GHETTO SUPERSTAR Page 2

  TRACK 2

  I Shot the Sheriff

  he big bird touched down at Richmond International Airport after ten PM. By the time Fabiola and her family got their luggage and found a ride home, the ladies were mentally and physically exhausted.

  Fabiola was sitting on her bed soothing her tired legs with lotion when her mother walked in. “Fab, I know this has been a huge disappointment, but don't let it get you down. I'm going to get right on top of this in the morning. There's got to be some kind of a logical explanation.”

  “Ma, maybe this isn't what I am supposed to do. I mean, this is the second deal that I've gotten and nothing has come of it … Why?”

  “Baby, this is the entertainment world, and a lot of folks had deals that didn't pan out before they got their big break. Don't think one monkey can stop a show, or one clown stops the circus. You know your momma: While you were singing your butt off”—Viola gave her daughter a reassuring look—“I was making contacts. I have lots of business cards from people that I met on Friday who were interested in you, and I'll start contacting them tomorrow, too. In the meantime, we'll just continue booking you everywhere we can to get you more exposure.”

  Fabiola knew it was no use trying to argue with her mother when it came to anything concerning her career. Her mother knew best, and Fabiola would follow her lead. Dropping her head, she softly conceded, “Okay, Ma.”

  Viola headed to the door. “Now get you some beauty rest. We'll talk in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mommy. I know you are disappointed, too, but things will work out for us.” Fabiola knew that her mother was more disappointed than she was letting on.

  “I know, baby. I am going to sleep now. We'll start fresh tomorrow.”

  Fabiola fell into an exhausted deep sleep, only to be awakened the next morning by loud knocking at the door. Still half asleep, she snatched the covers from her head and sat up in bed. Maybe she was dreaming.

  BANG … BANGGG … BANGGG!!!

  There it was again. The pounding on the door continued. Fabiola was definitely awake now. Who could sleep through that racket?

  Fabiola lifted her eye mask and dragged her feet out of the bed. She slipped on her fuzzy bedroom slippers and headed downstairs to see who was beating on the door. Maybe it's UPS or FedEx with my Hot Soundz check and contract, she allowed herself to hope. Wishful thinking.

  As she walked down the hall, she pulled her Victoria's Secret boxers out of the crack of her butt and fixed the straps on the matching tank top.

  Viola beat Fabiola to the door. “Okay, okay. I hear you … Who is it?” she called out.

  “It's the sheriff's department, ma'am.” Viola looked through the peephole.

  A sheriff's car was parked in front of the house, and two deputy sheriffs stood on the front porch.

  Viola, speechless for a change, turned and looked at her daughter.

  “Let me see what's going on, Ma,” Fabiola said as she unlocked and then opened the door. “Yes? What seems to be the problem?”

  Viola reached for her daughter's arm. “No, I will tend to this; you have to protect your image. We wouldn't want any of this—you dealing with the sheriff's office—to be something that the press could dig up in the years to come.”

  Viola pushed her daughter out of the way. Although Fabiola stepped aside so she wouldn't get knocked down, she watched and marveled at how her mother was always thinking two steps ahead, regardless of the situation.

  “Ma'am, my name is Deputy Wiggins. You were served ten days ago with an eviction notice to vacate the property.” Deputy Wiggins, a short white guy who looked as though, if he were taller, he could've been a linebacker for the San Francisco 49ers, stood with his hat in his hands.

  “Yes, sir,” Viola said, “but I called down to the courts and the clerk told me that the city usually has a heart near Christmastime and doesn't evict people after December tenth. I was assured that we had a few more days to make the rest of the payment to the landlord.”

  “Well, the landlord enforced the order of eviction, ma'am, and you gots to go. Bottom line,” his partner, Deputy Justice, spoke up. “We don't have to do no explaining to these people,” she told her partner. “You paid your rent and she didn't. Now she needs to pack her things and get out. She should have paid her rent.”

  Deputy Justice was new on the job. She was five foot six with walnut-brown-colored skin and weighed about 135 pounds, depending on the time of the month. Her face was scarred from the repercussions of running her mouth back in high school, and evidently she still hadn't learned her lesson.

  “Look, lady,” Deputy Justice barked at Viola, “this ain't no hospice or even chapel, where we are going to feel any sympathy for you. This is what happens when you don't pay your rent: You get put out. Now, you have ten minutes to get your things, because after that the moving crew will be here to sit your stuff out on the curb.”

  By now Adora had joined her mother and sister and heard what was going on.

  “But we have nowhere to go,” Adora chimed in.

  “Besides,” Viola added, “we talked to the landlord and he said that he would give us until the end of the month to give him the rest of the money we owe.”

  “No, ma'am. What he meant is that he wouldn't enforce the judgment if you paid the back rent that you owe by next week,” Deputy Wiggins calmly said to the family, as Justice walked a few steps away.

  “Unit sixty-one to Base,” Justice spoke into her walkie-talkie, “we are going to need backup at an eviction on …” She read off the address on the notice.

  “No, we're not,” Deputy Wiggins said to his overzealous partner. “We are going to work this out. Now cancel that call,” he demanded.

  “I don't trust these people,” Justice said to her partner.

  “These people?” Adora checked. “Who the fuck are these people?”

  “Listen … just calm down,” Wiggins said to both his partner and Adora while canceling the call himself.

  “Sir, is there any way that you could give us twenty-four hours and come back tomorrow so we could move our stuff out and make this easier for everyone?” Since Deputy Wiggins appeared to be the level-headed one, Fabiola tried appealing to him. “Sir, I know you guys don't want to pack up everything we have between the three of us. None of it's packed.”

  Deputy Wiggins seemed to be listening, so Fabiola continued.

  “Is there any way that you could give us like forty-eight hours to talk to our landlord, because I am sure it must be some kind of mistake. My mother is always on top of these kinds of things and I know for a fact that she was working it all out with him. I think there is some kind of mix-up.”

  “I am not sure if we could do that.”

  “Listen, Deputy Wiggins, we honestly didn't know this was going to happen. Please,” she begged. “Would you help us this one time? Please, sir, it's Christmastime.”

  “I'm sorry, but this is out of my hands,” Deputy Wiggins said apologetically. “There isn't much I can do to help at this point.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe we can go to the other houses and come back to you last. At least that way you can get some of your things out.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Fabiola felt relieved that she was able to buy her family some time. “I appreciate anything you can do for us. And if somehow you could manage to delay this until tomorrow, we'll be forever grateful.” Fabiola flashed her puppy-dog eyes.

  “That's not going to happen,” Justice quickly intervened. “You should have thought about that before you were out there shopping for Christmas gifts instead of paying your rent,” Justice said as she rubbernecked a few gifts around the big pine Christmas tree that stood in their living room.

  “You would be blessed if you could find it in your heart,” Viola said, feeling very humbled.

  “Don't try that God stuff with us. You need to pray to him to get you the money to pay your rent.”

  “Sistah,” Viola said to Justice, “why are you being so nasty to us?”


  “I ain't your sistah” Justice spat with a little roll to her neck. “It's poor examples like you that give a real black woman a bad name.”

  “Fuck you, bitch.” Adora had digested just about all the shit she was going to eat from this wanna-be super bitch in a tailored UPS uniform. “Who the fuck do you think you are anyway?”

  “I'm the person that's going to lock your broke ass up, bitch.”

  Fabiola saw the anger in her sister's eyes and said, “She can't lock nobody up, because she a deputy, not a police,” but not before Deputy Justice got a face full of spit courtesy of Adora. Deputy Justice blanked the fuck out, doing the only thing that she had been trained to do. She snatched her nightstick out of her holster and charged toward them. But she didn't get far.

  “Bitch, you must be crazy if you think you gonna put your hands on one of mines.” Viola dropped her calm Angela Davis sisterhood and blessed demeanor and smacked the stick out of Deputy Justice's hand, pushing her to the side. That was all the edge Adora needed to get at her ass.

  Wiggins attempted to break up the squabble without hurting anyone, but his strength was no match against two angry women fighting for everything they owned. As he tried to grab Adora, Viola pushed him, causing him to lose his balance. Deputy Wiggins then reached for his radio to call for backup, but Fabiola was quicker to the draw than the deputy sheriff. All that image stuff was out of the damn window when it came to her family. After grabbing the man's walkie-talkie she threw it to the other side of the street.

  Viola reacted like a fierce lioness protecting her baby cubs from the wild hyenas in the jungle. With her last rational thought long gone, she hit Wiggins with a solid right to the jaw with the butt of his own billy club. Blood squirted from his mouth, along with a couple of teeth.

  The melee had attracted onlookers, including Casino, an old gangsta holding his own—and then some—in the city since the early seventies. He was coming out of a house across the street when he saw what was going down. What the fuck? After he realized that his eyes weren't trying to pull a fast one on his mind, and that two deputy sheriffs were indeed going toe-to-toe with three women in broad daylight, he sent a few of his personal goons over to break it up. The ladies were putting it down so hard for a second, he thought about offering them a job.

  Casino's muscle did what the two deputies could not: They got the ruckus under control without any more violence than necessary. Casino then walked across the street to ask what the brawl was all about. His command of the situation seemed to calm everyone down.

  “Sir, thank you very much for your assistance,” Deputy Wiggins said, “but this is a police matter and we can handle it from here.” It was kind of difficult to understand what Wiggins said because of his missing teeth and swollen lip.

  Deputy Justice decided to remain silent for a change.

  “I think we can handle this in a way that doesn't have to cause any more harm than has already taken place,” Casino offered. “What we have is a small misunderstanding that led to a huge overreaction by everyone involved. If you allow me a little more of your time, I think I may be able to come up with an amicable solution.”

  “And what might this amicable solution be?” Deputy Wiggins wanted to know.

  Casino's smile made it all the way up to his eyes. “Money. The entire situation was caused in one way or another by the lack of money or the pursuit of money.”

  Casino looked at each of the Mays women one by one. “If these good people would have had the money to pay their rent, they wouldn't have gotten evicted. Am I right?” Then he looked to Deputies Justice and Wiggins. “And all the two of you were doing was trying to perform your job in order to earn an honest paycheck, which equates to”—he paused for a split second and finished—“money.”

  “What exactly are you getting at?” Deputy Justice broke her silence. Deputy Wiggins shot her a look.

  “It's Christmastime, a time for miracles—that's all.” There was that smile again. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way. By no means am I trying to—well, you know—act in any way that is unlawful. But I have a friend who works for your department and I happen to know that the governor isn't giving out any Christmas bonuses this year. I'm willing to give you each one thousand dollars just for doing your job. Nothing more, nothing less. And that's all that has to go in your report; nothing more, nothing less. Insurance can pay for your teeth; you can say that you had an accident on the job.” Casino never lost eye contact with Wiggins as he said, “Shit, they may give you some workman's comp.”

  Deputy Wiggins thought about what this gentleman was offering. If his partner wasn't so gung ho, none of this probably would have ever happened. Besides, if it ever got out that he was manhandled by three ladies, and that his radio and nightstick had been taken from him, he would never hear the last of it. “They still have to be out within three hours,” he said to Casino.

  “Let's give them until say”—Casino shrugged—“five PM.”

  “But Mr.—” Viola spoke up.

  “Casino … just call me Casino,” he advised her.

  “Mr. Casino,” Viola said, “we don't have any money or anywhere to go.”

  “No family?”

  “No, sir”—she shook her head—“it's always been me and my kids. Do you mind?” she asked before lighting a Newport. “Our landlord has basically screwed us,” she continued after taking a pull and blowing out the smoke. “I gave him half of the back rent that I owed at the first of the month, and he promised that he would work with me until I could come up with the rest.”

  One of Casino's workers had dealings with this same landlord before, so Casino knew firsthand that he could be less than fair when he had the upper hand. “Some people's word isn't worth the paper they wipe their asses with.”

  “Plus, that ain't the half of it,” Viola said. She felt comfortable talking to Casino for some reason. “You want to hear something funny? This isn't the worst thing that's happened to us in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “I'm not doing any laughing, Miss, but what could be worse than getting thrown out of your house right here at Christmastime?” He gazed at her, waiting for an answer.

  “Your ever-so-talented daughter winning fifty thousand dollars in a talent contest in New York, and the IRS shutting down the company and freezing their assets before she can pick up the check or the recording contract.”

  “I think I saw something about that on CNN. The same thing happened to one of those big record companies in New York. Hot Soundz.” He looked at Fabiola and Adora, who watched from the door. “That wasn't the company that she had the deal with?”

  “Yes, it was. My youngest daughter, Fabiola,” she said proudly. “Yep, she beat 'em all out.” Viola bragged but thought about reality quick. “If it wasn't for bad luck, we wouldn't have any luck at all.” She shook her head. “But we ain't giving up.”

  Casino was a hustler, as well as a visionary and a shrewd businessman, but at the end of the day somewhere under that metal armor he had a heart that always rooted for the underdog. Hell, as a black man living in this white man's world, most of the time he was the underdog.

  “I don't blame you. And being that there aren't many entertainers to come out of our capital city, I'm going to help you out,” he said. “Tonk”—he looked at one of his goons—“get a couple of moving vans over here, pronto. And get some strong bodies and people to pack up their house.”

  Tonk said, “I'm on it, boss.” He moved quickly and began punching numbers on his phone.

  Turning back to Viola, Casino said, “I'm going to put you up in a hotel tonight. I have a place that I usually rent out, but I haven't done anything with it since the last tenants skipped out. You and your family can use it rent free until you get back on your feet. Just make sure you keep it clean and well maintained.”

  “What?” Viola was stunned as her heart jumped with gratitude. No one, including her children's fathers, had ever done anything this nice for them.

>   “Are you sure?” Viola said in not only a tone but a look of disbelief, which Adora caught.

  When Adora saw the doubt written all over her mother's face, she whispered to Fabiola, “I ain't gonna let Ma mess this one up for us.” And Fabiola nodded in agreement.

  “Ma, come here for a second,” Adora called out to her mother.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Viola said before walking toward the apartment to see what her eldest daughter wanted.

  “Ma, don't mess this up. I heard all about this guy, he's legit.” Then Adora quickly schooled her mother on Casino's reputation in the streets. “He's a man that could be ruthless if disrespected, but he's been known to have a soft spot for people who have been wronged.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Adora began to plead with her mother. “Please don't jack this up for us.”

  “Ma, maybe this is a real blessing. Take him up on his offer.” Fabiola grabbed her mother's hand. “Please!”

  Viola softened up as she looked at her two daughters in their pajamas and slippers shivering in the brisk December air. Although she was hesitant, she'd die and go to hell with gasoline panties on before she let either of her girls be on the streets. She was almost sure that Casino's offer was better than hell. She walked back over to Casino. “Are you sure, Mr. Casino? I mean—”

  “I wouldn't have opened my mouth if I wasn't sure,” he cut her off.

  “I don't know what to say.” Tears were forming in Viola's eyes. “Thank you so much.”

  “That's plenty. It's not plush but it's a place to call home until your daughter lands that big deal. I'll make a call. I can have it ready in a few days. In the meantime I have a friend that has a moving company; I'll make sure all of your things are put in storage tonight. 'Tis the season to be jolly—right?”

  That night, Fabiola vowed to herself that she would one day buy her mother a house in cash. And the icing on the cake would be the power to help someone in the same situation that she and her family had been in, just as Mr. Casino had helped them. As she drifted off to sleep that night in the hotel bed, her thoughts drifted to the man who came along at the right time: Mr. Casino.