Chapter 29 #2
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you because Sugar doesn’t have access to good images of Bobbie for our cover.”
“Uh, why would I want to help you, Nikki?” Luna blinked at me.
“First of all, it’s more for Bobbie, so we can all do her justice,” I replied.
Luna’s eyebrows softened, but her lips remained pressed into a tight line.
“But you also just told me that you only have a day. What if I could get you a fifteen-hundred-word feature on Bobbie from Nelson George? Could we trade for a cover image? I’ll pay for both,” I said, thinking on my feet and fervently hoping Barbara wouldn’t throw me through a wall for making such an expensive deal.
But without a great picture on the cover, I knew Sugar wouldn’t be able to compete on newsstands.
“You already assigned the story to Nelson? I guess that’s why he screened my calls,” Luna acknowledged begrudgingly. “I’m actually not mad at this idea. I gotta run it by Alonzo, and we would get to choose the Groove cover image first.”
“Of course, you choose Groove’s cover first. But is there any way we can do an under-the-table deal where you tell Alonzo that you were able to get through to Nelson?
We’ll blame Barbara for getting the picture directly from the photographer or something.
” This was a huge risk, because I was giving trigger-happy Luna a lot of ammunition.
“Look, it’s for Bobbie. Plus, you’ll look like a hero for securing a Nelson George story in less than two days. ”
She drummed her fingers a few times on the highboy table, crab-leg nails clacking loudly. “You know what? Yeah, let’s do it. Alonzo Griffin can go fuck himself.”
I couldn’t hide my shock. Luna noticed and tried to rephrase what she’d said, but I waved her cleanup efforts away. “Uh, you know, of all people, I don’t care what you say about him,” I told her. “I’m sure you’ve heard how Alonzo talks about me.”
“Yeah, I have, a lot. And I believed him for a long time,” Luna replied slowly.
“Believed?” I asked. “Until?”
“Until one night in his Range Rover.”
There was no need to ask the obvious, so I waited to see if she’d elaborate.
“It was what it was. We’d been flirting a little, but I didn’t want it to get too messy in the office.
Alonzo didn’t agree and cornered me in his truck after our October issue cover party for Roxy.
” That story was too familiar; I knew she saw the same ache, shame, and, yes, defiance on my face that I saw on hers.
“You might know what I’m talking about.”
“It’s like I was there,” I replied calmly, though the twinge in my chest was preventing me from taking a full breath. “But it sounds like you did a better job than me of separating business from pleasure.”
“You were young.” She shrugged. “When Alonzo told me that shit happened five years ago, I started to understand how hard he was tripping. I mean, I was wildin’ all through my twenties.
But it wasn’t until that night in the Range Rover that I put it all together.
” Luna hesitated. “That muthafucka even said some stupid shit like: ‘I keep having to train bitches not to turn Daddy down,’ which said everything I needed to know about how long Alonzo’s been running game on women. ”
“Not a lesson I would have wished on anyone.”
“Not even me?” she asked with a mirthless smile.
“Not even you,” I told her. Luna flinched as I placed my hand on hers, withdrawing her fingers like she’d touched fire.
It was a premature gesture and, clearly, neither of us was ready for a kumbaya moment.
I grabbed my coffee and switched the topic.
“So, you’re going to push your Sliq Bishopp cover to December? ”
Luna held up her palms. “Guess so.”
“That timing’s not going to work as well for the rape case,” I said, giving her a sideways look.
“True,” she replied, with another oh-well lift of her hands. Clearly, Luna was not into Bishopp’s story. “I do hate that we’ll have to push the Betty Brown cover to January. I mean, we worked so hard to get that cover.” This time she gave me a sideways look.
“You could always kill it,” I tried. “Best-case scenario is that Bishopp is a bad dude. Worst case, he’s a rapist. I think we both know it’s the latter.”
Luna pursed her lips. “You didn’t seem to be worried about that when you put him on the cover.”
“And I may have made a mistake,” I admitted. “But my profile story all but accused him and we talked to the girl he raped. You said he gets to tell the ‘real story’”—I made air quotes—“for Groove’s cover.”
“Yeah, well, obviously not ideal. But Alonzo and JJ made some kind of informal agreement at RedHot’s sneaker launch where JJ will feed Groove exclusives in exchange for conveniently positive coverage.”
“So, JJ gave you that Sliq Bishopp cover?”
“Who else?” Luna looked bemused. “We crashed it after your October issue came out. I guess Bishopp went rogue to get your cover, then he was up JJ’s ass about the, um, result. JJ paged me and Alonzo to call in the first favor.”
So that’s why JJ had been so quiet: He’d struck a deal with Alonzo that could ultimately hurt Sugar’s access; and he and Luna were in cahoots on a Bishopp cover for Groove that might immediately discredit Sugar’s authority.
The revelation must have been all over my face because Luna rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “Look, I heard the conversation, and if it makes you feel any better, Alonzo strong-armed JJ. He promised him positive coverage but he also threatened no coverage at all if JJ didn’t agree.”
When I glanced up, Luna’s eyes locked on to mine.
Though she didn’t seem insincere, there was a trace of exasperation, as if my na?veté was testing her patience.
What she didn’t realize, though, was how intimately I understood Alonzo’s extortion tactics.
I was still seething. “Yeah, well, JJ still didn’t bother to tell me,” I shot back, my voice laced with anger.
Luna stabbed my arm with one of her talons. “You gotta remember, it’s not personal. It’s always business with those ballers.”
“I guess you would know better than me.”
“For real, Nikki? That’s how you want to play it?” Luna’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and I realized I was about to screw up our fragile peace.
“I just meant that we both know I’m pretty green in this world,” I replied quickly, realizing there was no need to shoot the messenger.
“Well, that’s true,” Luna said in a more relaxed tone. “Let me give you a little advice. Don’t get too caught up, and never forget that, even if you don’t see it at first, there’s always some kind of transaction and a big trade-off when you’re fucking with a baller.”
“Thought you and JJ weren’t fucking.” I was instantly embarrassed by the tinge of jealousy in my voice.
Luna only snorted. “Don’t trip. I aged out of JJ’s bed a decade ago. But not before that muthafucka gave me traction alopecia from all the glue-in weaves he paid for.”
“Wait, are you serious?” I asked. “Why was he paying for you to get a weave?”
“Because he liked that I was a model but didn’t like my natural hair,” she said, glancing with no small amount of bitterness at my thick curls. I hadn’t processed that her pony was a weave, but now I saw the mesh part.
“That’s so—” I began, unsure how to finish my sentence.
“—fucking crazy?” Luna interrupted. “Yeah, it is. I’m madder at myself than anyone, though.
I knew better modeling all those years and then working at Hot Hair.
These fucking weaves snatched all my edges, so I literally have to wear a weave now.
” She abruptly stood up to go. “Consider yourself warned.”
“No need. That ship has sailed.”
A thoughtful look passed between us as we both realized that we were the ones now in cahoots.
Before she walked out, we agreed to talk in a couple hours to work out the details.
Luna nodded stiffly at me, then pasted a smile on her face and hit the street.
I ordered my third coffee to go so I could call Nelson George as I walked south to the NuVoices office.
Before we put Sugar’s Bobbie Washington tribute to bed, I sat in my darkened office, staring at every letter and punctuation mark.
There could be no mistakes when I sent it to the printer, so I scrutinized every detail—from the cover with the bartered beauty shot of Bobbie in glamorous makeup, her blond locs twisted into an elaborate updo, to the BOB where we’d added pages of staff reminiscences.
Even Barbara said the issue was beautiful.
I’d dug up the picture of me with Bobbie on the Howard campus that I’d had on my bulletin board at StyleList to use on my editor’s letter page, but I had yet to write the text. When I finished poring over the rest of the pages, I uncapped a pen and let the words flow.
Hey, girlfriend. This has been the hardest issue to put together of any magazine I’ve ever worked on.
Bobbie Washington was an insightful, generous, stunning unicorn of a woman who impacted so many people—myself included.
It’s because Bobbie inspired me at a young age to be myself and to follow my passions that I’m writing this letter to you, my Sugar girls.
My kick-ass team and I pulled out all the stops to make sure we honored Bobbie’s life and her death, and I’m so grateful to everyone who contributed to this beautiful, painful issue.
In addition to the tribute to Bobbie’s life and impact, we produced the rest of the issue in a way that we felt would reflect her values and perspective, as if she were Sugar’s guest editor.
The team and I made sure that all the other stories venerated and empowered the independence and potential of women of color everywhere.
I want to walk my talk in my own career and life.
And so, I’ve decided that it’s time to shed some light on misogyny in the corporate world, starting with an editorial series on sexual harassment and assault in the music industry.
Not only have I seen how women—from video dancers to female executives—are treated poorly, I’ve personally experienced sexual harassment and, yes, sexual assault.
This will come as news to many people because I’ve been afraid for a long time to talk about it.
But early in my professional life, I was pressured into having sex with a powerful man who had the ability to influence my career.
I acknowledge that I made a mistake by getting involved with this person in the first place.
But I now realize that our ongoing interaction, and one incident in particular, went far beyond a youthful transgression and into dangerous territory.
I thought I’d learned my lesson, but recently I found myself seduced by money and power and access again. I know, girlfriend, I should be able to date a powerful man without being afraid that I’m going to be put in a position where my no won’t mean anything. I know …
I’m telling you this because I’m hoping that if I share my story, others will too.
Then we can work together to make a difference for all women.
Bobbie was a moral center for so many of us.
Now that she’s gone, I want to try to embody her values and figure out how Sugar can impact your life as much as Bobbie impacted mine.
It’s time for something new—for me, for Sugar, and for all of us.
If you want, please send me your own stories. I promise to read every one. Stay strong, sisters. Be brave. We’re in this together.
Love, Nikki
I capped the pen and finally, finally allowed myself to cry—for the death of my idol, for the culture, and for my lost innocence.