I sit with the rest of the kids waiting for their parents to arrive before heading home myself. When I walk out of the school, parked across the street and leaning against his black smoked out Dodge Challenger is Tron. I drop my bags and run into his arms.
“How did you know I was here?” I squeal as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and shower his face with kisses.
“I’m a stalker,” he smiles in between kisses.
“What are you doing here? You’re on tour.”
“I’ll be heading to Connecticut tomorrow. I just want to hold you and spend the night with you,” he says kissing my cheek.
“Yes, of course. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Well, I guess you don’t need a ride anymore?” Dontay and Estelle laugh as they witness this whole scene. “Troneesah in full affect.”
“Shut-up, Dontay. Meet you at the house,” I tell him climbing inside Tron’s car.
“I have a show Christmas night in Tennessee. Do you want to come with me?” Tron asks.
“Yes, I’ll come. I’m not doing anything that night. I’m gonna chill backstage though.”
“Are we on that again?” He asks annoyed.
“On what?”
“You not wanting to be seen with me.”
“I just don’t want people in our business and besides, you’re with Kai. How the hell is that going to look?”
“I will call her right now and tell her that it’s over if you would just stop being so damn scared.”
“Tarron, I just got home. Can we not?”
“Not what?”
“Argue. I’ve only been with you for five minutes and you’re already giving me a headache.”
“Whatever Aneesah. Just know that I am going to eventually get tired of this sneaking around shit when I want something more.”
“You don’t know what you want,” I mumble.
“What?”
“I don’t trust you. You’re young and dumb. You are just scratching the surface of your success and fame. Fame changes people. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Bullshit. I will forever be me.”
“You don’t know that. Fame is a whole different type of monster.”
“Did it change you?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I get what I want when I want it, all because of my name,” I confess. What I don’t confess to him is the one thing I want more than anything—love. That real, pure, intense love. That’s something fame, and money will never be able to buy. Although Tron has all the qualities that makes me love him, he isn’t ready for a full fledge commitment yet.
“That’s a cop out Aneesah. Just admit that it’s my age.”
“Are you happy when you’re with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does making it official matter? Just be happy with me.”
“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”
“Seriously? Did you just hit me with the side piece, female anthem?” I laugh. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything further on our drive to my house.
Tron and I spend some much needed quality time together during my little hiatus. I spent Christmas with him and his family, which was great. I hadn’t realized I missed them until I got there and chilled with Pops again. We still got into our petty arguments, but I finally got Tron to see things my way and he stopped pressing the issue of us being together.
I leave Tennessee December 30th to spend the New Year with the kids, giving their parents a much-needed break. Pree begs me to come out with them since Nyce is throwing a New Year’s Eve bash at his club, but I decline. I really just want to be home with my babies and let them drive me crazy as I chase them around the house.
Shortly after the New Year, I fly out to do the Australian leg of the tour.
“Did you see this?” Dontay asks as we are chilling in our hotel room. He shows me pictures of Tron and Kai spending New Year’s Eve together at Taylor Swift’s party. Kai’s caption reads: my love; my heart as they engage in a kiss with a clock behind them reading 12 o’clock. Happy New Year Babe is what Tron’s response is under the photo. I know what I said about not wanting to be official and shit but this kind of hurt my feelings. Moreover, Tron is not calling or responding to my texts and calls like he used to. Maybe he did give up on me and is moving on. I can’t even be mad at him. He deserves to be with someone his own age and as the weeks go on, Tron starts to become more distant to the point where I can’t even get a hold of him anymore. Catching the clue, I stop texting and calling him all together.
***
I am beyond exhausted, flying between Europe and New York, still trying to finish up Lena. I can’t wait for this project to be over. Not that I am not enjoying myself because I am putting my all into this film.
When February rolls around, Lena has finally wrapped and I’m killing it at the Grammy’s this year, busting a world record winning 9 total, passing Michael Jackson and Santana and joining the elite list for Record of the Year. Only ten other black artists have ever won, with the last award being issued to Herbie Hancock in 2008.
“You have to go to the after party and bask in all your glory,” Dontay says when the award show is finally over, and I am finishing up with the press releases.
“Do I have to?” I whine.
“Of course, so come on and change your clothes girl.” We head back to our hotel room at the W in Beverly Hills. I change into a short, tight fitting dress that Morgan designed and let Dontay fix my hair. Accompanied by him and Estelle, we walk into the ballroom of the hotel for the Clive Davis after party.
“There goes your man,” Estelle whispers to me.
“Shut-up,” I tell her. I sip on some champagne and watch him and Kai float around the room.
Trying to enjoy the evening, I sit at one of the tables and bust it up with a few of my “co-workers” about tonight’s winnings. I jump out of my seat to try to flag down the waiter that has these shrimp puffs that he’s serving when I see Tron walking towards me.
“Congratulations,” he approaches.
“Thank you,” I respond.
Silence.
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” I tell him trying to excuse myself to catch up to the guy with the shrimp puffs.
“You don’t miss me?” Tron asks.
“Am I supposed to?”
“Well, yeah. I miss you.”
“I’ve called and texted. You have a funny way of showing someone that you miss them.”
“Aneesah, we had a great time over the holidays and then you left, and that shit hurt. I don’t want to do this sneaking around shit anymore. I’m in fuckin’ love wit’ your ass,” he confesses.
“Was that so hard to say?” I smile.
“Yeah, when the person you are in love with doesn’t love you back.”
“How do you know how I feel if you never asked me?”
“Don’t play because you got me all the way fucked up.”
I shrug my shoulders.
“Do you love me?” He asks.
I don’t respond. Of course, I do but what he is asking me for is going to cost me something I find myself valuing the most—my privacy.
“See, this is the shit I’m talking about,” he snaps before trying to walk away.
“Tarron, wait,” I grab his arm.
“I am not in the mood to play your fuckin’ games. I want you…all of you and if you don’t want me then we have nothing to talk about.” We stare at each other in silence before he shakes his head at me.
“Tarron,” I call his name.
“I’m not playing this game. If you want me, you’re going to have to open your fuckin’ mouth and tell me,” he says walking away. I’m not sure if I should laugh, cry, chase after him or what. My emotions are all jacked up. I look at the time and decide to leave since I have a show in Switzerland the day after tomorrow. I am not looking forward to that 10-hour flight. I tell Dontay and Estelle I’m going bac
k to the room and remind them that our flight leaves tomorrow morning.
Six days have passed since I last talked to Tron at the party and I have finally come to terms that my happiness trumps my privacy and media backlash. As far as the age difference, either I’m immature or he’s too mature but for some odd reason, we work.
As I am undressing out of my costume after my show, I grab my cell phone and text “I love you too” before hopping in the shower. By the time I’m finished getting dressed, Tron still hasn’t texted me back. I wait all night for him to respond to my message, but he never does. He doesn’t respond to me the next day nor the day after that.
I’m on my tour stop in Milan. I’m at the part in my show where I am searching for an audience member to pull up on stage with me to perform “He Makes Me…” The song that was originally titled “Orgasm”. I both love and hate this part of the show. I love pulling an unsuspecting man on stage to give him a lap dance but hate the fact that 9 times out of 10, I can feel their hard-on through my costume.
As I’m teasingly surfing the crowd with all the male hands shooting up in the air yelling “Pick Me”, the crowd suddenly gets rowdier than usual.
“TRON,” they scream. I look behind me and Tron is walking on stage holding bouquet of white roses. A mega-watt smile spreads across my face as I leap into his arms and the crowd screams.
“What are you doing here?” I ask kissing his face.
“Because I need you to say the words to my face and not over some lame-ass text message.”
I smile.
“You’re interrupting my show.”
“Girl, I just flew for like twelve hours to spend five hours with you. You better tell me you love me, damn it.”
“The microphone is on,” I whisper trying to turn off my mic pack, so our conversation is private and not shared with the 54,000+ people in the stadium, not to mention the people who are live streaming it.
“Stop,” he says removing my hands from the pack. “Tell me you love me, and I will let you finish your show.”
“I love you,” I blush while pulling him close to me. I hand the flowers to one of the security men and escort Tron to the chair on stage where I usually bless a male fan with a lap dance. Tron happily accepts and he, just like almost every other male I put in that chair grows a hard-on as I perform.
Chapter Fourteen
The world now knows that Tron and I are official as I get tossed up in this internet love triangle of #teamtroneesah vs #teamkairon. This shit’s worse than that whole Chris Brown, Karrueche, Rihanna whirlwind and I DO NOT like it. The media and public tear me a new asshole for being a grown woman in this situation. With Tron being 27 and Kai being 25, this looks so fuckin’ crazy and I can’t believe that I am even in this to begin with.
“Babe, it’s fine. It worked for Usher and Chili, J.Lo and Drake, Demi and Ashton,” Tron says as we are skyping. I just finished a show in Tokyo and he is preparing for his show in Texas.
“They all broke up, Tarron,” I remind him. “And you’re only saying that because nobody is attacking you,” I huff.
“What are you talking about? They are calling me all types of dogs and womanizers. Shit. Kai’s fans are bashing me all over the damn net.”
“That’s only giving you more street cred.”
“Aneesah, come on. You preach to me all the time on how I need to have thick skin in this business. You need to be taking your own advice.”
“I know but I don’t want my actions affecting my nieces and nephew.”
“Babe, your fans and other women are applauding you too. Look at the good tweets and shit, and stop looking at the bad ones.”
“Your stupid ex ain’t making the shit any better. She even teamed up with Heather B to twitter bash me. They act like I swooped in and stole you from her or something.”
“You did,” he laughs. “I’m just playin’. What can I do to make this better?”
“Age six years,” I laugh. “This is such bullshit because if I were a man, this wouldn’t even be an issue,” I whine, reading one of Heather’s tweets.
@therealheatherb…hickory-dickory-dock that old bitty is racing against her biological clock
Dumb bitch is older than I am, is what I’m tempted to tweet back.
“If you were a man, I wouldn’t be trying to make love to you every chance I got,” he winks. “You look tired babe. What time is it?”
“2:36 am,” I respond with a yawn.
“Time difference sucks,” he replies. It’s currently 4:36 pm in Texas.
“What time’s your show?” I ask.
“At nine.”
“Don’t you think you should get a nap in?”
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“I’ll be here baby. Call me before you go on stage, so I can wish you luck.”
“Show me something I can remember you by,” he smirks. I lift up my shirt and flash him my boobs.
“I miss those,” he laughs.
“And they miss you back,” I wink.
“Love you.”
“I love you too,” I tell him shutting my laptop. I lie back in bed and fall fast asleep.
Waking up around 1:30 that afternoon, I check my phone and Tron hasn’t called or texted me. I surf the net to see how his show went and discover that he and a bunch of his boys have been busy at the strip club after the show. Not only are there photos but videos as well. I’m not opposed to my man going to the strip club. I don’t mind him slapping a booty or even getting a lap dance. What I am appalled at is the video showing Tron disappearing into one of the private rooms.
Forget #troneesah and #kairon. The new hottest couple is Tron with a stripper. I think we should call them #tronipper, the caption reads on Bossip. I will be glad when the whole trend of smashing names together is over. Of course per twitter, Heather B and Kai has something to say.
@therealheatherb… HAAAAAAAAAAA…that’s what her old ass gets
@kaih…now she gets to live & b treated the same way he has treated me #karma
@amazin’grace…will u 2 shut-up sounding like 2 scorned bitter azz ladies
I jump out of bed to get dressed for my photo shoot with Vogue Japan. I head over to the studio and mentally prepare myself for the interview. I know the shoot and interview is going to be long and irritating since I am pretty sure that the interviewer is going to bring up not only this love triangle between me, Tron, and Kai but now this stripper shit.
The shoot goes exactly how I predicted as I dodge questions pertaining to my relationship.
“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Is the first thing Pree says when I answer her call later that evening.
“I haven’t jumped to anything yet. All I’m saying is that it’s after 9:00 in the evening here, which means it’s after 11:00 am there and I still haven’t heard from this niggah.”
“You know how it is Aneesah. Party all night and wake up in the afternoon to do it all over again. We lived that life, remember? And you already know that a picture is worth a 1000 words. You can’t believe all that shit. He probably just got a little freaky lap dance.”
“Or he went in the back room to fuck,” I laugh. “We haven’t seen each other in almost four weeks.”
“Just don’t freak out and remember to remain calm until you hear him out.”
“Whatever Pree. You’re always sticking up for him.”
“No, I’m not. I am sticking up for you and don’t want you to make a mistake by jumping to conclusions.”
“Uh-huh. Hey pretty girl,” I say smiling at Kenya who is eating one of her toys and drooling all over Pree’s arm. “I can’t believe she’ll be one in a few short months,” I laugh.
“I know right. Are you going to be here?”
“Of course. I’ll be home for a minute traveling between Philly and New York to do the promos for Leana, and plus I’m doing Made in America this year,” I tell her referring to Jay-Z’s concert festival that he hosts every year in Philly. It’s like the Coachella
for the city.
“Yeah, I know. We will definitely see you there. The whole family is coming.”
“Y’all do know that you don’t have to come to every Philly show I do, right?”
“Who said that we are coming to see you? Solange and Kendrick Lamar are performing. I want to see them,” Pree laughs.
“Whatever. Tron’s performing too,” I tell her.
“I know that. Y’all gonna put on a show?”
“Yup.”
“Can Nyce come?” Pree blurts out. “And before you say no, remember his niece. I’m sure he wants to see her perform.”
“Nyce came to the Philly show. He just stayed out of my way like I prefer.”
“Yeah but this is a different kind of venue. Can’t really hide from people backstage.”
“Whatever,” I laugh. “I don’t care if he comes. Just keep him and his troll away from me.”
“Speaking of, Nyce has been spending most of his nights sleeping in our guest room. I’m about to tell this niggah he needs to shell out some money for groceries or some shit.”
“I don’t care Pree. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Yes, you do. You’re just being stubborn,” she laughs.
“Anyway, have you spoken to Dani?” I ask.
“Yeah. We all met up for drinks a couple of weeks ago.”
“How is she?”
“She’s Dani,” Pree says shrugging her shoulders.
“Is my house still in one piece?” I laugh.
“Yeah. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. She wouldn’t hurt you that way. I just wished she would get her behind off drugs. That shits crazy. You have to be some sort of special weak-minded person to destroy yourself that way.”
“I recall you popping a pill or two and smoking weed in your heyday.”
“Yeah but I ain’t get strung out on no damn pills and I never shot anything up my arm. I don’t understand what the fuck be wrong with people who have. What a waste.”
“Waste of what?” I question.
“A waste of a person. I could never respect a person who is too strung out all because they can’t deal with life.”
Unveiled Page 25
