A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (11 page)

“That sounds like a problem for you to deal with just like I have to deal with the problem of you not paying your rent. I should have put you out a long time ago, but I gave you chance after chance. Now I have someone ready to move in here as soon as tomorrow,
and I need your shit out of here. So these strong men are going to take your stuff out piece by piece until this motherfucker is empty. You can help them speed up the process.”

She was being a total bitch, which was understandable, considering that I’d been ignoring her notices. I tried to plead with her to give me one more chance, but it was a losing battle; she wasn’t hearing that shit.

I stood outside as three guys carried my furniture out to the street. Everyone was out on their front stoops looking at me and laughing.
So now I’m dying, homeless, and humiliated. What reason do I have to live at this point?
I looked horrible, smelled foul, and felt like shit. I didn’t have the money to buy a soda, much less rent a U-Haul truck, and then have to turn around and pay a storage fee. So I said fuck it and told my junkie neighbors to have a ball with my belongings.

As if things could get any worse, in the midst of the turmoil, Reggie and White Boy drove past laughing. Typically I would have felt ashamed, but to my surprise I began to laugh too, which caused them to stop the car and roll the windows down. “Damn girl, you look fucked-up,” White Boy joked. “This is what happens to people who are disloyal to the family.”

“Yeah, I may look fucked-up on the outside, but bitch, both of you are fucked-up on the inside.” I began laughing harder than before. “Seems like we all got something in common.”

Reggie looked over at White Boy like I was insane before turning to me and asking, “What could we possibly have in common with each other? From what I see, we have somewhere to lay our heads tonight and you don’t.”

“Don’t worry about where I’m going to sleep tonight. Worry about how you’re going to sleep from here on out. That’s all I have to say. It was nice knowing both of you gentlemen, but as you can see, I have my own problems to attend to.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up, bitch,” White Boy interjected. “Take
your raggedy ass somewhere and take a fucking shower. You look dirty as shit. I’m almost ashamed to have fucked your slutty ass.”

Hearing those words were the therapy that I needed. It’s funny how God can use something negative to make you do positive things.

“Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll go and do that right now. But most important, thanks for making me see the bright side of my current situation.”

I waved to them as they pulled off, thinking they had gotten the best of me. It wasn’t until then that I realized that the same motherfuckers who had nicknamed me FFB might have HIV. Looks like we all have three initials tagged to our name now.

I got into my car. The only thing I had with me was a change of clothes, my phone book, a pen and pad, and my medical records.

I was experiencing a life-changing epiphany. I began to reassess my life and the decisions that I’d made and really wished there was a way for me to save others from making the same mistakes. Maybe my misfortune could shed light on the evils of the industry to a young woman who wants to become famous and thinks she can do it by pleasing others at all cost.

With the last drop of money that I had saved under my mattress, I bought some stamps and envelopes, filled up my tank, and prepared to jump back on the highway. It’s strange but when I was driving to Atlanta I didn’t know where I was heading. But now, driving away from there, I knew exactly where I needed to be. Before taking the long drive I had a couple of phone calls to make. I couldn’t just walk away from this city without calling a few people.

The first person I called was Amanda. I didn’t give her a chance to curse me out and hang up on me. “Hello. I know you may not want to talk to me, but I just called to tell you that I’m moving back to Pennsylvania and wanted to thank you for all you did for me. I
know we both said things to each other that we didn’t mean, but I do love and appreciate you.”

To my surprise, she didn’t hang up. It was as if she was actually happy that I called. “So you’re giving up on your dreams and moving back home? You never seemed like the quitting type to me.”

“No, I’m not giving up on my dreams. I finally realized that my priorities were backward. Look, there’s no point in me hiding this from you, so let me just come out and say it.” I took a deep breath. “I found out that I am HIV positive.”

There was an extended period of silence on the other end of the receiver. “Are you sure?”

“Girl, I’m positive that I’m positive,” I joked, trying to make the best of my misfortune. “Look, I already cried and put blame on everyone else, but at the end of the day, I am totally at fault. I’m going back home to find myself, because somewhere in the process of me joining Pretty in Pink and moving out here, I got lost.”

Amanda began apologizing for all the evil things she had said and I did the same. It felt good to finally tell someone that I was infected and have them still accept me as their friend. She tried to convince me to stay and even asked me to move back in with her, but my mind was made up and I knew I had to get the hell out of Atlanta.

“Even if I wanted to stay I’d still have to leave. A lot of motherfuckers are going to be looking for me when they find out I gave them that shit. Some of them I’m kind of happy about. But I feel sorry for their girlfriends that they cheated on and may have infected. I especially know Reggie and Fatz are coming after me.”

“Wait a minute!” Amanda yelled. “Did you fuck Fatz after I told you not to?”

“Girl, I had already fucked him before I met you. It was some wild shit that went on in his truck but I did continue to sleep with him after you told me not to.”

“Melissa … Melissa, girl, he’s the one who gave you that shit.
That’s why I told you not to fuck with him. A close friend of mine told me that he had that shit and gave it to her cousin. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but I always warned people when they said they’d met him. He’s the one who gave you that shit. I swear, I just know it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Fatz. Fatz has HIV. Why the hell is he going around fucking women without wearing a condom? Shit, why is he even fucking anyone at all? I couldn’t talk long with Amanda because I had a long day ahead of me, so I promised to keep in touch with her and prepared to make my second call, which would be the hardest of all.

“Hello,” the soft voice answered. It’s funny but in all the years of my knowing this woman, her voice had never sounded so warm and comforting.

“Hi, Mommy,” I hesitantly replied. “How are you?”

She paused before stumbling on her words. “Melissa. Melissa, baby, is that you?”

“Yes, Mommy it’s me,” I answered as I began crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you, Lord. I knew you would answer my prayers.” My mother began to cry and praise God all at once. “Baby, where are you?”

“I’m in Atlanta right now, but I’m on my way home. Is Daddy nearby?”

“Your father is sitting right here with tears in his eyes. We’ve missed you so much and even hired detectives to find you. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you, baby. What time is your flight coming in?”

“Well, actually I’m driving, so it will take me about a day, but I should be there by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” I then took a deep breath. “Mommy, I have some bad news to tell you before I get there. I want you to know exactly what you’re facing when I arrive.”

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

“Mentally I’m hanging in there, but physically I’m not quite as fortunate. Mommy, I’m HIV positive. I know you told me something like this was going to happen to me but …”

She cut me off. “Baby, I’m going to buy you a plane ticket. Go to the nearest airport and give me a call. You can leave that car or have it shipped; just get on the next flight out and come home.”

“Don’t you want to talk it over with Daddy to see if he wants me to come home like this?”

Unexpectedly I heard my father’s voice. “Melissa James, you are my child and I love you. I loved you when you were healthy, and I will love you when you’re sick. Do what your mother told you to do and hurry up and come home. Come on
home
, my child!”

Without hesitation I drove to the Atlanta International Airport and parked my car in the parking lot. As much as me and this ride had been through together, I had no intention of ever stepping foot back inside it. I planned to leave every single thing I owned in Atlanta, because I was making a new start.

Before calling my parents, I made a couple of copies of my test results and mailed them along with a letter to some of my little “friends” who had turned on me, like Fatz and his labelmates, Jay Spinz from the radio station, a couple of club owners and promoters, and most important, Reggie and his “family.”

An hour after talking to my parents, I was in the air looking down on the city of opportunities. I couldn’t help thinking how eager I was to come here, and it was ironic, but I was even more eager to leave.

I
was standing behind the curtain waiting to go onstage as the announcer began to introduce me. To be honest, I wasn’t nervous at all; I just wanted to hit the stage and do my thing.

“Okay, you guys are in for a treat. The next lady who’s about to bless the stage is a singer, songwriter, and published author. She’s been traveling and touring for the past year and gracing many of us with that beautiful voice of hers, and now I’m glad to welcome her. She’s the founder and CEO of STAR: Stop, Think, And Reconsider. She’s been bending over backward educating and serving as a mentor to young women everywhere who want to break into the music industry. Backed by her father, the Honorable Reverend Earl T. Booker James, and his lovely wife, Sister Patricia James, we bring you a true star. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for Ms. Melissa James.”

I made my way to the stage to face an audience of ten thousand fans. I opened the ceremony with my new single, “The Cards I Was Dealt,” which was an open door to my life’s story. So far, my single had sold over a million copies worldwide and gone platinum. My biography had also been flying off the shelves. Just as the announcer said, my parents and I had been traveling all over the world teaching parents and kids how to be successful without compromising their lives. It was too late for me to go back and make corrections, but it wasn’t too late for me to help someone else.

STAR is a nonprofit organization providing vocal, spiritual, and intellectual training for young women aged 12 to 18. We offer them resources and outlets and a strong, positive role model in their lives. Maybe if there had been a program like that when I was younger, I wouldn’t have gotten caught in the web of immorality that I crawled into and got tangled in. I teach these young ladies to think before they act. In a nutshell,
stop, think, and reconsider
your decisions. If it’s something that can potentially come back to haunt you later, don’t do it.

So there you have it. I actually became a star, just not like I thought I wanted to be at first. I finally got to perform in front of a big audience, make money, and had my voice heard by thousands, and all it cost me was my life. I guess when you think about it, I was literally dying to be a star!

B
everly “Mama Bev” Woods lay at the bottom of the staircase constricted with electrical tape. Her hands and feet were swollen and bound too tight. She had taken a massive blow to the head, and she faded in and out of consciousness while strangers riffled through her worldly possessions.

“Get that flat screen out to the van. Grab the surround sound, iPod dock, and anything else worth some dough,” said the leader of the intruders.

The steady stream of tears and blood pouring from Mama Bev’s eyes added moisture to the tape around her mouth causing it to slip off. Her eyes followed three masked robbers as they destroyed the home she’d worked a lifetime to buy. She had no strength to fight back.

One tall young man kept glancing over at Mama Bev. His actions offered false hope that he might become her savior. Unlike his partners in crime, his demeanor suggested that he would pay to be anywhere else. Tramond “Rocky” Clinkscale was always impressionable. He was weak and lacked any self-assurance. His insecurity made it easy for him to lie, rob, and steal when others wanted him to. Rocky felt bad for their victim but he wouldn’t be the one to run to her aide. He wasn’t built to be a hero. Rocky diverted his eyes from Mama Bev. She continued to suffer alone.

“Bitch, where’s the money? Answer me! Where’s the money and dope?” demanded Slick. He violently shook his victim. Even if Mama Bev could have replied, the aggressive boy wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. There were no drugs or money to be found. The intruders had stormed the wrong house.