GHETTO SUPERSTAR (25 page)

“That's really big, and thanks for letting us be the first to hear it.” Fabiola smiled, but Charming wasn't finished with her. “A song isn't all you two have in common, because my sources tell me that the two of you were engaged in an intimate dinner, and he was spotted in Giuseppe Zanotti on Madison Avenue buying
you shoes.” Charming batted her eyes and put on a cardboard smile as if she had Fabiola cornered.

“We
were
at dinner a couple of weeks ago and shout-outs to the people over at Shelly's—their food is really delicious—but the intimate dinner you spoke of was more of an innocent get-together with ten or so other people in celebration of the new song we had just finished recording a day earlier.”

“And the shoes are also innocent?” Charming's eyebrows rose. “Because I know for a fact that Teflon doesn't even shop for himself, sooooo for him to go into the store and shop for you … it must be special.”

“That was just a thank-you present for singing on his song. That's all.”

“Well, insiders told us that he got you a Rolex watch as well. Surely that isn't just a thank-you present.”

“I don't know anything about a Rolex watch from Teflon.”

“I see that you are wearing one now?” Charming's red lips shot the questions out. “And a really nice one at that. Y'all let me say this: Ms. Fabiola has a Rolex on that looks like it's from Antarctica, with all that ice on it making wintertime in New York look like Miami in May. Okay?”

“Thank you so much, but this is from my man. He got this for me as a congrats gift when ‘Touch Me’ became a hit.”

“Very nice, and he happens to have very good taste. Is he your sugar daddy?”

“He's older than me and he treats me like a lady should be treated, but he's hardly a sugar daddy.” Fabiola took the stabs but didn't bust a sweat.

Not being able to rattle her, Charming Ching-a-Ling changed gears. “Now, how was it working in the studio with Teflon-the-Don?”

“It was wonderful. He was so easy to work with and calm spirited. He welcomed me into the studio and our chemistry was phenomenal, which I think impacted the song, making it ever so hot to death. We got the song down in no time.”

Charming looked Fabiola in the eyes to see if she could find any indication that there was something going on between the two, but she saw nothing. “Well, Ms. Fabulous, let's play the song. Would you do the honors of taking us to your song?”

“But of course.” Fabiola introduced the song. “New York City, it's my pleasure to bring to you first, my second début song, ‘Boss Chick.’”

At the end of the song, Teflon-the-Don called in.

“Charming, why are you giving this nice girl such a hard time? Haven't we spoken about that before?”

“Sure have.” Charming laughed it off. “Fabiola knows that it's just my job. Shoot, I have to eat and baby needs pampers, milk, and shoes, and besides Fabulous Fabiola is over here holding her own just fine. Now, how about you tell my listeners how it was to work with her?”

“It was gangsta in its own way.”

“Give us the behind-the-scenes scoop on the Fabulous Fabiola.”

“I mean, her name says it all … Fabulous. She has a wonderful spirit and to sum it all up she's one of the hardest-working women in show business. She's dedicated to her craft—a perfectionist indeed.” Teflon gave Fabiola high praises.

“Now, Teflon, you've been known to be a real ladies' man. Is she one of your chicks?”

“Charming, you need to stop it. But to keep you eating, I'll let you know that we are colleagues who happen to have a hit song in common and a great friendship.”

“You haven't answered the question. It seems like you are beating around the bush.”

“No, we are not dating nor have we had a one-night stand nor do we have a love interest. Fab is happy and has a man, and I respect that. And I look forward to working with her again sometime in the future.”

“So, who are you seeing these days? If it ain't Fabiola in your life, who is the lucky girl in your life, then?”

“Nas couldn't said it no better: Money is my bitch.”

Teflon-the-Don stayed professional and kept the interview positive.

After the call with Teflon, Charming and Fabiola bumped a little girl talk in between a few more hot tracks. Off the air, they really vibed well; Charming even promised to show Fabiola some exotic out-of-the-way boutiques in the city. Back on the air, Charming put a caller through.

“We have another caller on the air,” Charming said to her listeners.

“Hello,” Fabiola said. “Can I have your name?”

“You might as well take my name since you done stole both my songs, and you trying to be me.”

“What?” Fabiola was caught off guard.

“You heard me, you fake wanna-be-me-ass bitch. You stole my song, and now you trying to steal my place and my sound. You are trying so hard to be me, but you don't want to FUCK wit me.”

“Honey, I don't know who you are but it sounds like you have some issues of your own, because I don't do karaoke.” Fabiola chuckled a bit. She figured out who it was and she had no intentions of letting any one punk her, especially a disgruntled industry hoe. Besides, controversy sold.

“You little thieving bitch, you.”

“Excuse me, I've never been one to steal and I sure wasn't the one that stole that cheap wig of yours.” Fabiola dug back at her.

“Oh bitch, you want to go there? Don't fuck with me—I'm from the Bronx.”

“And?”

“And bitch, you don't want to fuck with me, I will—”

“Don't talk about it, be about it,” Fabiola cut her off.

Charming had no idea that Royce was going to call in, but she loved every minute of it. This show was going to send the ratings off the Richter scale, and that's what Charming lived for. This was what her show was about.

“You only got your break because of me. If I had sung the song your name would be Fabiola Who.”

“If, if, if! The only sure thing on if is … if you snooze, you lose. And at the end of the day, they chose me and not you to do the song. Besides, I made it a hit. I'd be mad, too if I was you.”

“Mad for what? I got a platinum
album
—do you? I'm signed to a
major
—are you?” Not allowing Fabiola to get a word in, Royce sneered, “What reason could I possibly have to be mad?”

“If you're not mad, then why are you calling the radio talking ignorant like some project chick? Pointing, accusing, whining, crying, kicking, and screaming, like a little girl. Answer that?” Fabiola laughed a bit. “Come on, sweets, the people of New York City want to hear your answer. Darling, inquiring minds all over the homes, streets, and offices of New York City want to know,” Fabiola said in an exaggerated Southern drawl.

“Because I want the people to know that you stole my song,” Royce snapped. “That you are an imposter.”

“Is that really the reason why, or is it because nobody will give you an interview of your own? Are you mad at the entire world because you can't grow hair and you wear stocking caps with holes under your bootleg wigs? Chello, is that why?” Fabiola
didn't give Royce a second to get in a word before she continued, “I kind of understand, I'd probably be upset, too, and like Lil' Kim would say, ‘If I were you I'd hate me, too.’”

“Bitch, it's on. When I see you, it's gon be on and poppin'. Believe what I tell you: I am going to make your walk in this industry a living hell.”

“Baby girl, I've been there. I'm a warrior built for this type of weather, so if you feel like this is how you want to carry it, then so be it.”

“Yeah, you ain't seen war. You might have heard of hip-hop war but homegirl you ain't seen R & B war yet.”

Charming was getting a little peeved that she couldn't get a word in to further flame the inferno.

“You know I really feel sorry for you now,” Fabiola said. “It's sad that you should say that, because as a black woman you should know it's hard enough to make it as it is, and you want to spend your time trying to tear another black woman down. That's really sad.”

“Whatever, bitch. Fuck a sisterhood. I'm trying to make sure I'm okay.”

“I feel sorry for you, I really do,” Fabiola said as sympathetically as she could.

“Wait a minute, Royce.” Charming Ching-a-Ling finally got her chance. “Did you say ‘fuck a sisterhood’?”

“That's what I said. At the end of the day it's about me.” Royce held her ground.

“Well, not that I am taking sides, but you just contradicted yourself. All of your songs are about love, friends, and having fun.”

“Listen, Charming, if you want me on your show you schedule a fucking interview. And as far as you are concerned, Fake-ola,” she mocked, “you better get out of NYC, because when I see you, it's on. You country thieving bitch.” Royce exhaled.

“Don't let the accent fool you!”

“On that note, since this really isn't your interview and you don't care about being on the Ching-a-Ling show, see you and I wouldn't want to be you!” Charming disconnected the line on Royce and laughed.

“So, we understand that Royce is really angry because of the wig incident and because you are exceptionally talented. Not only do you do what it takes to go to the top, you have what's most important: the right attitude. I know your interview was scheduled to be up a while ago but I would love for you to stick around and hear what callers have to say about you and Royce's conversation.”

“I would love to, because at the end of the day it's about the fans, the listeners, sisterhood, and having great friends and supporters.”

They took a commercial break, and while they were off the air, Charming told Fabiola, “After this interview every single radio show is going to want you, so get ready for a ride and don't forget about little old me who gave you your first interview.”

t was a little after nine in the morning. Fabiola was hugging the pillow in the presidential suite when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, baby. You okay?” Casino had been concerned about Fabiola ever since the Charming Ching-a-Ling interview. He wanted to fly back to New York to be by her side, so she wouldn't have to go through the drama alone, but Fabiola was having none of it. She said she was a big girl and could take care of herself. He needed to take care of whatever it was that made him have to go back to Virginia in the first place.

“I told you yesterday that I was fine, Casino. The only problem I'm having is that I miss sleeping in your arms at night. This bed is so big without you.”

“That crazy girl did threaten you,” Casino reminded her. “You can't take that type of thing lightly, ya know?”

“Royce? She's all bark and no bite. But there is something you can do for me.”

“Name it.”

“Tell me what you're wearing.” She wanted to change the subject to something more pleasurable.

“What I'm wearing?” For a second he was wondering what that had to do with anything, and then it hit him. “Okay, I got you.” Casino looked down at his attire, as if he had to be reminded of what he had dressed himself in that day. “I got on those Gucci pajamas you persuaded me to buy when we went shopping the other day.”

“Take them off and come play with me,” she teased.

“It depends on what you have in mind.” Casino was warming to the mood. “Tell me what
you're
wearing.”

She was touching herself where it mattered. “Nothing … nothing but a smile.”

“In that case how does my hand feel nestled between your legs?” he played along. “You feel so hot and tight.”

“I love when you play with my little kitten like that,” Fabiola cooed. “She misses you.” Since they took their relationship to the next level Fabiola found herself wanting to be with Casino more and more. Every time she slept alone all she thought about was him touching her.

“Do she mind if I take a sip of her warm milk?” he asked, moistening his lips with his tongue.

“She wouldn't mind that at all. To be honest, she'd like that
very much.” Fabiola kicked the sheets off of her naked body, looking around the room for her suitcase; it was on the floor by the closet where she left it. She got up to retrieve what she needed to make the experience a little livelier. She laid back down, spread her legs wide-open, and began to put the vibration on her clit.

Casino could hear the slight hum of the rabbit vibrator through the phone and felt himself growing to the idea. “Ummm, this is good, baby. It's sweeter than before, have you been eating something to make it that way?”

The stimulation of the rabbit pulsating on her clit, combined with hearing Casino's deep voice, took her where she wanted to be, where she needed to be. “It's the same sweet young kitten as always. It just tastes like that because it's been a while since you visited her like this.”

“Put your hand on this,” he said into the phone. “You feel how hard it is, baby?”

“Oh, yeah, it's rock hard. Did it get that way just for me?” she panted, her face a mask of pure ecstasy.

“Do you want to take it for a swim?”

Eyes in the back of her head, she said, “Yes, please, take it for a swim with me.”

“You don't have to beg,” he told her, “I'm testing the water right now, but I'm only part way in.”