicidal before. When she met me, I was prepared to kill myself, but I was too much of a coward.” I sighed. “I even understood why she cut off her own penis. All her life she had one desire, to be a woman. She always identified with being female, and she stood up for what she believed.”
“Do you feel like you’ve gotten over her death?”
I stared at Marcella with disbelief. “Does it look like I’ve gotten over it?”
“What I mean is, does it disturb you all the time, or are you in this current state because we were discussing it?”
“I’ve always recognized that I can’t change what other people think or do. I’m sure that there was nothing I could’ve done to change the outcome of what happened. If she didn’t do it in Paris, it would’ve only been a matter of time. It was clear that it wasn’t something that had popped in her head that day, or even that week. She picked a moment and left me a note explaining why. I’m glad she did that. Otherwise, I would’ve always wondered.”
“Did you carry out her last wish?” Marcella asked.
“Yes. Daddy came to Paris and arranged to bring her body back to New York for burial. We left her . . . we left it at the medical examiner’s office in Paris. The unbelievable part is that her mother attended her funeral. First and last time I ever met her. She mourned over Hannah like they had never been apart. I was stunned, and so were her friends who attended.”
“I actually recall reading about this in the news back then. How your traveling companion had committed suicide when you were on tour, but there were not many details.”
“And there never will be,” I said, staring at her. “I don’t want her to be embarrassed posthumously.”
“Her self-mutilation goes no further than here. That I promise you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Your privacy goes without saying. Can I ask what she meant about your friends hurting you?”
“That goes back to why I’m here in Atlanta.” I stood up. “In fact, I need to be somewhere.”
“I don’t want to press the issue, but I hope you’re not planning to hurt anyone today.”
“Not in the physical sense, no. I admit that I am extremely angry with several people here in Georgia, but I’m not willing to get locked up behind them.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Thank you for your time, and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Marcella walked me out. Antonio and Diederik were sitting on the porch drinking spring water out the cooler in the SUV, and Kagiso was sitting by a tree meditating.
“Sorry I took so long, guys,” I said. “Told you to go get something to eat.”
Antonio chuckled. “I was about to go find a fast-food joint or something, for real. Anything but that diner.”
“Well, now we’re headed to that party, if it’s still going on.”
Kagiso had joined them by then. “Yes, it’s confirmed. Also, Nikki said she found a hot-ass spot for Wicket’s Thicket in Magic City.”
“Can’t wait to hear more about it.” I turned to Marcella. “Thanks again for everything.”
“You’re very welcome, Wicket. Have a nice time at the event.”
I could tell she was unnerved by the thought of me going someplace where people would be present that I couldn’t stand. What she didn’t realize is that I held all the cards and all the advantages. They all wanted something from me, and they didn’t even have a clue about who the fuck I really was!
PART THREE:
THE CHORUS
In its purest form, an act of retribution provides symmetry, the rendering of payment for crimes against the innocent, but the danger of retaliation lies in furthering the cycle of violence. Still, it’s a risk that must be met when the greater offense is to allow the guilty to go unpunished.
—Emily Thorne
Chapter Twelve
We stopped back by the house so that I could redo my makeup before the party. I didn’t believe in having a makeup artist all up in my grill for anything outside of photo shoots or performances. Daddy had paid a ton for me to be naturally beautiful, so it wasn’t that serious. However, I realized that people would be taking photos of me all evening at Bianca’s event and, quite frankly, I wanted them all to be pressed to even get next to me. It was all a part of the plan for Wicket, the Wicket, to attend the event of an opportunist in Atlanta was a big fucking deal.
I also decided to change. All the emotions that broke out of me at Marcella’s had me thrown for a loop. I had intended to speak with her about Hannah. She was such an integral part of my life and it had to be addressed if I ever wanted to be helped. I hadn’t expected it to practically throw me into a mental break, though. I was being honest when I said that I believed that there was nothing I could’ve done to save Hannah. Her mind was made up and, if I were being honest, she was entitled to end her life if she saw fit to do so. I had watched several documentaries and news stories about “right to die” laws and controversies. No, Hannah was not battling terminal cancer or excruciating brain tumors but, to her, it was just as painful.
I remembered how I felt when I was disfigured. From the ages of seven to almost eighteen, I believed that I was subpar to others. I felt like no one would ever want me. After all, that was my mother’s intention when she slashed my face that day in the kitchen. She wanted to break the Tatum curse, but as I matured, I reali
zed that the curse began and ended with my uncle Donald. He was the sick one, and I would never know why he was so sadistic. Maybe he was touched by someone, raped prior to being attacked in jail, as the rumors had it upon his death. Maybe it did go back for generations, but all that I ever knew about was him raping my mother and, according to her, also raping Grandma. What a crazy notion that he could have been both my father and my grandfather.
I needed a drink before that fucking party. I hit the buzzer on the intercom and instructed one of the housekeepers to bring me a bottle of 1990 Henri Jayer Vosne-Romanée. Nothing like a five-thousand-dollar bottle of wine to calm the nerves.
Once she brought it up in an ice bucket, I had her draw me a bath while she was there. I put on “Make Me Whole” by Amel Larrieux as I ditched the gold minidress and heels. I sunk down in the suds and closed my eyes, thinking about what my next moves would be with Bianca, Cherie, and their bitch-ass men. I really, really wanted to see them all die but knew that wasn’t right. Even though they deserved it, no one had made me their executioner. But I would most certainly make them pay, one way or another.
I heard someone stirring in my bedroom. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” Diederik responded. “Just came in to check on you, but I see you’re in the tub.” He could see me through the open doorway. “You still planning on attending that party? Maybe you should just chill. You seemed upset earlier.”
“No, I’m good. I still want to attend. You all have time to change if you want.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
He was about to leave when I called out to him. “Can you wash my back before you go?”
“Sure.” He walked into the bathroom, already rolling up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt. “My pleasure.”
Like Kagiso and Antonio, Diederik had seen me naked plenty of times. I didn’t feel like doing anything kinky right then, though.
“Thanks,” I said as he picked up a loofah and started gently scrubbing my back.
