by Zane
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, either. That’s happened in the past.”
“You say that like I wasn’t there.” I was getting upset about the entire conversation. “Look, Daddy, I’m sure you already knew that I was still on my meds. Even with patient-doctor confidentiality laws, they’re all on your payroll one way or another. They know what side their bread is buttered on.”
Daddy took another sip of whiskey and followed it up with a puff on his cigar.
“I’m not privy to what you’re doing with Dr. Spencer.”
“I’m surprised. Then again, she doesn’t seem like the type that could be bought.”
“You must admire that trait about her. The two of you have that in common.”
Daddy was referring to the fact that some of the richest men in the world had tried to date me. One Arabian prince had even offered me $10 million for one night of sex. Another man offered to sign over the deed to his skyscraper in Milan for an opportunity to date me. Then there was my refusal to perform concerts in countries where women were mistreated and undervalued. That was truly a sensitive issue for me. Women being stoned to death for cheating, even if there was no proof. Women being shot to death on their wedding nights if they weren’t virgins; their own fathers providing their grooms with the guns and bullets. Young girls being forced to marry their rapists so that their families won’t be shamed by their communities. Female circumcisions and mutilations. The Sworn Virgins of Albania who were forced to live as men if they did not engage in arranged marriages. The list went on and on.
“I like Marcella a lot. Something about her makes me feel comfortable.”
“That’s good. You’ve never really connected with your past therapists.”
“I feel like I’m evolving. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that there are no shortcuts. I wish that I could jump inside a time warp and suddenly become the new me.”
“And who is the new Ladonna?”
“I guess we’ll both find out at the same time.”
I giggled and got up to look outside the window. Park Avenue was nothing like Times Square late at night. The streets were not crammed with people, and it was rather quiet. All the fancy stores were shut down, and even the restaurants closed their kitchens earlier than those a few blocks over.
“I hope that I can finally beat my depression. Have some kind of normal existence.”
“What about a love interest? Met any intriguing men in Atlanta?”
Thoughts of Jonovan immediately popped into my head.
“It’s complicated.” I turned to look at him. “Why are you always pressuring me to get a man?”
“Ladonna, I’m barely in the country, rather less putting pressure on you to get a man. However, I’ll admit that I would love to know that someone will be here to take care of you once I’m gone.”
“Why do you keep talking like you’re dying? Are you sick, Daddy?”
He chuckled. “I’m as strong as an ox, but I’m also a realist. You’re about to turn forty and I’ll be seventy-three the day after tomorrow.”
“And still a player player,” I said jokingly. Daddy had women posted up in several different countries. He never settled down, because he always thought women were all gold diggers. I was the only female he’d ever trusted with his cash, and most likely his heart. “Don’t be fucking around with that Viagra, either. It might mess you up.”
Daddy shook his head. “This is not an appropriate conversation for a father-daughter evening.”
“Oh come on, I’m Wicket. I know all about older men still trying to swim in the ill na-na.”
He chuckled. “You and your choice of words.”
I went back over to sit down across from him. “I’m writing this song called ‘Surge’ for my new album.”
“Oh yeah. What’s it based on?”
I looked him in the eyes. “This guy I went to high school with.”
Daddy frowned. “Not one of the ones who—”
“Absolutely not. Jonovan was actually nice to me. He’s the one who got me out of there that night when . . .”
“Have you seen him since you’ve been back there?”
“Yes, but it was by coincidence both times . . . so far.”
“You didn’t tell him who you really are, did you?”
“I have all kinds of mental issues, but being stupid isn’t one of them. That’s too risky. I can’t ever tell him.”
“But you’re interested in him?”
“He’s still nice.” I finished off my water. “He’s seeing someone, casually according to him, but it’s just as well. Maybe I’m too fucking complicated for someone to love.”
“You can’t live a positive life with a negative mind.”
“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”
“So what’s Dr. Spencer doing about that?”
“I haven’t even told her about that night yet.”
“Because?”
I blinked hard twice and then looked down at the floor. “Those people . . . the ones who did it. I’ve been spending time with them.”
Daddy almost dropped his expensive bottle of whiskey—mid pouring—when I revealed that. “What does spending time mean?”
“They’re swarming around me like the damn opportunists that they are, trying to connect with the biggest star in the city. Trying to get me to hire them or hook them up.”
“Don’t do anything ridiculous, Ladonna!”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“If I ever feel like I’m about to end up on that show Snapped, I promise that I’ll call you to stage an intervention. I’ve been doing pretty good, all things considered. Nothing like the extreme rough patches in my past.”
I was referring to the cutting I used to engage in, the times that I used to be destructive to items around the house—breaking them or flinging them at servants across the room, and the few times I had actually hauled off and attacked people, like I had with Sebastian that night at Hannah’s apartment.
“I did tell Marcella about Hannah.”
“I’m sure that was difficult.”
“All the pain came rushing back. It was like I was still in that hotel bathroom in Paris, sitting in her blood. And her note was so horrific. Her cutting off her . . .”
“We’ve been over this. There was nothing you could have done.”
“I realize that life goes on, but sometimes that’s the hardest part.”
Daddy leaned on the arm of the chair and put his right hand over his head. “We should turn in. Don’t forget we have reservations at Norma’s for brunch tomorrow.”
Daddy loved the selections at the restaurant inside the Le Parker Meridien on West Fifty-Sixth Street. They only opened for breakfast and brunch until three in the afternoon daily. My personal favorite was the Foie Gras Brioche French Toast with asparagus and onions. Daddy preferred the Duck n’ Eggs with confit hash, peppers, and onions. We always split the Nova Smoked Salmon Ring with eggs so we wouldn’t look greedy or have to waddle up out that billy.
“Yeah, I am kind of exhausted. Those cosmos still haven’t quite worn off yet.”
“You’re going to be up and down all night from drinking all that water.”
“Plus I need to get up at six and go for a run.”
KAD was back in Atlanta because Daddy’s detail was with him.
“You’re running through the park?”
“Uh-huh. You should join me.”
“I’ve gotten lazy, baby.”
“You need to get unlazy and get motivated. After all, motivation is what gets you started; habit is what keeps you going.”
“On that note, I’m motivated to go pass out.” He put the cap back on his whiskey, closed up his humidor, and stood up to stretch. “Don’t be up too much longer.”
“I’m right behind you,” I said as he walked up the staircase to the second level of the penthouse. “I’m going to shut everything down.”
&nbs
p; Daddy’s security guards were stationed in the lobby and across the hall. I also owned the smaller apartment there so no one else would be on that floor. I planned to keep it, even once the penthouse sold. I didn’t need a lot of space in New York, but I wasn’t about to not have a spot at all. I enjoyed my independence but was elated that Daddy was staying with me on this quick jaunt back into town. He was leaving for the Dominican after we celebrated his birthday, probably to hook up with some exotic beauties who loved money and were open to trading it for sex.
Whenever I ran across males who claimed to do a lot of business in the Dominican, I knew what time it was. A lot of wives even sent their husbands there on vacations alone so they could get the fantasy out of their systems. That was another reason I didn’t trust men. Being faithful was more than a notion for most and they could have perfect wives who put dinner on the table every evening at six and pussy on their faces every night at ten. It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, they felt variety was the spice of life. As far as I was concerned, being single was better than being lied to, cheated on, and disrespected. I had seen too many of my counterparts destroyed by men who humiliated them in public. Not this kid.
I was closing up the blinds when I spotted a couple in the building on the other side of the street fucking the shit out of each other. He had leathery skin and looked like a foreigner. He wasn’t white, black, or Hispanic, but he was sexy for damn sure. Plus, he had a big dick. I stood there and watched as the redheaded woman with a cooch to match pounced up and down on his dick like there was no tomorrow. And I wasn’t mad at her.
I loved watching other people have sex, and I yearned for my pets. I wished that I could’ve flown them in, and actually contemplated it for a hot second. I could’ve put them up in a hotel suite and snuck away from Daddy for some afternoon playtime the next day, but I wanted to spend as much quality time with him as possible. Glaze and Piece of Shit would have to wait. But I was definitely making a pit stop on my way back to Atlanta. I’d have them meet up with me someplace so I could beat some ass and get off at the same time.
I ended up masturbating myself to sleep that night. While it did the trick, it just wasn’t the same as digging into Piece of Shit’s back with a stiletto heel.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday, August 26, 2012
9:32 p.m.
Hilton Head Island, South Carolina
I made a detour on my way back to Atlanta and truly pulled a fast one, but only for one day. KAD thought I was still in NYC with Daddy, and Daddy thought that I was headed straight back to Atlanta. I convinced him that I didn’t need security detail on the private jet because Kagiso was picking me up from the hangar in Atlanta. I told the pilot that he better keep his fucking mouth shut about my flight plans. Archie, short for Archibald Witt, had a major crush on me, so the idea that he might actually get to whiff my pussy one day, or fuck me up in the friendly skies, made him want to impress me.
I put on a disguise—light brown wig, silk scarf, and sunglasses—and hopped a ride up to the main airport terminal and then caught a cab to the resort.
I needed to relieve some stress. When I arrived at the four-bedroom villa in Palmetto Dunes, Glaze and Piece of Shit were already there. They had rented the place under Glaze’s real name and were both butt-ass naked, as I had instructed when I arrived.
Piece of Shit crawled to the front door to answer it for me. I could see him on his hands and knees through the frosted glass. He did have a spiked collar around his neck, connected to a diamond-studded, four-foot leash.
He sat up on his hind legs after he opened up, and stuck his tongue out, holding his hands in front of him like paws.
I grabbed the leash in the middle. “Good boy! You ready for some fun tonight?”
He nodded and kept letting his tongue hang out of his mouth. Drool was trickling down his chin and onto his chest.
I yanked on the leash, forcing him back down on all fours as I kicked the front door shut behind me and locked it with my free hand. I walked him through the foyer, then the living room, and out onto the balcony. It was dark, but I could make out the waves of the Atlantic in the close distance. We had a private beach at our disposal and I planned to make the most of it.
Glaze was lying on a floral-covered lounge chair, digging into her pussy with three fingers. She was already nice and wet.
“Who told you that you could play in your pussy?” I yelled at her. “I’m going to beat your little ass for that!”
She pulled her fingers out in a panic. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I thought it would please you, if I—”
“What the fuck is so pleasing about walking up in here and catching you playing in that nasty snatch of yours?” I glared at her. “Huh? Answer me, dammit!”
I yanked on Piece of Shit’s leash harder, and tightened it up around my wrist by looping it several times. He was all the way up to my hip bone and choking within seconds. I glanced down at him. “Let me find out that the two of you have been up in here fucking and whatnot while I was en route.”
“No . . .” Cough. “We didn’t . . .” Cough.
I loosened the leash a bit. Didn’t need anyone dying on me. Imagine the headlines:
Wicket Discovered with Dead Naked Male and an Unidentified Samoan Female in Hilton Head Mansion
Is Wicket More Wicked Than We Thought? Secret BDSM Lifestyle Uncovered After Man Chokes to Death in Hilton Head
Famous Singer Wicket Caught Up in Sadomasochistic Murder!
The press would have had a field day; especially the bitches trying to make names for themselves by talking shit about talented and famous people. The funny part was that no one ever remembered their names, or even read their bylines, and they were still nobodies with no talent at the end of the day.
“Listen up, I want both of you to get your asses into separate showers right this second and get to scrubbing. I don’t know if you’ve been up in here fucking or not, but I won’t tolerate no bitch-ass behavior up in here!”
“Yes, Mistress,” they whispered in unison.
“Get to moving. I’m going to check out the rest of the house and make myself a drink. Did you get my fucking liquor?” I eyed Glaze with disdain.
“Yes, Mistress. Your Absolut Crystal is on the bar.”
“It fucking better be!” I let the leash go completely. “Now get the hell out of my face! Both of you!”
Glaze got up off the lounger and walked past me. I hit her on the ass with my Hilde Palladino bag that I’d purchased on tour in Norway. She jumped a little. “Bitch, you better not flinch from that little hit. Wait until I rip into that ass out there in the sand. You better get prepared.”
“I’m ready, Mistress,” Glaze replied. “I love pain. Bring it on.”
I fought back a grin. Instead, I frowned. “Oh, I’m going to bring the shit on, all right. Now go get your filthy ass into a shower. You smell like dick.”
Piece of Shit and Glaze were not crazy enough to be fucking outside my presence—at least I didn’t think they were—and she didn’t smell like dick. It was all a part of blowing off steam for me.
As she walked off into the house, Piece of Shit had the audacity to try to get up on two legs and walk. I pushed him so hard that he fell backward and hit his head on the porch ledge. “Motherfucker, are you insane? You better crawl your ass into the house. Matter of fact, once I fix my drink, I’m coming to check on you in that shower and you better be on all fours like the affenpinscher that you are.”
He started crawling. “Yes, Mistress.”
I kicked him in the left buttock as he entered the house.
I walked into the house to find the bar. While I was pouring my drink, I got a text alert on my cell phone. It was Michael. I’d been messing with his head since the night he gave me his number. I made it seem like I could get him an acting job. Technically, I could, but there was no way in the world that I would actually make it happen.
MICHAEL: HEY, WICKET. JUST CHECKING IN. ANY GOOD NEWS FOR
ME?
ME: GIVE ME A FEW MORE DAYS. WAITING TO HEAR BACK ON A POSSIBILITY.
MICHAEL: OKAY, COOL. THANK YOU.
ME: NO WORRIES. IF I CAN HELP YOU, I WILL. YOU HAVE MY WORD.
MICHAEL: YOU’RE THE BEST.
I started conniving a plan in my head right then and there. So far I had merely been stringing him along. Now it was time to actually exact some revenge on his ass. Time kills all deals so I was sure he was starting to panic. He kept texting me to try to seem relevant somehow. Soon he would start lying about having other opportunities that he didn’t want to pass up if I wasn’t serious. He would try to spin the tables and act like he was doing me a favor by offering up his acting skills, instead of the other way around. It was the oldest game in the book, but what people never realized was that artist development executives, publishers, agents, and the rest invented the game. Sure, there were some truly significant people who did have deals coming at them right and left—I was one of them—but most were peddling a crock of shit.
Michael was a peddler just like Bianca and Cherie. I was still stringing them along as well but planned to save the best for last. I wanted to ruin all of them—even if it was by reputation only—and make them pay for the rest of their natural lives.
As Glaze came out of one of the bedrooms, freshly bathed and wearing a towel, it all became clear.
“After this trip, I want you to meet me back in Atlanta. I’ll get you a room at the W, and fill you in. I need you to do something for me.”
“Will it be fun?” she asked with a wink.
“Yes, it’ll be a lot of fun, but don’t you dare wink at me.”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“I’ll be right back. Put some music on up in this bitch!”
“Whatever you say, Mistress.”
I walked down the hallway to find Piece of Shit. I heard a shower running in the last room at the end on the left as “Sexy and I Know It” by LMFAO starting emitting from the built-in speakers throughout the home.
I walked into the bedroom. It had twin beds decorated in pink and yellow. The room for the kids—little girls—and Piece of Shit knew that was exactly where he belonged—biotch!
