He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly when I approached him. “It’s good to see you again, Sammy. Damn, you look so beautiful,” he said in delight.
“Hey, and thanks,” was my sparse reply. I was still skeptical but I was also curious about him. I wanted to see what he was really about. It just felt awkward going behind Search’s back to a man he introduced me to, and was a good friend of his.
I climbed into the passenger seat of his Jaguar XF. The interior was impressive and had a trendy appearance with its expensive cream-colored leather seats and gleaming wooden veneer. The instrument panel used pale blue backlighting, and he had a one-touch glove compartment. I felt like a queen in his car.
Macky got behind the wheel and navigated his way through the thick evening Midtown traffic. “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up from the Bronx? It wasn’t a problem for me,” he said.
“I just didn’t,” I dryly replied.
He didn’t push it. Cool.
We were headed to downtown Manhattan. The sun was slowly fading behind the towering city buildings and night was forming, which was creating the city into a multitude of hues from block to block. Macky placed a CD in the CD drive and R&B started to blare through a ten-speaker 400w audio system with an MP3. I didn’t recognize the song or the artist singing.
“Who is this singing?” I asked.
Macky nodded his head and replied, “She’s gonna be the next big thing in R&B. Her name is Tina Green, and she’s from Newark.”
She had a beautiful voice. But why did he have me listening to her?
“I’m managing and producing her,” he added.
It was nice to hear. Her voice was golden. Her vocals pulled you in and hypnotized you. The song she was singing was a genuine love song. I could tell she had her heart broken, maybe one too many times by a trifling-ass nigga. I nodded to the song. Macky said he did the beat. It was catchy, and so was the hook:
I’m steadily feeling so small, so unseen
I survived; ’cause I tried
But how long will I stride?
“She’s about to blow up soon. She just signed to RCA records a month ago, and received a half-million dollar advance. And she might go on tour and open up for Jill Scott,” he proclaimed.
“Wow, that’s nice,” I said, wishing it were me who had the record deal and was going on tour.
Having half a million dollars and a record deal with a major record company would change my world. I would definitely move out the projects and buy me a nice car. Me and Mouse would go on an extravagant vacation somewhere far, maybe to the West Coast or to one of the West Indies islands. I always heard it was paradise out there. I really never had been out of New York; the farthest was maybe New Jersey with a friend. But I could definitely see us sitting on the beach, feeling that tropical breeze and warmth, looking fabulous in our bikinis, and sipping on drinks with our underage asses.
Damn, why did some people have it so good and I didn’t? I wondered why Macky was telling me about this woman’s career. I didn’t know the woman. It wasn’t me. I was happy for her. Now it was time to be happy for me.
“You can become her,” Macky said to me.
“Her? I need to be me,” I replied.
“I mean, you got it, Sammy. She only sings, you can do both, exceptionally, too,” he praised.
I smiled.
He turned onto the West Side Highway and drove south. The traffic was thick like a fat bitch’s thighs. He was taking me to this downtown restaurant called Delmonico’s Steakhouse. It was expensive and classy place on the west side, near the Hudson River.
“So, when you think it’s gonna be my time to shine?” I asked him.
Macky smiled, like he knew something I didn’t.
“What?”
“I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“Well, tell me.”
“I’ll tell you during dinner.”
I hated surprises and I hated waiting. I wanted to hear what he had to say now. This anticipation of hearing what he had to say to me was building up inside of me. But I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I went along and had to wait until we arrived at the restaurant.
Twenty minutes later, after fighting heavy traffic and careless drivers, Macky pulled up to a nice-looking restaurant that was nestled on a cobblestone street in the heart of the Meatpacking District of the city. There was valet parking. Macky and I stepped out, he handed the valet the keys, and we walked inside. I never had been to anything so elegant before. There was fine dining inside and outside. It was such a beautiful night that many patrons decided to dine outside. There was causal chitchat and laughter, the mood so polite I felt awkward and nervous.
Macky took my hand and smiled. “You’ll be okay,” he said.
I smiled.
We walked hand in hand into the restaurant. Inside there was gilded ceilings, oversized oil paintings, ornate chandeliers, and rich mahogany paneling: the scene for America’s first fine-dining restaurant.
The maître d’ seated us at a lovely decorated table in the upstairs dining room to experience the restaurant’s full grandeur, overseeing the street below and the highway. Macky was a gentleman and pulled out my chair for me to sit.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
It was something I had to get used to. We sat opposite of each other and talked. Macky talked a little about his music career. He was twenty-nine and been producing, managing, and making magic happen since he was seventeen. I was reluctant to talk about myself. He didn’t believe me when I said I was only eighteen. He respected my honesty though. But I gave him a quick rundown of my background. We talked a little about Search. I told him how long we’d been friends and how good of a man Search was. He agreed. I also told him that I didn’t want Search in my business. He agreed again.
The waiter came to us; he was well dressed in black and white, distinguished with his foreign accent and the gray streak in his hair. He was courteous to us and ready to take our orders.
“Ladies first,” said Macky.
I stared at the menu; everything seemed so new and pricey. I gawked at food that you only saw and heard about on TV. I didn’t know what to order. The two men were waiting patiently for me to say something, but for once, I was stuck on stupid.
Macky noticed the confusion on my face and he intervened. “We’ll both have the boneless rib eye steak, and on the side some king crab macaroni and cheese and Delmonico potatoes. Also, a bottle of white wine. The good stuff.”
The waiter wrote everything down and responded, “Right away, sir.” He walked away.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It’s not a problem.”
Our conversation continued. He was so easy to talk to and so fun to look at. I mean, from his genuine smile and dark skin, to his neatly styled dreads that extended to his shoulders, I could chew him up and taste him slowly.
“You are so beautiful, Sammy,” he kept repeating throughout the night.
I kept blushing and thanking him.
Strange though, here I was dressed up and looking marvelous with my legs and curves showing, and forgot that I had a .22 concealed in my clutch. I wondered what Macky would have thought if I told him about the gun on me. But I wasn’t stupid; it was for my protection, and even though I was far away from the Bronx, there was no telling where my enemies could be.
My lifestyle was crazy, and I kind of understood where Search was coming from.
Our food came and everything looked delicious. The boneless rib eye steak looked like it was ready to melt in my mouth and slide down my throat. We started to eat and continued our talk. Macky brought up his artist Tina Green again.
“I do magic in this business, Sammy. Tina Green, she’s only twenty-one years old, and had nothing going for her. She came from the slums of Newark, like a rose buried under concrete. I dug into that concrete and pulled her out. With my help and my beats, within a year she was signed to RCA records,” he
proclaimed.
“I need that in my life right now, Macky,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“A change,” I told him.
“And it will come. When you have talent and know the right people, make the right connections, anything’s possible.” He reached across the table and gently took my hand in his. He massaged them and grinned.
“Sammy, I can make it happen for you,” he continued. “I’ve been in this game a long time. I know the workings of this music business like the back of my own hand. Two years ago, I took the R&B group Ready & Trend, who I saw weren’t being paid right with the label they were with, and I did the unthinkable. I went to their label and renegotiated their contract on a record that was already out. Their label gave the group a two million dollar advance, and double their point spread.”
I was impressed.
“I can pull you out of the concrete too, Sammy. In fact, the surprise I have for you is, how you would like to do a track with Tina Green and be on her record, maybe even write some songs for her?” he mentioned.
Oh my God. Was he serious? “Are you serious?” I asked, taken aback.
“I’m so serious. I don’t bullshit when it comes to making money and producing good music.”
I was ready to lunge across the table and hug Macky dearly. Shit, I wanted to give him a firm kiss on the lips. But I contained myself. I smiled profoundly, like this was a big step into achieving my dream. Macky smiled also. He was heaven sent, fo’ real. I couldn’t wait to tell Mouse about this. Hold up, he didn’t mention Mouse at all. And what about Search?
I looked at Macky and asked, “What about Mouse? She’s gonna be on the track too, right?”
“Mouse is talented, but I only need one of you on the track, and you’re the chosen one. But I didn’t forget about your friend,” he said.
I couldn’t do this without Mouse. I was thinking heavily. Macky noticed the sudden dubious look on my face and said, “Listen, Sammy, I know you care for your friend a great deal, and you don’t want to be selfish. But think about it, you doing this track is a step up for the both of y’all. You understand me? It puts both of you in a better position. And if Mouse is the great friend you always say she is, then she would want you to do it.”
He did made sense. “And Search?”
“Search is a friend of mine, you know this. He’s your manager, too, and they always come out right.”
“I wanna tell him. I don’t want it to seem like I’m goin’ behind his back being sneaky and setting up deals on my own. Search’s been riding with us for a year now. I can’t do that to him.”
Macky smiled. “I understand. Shit, how old are you again?” he joked.
I chuckled.
“But you are good peoples, Sammy. I want to see all of y’all come up and make it big. And with my help, it’s going to happen.”
I had butterflies in my stomach. This was for real. Finally, we had the right connections to go somewhere and it was a step out of the projects and poverty for us. We were definitely expected to get paid for a track with Tina Green. I didn’t know how much, but it was something.
We finished our meal and had a wonderful talk. Macky escorted me out the door and the valet brought his car back around. Being the gentleman he was, the chivalry continued for the night. He opened the passenger door for me and I climbed inside his Jaguar XF. I was on cloud nine and still couldn’t wait to call Mouse and tell her the good news.
We drove around the city for a while. I was listening to a few more of Tina Green’s songs and I liked her style. She reminded me of a young Mary J. Blige. She was raw and her voice distinctive. I was so wrapped up in a track she made called “Black Butterfly” that I didn’t realize we were crossing over the George Washington Bridge, and heading into New Jersey.
“Where are we goin’?” I asked.
“It’s another surprise,” he said.
I didn’t sweat it. It had been a wonderful night so far.
“‘Black Butterfly’ is the track I want you on,” he said.
“Fo’ real?”
“Yes. It’s missing something, and I finally know what it is. I think the two of y’all will kill that track and when it blows up, everyone’s gonna be asking, ‘Who’s that girl rhyming?’ It’s Sammy,” he said convincingly.
I was like a wide-eyed schoolgirl in a whole new world. I was already thinking about lyrics to go with the beat. It was going to be a hard rhyme. My debut had to be on point. I had to show out, like Snoop did on the Deep Cover soundtrack or DMX’s first appearance in the video for LL Cool J’s single “4, 3, 2, 1.” I had to stand out, maybe more than the primary artist.
Macky continued to drive. We were in New Jersey, moving north on Henry Hudson Drive. It was a remote location near the waters and swathed with trees. We parked in this empty parking lot near the shoreline. It had a spectacular view of the GW Bridge, which was so colorful at night, and the New York City skyline, which gleamed on the other side of the river like the Emerald City in Oz. It was dark and quiet. Macky killed the ignition and sat back in his seat. He looked at me and smiled.
“You comfortable?” he asked.
“I’m good,” I replied.
The last track had played on the CD and it reverted to playing the first track. I looked around: no cars, it was only us. The time on the dashboard read eleven-fifteen p.m. Macky leaned in closer to me and showed off a glib smile. His eyes were fixated on my meaty thighs and chest. Okay, this was getting too creepy for me.
“You know I’m gonna look out for you, Sammy,” he said.
“I know.”
“I’m doing a lot for you, because I believe in you,” he continued.
I was listening.
“So, with that said, what are you gonna start doing for me?” he asked coolly.
“What?”
“Look, I do you a favor and you start doing me a few favors,” he had the nerve to say.
I wasn’t a fool. I understood what fucking favors he was talking about. Out of nowhere, he quickly undid his jeans and pulled out his dick. What the fuck? I thought. But I had to admit, it was long, black, and thick—about nine inches.
“You suck my dick tonight, and I’ll definitely get you on this track with Tina Green and put you out there within six months. I can make you a star, Sammy,” he said, sounding so fuckin’ greasy all of a sudden.
I scowled. “Nigga, are you fuckin’ serious?”
“Just suck my fuckin’ dick, bitch, and you gonna get put on,” he barked.
This muthafucka just morphed into some demon spawn instantly; his chivalry left so fast. I wasn’t sucking his dick, I didn’t give a fuck who he was. The moment was gone, ruined, and I saw my chance at success flying out the door.
“Fuck you, muthafucka!” I cursed. “I ain’t suckin’ shit!”
“Bitch, I spent money on you tonight, took your ghetto ass out to a nice restaurant, showed you a good fucking time and you wanna act the fuck up! And I’m ready to put you on. Bitch, you fuckin’ owe me something,” he shouted.
I was resistant and ready to hurt him. Out of the blue, he lunged for me and punched the shit out of me. I was stunned for a moment. He hit me like I was some man. He then gripped my hair violently and pushed my face into the glass so hard, I thought it shattered. I then felt him forcing my head into his lap.
“You gonna suck my dick tonight, bitch!” he exclaimed. “And if you fuckin’ bite me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, bitch!”
Where did this demon come from? He had me fooled completely.
“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” I screamed.
The tip of his dick was rubbed against my face. I felt his pre-cum smearing across my cheek. He was strong and tried to get me to open up my mouth, but I continued to fight.
“Suck my fuckin’ dick, you ghetto-ass bitch!” he screamed madly.
He was attacking me. I was hit again, this time on my side; it felt like he cracked my ribs. But he took the breath out of me with the bl
ow. I reached up and clawed the right side of his face. My nails dug into his skin roughly and he hollered. But he was still forcing me to please him, either from doing oral or pussy. Now he was trying to rape me in the front seat of his car. He was forcing my legs open and pulling up my dress simultaneously, exposing my pink G-string underneath. He ripped my underwear from me like it was a rubber band popping. His hand grabbed around my neck and he squeezed.
“Get off me! Stop it!” I screamed from the top of my lungs.
I kicked and punched him, but he was a monster. My clutch bag was on the floor. I scrambled with my right hand to find it, while I fought him with my left. I had the .22 inside, but never thought I would need it to prevent from being beaten and raped. I continued to fight. I punched, scratched, and kicked this muthafucka repeatedly until I finally hit a nerve on him that made him jolt and hurt. I caught him in his balls; my knee went thrusting upward and connected with his family jewels. He fell back, howling from the pain. Now was my chance.
I quickly removed the small pistol from my clutch, and while Macky was holding his balls in pain while he was against the driver’s seat, I struck him with the butt of the gun repeatedly.
“Muthafucka!” I screamed.
I was all over him, pistol whipping this nigga until his face was red. Now I was the monster on top of him.
“You know who the fuck I am?” I shouted. “I’m EBV, nigga. Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”
I felt his nose breaking and his teeth shattering. I was going to kill him. I had never been disrespected like this in my life. I aimed the pistol at his face. My eyes were bloodshot from crying and anger, but before I could shoot this asshole in his fuckin’ face, he pushed me off of him. I went flying into the other seat. He went for the gun and there was loud pop that exploded inside the car.
La Familia Page 13
