by Deja King
“See what I mean? You’re under the impression that you can leave just because Tyler wants to. It doesn’t work like that. You leave when I tell you to. But before you go anywhere, I want you to come over here like a good little girl and kiss Daddy’s dick.”
I watched Mark in disgust. This was all the fat fuck wanted from the start. Did he really think I was going to suck his dick? He was sorely mistaken. I would bite the shit off before I would suck it.
“Mark, maybe the champagne has you a little tipsy, or you’ve just lost your fucking mind, but regardless, none of that is jumpin’ off.”
“If you want to become the next big thing, you better make it jump off. Understand, Tyler, I make you—you don’t make me, because I’m already made. I’ve got my millions, and I will make millions more. I can go out tomorrow and find another Tyler Blake and turn her into Citrus. Nobody will know the difference. So if I was you, I would crawl on my hands and knees and suck this dick until I beg you to stop or your career as a superstar is over. Do you understand me, you ungrateful cunt?”
I laughed uncontrollably and couldn’t stop. I could tell Mark thought I was on something and wasn’t sure whether to shake the shit out of me, or ask for whatever I was on so he could laugh too. But once he realized I was laughing at him, his attitude shifted back to what it was. I continued to laugh before turning serious.
“You think I care about being your quote superstar? Baby, I’m already a star; the world just doesn’t know it yet. But look at you. You’re nobody’s star. You’re just a fat fuck with an overinflated ego. Nobody would give a shit about you if you hadn’t bamboozled your way into this business with your drug money and ridden the coattails of a real talent like Tah Tah. Nigga, I don’t need you or LaFamilia Records. As a matter of fact, I was going to tell you I wanted out of this farce of a career. I’m no rapper, never was. I let you get me caught up in some bullshit dream that I never wanted to be part of. When I do become a star and make my millions, it won’t be by sucking the dick of a clown-ass wannabe Berry Gordy cat like you.”
I picked up my purse and pulled out my cell phone to call a cab. I knew the look Mark had on his face meant trouble, but it wasn’t happening tonight. There was a champagne bottle sitting right in front of me on the table, and if Mark stepped any closer, I was busting it over his head. Somebody was going to die tonight if that motherfucker put his hands on me. The thought of being raped again was too much for me to handle. At this point I would rather take my chances catching a case than letting another man violate my body.
“Mark, whatever you’re thinking, rethink it fast. If you put your hands on me, you better kill me; because if I make it out of this house alive, not only will I file criminal charges against you, I will make it my mission to destroy whatever respectable reputation you think you have in the music business.”
The intense look on Mark’s face told me he knew I wasn’t bluffing. “Have it your way, Tyler, but we will cross paths again, and next time I might not be so willing to let you go. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding your way home.”
With that, Mark went upstairs and left me alone. I called a car service and finished drinking the last glass of champagne while waiting for my ride. Once again I was back to square one trying to figure out my life. I wondered how much longer I would have to battle for my rightful place. Until the answers were revealed to me, I would keep fighting for the little girl in me that needed to be protected.
After my awful experience with Mark, I couldn’t seem to find my place. I started to get back on the acting scene, but the constant rejection was slowly making me lose hope. I didn’t expect to see my name in bright lights overnight, but I’d hoped to have made more progress. I needed to take a step back and gather my thoughts. The course I was on was leading me nowhere, and I couldn’t seem to get on track. I decided I needed to regroup and regain my strength. After leaving numerous messages, I finally spoke to Mother. Daddy was no longer living at the house, and she was going on a month-long cruise with her girlfriends. I used that opportunity to go to Georgia and escape the hectic life of New York City. I did a lot of soul-searching and decided that no matter what, I would make it in NYC, and I wouldn’t go back to Georgia to live for anything in the world. I was a survivor and determined to be a success. The day I had to go back to Georgia would mean that I failed, and that wasn’t in the cards. After a week of regrouping I headed back home to face my challenges in New York.
As soon as I walked through the door, my friend Chrissie called. Not only did we work together, but she was also my nightclub sidekick.
“What’s up, Chrissie?” I was happy to hear her bubbly and cheerful voice on the phone.
“Nothing much. I wanted to go to Lot 61 tonight; do you feel up to it?”
“I just got back from Georgia—I literally just walked through the door. But I’ve been kinda in a funk, and going out to party might brighten my spirits.”
“Yeah, Tyler, this is exactly what you need. You know we always have a blast when we go out.”
“Okay. I’m going to jump in the shower and get dressed. Meet me here about eleven.”
“Cool, I’ll see you then.” Besides releasing my stress on the dance floor, I desperately needed a drink. After my awful experience with Mark, I was once again developing a yearning for alcohol. I hadn’t had this urge since high school, when I participated in drinking parties with my friends. The only reason I wasn’t drinking on a daily basis was because of my tight budget. To me, liquor was a luxury not a necessity, although lately I was beginning to see it the other way.
After taking a ten-minute shower, I looked through my closet trying to decide what to wear. From the clothes I bought myself after being intimidated by the stylish New York women, to the clothes the stylist bought for my new life as superstar Citrus, I had a ton of outfits to choose from. I opted for the sexy tight leopard pants I bought at a boutique on Columbus Avenue, with a black fitted shirt and black snakeskin boots. I dabbed on my favorite Mac lip gloss and went downstairs to meet Chrissie. I loved my neighborhood because it was surrounded by so many cool spots, from clothing boutiques and restaurants to theaters and clubs. Everything was just a step away. When Chrissie saw me, she ran up and gave me a hug and a kiss, “You look hot tonight, Tyler. I love those pants.”
“Thanks, you look pretty damn sexy yourself.” Which she did. Chrissie not only looked like Sarah Jessica Parker, but she had the style of Carrie Bradshaw and the body. We hailed a cab and were on our way. We’d been to Lot 61 a couple of times before, and we’d always had a fantastic time because the DJ played great music and we both loved to dance. But tonight I was going to have fun of another kind. After shaking our asses to the sounds of Jay-Z, Chrissie and I went to the bar. When I was about to pay for our drinks, I heard a gentleman tell the bartender they were on him. I turned around to see who made the offer because the last thing I wanted was some dork sniffing around me all night because he paid for a couple of drinks. I would rather pay for them myself.
“Hi, I’m Ian,” the tall gorgeous caramel-complexioned vision said. I stood there with my mouth wide open until Chrissie nudged my arm. I was almost drooling over the flawless creature.
“Hi, I’m Tyler, and this is my friend Chrissie.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ian and Chrissie shook hands. He then turned back to me with a smile that was worth at least a million bucks.
“So, Tyler, do you live in New York, or are you just visiting?”
“I actually go to school here; Chrissie and I go to NYU.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’m just visiting, but I would love to spend some time with you. Do you mind sitting with me at my booth?” I glanced over at Chrissie, and she gave me the “I’m okay” wink, and I followed Ian to his table.
What attracted me to Ian besides his athletic build, beautiful smile, and gorgeous color was that when he introduced himself, he seemed kind of shy and innocent. We sat down and began to talk, and we instantly clicked. I hate how
when people meet you they always ask what you do, so I never ask that question. I wait for the person to volunteer the information. Ian didn’t mention his profession, but with his beautiful face and tall lean body I thought maybe he was an up-and-coming supermodel like Tyson Beckford. I didn’t care though. All I knew was that he made me feel at ease, and I felt a connection with him, so when he asked me to go to his hotel, I didn’t hesitate.
Ian’s limo pulled up to the W Hotel, and I was excited about what would happen when we got to his room. I expected that as soon as he opened the door we would begin passionately kissing and taking off each other’s clothes, but we didn’t. All Ian wanted to do was talk. Eventually we fell asleep in the bed, and he just held me all night. I went to sleep full of disappointment. I hadn’t had any good loving in so long, and I was about to burst. I was on tension overload and needed to release myself. I had to settle with dreaming about an earth-shattering, mind-blowing sexual experience.
The phone rang early the next morning, waking us up. After Ian hung up, he said, “I have to leave and go to Philly for a basketball game, but I would love for you to come with me.” When Ian mentioned his profession, I was impressed. It all made sense. I didn’t recognize him because except for Michael Jordan I wasn’t up on basketball players.
“Ian, thank you for the invitation, but I can’t go. I was just in Georgia for a week, and I haven’t even unpacked my bags. Plus I’m scheduled to work, and more importantly, I’m determined to hit the books and concentrate on school. I hope you understand.”
“I guess, but I have to admit I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to spending some quality time with you.”
“I want to spend time with you too, but right now the timing is terrible.” Although I was extremely attracted to Ian, for the first time I was trying to have some priorities and stick with them. By the vexed look on his face it was obvious Ian didn’t take the rejection well, but he still asked for my number. I wrote my cell number on a piece of paper from a hotel notepad so I wouldn’t miss his call.
During a break at work I flipped through the newspaper to the sports section. That’s how I discovered Ian Addison was a franchise player and the league had very high aspirations for him. I kept fidgeting all day waiting for his call, but nothing came and I soon realized I hadn’t received a call all day. To my dismay, that very same day my cell phone service was cut off, so I concluded maybe Ian and I weren’t meant to be. Still, I began to follow basketball, hoping to find out what was going on with Ian on and off the court.
A month later Chrissie and I were sitting in the student union. I was reviewing my notes for an upcoming test, and Chrissie was reading the New York Post. “Oh, my goodness, Tyler! Ian is in town!”
“How do you know?” I asked, full of hope that maybe I would see him again.
“It’s right here in the sports section. The Pistons are playing the Knicks tomorrow night. That means Ian is probably here right now.”
“Do you think he’ll be at the club tonight?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” I decided to go back to the same club where Ian and I first met, and if he really, really liked me, he would be there looking for me… like I was looking for him. That night turned out to be hectic because my waitress shift lasted longer than expected, and at the last minute Chrissie canceled and couldn’t go to the club with me. Running late, I ran home, unbuttoning my shirt and pants while on the elevator. Once I reached my apartment, I jumped out of my clothes and grabbed my low-rider Seven Jeans and pink tank top. I slicked my hair back in a ponytail, dabbed on some lip gloss, and ran out to catch a cab. I figured Ian would be long gone by the time I got there, if he had come at all. All the same, I was anxious, so I screamed to the taxi driver to speed it up. As I was walking into the club, I saw groups of drunken guys staggering out but none of them were Ian.
Then my eyes lit up, and I swallowed hard when I noticed a tall muscular brown-skinned guy, wearing a huge platinum-and-diamond chain, about to leave. It was Ian. Luckily he noticed me too, and grabbed my arm. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “You gave me the wrong number.”
“No, I didn’t. My phone was—”
Ian cut me off midsentence and continued to vent. “I’ve been in this club for two hours waiting for you to come. I was about to leave and go to my hotel because I didn’t think you were going to show up.”
I thought that was so romantic. Wow, this guy really likes me! I thought. He likes me! “I’m sorry, I would’ve been here hours ago, but I had to work later than expected. I’m so glad you waited.”
Ian grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s get out of here.” Once again, I was feeling special because some guy was wanting me. That night, we left the club and went back to his hotel, and of course we made love. But no, I did not see fireworks. I was not madly in love and I wasn’t overcome with passion, but there was something about Ian that made me feel safe and that was enough for now. The next day he had a game, and when he asked me to attend I was delighted.
It was my first time going to Madison Square Garden to watch the New York Knicks. Ian left two tickets, so I took Chrissie. Chrissie was from California, so she had never been to a Knicks game either. “This is so exciting! Tyler, I can’t believe we have floor seats.”
I couldn’t believe it either. Usually floor seats were reserved for the home team. I knew that because Patrick had had a friend who played on the Atlanta Hawks, and he was only able to get him prime seats when the team was playing at home.
“Isn’t that Will Smith sitting across from us?” Chrissie said enthusiastically.
“Yeah, it is; but Chrissie, please calm down before you embarrass both of us.”
“I’m sorry, Tyler, but I’m from Temecula, California, and I never saw any celebrities back home.”
“Chrissie, you’re so sweet; I love your honesty.” Chrissie was sweet and honest. I felt that I could trust her as much as I was capable of trusting anyone. She didn’t seem to be jealous of me the way Lisa was. I got the feeling she was genuinely happy about my new relationship with Ian.
“Chrissie, how do you think the life of a star NBA player’s girlfriend—or wife—is?”
“I would think totally cool. Like unlimited shopping sprees, the best restaurants, everything just first class all the way.”
All those things were cool, but Chrissie’s mind-set was so limited. I wanted bigger things in life than that. I had already worn designer clothes and eaten at fancy restaurants; now I wanted to live like a star. After the game I met Ian in the section for family and friends, and we said our good-byes. He promised he would call soon and I could go to Detroit to visit. I made sure he had my home number this time, and I hoped he would keep his promise. He did.
I talked to Ian every day for a week while he was on the road. When he was finally headed home, he said, “Tyler, do you think you can get away for a couple of days? I really want to see you.”
“Sure,” I said, excited about seeing Ian again.
“Cool, I’ll have my travel agent book you a flight. Is tomorrow good?”
“Yeah, that’s fine; just make it an afternoon flight.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later on with all the details. Tyler, I miss you.”
The next day I was on an American Airlines flight to Detroit. It was thrilling. Here I was flying high in the sky, first class all the way. All I wondered was, could Ian really want to be with me, because I was totally digging him.
Ian pulled up at the airport in a silver big-body Benz and greeted me with a sweet hug and kiss. “Baby you look even prettier than I remember.”
“Shut up, Ian; don’t try to pump my head up,” I giggled.
“No, baby, it’s the truth. Maybe I just miss you so much.”
“Not as much as I miss you.”
“Why do you say that?” Ian asked as he cruised down the highway.
“Because if you missed me as much as I missed you, it would mean you are smitten, and I’m sure yo
u’re not smitten.”
I smiled as I said those words, and Ian smiled back. With a look of love in his eyes he said, “I think I’m just that.”
Something about Ian was so childlike, and it only added to his charm. When we arrived at his house, I was surprised by how modest it was. I was expecting some huge mansion on an estate. He explained that this was his temporary house while his permanent house was being built. Of course, he had the standard flunky that all basketball players have, the guy who lives with them and builds his whole life around kissing their asses. But TJ, Ian’s flunky, was cool. After we got settled, we went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and we spent the majority of time stealing kisses and Ian playing with my hair. We were like two love-struck teenagers.
The next evening I attended Ian’s basketball game and sat in the section where the girlfriends, wives, or whatever you want to call them were sitting. It was cold so some of the women had on long fur coats. And they were all done up. I wore a pair of sleek black Richard Tyler pants, a red fitted sweater, and a simple black leather jacket. I definitely wasn’t looking like bimbo Barbie. I was more subtle and sophisticated. A Nia Long look-alike and her girlfriend were staring me up and down with a “Die, bitch” look. I heard one of them whisper, “She’s sitting in Ian’s seats. Is she supposed to be his new girlfriend? She looks like she belongs in the library.” They laughed loudly.
“As opposed to a brothel,” I said, turning around to get a look at both women. An older white man sitting beside them bust out laughing, but when the women gaped at him with hate in their eyes, he quickly turned back to the game.
“You must have misunderstood us, because we weren’t talking about you.”
“Oh, then I apologize. I assumed because I don’t look like I just stepped out of a Pimp ’n Ho video that you all were making catty remarks about my attire.”
“Excuse me, are you trying to say we look like hos?” the Nia Long look-alike snapped.
