The Brand (9 page)

Recently, Reebok, the sportswear giant, had
collaborated with him to make pairs of sneakers they called Raizer
T’s. Those shoes were sold out within two weeks of going on sale in
stores across America. Evidently, Raizer T, also known as Anthony
“Tony” Ryzor, was a music genius, if not an intelligent
businessman, even though he did not have a college degree to prove
it. He knew that there were a lot of people who had spent years
studying at college who would never in their lifetime make the
money he made in a matter of six months. He was also aware that
there were people who were intensely jealous of him, resenting the
fact that he had made “serious” amounts of money from music and
that he had 25,000,000 followers on Twitter. It was because of this
jealousy that he kept himself protected by a team of bodyguards and
caused a scene wherever he went.

Raizer T had a multi-million dollar mansion
in The Hamptons, with a state-of-the-art recording studio, where he
liked to work during his occasional meditative moods, but he
preferred living in his SoHo condo in the heart of Manhattan. Ryze
Entertainment, his recording label with dozens of artists under its
management, was located on two floors in a tall building in the
Financial District. On a typical day, Anthony Ryzor spent the day
honoring the schedule compiled by his PA, in consultation with the
rest of the people whose concern it was to manage Anthony Ryzor’s
life. On a typical night, Raizer T would spend the large part of
the night in the recording studios at Ryze Entertainment, working
on a music project of his choice, before calling it a night around
2am or 3am. When he arrived home, he would take a sleeping pill and
sleep for exactly eight hours, regardless of what time he went to
sleep. The hours were counted by his phone, which would break into
a shrill sound when the eight hours were enough for Mr. Ryzor to
start the day.

One night in September 2011 Raizer T worked
late into the night at the Ryze studios in the Financial District
of New York City. At exactly 1.11am he got into the backseat of a
Cadillac Escalade and sat beside one of his armed bodyguards. The
other was sitting on the passenger seat next to the driver. The
driver took them to the apartment block in SoHo, where Raizer T had
a snack prepared for him by someone at the apartment. Then he went
to bed at exactly 2.15am with a black-haired Mexican woman who had
wide hips and big breasts. Raizer T, a self-confessed porn addict,
had people working for him who exercised due caution and diligence
in finding him women to fulfill his sexual fantasies.

In fact, that night they had organized six
women who were currently at the luxurious apartment for Raizer T’s
exploration; a 17-year-old beautiful, tall, thin and light-skinned
Black girl, with average-sized, upright natural breasts; a tall,
strong-limbed 20-year-old Brazilian with a curvy behind and thick
sensual lips; an 18-year-old American Chinese with tiny breasts and
a small frame; a 23-year-old Black woman of generous proportions,
with a beautiful, smooth face, dark skin, heavy breasts and a big
behind; a 19-year-old blonde with big breasts and a captivating
smile; as well as the long-haired attractive Mexican with a small
waist, who was aged 22 and was described by Raizer T’s people as
“bootylicious”. Save for the 17-year-old, all these women were
pornstars, identified by Raizer T while watching pornography videos
and then requesting his people to find them for him. He was paying
a small fortune for their collective private service, but Raizer T
didn’t mind. He knew no limits when it came to fulfilling his
sexual fantasies.

When he awakened at exactly 10.15am, his
current harem was brought to his spacious, sumptuous bedroom
quarters. They were all dressed differently in a variety of clothes
common to women in porn films; high-heeled shoes and knee-length
boots, scant G-strings, suspenders, fish-net stockings,
super-miniskirts, etc., including the Mexican, who had woken up an
hour earlier than Raizer T. All six were showered and smelled clean
and fresh as they joined him on the king-size bed, armed with a
wide variety of sex toys. For the next hour, Raizer T enjoyed the
pleasures administered to his body by the six women in expert
fashion. Collectively, the seven of them used every available space
within the bedroom suite to explore sexual techniques frequently
used in the porn industry…blowjob, deep-throating, anal
penetration, lesbian pussy-eating, cowgirl ride, spoons-position,
doggy style, cum-swallowing, anal doggy style…etc.

At 11.17am, Raizer T took a quick warm shower
before having a warm pizza, French fries, two hot dogs, and a
generous measure of Coco Cola. At 11.45 he was in Queens, New York,
on the set of a music video for an RnB starlet in whose song he was
featured. During breaks in his shoot, he was interviewed and
photographed by reporters from a New York daily newspaper. At 15.45
he was at the Statue of Liberty, doing a photo shoot for his
clothing label’s forthcoming spring collection, images which would
be splashed in pages of all the major publications in the country.
At 16.00 his schedule said he had a delayed lunch meeting with one
Joelyn Smith, Hollywood’s newest star. At exactly that time, his PA
called Ms. Smith and profusely apologized on behalf of Mr. Ryzor
and added that Mr. Ryzor was held up elsewhere in other business
and could only accommodate Ms. Smith at 18.oo – if Ms. Smith did
not mind, of course?

Ms. Smith, already sitting down at one of
the tables at an upmarket Manhattan restaurant that she had called
weeks earlier to reserve this very table for this particular
meeting at 1600 hours on this day with music genius Raizer T, was
positively agitated, but her voice did not betray her true emotions
when she spoke to Ryzor’s assistant. They agreed that a car sent
courtesy of Mr. Ryzor would pick her up from where she was staying
and transport her to meet Mr. Ryzor for a dinner meeting at a
fabulous restaurant in the Financial District at 1800 hours. Her
emotions seriously edging towards anger, Joelyn left the restaurant
and the doorman flagged down a yellow cab to take her to the
Peninsula Hotel at the corner of Fifth Avenue and
55
^th
Street.

At 16.45 Raizer T was done with his photo
shoot for the day. The photographer still had more locations he
wanted to do, but that would be on another day. At 17.30, Raizer T
was stuck in heavy traffic, sitting at the backseat of an
alpine-white customized BMW 760Li, having a video conference call
with his business partners to discuss the progress in their joint
venture, the building of a new hotel and casino in Dallas,
Texas.

At exactly 18.04 he was sitting down at his
favorite table, situated at a corner of the restaurant, flanked by
two bodyguards, using his iPad to tweet to his 25 million followers
what was on his mind, when the table was approached by the most
gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Intelligent minds attract. When they do, it
is so powerful a force of nature that it can lead to dangerous
obsession.

On first impression, Raizer T had thought
Joelyn Smith to be one of those blue-eyed blondes; the superficial
kind with nothing of substance to offer beneath their beautiful
features. Then they had exchanged words and discussed the direction
in music that she wanted to take, and he had learned that she
possessed an intelligence that he, for some odd reason, found sexy.
Raizer T met a lot of different women in his day-to-day dealings,
and he had had sexual liaisons with plenty of women in his life,
but most of them were of a magnificent mediocrity when it came to
the subject of their intelligence. It was breathtaking to be with a
top-rate beautiful
and
intelligent
woman.

That night, he personally saw to it that
Joelyn was delivered safely to her temporary home, the Peninsula
Hotel. He sat beside her on the reclining backseats of the Maybach
62 that had brought her to the restaurant, the two bodyguards at
the front, one of them doubling as a chauffeur.

In the morning, three bouquets of red,
yellow and white roses arrived by special delivery at her suite at
the hotel. The card attached to the red flowers read:
To a beautiful
woman, from a gentleman.

A little after 9.30am, Raizer T used his
smartphone with his private number, known only to a few select
close friends and family, to call her phone number. ‘Did you get
the flowers?’ he asked after they had exchanged greetings.

‘I was wondering who sent them,’ she replied
truthfully.

Raizer T let out a laugh of amusement.
Briefly. ‘I was wondering something different. I’m thinking we
could do lunch together…informal…Lemme show you around town.’

Joelyn hesitated. Raizer T was getting
friendly with her too fast, but she was afraid of offending him. He
was, after all, the man who would take her music career to the
stars. Last night, when the Maybach 62 had picked her up and taken
her to the restaurant to meet Raizer T, Joelyn’s stomach had
knotted with apprehension at what sort of character she would meet.
Owing to South Africa’s lingering racial prejudice, Joelyn had had
few personal dealings in her life with Black people. She knew from
music videos that he was a handsome kind of guy, usually with
short, neat hair and no visible tattoos on his body, but she did
not know who the real Raizer T was. She had found out last night
that he was a surprisingly intelligent-sounding guy who spoke in
“proper” English and was dressed more like a careless fashion
designer than a rapper’s rapper. He was also shorter than TV
suggested; perhaps shorter than her, and she was of average height.
He had been in casual white pants, white sneakers and a green shirt
with white vertical stripes, open at the collar to give a glimpse
of a white vest. The only items of jewelry he wore were a gold
watch on his left hand and a dazzling diamond bracelet that was a
perfect fit for his right wrist.

‘I didn’t get that,’ his voice brought her
mind back to the present and she realized that she had not answered
him.

‘Okay.’

‘Okay? Good. Can I pick you up at 12?’

‘Sure.’

That was the end of their conversation. He
arrived exactly on time at her hotel, accompanied by his
bodyguards. With the two protectors in tow, they walked around the
city, sightseeing. He took her to Times’ Square, a dazzling arcade
of tall buildings and electronic advertising boards. They bought
hot dogs from a stall and she told him that she knew a place called
South Africa where there were sausages of a premium quality, known
as
boerewors
. They took
a yellow cab to Central Park, where it rained all of a sudden and
they had to rush indoors and hide.

It was an afternoon when he learned that she
was from South Africa and had until recently been married. It was
an afternoon when she learned that currently aged twenty-eight,
Anthony Ryzor had seven children of varying ages, two of them the
same age but with different mothers. The eldest of those children
was aged eleven.

‘What?’ Joelyn was shocked. ‘Your first child
was created when you were just sixteen!’

‘It’s crazy,’ he said with a smile. ‘But it’s
true. I just can’t seem to keep this thing in its pants.’

She laughed hysterically at that.

He went on. ‘I guess it’s genetic. My father
went through five marriages and produced twelve children within
those marriages and six without…and supported none of us. I’m
tryin’ to be a better man and takin’ care of all of my kids.’

It was an afternoon when it rained intensely
but for a brief period, baffling meteorologists and laymen alike,
and afterwards the skies cleared and the sunshine fell across the
city and brought with it a wonderful atmosphere. It was an
afternoon when they strolled through Central Park, enjoying the
wonderful atmosphere that lingered after the short rainfall. It was
an afternoon when she discovered how busy an individual he was, his
phone singing incessantly until he had to switch it off in respect
of her. It was an afternoon when he stopped in his tracks in the
middle of Central Park, his bodyguards a stone’s throw behind them,
and looked at her with a serious expression. ‘Joelyn, I’m deeply
attracted to you.’

She did not know what to say, but she forced
her brain to formulate an answer. ‘You’ve only just met me.’

‘That’s all it takes.’

With a shy look on her face, Joelyn looked
down and continued walking. He fell into pace beside her. ‘Let’s
have dinner tonight. Just the two of us. No bodyguards. No
entourage. Just me ’n’ you.’

She stopped walking and looked at him. ‘We
have a recording session tonight, remember?’

‘Shit! Sorry.’ He snapped his fingers at his
bodyguards. ‘Guys, get us transport. We have to go to the
studio.’

A yellow cab took them to the Financial
District. At Ryze Entertainment, Raizer T demonstrated to Joelyn
that he was as devoted to his work as he was to sex. He put her in
a sound-proof recording booth, sat behind a set of recording
equipment, played her a beat and told her to sing to the beat. He
did that three times, and then told her to sing a different song.
Afterwards, he beckoned her to come over to his side of the
partitioning glass. She took a seat beside him and he swiveled his
chair to face her.

‘Joelyn, you got talent, but your voice needs
a lotta work.’ He saw the apprehensive look in her eyes. ‘Don’t
worry; I’ll make a star outta ya. You got the money to finance your
project, so that’s a plus for you. And you came to the right place.
We aren’t gonna take your money and just do a chop-chop job. We’ll
do our best to get the best voice outta you. My only concern is
that you don’t have a label. You will need one to publish your
music and protect your copyright.’