She opened the door and got the shock of her life.
Baad B was chillin’ in the dressing room, working her jaws, chewing on gum, and fanning herself with a backstage pass.
Misty wanted to vomit.
“’Sup, Misty?” Baad said, looking slutty in some cheap hooker shoes. The girl had a crazy body. Her waistline looked like it was about eighteen inches, while her hips and butt were large and outrageous. In Misty’s opinion, Baad looked like a slut. But most black men wouldn’t agree with Misty’s opinion.
“Who invited you?” Misty gritted on Baad B.
“Spydah.”
“That’s a damn lie. How’d you get that pass?” Accusingly, Misty narrowed her eyes at Tragic.
He held his hands up. “Don’t look at me.”
“Well, which one of y’all gave her that pass?”
“It wasn’t me,” Jru said.
“Look, heifa…I ain’t travel all the way to Chicago to listen to you run your mouth. Me and Spydah got business together. Why you messing with him, anyway? You need to get with somebody your own age.”
“Excuse me.” Misty found her eyes glued to the hooker’s cheap- looking, fake fingernails. What the hell is wrong with Spydah? Why would he even risk being seen in public with this trick bitch? I’ma cuss him out the minute he gets off stage.
“Spydah’s only twenty-one years old. I heard that you’re twenty-five.”
“So what.”
“You too old for him. You act like you think you’re his mother. All in his business, tryna run his life.”
“Who said I try to run his life?”
“Don’t look at me.” Again, Tragic raised his hands in surrender, but this time, he took backward skipping steps, as if he was enjoying the excitement.
“Spydah said it.” Baad was way too close in Misty’s face.
“Get this bitch out of my face!” Misty demanded, looking around, as if she expected one of Spydah’s crew to jump up and beat the snot bubbles out of Baad B. No one made a move in Misty’s defense.
“Make me get out your face.” Bending down to Misty’s height, Baad pushed her face even closer to Misty’s…so close Misty could see inside her mouth, could smell the gum she was chomping on.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Baad said, her mouth wide open. “Spydah sent for me. He’s paying for everything…he paid for my transportation…my hotel bill…” Baad B started counting on her fingers like a little child. “And he told me to add up all my miscellaneous expenses.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re a groupie.”
Baad B rotated her neck, chomping down on a piece of gum. “You might think you know what you talking about, but you don’t. I ain’t no damn groupie. I’m a rapper. In fact, I’m Spydah’s new artist.”
Misty’s eyes became wide with horror. Having a verbal dispute with a heathen was demoralizing and totally unexpected. But hearing that she was a signed artist was faint-worthy.
“That’s right; his management team signed me up last week.”
This pimply faced, ugly-mug hooker…This ghetto bitch with press-on nails and a horrible weave was all in her face talking trash.
Spydah and Larry came in the door. Spydah was drenched in perspiration from working hard on stage.
Baad B trotted toward him, grinning and giggling, with her arms outstretched, hands flapping in the air, acting like Spydah was her long-lost boyfriend, home from Afghanistan or somewhere.
“What the fuck is up with this chick?” Misty said, hand on her hip.
Spydah looked terrified. “Ain’t nothing. Adam signed her to a contract. I’m just her mentor.”
Still grinning, Baad B threw her arms around Spydah’s neck. “Hey, Spydah. I made it.”
“I see,” he muttered, cutting his eye at Misty and squirming out of the hot-to-trot hooker’s embrace.
“Aiight, everybody needs to roll out. Now! Me and Spydah gotta have a private conversation,” Misty said.
“Roll out to where?” Tragic wanted to know. “We can’t be hanging around in the hallway when Smash comes off stage.”
“I don’t care where you go. Go back to the hotel. Take a cab cuz me and Spydah ain’t sharing the limo.” Misty shook her head. “No…not tonight. We need our privacy.” Misty waved her hand. “Go on, y’all. I’m not playing. You too, Little B.”
Baad B sneered. “My name ain’t no Little B. It’s Baad B with two A’s—that’s the short version of Bad Ass Bitch.”
Looking distraught, Spydah covered his face. Larry took control of the situation.
“Go ’head, Baad. Go to the hotel. You and Spydah can talk business later.”
“Spydah’s not talking about nothing with her…not if I can help it!” Misty shouted.
In the hotel suite, Misty resorted to shedding tears.
“I thought you loved me,” she whined.
“I do. Don’t I buy you jewelry and all kinds of shit?”
“Yeah, you’re very generous, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re going behind my back, cheating on me.”
“Ain’t nothing but business between me and Baad. You gotta believe me, Misty.”
“I don’t feel like I can trust you.” She shook her head.
“Yes, you can.” He cupped her face. Looked deeply into her eyes. “I only invited Baad so we could talk about this track that we’re gon’ work on together.”
“Why are you talking about a new track, when you’re still promoting your debut album?”
“It was my manager’s idea. When he saw her on stage with me in New York, he saw a lot of potential.”
“For who? Adam ain’t worried about you. You already have a career…and it’s skyrocketing. You don’t need any help from that nobody broad.”
“Adam has this vision for me and Baad.”
Misty sighed. I hate Adam. I gotta get Spydah to stop listening to his greedy ass.
“I wouldn’t never disrespect you. I didn’t realize you were coming to Chicago. You popped up out of nowhere.”
“I didn’t know I needed an invitation. I thought I was making you happy by surprising you with a visit.” She cried harder, her face pressed against his chest.
He stroked her hair. “I am happy. Don’t cry, Misty. I’m sorry about all this. I hate to see you acting all broken-hearted.” Tenderly, he wiped her tears. “Come on with that. Stop crying. Be the strong woman that I fell in love with. What can I do to make this better?”
If Spydah’s fans only knew….they’d be shocked to find out that his life doesn’t come close to what he perpetrates in his music. The nigga is weak. And all his bitchassness is starting to really get on my fuckin’ nerves. What I gotta do to make this dickhead straighten his act up?
“Send that bitch packing. Seriously, I can’t stand her.” Misty’s words were filled with venom. “I can’t bear to look at her. I don’t want to be in the same hotel with her. It’s hard to deal with, knowing that I’m in the same state with her. She’s so fucking ugly, Spydah. What’s wrong with you? How could you associate yourself with someone who looks like that? She’s fuckin’ with your image.”
“She look aiight.”
“No, she doesn’t. She looks stank. And triflin’.”
“Adam already signed her. What can I do?”
“All you and Adam see is a big ass. She can’t even rap worth a damn fuck. You know what, Spydah…if all it takes is a big ass to make you happy, I might as well end our relationship right now.”
“I’m not interested in her like that. She’s like a sister or a cousin.”
“How is she like a sister? You met that bitch at your release party!”
“Her ass is not what I’m interested in. With me and her…I swear, it’s strictly business. So this is how I’ma handle this…”
“How?”
“To make sure you don’t feel insecure, I’ma send her back to New York. Aiight, baby?”
Misty sniffled, wiped her nose, and nodded her head. Hallelujah!
She’d won the battle. But that Baad bitch was forcing her hand. Misty was going to have to make some real slick moves. And very soon.
CHAPTER 38
Spydah’s business manager called early in the morning.
Pulled out of a deep sleep, Misty was aggravated. The clock on the bedside table read eight-fourteen. Damn, Adam is trippin’.
Now that she was wide awake, she was curious about what Adam wanted at such an unreasonable hour of the morning. Hearing only Spydah’s side of the conversation put her at a disadvantage.
“Put him on speaker,” Misty urged.
Spydah turned his mouth down. Shook his head.
Misty folded her arms in anger. Spydah ignored her.
She reached over and picked up the receiver of the hotel phone and, in a loud voice, she ordered breakfast.
“Whatchu wanna eat, baby?” Misty said, making sure Spydah’s manager heard her.
“I’m good.” Spydah blew her off with an irritated hand gesture.
“You gotta eat something,” Misty persisted.
“I’m talking business, baby. Come on with that.”
By the time her food arrived, Spydah had finished his conversation with Adam and was pinching pieces of bacon off her plate.
“I knew you were gon’ be hungry.”
“I was too excited to think about food.”
“Excited about what?”
“Adam got me the deal. I’ma be the new face for Banana Republic.”
Misty frowned.
“What’s the frown about? That endorsement is bringing in major paper.”
“How much?”
He shifted his gaze. “It’s not finalized yet. But it’s gon’ be crazy.”
“I don’t trust Adam.”
“Whatchu getting at?”
“I’m trying to help you, Spydah. If you keep listening to your greedy business manager, you might as well set your money on fire.”
“How you figure?”
“Your manager is getting twenty percent of all your earnings and he doesn’t do anything to earn it.”
“How can you say that? He reviews all the contracts, makes sure I don’t sign nothing bogus.”
“You don’t need him. You only think you do.”
“He got me the cover on Upscale magazine.”
Misty gave him a look. “Oh, you think he pulled that off? Those Upscale people came at him. Know why? Because you’re selling tons of records and they want to sell tons of magazines. All that Adam had to do was get you to sign the contract. Ain’t like he’s working up a sweat on your behalf. He’s reading over paperwork that’s coming through.”
“Seems like you saying I don’t need representation.”
“I’m saying that a good entertainment lawyer can do what Adam’s doing for you. And you get to keep a lot more of your own dough. Besides an entertainment lawyer, all you need is Larry…what’s his job title?”
“Personal assistant.”
“Okay, well, all you need is Larry and you need to put me on your payroll as a consultant. All those other leeches…Tragic, Mustafa, and Jru…man, they need to get cut. You keep rolling with them and I guarantee that you’re going to get embroiled in some kind of lawsuits. Those niggas gon’ drag you down. I can feel it.”
Spydah frowned. “Man, I don’t wanna hear that. I ain’t gon’ front on my homies.”
“I don’t like them. They’re bad news.”
“You don’t like nobody associated with me.”
“That’s not true. I like Larry. And I trust him. He puts your interests ahead of his own. But that Adam…he’s a shark. I want you to be careful. Don’t believe everything he tells you.” Deep in thought, she ran her fingers through her hair and shook it away from her face. “Where’s my scrunchie?” She looked under the bedding to find the band to tie her hair back.
“Let your hair stay like that. You look as good in the morning as you do at night.” Spydah was changing the subject.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Stuck up and conceited, too.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I love that about you. Your confidence. Your maturity.”
“Oh yeah…you know your girl, Baad, said I was old enough to be your mother.”
“She said what?” Spydah looked shocked.
“She said that you told her that I’m too old for you…that I try to act like I’m your mother.”
“That’s a lie. I ain’t nevah say nothing like that. There’s only a coupla years between us.”
“I know. Tell that to your hoe.”
“Come on with that.”
“She is a hoe.”
“She ain’t my hoe.”
“Whatever.”
“How did this conversation change? One minute we were laughing, having fun, planning our future. Now you bring up Baad and look at you…you’re burning up.”
“I didn’t get the memo about me and you planning a future together.” She stuck her fork into a pile of scrambled eggs.
“You didn’t? I told my assistant to send it.” Spydah laughed as he picked up a slice of toast and started munching.
“Nope, I didn’t get it. Why don’t you tell me about our future together? I hope it includes me being more involved in your career. And by the way, don’t stick your hand over here and try to broady my last piece of toast,” Misty said, playfully rolling her eyes.
“Broady. You always using those whack, Philly terms.” Spydah picked up a spoon from the breakfast tray and helped himself to some of Misty’s scrambled eggs.
“Philly slang is better than that country shit y’all be kickin’.”
“Who you calling country? Baby, ain’t nothing country about Miami.”
“I hate Miami.”
“How you gon’ hate one of the most poppin’ places in the country. But I forgot…you hate everything. That’s all you ever say.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said sweetly.
“Aw, here we go. What do you want now?”
“I want you to tell me about your plans for our future.”
“After all that you said, I don’t know if you’re gon’ like my plans.”
“Try me.”
“Well, Adam’s been looking at some property for me. And I’m about to invest…” He paused. “You ready for this?”
Actually no…since Adam is behind it. She smiled, however, and nodded.
“I’m about to invest in a crib. Ten thousand square feet. Basket- ball court and indoor pool. I want you to move in with me. I need you to keep my ass grounded.”
Misty wrinkled her nose like something smelled bad. She couldn’t hide her feelings. This was the worst news he could have given her. She didn’t want to live anywhere with him. And she didn’t want him blowing his dough on a stupid mansion unless he was buying it for her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not ready to pick up and leave Philly. I can’t do that. Besides, you should have run it by me before you agreed to buy yourself a mansion.”
“Man, you ain’t my mother!” He yelled so loud, Misty winced.
“Calm down. Damn, Spydah. Chill.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. I just did the most important thing in my young life. I bought a crib. And you throwing shade like I ain’t accomplished nothing.” Spydah yanked the breakfast tray from Misty’s lap. Tossed it on the floor, kicked the silver lid, and then grabbed his foot, jumping and hollering from stubbing his toe.
Misty’s mouth was wide open. Witnessing Spydah in a full-blown tantrum was shocking. And a little scary. Maybe they needed some space.
CHAPTER 39
Spydah walked out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.
Misty began packing.
Ten minutes later, he returned, eating a bag of Doritos he’d gotten from a vending machine.
He gawked at Misty’s open luggage. “Whatchu doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m packing.”
“You must be crazy.”
He glanced at the mess on the floor…the overturned glass of orange juice, the scattered pancakes, potatoes, bacon and eggs. “Yo, I have a short fuse sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“You need to call housekeeping,” Misty said as she continued packing.
“Baby, come on. Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going to Miami with you. That short fuse that you have sometimes might get me killed or beaten half to death.”
“I would never hurt you. Look…this is the deal. I’m frustrated because Adam said people are asking about you. They wanna know your background, how we met. I’m mad because I realize your background is shady. I can’t tell the media that I met you when you sent some hookers to my hotel.”
“Make something up.”
“You don’t get it. I’m ’bout to blow up. Adam is polishing up my image, sending out a message that I’m not your average rapper. I’m a role model.”
“A role model? Have the executives of the products that you tryna endorse had a look at your ugly crew?”
“I’m the front man. The way my crew looks isn’t the issue.”
“So why is my background an issue?”
“You my girl. You the one in the public eye with me.”
“So you expect me to stop running my business…drop everything and move to Miami?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to depend on your kindness, Spydah. I need my own money. I’ve been asking you for weeks to put me on your payroll. Why don’t you tell the bloggers that I work for you? That should satisfy their curiosity.”
“Adam is worried that if the media begins to dig into your life, they’re going to find out that you’re running a hooker business.”
Dick slinging business is more accurate, but you don’t know shit. “How does Adam know what I do?”
“Larry might have slipped up and told him.”
Now I hate Larry, too. “How I get my money shouldn’t concern Adam.”
“He’s looking out for my best interest. Seriously, I can’t be associated with something that would ruin the image that Adam’s working hard to build.”
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