Chapter 20
“Ish…I don’t think the tiger is a good idea, and I ain’t saying this just because I’m terrified of any animal with teeth,” Orlando shared.
“Wouldn’t that be all animals?” I pointed out.
“Pretty much but listen…PETA is going to have a field day with this. Isn’t he in captivity?”
“She. I wouldn’t use a male tiger. The song is about my crouching tiger, my pussy. It’d be dumb to use a male.”
“Ish, that’s not the point.”
The tigress snatched her head around and locked her stare on poor Orlando, who screeched, “Nah, fuck this! I’m out!”
“Wait, don’t go! Her handler has her on a leash. We’re safe,” I tried.
“Th-th-that’s what I’m saying! Tigers ain’t supposed to be on no leash, baby.”
“How you gonna be scared of her and advocate for her freedom at the same time?”
I never got an answer from him because Miss Suzy—that was the tiger’s name—let out a roar and Orlando shot off the stage.
Shaking my head, I resumed my conversation with her handler.
I guess I gotta block her, too.
Fuck.
Mama Pat: You are one ungrateful little girl! I raised you, took you in when I didn’t have to, and you do my son like this? His record company is failing because of you! He can’t afford to pay his other artists! You should be ashamed of yourself. Next time I call, you better answer me!
I wasn’t sure what’d awakened me in the middle of the night. My ringer was silenced, so I hadn’t heard the call or the text alert.
“She always talk to you like that?” he said into my ear, tightening his grip on my waist.
“You’re up?” was how I responded.
“Yeah.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. Is she the reason for your nightmares? Or is it her son?” he pushed.
“I…I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ish, this is a part of love. If something is on you, you gotta let me help you carry it. I know this shit between us is new and we don’t talk much about the serious stuff, but you trust me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me. Please.”
“It’ll change how you feel about me.”
“Nothing could do that.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Okay, how about this? I tell you a secret and you tell me one.”
“What’s your secret? You cheated on your first-grade girlfriend or something?” I quipped.
“Probably, but I’m referring to how I strung a woman who really loved me along for a couple years simply because I didn’t want to be alone. I’ve had so many relationships because I have attachment issues due to my birth mom dumping me in a welfare office.”
“I am so sorry she did that, baby.”
“Thank you, but my point is, I’ve done some fucked up stuff.”
“‘Lando, that was your past. That’s not you now. You love me. I know it. I can feel it.”
“I do, and whatever is haunting your dreams is in your past. You love me. That’s all I care about.”
I sighed, flipping over to face him and burying my face in his chest as he squeezed his arms around me even tighter. “She was such a good mom to me. I just…she always took her son’s side, but it was never about major stuff. She looked out for me, you know? And I was always so grateful that she took me in when she didn’t have to.”
“Wait, didn’t you tell me you were given to her when you were a baby?” Orlando questioned.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Then what would you know about being thankful for that unless she pointed it out. Seems like she made sure you were thankful, like she drilled it into you.”
“That’s the same thing my former therapist said.”
“Why former?”
“She closed her practice. I’m trying to find one, but I haven’t really meshed with anyone since. I also find it hard to trust people.”
“I can understand that.”
“I haven’t given up, though. Anyway, fast forward to me getting signed to Digable Records and things started to change. As my manager, Patrick negotiated my deal, made all the decisions regarding my career, gave me my stage name and the whole mafia theme, and all of it worked. I trusted him and his mom so deeply that I did whatever either of them told me to.
“When I was sixteen, Patrick said I needed to dress more provocatively. Our mom agreed. When Patrick suggested I go to a party at the studio head’s house when I was fifteen, our mom had to talk me into it. When I told her what the studio head did to me, she told me I’d be okay. I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay!” I cried.
“He…uh, he touched you?”
I hesitated before saying, “He took, and I do mean took, my virginity from me that night. Afterwards, he gave Patrick his own imprint.”
“Smoke Shop Records.”
“Yes,” I softly uttered. “There were others—producers, fellow rappers…”
“He sold you to people, and his mom co-signed it.” His voice was so low, so…lethal.
“I guess he did.”
“Block that bitch. Now,” he growled. “She raised you. You appreciate it, but you don’t owe her shit.”
Without hesitation, I blocked her, and then I cried myself to sleep in his arms.