by Nikki Turner
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. I’ve heard of being in the right place at the right time, and I know that God works in mysterious ways, but this was unbelievable. Finding a job had never even crossed my mind but it made perfect sense. I was incredibly appreciative of all Amanda’s help, but I couldn’t help but wonder why she was so caring and supportive to a perfect stranger. And most important, how does she know my situation so well?
“Not that I’m being ungrateful for what you’ve done for me, because I’m truly thankful, but why are you helping me so much when you don’t know me?”
Amanda quickly looked around, took a seat at my table, and began to explain. “I’m being so nice to you because I was in your place about two years ago when I moved here to pursue my modeling career. I see a lot of people come through these doors with hopes, dreams, and no money. Shit, girl, I was living out of my car for three month before I got this job. I know the state of mind I was in and wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, so I try to offer people the help I never got. You look very young, and Atlanta could chew you into a million pieces and swallow you if you’re not grounded. I don’t know what your motivation is for being out here, but take my advice, always put reality before fantasy.”
Amanda then got up and continued to do her rounds. I sat there thinking about the knowledge that she’d just dropped in my lap. I hurried to fill out that application as if my life depended on it; well, it actually did.
When I finished completing the application, I motioned for Amanda to come pick it up. She looked it over, gave it back, and pointed out that I had missed a very important question. “Umm, sweetie, you forgot something very important. You need to put an address down. You don’t have to actually live there; just ask a friend or family member if you can use their address for employment purposes.”
Again I sighed as I came to another wall in front of me. “I don’t have an address, and I don’t have any friends or family living out here. I literally just came off the highway from Pennsylvania a few hours ago. As a matter of fact, the only clothes I have are the ones on my back. I planned on living out of my car until I found somewhere to live just like you did.”
“Oh, you think it’s that easy?” she asked. It was as if she’d jumped out of the nice-waitress role into that of a protective mother. “I’m telling you, you’re heading down a dangerous path, little girl.” She stood and stared into space like she was contemplating something. She kept looking over at me and shaking her head just like my parents used to do. Then, after an extremely long deliberation, she threw a generous offer on the table. “Listen, I live not too far from here. I planned on looking for a roommate in the near future anyway, so if you want, you can stay with me rent free for a month. After that we have to split everything fifty-fifty. I’m talking about rent, utilities, cable, phone, groceries, and anything else to do with the apartment. It’s a one bedroom, but the couch in the living room folds out into a bed. That’s the best I can offer.”
“That’s more than okay with me,” I replied. I felt overwhelmed with joy because my luck was finally taking a turn for the better. “Amanda, I truly think you’re my guardian angel. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known. Thank you, girl. I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“Yeah, I may seem like a guardian angel now, but trust me, I can be a bitch too. You just hold down your end and keep your promise and you won’t see that ugly side of me. I’m about to get off in thirty minutes or so. You can wait for me outside until then.”
This girl could have been a bitch, a witch, and a snitch and it really wouldn’t have mattered to me. She had a roof over her head and very soon so would I. Amanda proceeded to walk off but suddenly stopped to ask, “Hey, roomie, by the way, what’s your name?” We had already sealed the deal regarding being roommates without even formally introducing ourselves to each other.
We both burst out laughing and I answered, “It’s on the application. My name is Melissa … Melissa James. You’ll be hearing that name on all the radio stations very soon.”
“Is that right?” she asked while still laughing. “Just be sure to remember to show me some love when you’re doing those radio interviews. Give a shout-out to the ‘ever so sexy’ Italian bombshell Amanda Scintilla.”
Scintilla? I knew this girl was mixed with something. She was tall and light-skinned, with beautiful bold eyes, and had long dark curly hair that fell to her ass. And it was no wonder she was a model; she had a washboard stomach and a bodacious yet toned ass and curvy hips. She was an exceedingly gorgeous woman.
“You’ll be the first one I give a shout-out,” I assured her as I gathered my belongings and exited the restaurant. I waited outside in my car for her to get off work. I used that alone time to reflect on my past, present, and future. I even thought of my parents for the first time in a long time and wondered if they were thinking of me. I remembered that my father had said the door would always be open, but I wondered if the offer still stood. The way I saw it, if they had really wanted me, they would have found me and tried to take me home a long time ago.
I thought of Tiffany, Jasmine, and Mrs. Tarsha, although those thoughts were way different from the ones I had for my parents. Those bitches were on my payback list, and I would get them for what they did to me if it killed me. I looked down at Fatz’s cell phone number sitting in my ashtray and thought about the show I had just put on in his truck. And, yes, I do feel utterly ashamed of having sex with him so quickly, but time is money, and I desperately needed his help. I compromised my body and self-respect but it was all in good faith.
Now, here I am about to live with yet another person who could kick me out whenever she pleased and I could possibly end up back on the streets again. No, I wasn’t going to let that happen this time around. I’m not getting comfortable here, and will always be on my grind from here on out because it’s about time for me to have my own. Amanda seemed like a very nice girl, but I always say if it’s too good to be true, then it probably is.
I sat in my car for a while singing and writing a heartfelt song about life as I perceived it. After that, I drifted off to sleep. I had just dozed off when Amanda knocked on my window. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she joked. “You better watch how you fall asleep around here. This is Atlanta, girl; you might wake up with a dick in your mouth.” I quickly jumped up out of my sleep, almost forgetting where the hell I was as she sat down in my car. “Real talk, Melissa, it’s crazy out here, girl. I could have been a rapist and it would have been easy for me to get in your car, stick a gun in your side, and make you drive to a secluded area before raping and killing your ass.”
“Oh, I just dozed off a minute or so ago. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Okay, make a right at the light and then a quick left by the gas station.” I followed her directions and in less than two minutes, we were parked outside her condo. She wasn’t lying when she said she lived near the restaurant.
As soon as we entered, Amanda gave me a tour of her chic, neatly furnished condo. I could tell she had good taste. Her red-and-cream living room set and carpet complemented each other perfectly. Even her paintings and accessories were very bold and dazzling. She had pictures of herself from various magazines displayed in crystal picture frames throughout the apartment. I still couldn’t believe I was actually living with a model. I had really hit the jackpot this time around.
Amanda showed me where everything was and told me to make myself at home. I felt extremely happy, to the point that my eyes felt like they were dancing to the cheerful beat of my heart.
As soon as I walked into Amanda’s bedroom, it was apparent that she was a model. Fashion magazines were thrown everywhere, along with a million and one outfits, shoe boxes, and accessories. She showed me her portfolio, which was quite impressive. The girl was out here doing her thing, and I knew right then and there that I was right where I needed to be. We sat up and exchanged stories about our pasts, and both promised to
help each other as much as possible. I didn’t know this girl, but somehow she felt like the sister I never had. We had a lot in common, including our birthdays; how ironic is that? It totally freaked me out, but I knew God always worked things out and this was his plan for me.
I took the liberty of taking a long, well-deserved bubble bath, which felt like winning a million bucks. The heat felt soothing to my skin, and for the first time since I touched base in this city, I could sincerely say that I felt a sense of home. I wasn’t stressing or worrying about where my next meal was going to come from. I wasn’t thinking about where I was going to lay my head night after night. True, I was sleeping on someone’s couch, but I was extremely grateful.
I sat in that damn bathtub until my fingers resembled those of an elderly woman. Just when I got the willpower to leave the bathroom, Amanda knocked on the door. “Come in,” I said pleasantly while wrapping my towel tightly around my body.
“My boss just called and said you’re on the schedule to work tomorrow. Girl, you got the job. He said he’s going to start you off with something easy until you get fully trained. You’re going to be a hostess.”
“Hostess?” I asked, not knowing what the hell a hostess really does.
“Basically all you have to do is smile, politely greet the customers, and escort them to their seat. I’ll train you on everything else.”
“Are you kidding me? I got the job! Did I really get the job?” I began to jump around for joy. “Thank you, Jesus, thank you so much. Thank you too, Amanda. I owe you my life.”
“Girl, I didn’t do anything that you couldn’t do for yourself,” she modestly replied. “Just don’t make me regret this shit. I’ve seen a lot of girls get caught up in a lot of bullshit; don’t be one of them.” We exited the bathroom, and she made her way to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Deer Park Spring Water. “If you’re serious about this music thing, you’ll need photos, a bio, and a demo. What do you have?”
“Not a damn thing,” I replied. “I don’t have shit to my name. Those bitches took everything from me. Now, I can write my own bio, but I don’t have any pictures or music. But I met a guy named Fatz earlier and he’s going to manage me, so I’ll have something very soon.”
Amanda did a 180-degree turn, nearly breaking her neck. “Fatz? Fatz from NBE?”
“Yeah, he said his label is called …”
“Never Broke Entertainment,” she finished. “Girl, he’s nothing but trouble. He’s a big fat-ass freak. Because he’s got money, these bitches are out here throwing themselves at him left and right. He’s all about him and no one else.”
I almost vomited. I felt horrible because I was one of those girls she was talking about, and what makes it worse is that today was my first damn day in Atlanta and I already managed to do some smutty shit. “Well, all I want him to do for me is take me to the studio and introduce me to some producers so I can get this demo completed and then I’m bouncing.”
“Melissa, please don’t get caught up with that nigga. Get your songs recorded and bounce like you said. That fool is a nasty fat ho.” Amanda then wrote down a number and handed it to me. “Anyway, call this guy Greg tomorrow morning and tell him I referred you to him. He studies photography at Georgia State University and is always looking for new faces. You can help him build his portfolio, and he can give you pictures. He was one of the first people I worked with out here, and trust me, he knows his shit.”
“Girl, I don’t have any clothes to do a photo shoot. After I get my first paycheck I’ll call him and make an appointment.”
“Chill out, Melissa. I have more than enough clothes in my closet, as you can see. All I ask is that you respect my shit. I told you we’re going to help each other, and I mean that. Get your photos done, write your bio, and hurry up and get your songs recorded. After that, I expect you to be grinding by day and working at the restaurant by night.”
“Trust me, I plan to do just that,” I assured her.
The next morning I called Greg to schedule my photo shoot, wrote my musical bio, and gave Fatz a call to discuss our little business arrangement. He told me I could record in the mornings, but I had to be out of the studio by 6:00 p.m. because other artists had those time slots locked. That was perfect for me anyway because I’d be working in the evenings and could only record in the mornings.
Later that evening, I went to work and did the damn thing, even making a few of my own tips. I was doing an excellent job, if I did say so myself, considering that this was the first job I’d ever had. The following weeks, I worked six nights a week and spent my days in the studio with Fatz. Just as he’d promised, he introduced me to many producers, who were eager to work with me as soon as they heard my voice and saw my potential. Pretty soon I started making money on the side by writing for local artists and collaborating with a few, even jumping on a couple hip-hop mix CDs to get my name out there in the streets.
But of course everything came with a price. As long as I continued to make Fatz and his friends happy, they made me happy. I’d had threesomes before, but now you could add foursomes to my list. While other artists were paying top-notch dollars to record, all I had to do was suck and fuck a little and my debt was paid in full. It took me no time to record an entire CD greater than the songs I wrote and performed for Pretty in Pink.
So there I was living out my dreams in Atlanta just as I’d planned. To be perfectly honest, I no longer needed Fatz to manage me because I was doing a damn good job all by myself. I really didn’t enjoy compromising my body and dignity day after day, and now that I’d established myself, I could finally break free from Fatz and his friends. Once again, the stars seemed reachable, and I knew I was only seconds away from getting my big break. This time around, I was much stronger and wiser, and I had destiny eating out of the palms of my hands. No one was going to stop my shine, and I meant no one!
FFB
I contentedly walked into the radio station holding my CD with pride because I knew it was phenomenal; every track was a banger. I worked with some of the best producers in town, and of course my writing and vocal skills were off the meter, so it came as no surprise that this CD would ultimately get me signed. I had all my ends covered so I figured this should be a walk in the park. My bio was well written, thanks to me. My photos were breathtaking, thanks to Amanda’s friend Greg, and on top of it all, I had a remarkable CD, thanks to Fatz and his many, many friends. Furthermore, my single, “Shake That Water,” was popping off in all the strip clubs, which threw my name out in the streets. I’d been in Atlanta for eight months and already I’d accomplished way more than I did with Pretty in Pink, or should I say Jazzy Girls.
My appointment was scheduled for 2:00 p.m., but at 3:15 I was still sitting in the waiting area in anticipation of the program director coming out and meeting with me. It wasn’t like I just up and came in unannounced; I’d called and made this appointment a week ago, so I really didn’t understand the holdup, but I guess situations like these came with the territory.
I was damn near dying of boredom when suddenly a very prissy lady walked out from the back laughing at a joke shared among her co-workers and called out, “Are you Melissa James?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I enthusiastically answered as I quickly jumped from my seat and walked over to formally introduce myself. “Good afternoon, how are you? Are you the program director?”
Miss Thing barely looked my way as she turned and snobbishly replied, “Follow me.” Deep down inside I wanted to tell this bitch off, but I couldn’t because my future lay in her hands. I wanted to ask her why she was acting so high and mighty. She was probably more approachable when she was interning at the radio station, but as soon as she got that promotion she thought it gave her the right to treat local artists like myself like crap because we needed her to play our music. This was the part of networking that I dreaded the most. The part where you have to kiss up to people who are undeserving.
“Take a seat,” she ordered. “Jay Sp
inz will be in shortly to meet with you.” Oh, my goodness. This smart-ass bitch wasn’t the program director after all. I wish I knew that a minute ago. I wouldn’t have been so obedient toward her bony ass.
So once again, I was sitting in a room waiting for the program director. This was a very humbling experience for me. I swore, as soon as I got this deal, I was going to put this radio station on blast, especially that prissy little bitch. You’d have thought I was in here asking for handouts. All I was asking for was some airtime.
I did everything I could think of to keep from losing my sanity, including reading all the banners and flyers hanging on the walls. When the door finally opened and a very tall man walked through, I hoped and prayed it was finally the program director and not another wannabe like Miss Priss.
“Hello, pretty lady. I’m the program director, Jay Spinz. How are you today?”
Thank God. Those were the words that I’d been waiting to hear all damn evening. “Oh, I’m fine,” I answered with a warm smile. “I’m a little nervous, but happy to be here.”
Jay was different from the others I’d seen so far. He was far more hospitable, with a very pleasant attitude. “Oh, don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I’ve heard about some of your work, and you’re hot, Melissa. To be honest, I wonder why it took you so long to come in here to holler at me.” At that very moment, my confidence level rose to the roof. A huge smile crossed my face to the point that my cheeks were actually hurting. It was so fulfilling to know that the people at the radio station actually knew of me. “You really know your stuff, baby girl. From what I hear, you’re the shit.”
“Thank you so much. I’ve been working tremendously hard on this album, and I really wanted to showcase my talent. There’s so many things I can do if I only have the opportunity and the right people in my corner.” Of course your girl knows how to sell herself, so it should come as no surprise that I was working the room. Jay sat for almost ten minutes as I ranted and raved about my progression as a solo artist and how I ghostwrote for many local artists here. “Like I mentioned before, I just need the right people in my corner,” I emphasized, hoping he was willing to jump on the bandwagon to help promote me. “So do you think my song will do well on the radio?” I asked.
