by Nikki Rashan
“I’m not trying to hide who I am,” Nisha told Ace.
“Meaning you’re okay with being identified as a lesbian?”
“That’s what I am, of course. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve lost my family because I was honest with them. There’s no way I’m about to lie and pretend to be something else for people I don’t even know.”
Momma exhaled loudly. Inside I smiled and agreed with Nisha.
“I see.” Ace leaned back in her chair, quietly thinking. “Sugar knows that I had an idea to put her and Beau together in an effort to bring some recognition to Beau. At the same time, I have to be mindful of exactly who I’m connecting her to and what they represent as well. It has to benefit her first and foremost.”
“I understand that,” Nisha said.
“Sugar has a performance coming up in a couple weeks. I’m sure you know about it; it’s at the Weekend In the Park event. If Beau is willing to sing a few of your R&B covers, we can arrange to have you open up for her. Depending on how that evening goes, we may or may not have another meeting.”
Perfect, I thought. Ace was helping to set up my plan without even knowing it.
“Seriously?” Nisha asked, seemingly surprised when I knew that she wasn’t. “I’ll run it by Rock but I have no doubt she’ll be in agreement. This is an honor.”
“Call me after you talk to Rock and I’ll fill you in on the details if this is a go.”
“Thanks, Ace.”
“Also, please understand that there are no promises here. This is a favor. It’s a trial to see if this might work for all of us.”
“Understood.”
Ace rose from her chair. Nisha did the same. “Great, then. I’ll expect to hear from you no later than tomorrow,” Ace stated.
“Absolutely.” Nisha spun around and said good-bye to Momma and me before she left the office.
“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but are you sure this is best for Sugar?” Momma asked Ace.
“It’s one show. It can’t do any harm to see how Sugar’s fans respond to Beau. I followed up with a few of the venues they’ve played in and I hear the turnout is fairly small, but consistent. And patrons tend to feel satisfied. From what I’ve been told, Nisha is a great musician and Rock has a wonderful voice. I’ll pick the songs they will sing that night to make sure it blends with Sugar’s show.”
I let them talk without interruption. Neither of them knew that by the end of that night, my career would never be the same.
Sugar @SugarChitown So much on the horizon, fans! Stay tuned.
Chapter 9
Sugar Free
“Sugar, are you sure you want to do this?” Nisha asked when we spoke on the phone about a week after her meeting with Ace.
Nisha had spoken with Rock Sandy about opening for me at my concert in the park. Rock Sandy agreed to the performance without question and both acquiesced to Ace’s request to sing popular number one R&B jams during their show. Ace believed that if the crowd recognized all of the songs, and the songs were performed well, then concertgoers would respond positively to them. They were set to sing five songs, closing with Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable.” I found it odd and funny that Ace selected that song considering the plans I had for the night of the show.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s time. Why, are you getting nervous?”
“Me? No, not at all. I just don’t have as much at risk as you. You have a single out that’s hot. This will create publicity for the record, either good or bad. You’re going to have a shitload of questions to answer. How honest are you willing to be?”
“I’ll tell whatever I need to in order to come clean.”
“That includes Franco? Have you thought about what this means for him when people learn he was just a front?”
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see the gesture. “He should have known someday it would come to an end.”
“And what about Ace?” she questioned softly.
“She’s going to be upset, no doubt. But she’ll come around eventually. I’ve got to show her that my fans will love me no matter who I love for myself. I’ll let her decide if she wants to stay on as my manager.”
“After all your years together, you’re willing to take that chance?”
“I am.”
“What about the other aspect of your relationship?”
“What do you mean?”
Nisha sighed and laughed gently. “No need to pretend, Sugar, I’m not blind or stupid. It’s written all over both your faces. It’s obvious there’s more to your relationship than just manager and client.”
I hadn’t confessed my relationship with Ace to Nisha. All she knew to that point was that Franco had been hired to front as my man to conceal my true sexual identity. She hadn’t been told that Ace wasn’t only the conspirator of the false image, but the main party to the entire affair.
“What is it that you’re suggesting, Nisha?” I asked anyway, curious how that young thing had figured it out.
“Well, you’ve told me all about the charade you all have been putting up so no one finds out you’re a lesbian. But not once have you mentioned who you’ve dated over the years or how your girlfriends felt about having to be kept a secret. Not that you have to; maybe you feel it’s none of my business. But you’ve told me so much already, I can’t see why you’d keep that a secret. Unless Ace is the secret.”
I weighed whether to tell her the truth. There was no concrete reason not to, especially with as much knowledge as she already had. I was willing and ready to out myself, but for some reason, respect I supposed, I still wanted to protect Ace. She should have been proud to claim me as her own, and if she wasn’t prepared to share that with the world, then that would be her loss and Nisha’s gain.
“Ace has been the love of my life since the day I laid eyes on her,” I confessed to Nisha.
“So you were about to let me walk into this fire without telling me the entire story, were you?” she questioned.
“I was,” I admitted. “Because I knew that Ace wouldn’t come to you anyway. It would let her secret out. For Ace, her best-kept secret is the truth behind this lie.”
“I have to tell you, Sugar, the world might be shocked to learn about you being gay, not so much with Ace. It’s pretty clear she’s into chicks.”
“I know, and I’ve told her that over and over. And still she insists neither of us can come out of the closet. Even if people suspect it, we shouldn’t confirm it.”
“Well back to my original question. You’re sure you want to do this? This is going to kill your relationship with Ace,” Nisha stated.
“She’s going to be hurt. Or mad. Probably both,” I realized. “It’s time for me to take the wheel on my personal life. As much as I love Ace, I won’t keep hiding who I am. Not anymore. I felt this way before the success of this latest record and even more so now that I’ve blown up.”
“It could backfire. You assume the best thing is to come clean and believe that everyone who loved you before will continue to love you. That’s not always the case. I speak from experience.”
I understood where Nisha was coming from and knew that she spoke about her experience with her family. I wanted to tell Nisha I was sorry for what happened with her parents, but remind her that I was Sugar with millions of fans around the world; I wasn’t worried.
“I get what you’re saying, honey, but I don’t have time to worry about who doesn’t love me after this. That’s their problem, not mine.”
“Even if there’s bad press from what we’re about to do?”
“All press is good press as they say.”
“Okay, just making sure. I should have known you had already considered all angles.”
I considered the possibility that Nisha was getting cold feet herself. “You’re not worried about the response you’ll get, are you?” I asked. I could easily find someone to replace her.
“Nah, I’m good. After what I’ve been through with my f
amily, there’s not much anyone else can say that will affect me. Plus”—she breathed heavily into the phone—“I’m happy to be the chosen one.”
“The timing couldn’t have been more perfect for us to meet. You know, dear, I don’t know if Ace planned to take you and Beau on as a client, but what we’re about to be will guarantee that she won’t.”
“That’s cool,” Nisha said. “If Ace even hinted to wanting to keep me gagged and tied up in the closet, I wasn’t going to sign with her anyway. I’m happy playing little bars in Chicago if that’s what it takes to be me.”
“I hear you. I wish I had had the same backbone you do when I was your age. But, better late than never. It’s time for Sugar to set herself free.”
We talked for a while longer, confirming every detail of our plan before we got off the phone. Then I showered, flat ironed my hair, applied makeup, and put on a sexy, summer maxi dress. I placed oversized, dark sunglasses on my face and a large brimmed beach-style hat. I was prepared to take a quick and quiet five-block walk to Ace’s condo, incognito, unless a fan recognized me. Which happened more and more everywhere I went in Chicago.
Outside I took in the early evening warmth; the sun had gradually begun its slow journey to the west. I walked and softly hummed “All is Fair in Love,” a Stevie Wonder oldie, its lyrics appropriate for my and Ace’s upcoming fate. I loved Ace without a doubt, but I was ready to end it since she wasn’t willing to live the life I wanted to live with her.
At a corner two blocks from her condo, I stood at a stoplight, irritated that the light hadn’t changed upon my approach. A drop-top Sebring slowed and paused in front of me, though it had the green light. The car was filled with two guys and two excited girls. “Sugar? Sugar! Is that you?” they yelled.
I tipped my sunglasses down and peeked at them over the rim. I smiled and then put my finger over my mouth in a “shh” gesture. I didn’t want to cause a ruckus in the middle of the street because a superstar stood on the corner. They respected my wish, honked their horn, and screamed, “We love you!” before driving off. Of course you do. And you will still love me after next week.
At Ace’s condo I used my keys to let myself inside the building and I rode the elevator to tenth floor, where she had a corner unit on the southeast end that faced downtown. Inside she stood at the bar, her back to me, the floor-to-ceiling window displaying Chicago’s skyline in front of her. She was casual, dressed in army green loose-fitting linen pants and a white tank top. A small tattoo of a music note rested on her shoulder blade. The muscle in her left arm curved slightly when she reached for a bottle of Belvedere vodka. She poured it over ice in two small glasses and added a lemon wedge to each. Finally, she turned around and walked toward me standing in the foyer of the open room.
I was taken back to her first approach to me eleven years ago. Even with the strain between us, she walked confidently, just as she had then, until she was right in front of me, her body against mine. She kissed my lips. “Hello,” she said, and handed me a glass.
For a moment I felt bad for what I was about to do to our relationship. Ace had only done what she said was my best interest in mind by sheltering my sexuality and our relationship. She had spent years catering to my every other need and in a week I was about to throw it all away.
“Hey,” I said to her, then took a sip of the potent libation as we both sat on her couch.
We had a busy week ahead of us. The next morning Ace was leaving for a three-day business trip to New York. I had several interviews lined up and classes to teach at the community center. I didn’t know how much time we would have together before next Sunday’s performance and I was hot for her. I wanted her between my thighs and because I didn’t know if it was going to be our last time intimate with one another, I wanted to make it the best time.
I reached for her breasts, which were small, just enough to fit inside the palms of my hands. I rubbed and squeezed gently. I stroked her pointed nipples through the tank top. Ace continued to sip on her drink, her eyes on me. It was uncommon for me to initiate pleasure to her. All she had ever wanted to do was please me and only rarely was I allowed to be the aggressor on her. She didn’t protest. I kissed her, drinking in the vodka on her breath. Slowly she lowered herself until she lay flat on the couch, and I was on top.
With my left hand I loosened the tie around the waist of her pants and slid my hand inside. She was aroused, her body told me so. I played with her lips, and she got wetter. I found her small pleasure spot and played with it. Her body ground against mine. I looked down on her, her eyes closed, her body twitching with pleasure. Until . . .
She stopped, her eyes suddenly opened wide. She grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me hard. She pushed me back until she was on top, back in control where she wanted to be. She dove under my dress and pushed my legs open. I wore no panties and she wasted no time. Ace once told me she had tasted no one like me before. She said the thick flesh at my middle was the juiciest and sweetest she ever had. She ate like she was ravenous.
We moved to her bedroom where we spent the rest of the evening wrapped around each other. She loved when I spread my legs and rocked my middle against hers, her flesh slippery and overpowered by the thickness of mine. She liked getting lost in my ass, my cheeks smothering her face while she licked from one end to the other. We indulged in every position imaginable, until rest commanded and took over our bodies.
In the morning, we lay facing one another when the alarm sounded at six a.m. We said little, as we had the night before. It was probably for the best as there wasn’t much to say that wouldn’t wind us into an argument. She recommended her driver take me home but I insisted I wanted to walk again.
On the early morning stroll back to my condo, energetic and focused joggers strode past me without acknowledgment. At the stoplight, drivers were busy sipping on coffee or touching up makeup in their rearview mirrors to notice me. No one paid any attention to the woman in a yellow wrinkled dress standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. Everyone was absorbed in his or her own Monday morning busyness. That was fine; I would have hated for paparazzi to have caught a photo of me in that state. No, I had to be perfect when the camera lens landed on me, just as I planned to be on Saturday.
Sugar @SugarChitown Rise & shine lovelies! Make sure you’re fresh & camera ready today!
Chapter 10
Sugar Craving
The park was packed with concertgoers strewn about the lawn, most of them on blankets with picnic baskets and wine. Many had spent the day at the festival visiting art exhibits, eating famous Chicago foods like Italian beef sandwiches, listening to poetry, and shopping at the stands throughout the area. As the evening came upon us, the grounds became more crowded as they prepared for me, the headline of the entire weekend’s events.
Prestin, one of the organizers behind the event, had been working closely with Ace in preparation for my performance. It had taken little convincing of Prestin for her to allow Beau to open for me. Ace had told me that Prestin, a lesbian herself, had already heard of Beau and wanted to support them in any way she could. I knew of Prestin; we had crossed paths occasionally at various happenings over the years, and I recalled feeling envious of her and her girlfriend’s openness with their relationship. They walked red carpets together and were unashamed to show affection. From what I had read about Prestin, she had been single and loving every minute of her lifestyle until Jaye, a stunning beauty, captured and held her attention. She had been off the market since. I had wondered why Ace didn’t feel we could have the same kind of open, successful relationship that they shared.
The night before, Prestin had been at the stage for my and Beau’s rehearsal. She strutted the stage and venue gracefully in enviable stilettos.
“Everything good for you, Sugar?” she had asked after I ran through a couple of songs.
“I’d like more moments when the stage is darkened and there’s one spotlight just on me. Ace, you know which songs I’m
referring to and when I want that to happen,” I told both Ace and Prestin. “Can you two work that out?”
“You got it,” Ace had replied. Prestin took notes on the paper attached to the clipboard she had in her hands while Ace gave her specific instructions. I hoped they had gotten it correct, as it was of the utmost importance that the lighting was accurate.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Prestin asked me. She had stopped by my dressing room backstage as I began to prepare for my performance. She had on yet another pair of glorious stilettos.
“More tea,” I told her just as I sat in the chair while LaTrice, one of my hairstylists, began to part my weave. LaTrice was one of the best weave stylists I knew, but the girl was hood and spoke in Chicago’s Southern-style dialect. I had kept her around only for her phenomenal hairstyling skills.
“So what we doin’ tonight?” LaTrice asked, already fingering through my hair, grabbing portions, and mocking certain up-do and down styles.
“Curls galore,” I told her. For my performance, I had selected an emerald green sequined gown and wanted to appear as glamorous as the great Diana Ross. “The bigger, the better.”
LaTrice obliged and began to section off my hair.
“So you just blowin’ up, girl,” LaTrice said before she took a hot rod to my hair.
“I know,” I agreed.
“I heard a DJ the other day say that ‘Feel My Love’ is as classic and timeless and Rick and Teena’s ‘Fire And Desire.’ I was like, that’s my girl!”
“Say what?” I replied, excited but not surprised by the compliment and comparison.
“Yes, girl, he said there was gon’ be some babies made to your jam. I can’t even lie, I done played it a couple times myself with my man. We be gettin’ it on to you, Sugar, how you like that?” She cracked up.
“I would expect nothing less.” We both laughed.
