I'll Be Good to You

by Christine Gray

  Cranking up my leased BMW i5, I reverse, switch to drive and speed out of the parking garage. Rounding the corner, I pause at the entrance for the arm to raise to allow me to exit. Leaning out the window, I toss the CD out the car. I hit the gas, and I pull the wheel, slightly left to swerve to ensure I roll over Johnny’s face. Petty I know, but with no one to witness my actions, I have no shame giving into the childish urge.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JOHNNY

  “Take a breath. You’ll be fine.”

  “Of course, I will be,” Tia snips.

  I bite my bottom lip to reframe from yelling at her. For the last two days, she’s been a little bitch. Every time I tried to call her to discuss our first day of taping, she shot me down. I take a second to glance around before walking closer to her makeup station in the corner of the closed-off room in the restaurant.

  “Your nervousness is going to show through,” I warn.

  Sliding out the chair to her feet, she glares at me. “The emotion is annoyance.”

  My strong hand closes around her arm to shake her into submission.

  “Put away the resting bitch face for the moment,” I growl into her ear. Another shake to rattle her brain and her legs are wobbly enough that I’m able to drag her around to face me.

  “I heard the camera assistant over here talking to you, and that guy is full of shit. Look,” I demand as I point across the room to the filming area. “Do not look into the camera. They are going to be panning in and out, which is going to take a second to get used to, but you will. Just remember, you’re not doing porn. Those big ass mics are going to be hanging over head, just ignore. Act like everyone else is invisible and focus on the real people. I know that might not make sense, but you’ll understand. And I’m sorry, but this is getting on my nerves,” I admit. I pause to snatch a makeup sponge from the table to smooth out her nose. “You got somebody coming to hook you up?” When Tia looks confused, I sigh. “You know, um…beat your face, do your make up because the chick from the network is going to have you looking like a cakey goddamn ghost.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. The person is running late.”

  “Well, you don’t have the pull to make the crew wait, so either the person is on time from now on or replace them. I’ll stall for a few minutes,” I offer after dabbing in the liquid makeup clumping under her eyes.

  **

  TIA

  “Thank you.”

  I swallow hard as I steal a peek of the area. I thought I would be alright. For the last two days, I’ve practiced speaking loudly and talking slow and clear with Mother and Brit. Yet, here I am, when it’s time to show my stuff, I’m ready to turn into a deer caught in high beams. I look at my reflection in the lit mirror. I cringe at what I see. I hate to admit it, but Johnny is so, so right. I look like a damn ashy zombie. Quickly, I snatch a wet wipe, clean my face, then grab my cell.

  “Where the fuck are you?” I growl into my phone behind my hand.

  “Look up, queen.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I praise while hanging up. “We’re running out of time.”

  “Chill, honey. My boy is a professional. It doesn’t take him long to work his magic,” promises Ryann.

  The man tips my head back with a finger under my chin. “Praise the goddess you have good skin. Um, you gonna do something with her head?”

  Ryann places a canvas bag on the stand. “I come to slay, bitch,” he laughs.

  The tension drains a bit. No longer am I alone in a sea of faces I don’t know. No longer am I looking at myself as if I’m out of my element. Ryann pulls out, opens, and shakes out a custom wig with the baby hair plucked. Without a word, he switches to stand behind me while his friend, I guess I should get his name, blocks out the mirror to get to work. In no time, my hair is braided down.

  “Are we going heavy or natural?”

  I glance at Ryann for an answer to the guy's question.

  “Make the foundation light, golden highlights…focus on her eyes, make them pop, but give her a bold lip,” instructs Ryann.

  The man tilts his head and nods in approval before leaning in.

  “OMG, is that Johnny Thicke?” hisses the man.

  “Shit, where? Where?” whispers Ryann. “Oh, my stars,” he cries, clutching one of his $5,000 breast.

  It wasn’t till then while glaring at Ryann that I notice his amazing makeup and hair. Now I know why these two were late.

  “Don’t cause a person to slip with all the drooling ya’ll a putting out,” I huff.

  The makeup guy cuts his eyes at Ryann. “I thought you said your boss is straight?”

  “Chile, she is. She just being petty and pretending to be unfazed,” replies Ryann with an eye roll.

  “Oh,” he mouths. “Sure thang, hunee,” he mocks while dabbing the correct foundation for my skin tone into my skin. “Hoe, take my edges. Is that Jay-Roc,” the man low shrieks.

  “Who?” I wonder while turning in the chair.

  “I thought you said it was just gonna be Johnny,” hisses Ryann.

  Righting myself in the chair, again, “I guess he and Chana came to watch,” I shrug. “Um, my face,” I press.

  “Yeah, right,” the man says in a mindless voice. He isn’t even paying attention to me.

  “Fuck, he’s coming over here,” whispers Ryann as he drops his eyes to the items lined on the table.

  “Hoe, how do I look?” the man asks in a rush.

  “Pimple faced, fat, and ashy,” mumbles Ryann.

  “Bitch, you-“

  “Tia, hey!”

  I smile at the light tap on my shoulder.

  “Wow, you look good. Was I the only one to show up not production-ready?” I joke.

  Chana is for sure on point.

  “Well that’s kinda standard. You never trust the network people to have someone staffed to see to your needs. I thought Johnny would have warned you about that.”

  I clamp my mouth shut. I won’t tell her that I’m sure he tried to the many times he called, but I wasn’t up to listening.

  “We have a trailer behind the restaurant,” she informs me.

  “That explains it,” I whisper to myself.

  “Are these your clothes?” she asks.

  I hadn’t even noticed the garment bag laying across the nearby chair.

  “Are those my clothes?” I repeat the question to Ryann.

  “I pray to God it is,” grumbles the makeup artist.

  “Yes,” remarks Ryann as he shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Stop throwing shade and finish.”

  I take note of the change in Ryann’s vibe. Gone was the joking to be replaced with a stiffness in his movements and lack of eye contact.

  “You can use the trailer,” offers Chana.

  She outstretches her arm for Ryann to drape the bag over it.

  “Done,” declares the makeup man.

  He steps to the side. I lean towards the mirror, blinking disbelievingly that the reflection I see is me. Flawless is the only word. He might talk shit, but he makes up for it in skill.

  “You got the job, um…”

  “Bianca.”

  “Alright, but next time you’re late, that’s it,” I warn.

  True to the custom of being extra, he jumps up and down, clapping like a fool. “No CPT got it.”

  I do a double-take at my reflection before walking away to follow Chana.

  **

  RYANN

  I have to wonder why, when he hasn’t gone on his merry little way. The fact that Bianca’s thirsty ass is pawing on him isn’t helping, either. Finally, I find an excuse to remove myself from the train wreck of Bianca looking like a fool. Instead of him staying with the person that clearly wants his attention, he follows me.

  “Hey, hey,” he calls out.

  Damn him and his long legs. My two steps to his four were no match. He passes me to cut me off. Licking my candy red lips, I steel myself for a meeting that I wasn’t in the right mind to have.

  “Jay-R
oc,” I smile.

  He locks his hands behind his back as if he has to hold himself back from causing a scene.

  “You know that’s not my name. Ryann, you look…amazing,” he exhales as he takes me in from dark blonde wig to my Jimmy Choo shoes.

  I have to remind myself to be kinda nice to him. Afterall, Tia and I are standing here because of him.

  “Thank you. How is the rap game treating you? Still juggling it all?”

  I said “kinda nice”, remember. He catches my meaning.

  “I’m still dropping hits, so yeah. Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, for…what? Keeping me a dirty secret for damn near two years? Or sorry for breaking up with me in a text when somebody saw us out? I’m confused,” I mock.

  Yosef works his jaw. I should feel a bit of pity for him. It took me years to come out and a few more to have the bravery to begin transitioning. Worrying about how you’ll be accepted can be a bitch. I shouldn’t be the one applying pressure when he’s not ready. It doesn’t matter that I look so much like a woman that the majority of the masses are fooled. If he’s uncomfortable in the open out of fear of being discovered, that’s him.

  “I’m sorry for both and more. I, I,” he stutters,

  “No, I’m being a bitch. Your image is important. You’re an established rapper. It’s not like you’re some one-hit-wonder that can afford coming out as being gay.”

  He sheepishly glances away as he sighs in thought. Fuck if he ain’t the sexiest undercover brother I’ve seen. Buff in all the right places. Tattoos and a chiseled jaw that goes on for days. Just a tall dip of honey on a hot day. I sniff the air to inhale his scent. Gosh, I love the smell of a man. If I had lady bits, I know I would be wet. Instead, I hope that my tuck and tape job holds up under the pressure as my dick begins to fill with blood.

  “So, are you here to watch?” I ask in hopes of breaking the sexual tension.

  It doesn’t help. Yosef hits me with those open, light brown eyes, and I’m falling.

  “I’m going to be part of the team.”

  “Oh, really,” I speak, slowly.

  I’m gonna need more tape.

  **

  TIA

  “How do I look?”

  I pull back the curtain in the back of the single-wide trailer. Strolling down the hallway, I stop in front of the full-length mirror to take a look.

  “Better than me,” grumbles Chana as she gets up to stand behind me. “I looked washed up compared to you and Ryann,” she complains while tugging at her dress. “Don’t I?” she questions Richey.

  I watch his gaze dart between my face reflected in the mirror and Chana’s demanding stare. I can tell he’s debating if he should answer such a personal question in front of me. He is supposed to be just the bodyguard.

  “No comment,” he answers as he heads for the door.

  “He’s scared to admit the truth. Where did you buy this?” She presses.

  “It’s not off the rack. Ryann’s friends are making our clothes and the wigs are done by Ryann.”

  “No way!” she exclaims. She rubs the fabric of the pants suit that’s hugging my hips to perfection. “The seam work is on point. I would have never known. That’s good that you’re using your platform this way. I’m going to have to pull Ryann to the side for a little chat,” she says.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Richey?”

  I considered Chana pretending not to hear me, or to straight out tell me to stay in my lane. Yet, she doesn’t even hesitate.

  “I might as well tell you since you and Johnny are going to be…”

  Be what?

  “Richey and I are an item,” she says instead of finishing the other sentence. “He’s so loyal to Johnny that he wants to keep it a secret.”

  Leaving the mirror, I pluck a cold bottle of water from the cooler placed on the countertop.

  “Why should Johnny care? Does it say in your contract as his manager; you can’t date staff?” I wonder.

  Chana chuckles. “No honey, I’m Johnny’s sister.”

  A bit of water drizzles out my mouth at her reveal. “Sister,” I repeat in awe.

  For the first time, I pick up on the resemblance between the two. The height, the sun-kissed natural skin tone, the dark brown hair, the facial structure both Johnny and Chana shares.

  “Yeah, he’s my big brother,” she confirms.

  “So, he doesn’t want the boss to know he’s dating his sister,” I smirk.

  Of course, Johnny would have a problem with the help aspiring for greater. Fucking his sister was just too big of a stretch.

  “Oh, he knows. My brother knows what’s going on in his own house. No, it’s Richey that has the problem. He doesn’t want to disrespect Johnny by crossing the line,” she tries to explain.

  A deep crease wrinkles my forehead. “Huh?”

  Chana rolls her eyes. “It’s a silly code that Richey is hell-bent on following. See, they…meaning Richey, Johnny, and Yosef…well kinda him for his own reasons, all ran the streets along with five other guys that you’ll shit yourself if I told you their names. Anyway, Johnny wasn’t the oldest, but he seemed to be like the daddy of the gang, always watching out and stuff. So, when things got crazy, and the cops were knocking on doors, Johnny took the blame.”

  “R-really?” I say, slowly in a hush.

  “Yeah. He toed the line,” she nods with pride.

  “B-but why he did that? Didn’t he go to jail for a few years? Is that why?”

  “He did it because he knew that the hammer would come down a lot softer on him because he was a poor white boy than his brown and black partners in crime.”

  “True dat, but jail,” I stress.

  “It wasn’t easy for him, but Johnny was always smart. When he wasn’t skipping school, he was making the honor roll. He was helpful around the neighborhood. All those facts helped the public defender paint a really good case in his favor of a white boy being led astray. Anyway, Richey promised to watch my back while Johnny was away. Then he started to watch my front, too,” she winks. “To Richey, he owes Johnny his life. He doesn’t want to mess that up.”

  “But why would you and him messing around fuck things up with him and Johnny?”

  Chana’s eyes widen as she drops her voice to barely a whisper. “Because I was only 17 and Richey was 20 when we started to…you know.”

  “O, Oh,” I answer with a scrunch up expression.

  Suddenly, we both jump when the front door to the trailer is jerked open. Johnny pokes his head in. Then slowly walks up the stairs to stand in the doorway. His narrow eyes land on the both of us. No doubt we look guilty, and he’s trying to figure out of what.

  “What’s going on?” he questions.

  “Nothing,” Chana answers with a shake of her head.

  Jesus, that look on her face is saying the complete opposite. Glancing back at Johnny with a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth, I can’t help thinking I was an ass. Funny how much 15 minutes gossiping can change things.

  “Uh, huh,” he moans. “I was calling you. Where the hell is your cell?” he complains.

  Then again, maybe I wasn’t completely wrong. Chana backtracks to the couch in the trailer. Feeling the creases between the cushions, she draws out the phone.

  “Must have fallen,” she smiles.

  “You got to do better than that,” he warns. “They’ve been waiting on you two to get started. You aren’t here for girl talk,” he replies.

  “I said, sorry. Damn, John,” she snarls while stumping across the trailer.

  He steps to the side to let her out.

  “I’m not giving you a personal invite,” he snaps at me.

  “I wasn’t waiting for one.”

  I fall under his sharp eyes as he examines me while I get closer.

  “Nice, very nice,” he nods his approval.

  “Thank you for your praise. Next time, I’ll work harder to earn a pat on the head,” I sass before I breeze past him ou
t the door.

  “No need to be butt sore. I tend not to do that kinda action on the first time out the gate…unless you get down like that.”

  I halt in my steps to look at him as if he bumped his head. With a chuckle, I shake my head to continue on.

  “I don’t give up,” he shrugs. “Just keep that fire, and you’ll do good, today.”

  I pause to let him open the door to the restaurant for me to enter first.

  “So, you being an ass is all for my benefit?” I mock.

  “If that is what will help you relax and not feel bad about your performance, I’m willing to be the bad guy,” he mumbles.

  Again, I steal a glimpse of him. “But you’re not…a bad guy, huh?”

  Johnny stops to examine me. “What did Chana tell you?”

  I say nothing. I want the answer to my question. I hood my eyes at the sight of him raising his arms to run his hands through his hair. The flash of black and grey ink covering the canvas of his tan skin that bulges from the movement has my attention. His normal attire of a plain, blue t-shirt works to bring out the colors of his eyes, while his loose-fitting dark blue jeans that hang on his hips should make him blend into the background compared to what we are wearing. Yet, he’s the type of man that can walk into a crowded room and without even trying will have all eyes on him. Johnny just oozes that ‘it’ factor that people are paying millions in hope of gaining. It’s in his smile, his walk, in the bass of his voice, in the way he communicates with just a look…all so effortless it’s scary. Even without the fame, he would still have been hard to ignore.

  “We’re ready,” heaves Ruban. “Fuck, you’ve been scalped,” he cries. “You gotta fix that, hurry,” he demands.

  “Shit,” I hiss, touching my braids. “One, one sec,” I call over my shoulder as I run towards Ryann and Yosef. “My hair.”

  “Oh, hun, come on.”

  In no time, my look is complete. In awe of my transformation, I only have a moment to make love to my reflection before I’m being ushered over to the tables.

  “Turn,” orders the woman for me to face her.