Losing It

by Zaria Garrison

  “I know, but I don’t understand why. She didn’t shoot Dad. I know she didn’t. I don’t care what the newspapers say. I don’t care what the police say. I know Mom. She didn’t do it.”

  “Jeanna, you’re too young to understand what goes on in a marriage between a man and a woman. Sometimes things get out of control.”

  “I’m fourteen years old, Grandma. Mom and Dad hardly ever disagree about anything. There’s no way she got mad enough to shoot him.”

  Angela Cleveland pulled out a chair and sat down across from Jeanna. Without speaking, she grabbed a rubber band from the table and pulled her fiery red hair into a ponytail. When she was done straightening it out, she turned to Jeanna. “Honey, when your daddy was growing up, he and your uncles never saw me and your grandpa argue. We made sure of that. But I can tell you that doesn’t mean we didn’t have our fights.”

  “Okay, so they disagreed. Mom is a Christian woman; she’d never shoot anybody. She would get angry and walk away or something. Give me one good reason why she’d shoot him.”

  Angela rolled her green eyes at the mere thought of Sharmaine. She’d never had an issue with her, but she’d always believed that one day she’d go “Hollywood” and change. Angela felt that day had finally come. “Do you know about that sex tape your mother made?” she asked.

  “That’s not her in that tape. She and Daddy both told us that it’s just somebody who looks like her.”

  “Jeanna, I don’t want to turn you against your mother, honestly I don’t, but she’s not being truthful with you. Any fool can tell that’s her face in that video tape.”

  Angela stood up and went to her kitchen drawer. She pulled out a copy of the National Enquirer with Sharmaine’s picture on the front. She flipped it open in front of Jeanna.

  “Now, I’d never show this to your little brother, but I showed Camille, and now I have to show you too. Look at that face, and honestly tell me it’s not your mother,” she said.

  Jeanna turned her head, refusing to look at the newspaper. “I don’t care what that paper says, she replied.

  Angela picked it up from the table and shoved it in front of Jeanna’s nose. “Look at it, girl. Just look at it,” she said.

  “That’s not my mom.” Jeanna began to cry, but still refused to look at the paper.

  “It is, honey. I think your father realized that too. I believe when he confronted your mother about it, she shot him.” Angela took the newspaper and returned it to the kitchen drawer. Jeanna put her head down on the table and continued sobbing.

  “Quiet down, child. You are going to wake everyone up,” Angela said.

  “Just leave me alone. I want to be alone,” she answered.

  “All right, I’m going back to my room, but don’t stay up much longer.” Angela walked over to the phone and pulled the receiver from the base then unplugged it. She took the phone receiver and returned to her bedroom.

  Brenetta Reeves walked briskly down the hallway of Raga Records as she left her husband’s office. Her heels clicked on the manicured floors, echoing throughout the halls. She stopped at the end of the hallway and pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened, and she was just about to step on when she heard her name being called.

  “Mrs. Reeves, can you wait just a minute?”

  Brenetta turned around and saw her husband’s secretary, Stephanie, running after her. Patiently, she waited by the elevator for her to catch up.

  “Mr. Reeves asked that you bring this folder of information along with you to the meeting, Stephanie said.

  “Thank you, Stephanie. Please call my husband and tell him I’m on my way,” she said then stepped on the elevator.

  Brenetta whistled as the elevator descended. She was elated that her husband had asked her to go along with him to see Sharmaine Cleveland. Shawn planned to tell Sharmaine that although he’d released her CD, he was planning to pull it from the shelves very soon, unless she could come up with a good reason to stop him. Brenetta held in her hands the proposal they planned to offer Sharmaine, and she felt confident she’d accept it. It was the first time Shawn had seriously allowed her to be a part of his business dealings, and she intended to make him proud.

  When Brenetta finally arrived on Sharmaine’s street, the limo driver stopped several houses down the block. The street was filled with reporters and news crews camped outside Sharmaine’s home.

  She pressed the button, rolling down the window that separated her from the driver. “This is madness. Is there any way to get through?”she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s just going to take a bit longer,” he answered as he inched the limo forward.

  Several reporters and camera men ran toward them, trying to catch a glimpse of who was inside. Finally, after spending twenty minutes only yards from Sharmaine’s front gate, the driver was able to pull in and make his way up the circular driveway.

  Shawn was waiting outside Sharmaine’s home in his Lexus. He stepped out as soon as he noticed them driving up. “I’ve been waiting over an hour, Brenetta,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, but the traffic on this street is ridiculous. Reporters are everywhere.”

  “What did you expect when you arrived in a limousine?” He turned to her driver. “You can go now. Mrs. Reeves will ride back with me. He handed him a fifty dollar tip; then the two of them approached Sharmaine’s door and rang the bell.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, come in. Mrs. Cleveland is expecting you,” Consuela said as she greeted them warmly. She stopped to offer each of them a drink, which they declined, before ushering them into Sharmaine’s home office.

  Sharmaine was seated on the sofa, dressed casually in black pants and a pink blouse. Shawn immediately noticed how tired she looked. He felt sorry for what she was going through.

  Brenetta, on the other hand, had no such emotions. “Dang, you look awful,” she commented. “Have you been sleeping?”

  “Actually, I haven’t slept very well at all, Brenetta,” she answered. “It’s been four weeks since the shooting, and Leon is still in a coma. Excuse me for not putting on a Cover Girl face for you.” She rolled her eyes at Brenetta.

  “I’m sorry for that remark,” Shawn said, apologizing for his wife. “May we sit down?” he asked politely.

  “Of course. Excuse my manners. Please have a seat, both of you,” Sharmaine answered.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush with you, Sharmaine. I don’t have good news, but hopefully we can work together to do something that will benefit all of us,” Shawn said. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat.

  “I’ve seen the reports. I know the CD is not doing well at all. I think if I could get out and do some promotions it would help. Victor is working on getting special permission for me to travel for tour dates.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Shawn hesitated. “We’re pulling the CD, Sharmaine,” he said solemnly.

  “I was afraid of something like this. Is there a possibility that you’d reconsider?” Sharmaine pleaded.

  “Are you crazy? How can you expect Shawn to put his entire career and company on the line for you?” Brenetta asked.

  Surprised, she looked over at Brenetta. “Why are you here anyway?” She turned to Shawn. “Since when is Brenetta involved in these types of things?”

  “I brought Brenetta along because she’s come up with a solution that may help us recoup some of the money we’ve lost on this CD and tour. Since it was her idea, I thought it would be best to let her present it to you.”

  Sharmaine raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She then turned to look at Brenetta. “Fine. What is your solution?” she asked.

  Brenetta opened the folder that was on her lap and pulled out a stack of pornographic photographs. She handed one to Sharmaine. “Do you know who this is?” she asked.

  “No, and frankly I don’t care. Those photos are disgusting,” Sharmaine sneered, then turned to Shawn. “What is this all about?” Sharmaine asked.

  “Just
let her finish,” he answered.

  “Fine, but take this filth away from me.” Sharmaine handed the picture back to Brenetta.

  “Since you don’t know, I’ll tell you. This picture is of Dirk Northridge of TV’s classic show School’s In.”

  “Didn’t he play the blonde teen hero on that show?” Sharmaine asked.

  “Yes, but after it was cancelled, he had trouble finding work again, because he was typecast. A sex tape of him and his girlfriend was accidentally released after his laptop was stolen. But it sold millions of copies. After that success, he decided to start doing porn films, and he’s become a multi-millionaire doing so. The porn industry is one of the most lucrative in the country right now.”

  Sharmaine scrunched up her face and looked back and forth between Brenetta and Shawn, trying desperately to figure out what she was getting at.

  “Snoop Dogg is another musician who is making porn movies,” Brenetta continued. “Shawn and I believe there is money to be made here.”

  “Are you suggesting I start making pornographic movies?” Sharmaine asked.

  “No. We are suggesting that you admit it’s you on the sex tape. You don’t have to make any new movies. We just want to make a profit on the one that is already out,” Brenetta answered.

  “Sharmaine, Raga RecordsDVD division is prepared to back this fully and anonymously under one of our partnering companies. I’ve managed to get my hands on some really good copies of the tape. We’ll cover the packaging and distribution cost after you sign off on it,” Shawn added.

  “You are out of your mind. You both are out of your minds. That is not me on the tape. Besides that, I am a woman of God. I’m not going into the porn business,” Sharmaine shrieked.

  “Sharmaine, we are not asking you to go into the business. I’ve prepared a statement to be released to the press where you simply admit that it’s you on the tape. You would state that it was done a long time ago, but you’ve put that part of your life behind you.” Shawn reached over to Brenetta to retrieve the statement and handed it to Sharmaine.

  Slowly, she read over it before answering. “You want me to lie and say it’s me. Leon and I have been married eighteen years. Just when do you propose that I pretend I made it?”

  “The details are not really important. Sharmaine, everyone has skeletons. Remember when Kirk Franklin admitted his porn addiction? His wife even helped him talk about it on some talk shows. Your fans will understand that you made a mistake. We won’t publicly do any promotions, but I believe that it will really sell. You’d be amazed at the number of hits it’s received online.” Shawn smiled at her and then at Brenetta, satisfied with their presentation.

  “This whole idea is absolutely crazy. I cannot believe that the two of you would come here with this nonsense. I’d expect as much from Brenetta, but, Shawn, not you. We’ve known each other for years. How did you let her talk you into this?” Sharmaine crumpled up the press release and tossed it in Shawn’s direction.

  He picked it up off the floor before speaking. “No disrespect, Sharmaine, but I think this is one of the best ideas Brenetta has come up with. Let’s face it; things don’t look great for you right now. The tapes are minor compared to this attempted murder charge. I respect your faith. Honestly, I do. But you’ve got to meet us halfway on this thing.”

  “Do you understand what you are asking me to do, Shawn? You are asking me to go against everything I believe in. Never mind the fact that it’s not me in those tapes, but as a Christian, the last thing I want to do is be responsible for putting more porn out there. I’m sorry. I won’t do it.” She paused before continuing. “I can’t do it.”

  Shawn stood up and motioned for Brenetta to join him. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Sharmaine, but you’ve left me no choice. Raga Records is officially cancelling your contract with us. We are not only pulling this CD, but we are ceasing production on everything you’ve recorded in the past.”

  Sharmaine stood up to face him, and her eyes grew wide with surprise. “What? You can’t be serious. I’m the most successful act on your label.”

  “No, Sharmaine, you were the most successful. With your current status, I’d be lucky to get five dollars for a bootleg of your CD! If I continue producing your CDs, I’m only going to go deeper in debt. It’s over and done.”

  Sharmaine was surprised to hear Shawn raise his voice, and somewhat frightened as he continued to yell.

  “I’ve spent millions on promotions, only to see it all go up in smoke when that video was released. I could have saved some money if I’d cancelled the CD then, but I trusted you. I believed you when you said it wasn’t you. Then on the morning of your CD release, your husband ends up shot four times.” He paused and slowly shook his head. “I had to cancel a forty-city tour, and not only did I lose money, but a huge chunk of my integrity is gone as well. I have no other choices, Sharmaine. Our business relationship is over.”

  “I told you Victor is working on getting me approved to tour,” Sharmaine said quietly.

  “It’s too late for that. I couldn’t get you booked at a kid’s birthday party at this point. The tape was bad enough. The shooting and attempted murder charge made things a thousand times worse.”

  “Are you suggesting I shot Leon? Is that what you believe, Shawn?” Sharmaine stared at him intently, waiting for an answer.

  He averted his eyes, not wanting to answer her question. Instead, he shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Well, I believe it,” Brenetta said smugly. “All of the evidence leads right to you.”

  Sharmaine’s heart sank. Although they clashed at times, it hurt to hear that Brenetta believed she was guilty. She returned to the sofa and sat down, slowly shaking her head. “I thought you were more than the owner of my record label, Shawn. I thought you ... I thought both of you were my friends,” she said quietly.

  “We are your friends, Sharmaine. That’s why I wish you’d sign these papers,” Shawn replied.

  “No, you are not. A friend would never ask me to do this,” she answered.

  Brenetta suddenly stepped closer to the sofa between Sharmaine and her husband. She pointed her long, thin finger at Sharmaine’s nose. “Shawn came here to try and help you in your time of need. This is the thanks he gets. How dare you sit here acting righteous and sanctimonious with no regard for what this is costing anyone else? You are a selfish woman, Sharmaine.” She looked at her husband. “Shawn, let’s go.” Brenetta turned on her heels and quickly left the office.

  Shawn laid the folder down on the sofa and took one last pleading look at Sharmaine. “I wish I could help you, but you’ve made it impossible. Your life is going straight down the toilet. I’m sorry, but I don’t plan to end up in the sewer with you. My attorneys will be in touch,” he said. Quietly, he followed Brenetta out the door.

  Sharmaine buried her face in her hands. She fought back tears, realizing that she seemed to cry daily lately. Hearing footsteps in her office, she looked up.

  “Ms. Sharmaine, you have a phone call. It’s Mr. Jack calling from the hospital,” Consuela said.

  Sharmaine jumped up and grabbed the phone from her hands. “Big brother, what’s going on with Leon?” she asked.

  “He’s awake, Sharmaine. He’s still a bit groggy, but he’s opening his eyes, and he recognizes everyone.”

  “Thank you, Jesus!” Sharmaine said as the tears of joy flooded her face. She did a quick happy dance of praise around her office before continuing. “Jack, has he said anything? Does he remember what happened to him?”

  “Yes, he remembers everything.”

  “That’s’ wonderful news. I want to see him. Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I’ll be right over.”

  “Don’t come here. I won’t allow you anywhere near him.”

  “Jack, I don’t understand. If he remembers everything that happened, he’ll want to see me. He can tell the police I’m innocent.”

  “The police have already interviewed him, and that’s not
what he said.”

  Sharmaine sat down on the couch, bewildered. “What did he say, Jack? Please, you have to tell me.”

  “I promised I’d let you know his condition. I’ve done my part. Just stay away from the hospital and away from my brother.”

  “Jack, please. Don’t hang up on me. Just tell me what he said. After that, I promise I won’t bother you again.”

  Jack held the phone silently for several moments then finally, he spoke. “He said he woke up that morning and you were not in bed. He heard the shower running, so he went to the bathroom door to surprise you. When he walked in, the bathroom was full of steam, and he couldn’t see anything, but he felt the first shot. He turned around and tried to run, and he felt another shot in his back. He made it the top of the stairs, and he remembers falling down them. After that, he blacked out. I guess you pumped the other two bullets into his back after he was on the floor.”

  “No, that can’t be true. I was in bed. I got up and I found him.”

  “Shut up, Sharmaine. He said you were not there. Why don’t you stop with these lies?” Jack yelled.

  Sharmaine started to cry yet again. “I don’t understand what’s going on. This whole thing is crazy,” she sobbed.

  “No. You are crazy if you think anyone is buying your innocent act. Leon is on the mend, and the doctors believe he will be released in a few weeks, so this is your two-week notice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I want you out of my brother’s house. You’d better not be there when I bring him home.”

  “You must be joking. This is my home. You can’t make me leave.”

  “No. That’s my baby brother’s house. When Leon and you moved in, you had one record playing locally on Atlanta radio stations. He paid for that house with money he earned before you were his wife. Maybe you’ve forgotten that Leon is no Stedman. He is a millionaire in his own right without you.”

  “It’s still our home, Leon, and I have shared this home with our family. It doesn’t matter where the money came from.”

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Sharmaine. You can either leave the house peacefully, or we’ll have you evicted.