( For virtuosity and to provide visuals as you read along, read all .gif illustrated online excerpts starring Yara Shahidi, Chloe Bailey and Halle Bailey )
- EXCERPT DROP 1
- EXCERPT DROP 2
- EXCERPT DROP 3
- EXCERPT DROP 4
- EXCERPT DROP 5
- EXCERPT DROP 6
- EXCERPT DROP 7
- EXCERPT DROP 8
- FINISH THE ENTIRE BOOK (remainder of the book begins at page 290-from where excerpt 8’s drop left off)
( For a limited time, free of charge, read the entire book *And no…this is not a book of “fanfiction,” It is a true story )
(this entire published book – paperback and ebook for your Kindle, all smartphones and Pads – is on Amazon)
The real truth was just what it was when I bought the damned cell phone and transferred my calls from
home to it:
#1. I wanted privacy on my fucking telephone.
#2. I wanted whomever dialed into my telephone to have some fucking privacy, too.
#3. It would eliminate 80% of our issues of her “overhearing” something that caused her to react-that totally had nothing to do with her, and her misunderstanding and acceptance of the fact that I really did have a life and other friendships and relationships before her, period–and that since her; became strained (and some-estranged).
I felt so stupid. I felt like such a puppet on a string but I didn’t know what else to do. I did know however, that I had to keep my cool and remain patient until I could put together all the pieces and was able to pull away from her-safely (in the event she did have any ill-intent). I had no idea if, or how this thing would end, but I did know that when or if it did; it was not going to be in my favor or out of care for me, my feelings and my life. She was just too hot and cold, too off and on-and we were always arguing about something. I never knew what she would do next.
As happy as I was that she took a very unexpected turn from the way I expected her to react about my no-show for the Xcapade shin-dig; the bottom line is, that way was a rarity. The hurt got to her heart before the anger did, so things went well (that time). But in my heart of all hearts, all else was just a matter of time. I was growing not to get too comfortable with her sweetness-no matter how much I loved it.
With her, I was beginning to know what the effects was like for that baby whose mother was going through post-partum and loved + hated her baby, where the child could sit in the feeding seat and get all kinds of love, food, affection, reaction and attention that was pleasing to it and then the next moment, the mother would go blank and stare the child in the eyes and become unresponsive and despondent when the baby would reach for the mother and expect that same play that it had gotten the last time it sat in that feeding chair. Enough of that made the baby crazy and then there goes their healthy mind and sanity as they develop and grow.
I’m sane and sensible enough what was going on and could be true enough to myself to admit that I was allowing it to happen, but without a clear plan of action to prepare for the worse, as well as what damage could really be done by somebody who blinds the world by her superstardom and smile and who too, has access to the media, my computer, my important files that I need for my career plans (and I won’t belabor the obvious): my heart.
So two days after our fun, July 7 night, I was lying in my bed thinking things through-thinking about how all this shit began and if there really was a way out for me. I knew in my heart that what we called ourselves having was almost impossible, because she really didn’t wholeheartedly trust me-therefore I couldn’t wholeheartedly trust her, either. I just knew that she had the upper hand because of who she was, and that afforded her many resources that I couldn’t light a candle to, so I knew I had to be careful all the way around.
I knew in my heart that she felt like she had too much to lose by trusting “little ole’ me,” but she too, had given away so much and the fact of the matter was-we were from two different worlds and going nowhere [normal]-fast. Her image was too big for her to want to consider “love” with me-not just us being “out” and open-that’s not important, nor was it my wish. But how we communicated and especially how she gathered information-period, caused more problems that necessary and that thing would always be–because of trust level never matching her status and “image.” I was sensible enough to know that.
Deep down inside, I felt so defeated every single day with this woman. I had really come to terms with the fact that no matter how much time, love and attention I gave to her; it was never going to be enough to make her trust me fully. All I could see was me-giving; trying to prove things to her until I broke down in mind. I just broke out crying. I cried so bad that I could hardly breathe. I wanted to burst out of the house and drive six miles up the road to Shauntay’s house, or anybody’s house, so that I could talk about what I was going through deep down inside, but it was too late at night. So I took a deep breath and picked up the phone to call Shauntay. I knew that Janet would probably get her signal, letting her know that I was on the phone, but I did not care. When Shauntay answered, I took a deep breath and busted out in tears even more and began to spill out things to her that she never even knew about this thing with Janet.
I told her about how trapped I felt and how stupid I felt for feeling trapped.
I told her about how every other day I was going through something with Janet and how controlling beyond belief she was.
I told her how I’ve never felt this defeated and trapped in my entire life.
I told her about how I had been trying so hard to be patient because I was so afraid that everybody on her payroll would point the finger at her to say, “I told you so!” I can’t lie; I wanted to prove them all wrong about me where Janet’s best interest at heart was concerned.
I told Shauntay about how I felt so obligated to be there for her since all others around her were on her payroll and were basically paid to be her friends, and something inside me couldn’t pull away from her, I just couldn’t, although I know I needed to.
I told her about all the rotten, cruel, crazy, as well as the good, the grandiose, and the great things that had been going on that I never told her about.
I told her about all the nights and days that tears rolled down my face sometimes at the thought of the whole situation, but that I was so afraid to turn away. I was scared. I just couldn’t turn her away no matter how hard I tried because I knew she was lonely. And considering who she is; she couldn’t just walk to the corner store or take a stroll in the park even like the average celebrity could. She was happy to have found somebody from outside of her life, to give her “life” and I couldn’t cut her off from that. I felt obligated to that.
I told Shauntay I was tired, tired as hell. I cried while Shauntay pitifully listened.
I told her how so desperately I needed her to go on and live her life so that I could have mine back and that I was trying to hang in there to give her whatever she wanted or needed to finally release me.
That night I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. Thank God Shauntay was home, because I needed to cry out to somebody. Somebody else on my side needed to know what was really going on.
The next morning I woke up with my eyes wide shut and puffy and tight.
My nose was all stopped up from crying myself to sleep. I walked downstairs into the living room and looked at the computer looking at me. I did my usual thing, I took a deep breath and logged into I.M while I got dressed to see if Janet was going to come on. I needed to know what was on the menu today. It was something new: A gone away message-something she never did in the history of my dealing with her.
The message [emphasized, capitalized, italicized] and read: “Hello, I’m away from my computer right now and out LIVING MY LIFE… I’ll return later…In the meantime, check out my cool web page: www.geocities.com/wellesley/veranda/xxxx/xxxxxxxx.htm Thanks.”
I took a deep swallow. “Living her life huh?” I said to myself, as I looked at the ellipsis that followed the sentence. I knew she must’ve been upset because I told Shauntay “I wish [she’d] go on and live her life and leave me to mine. I was so shocked and hurt that that was about all she gathered from the entire conversation she “overheard” rather than understanding my pain. It was real. While reading the message I shook my head-because that was just the kind of shit I was talking about.
I selected the web addy that she had listed (for me) to view. It was titled: “The Three Amigos…Plus One.” The three amigos pictured were: Shawn (in her own window of the pic), Tina (in her own window of the pic), and then Janet (in her own window of the pic). Janet’s picture, of course, gave off the most energy. She had practically no expression on her face-almost like she was being interrupted. She stood upon a balcony holding on to the rail, with her back to the camera but turned her face was turned to look at the camera with very soft half-smile.
The “Plus One” part? Well, that was left blank, but I knew whose picture was supposed to be there…
I frowned and said aloud while sitting in my black Futon chair, feeling uncomfortable: “No, they are no friends of mine and this can’t be happening, I do not believe this. I hope she doesn’t ask me if I saw the web page.” How soon I forget…she was most probably up already, watching me-watching the page anyways, but stubbornly refusing to talk to me.
I logged out, put my book bag on my shoulder and left out for school and work.
That afternoon when I got in, I peeked into the room to see who was there.
Immediately, someone came down under the nickname called: “Employee” and said: “Has anyone seen Janet, because I need to pick up my check?!”
…I guess in response to my telling Shauntay on the phone the previous night that they were being paid to be Janet’s friend. I didn’t say anything back. The next [employee-friend] was having a conversation with [another employee-friend] claiming how guilty they felt and all.
Then “Chulo” came down and said: “Cinamon, come here… *wiggling finger* Do you trust me?”
“Well, here lately Chulo everyone’s proved themselves guilty-first, before proving themselves any other way, so I can’t answer that right now,” I replied.
“Cinamon, come here…*I’m caressing your neck and holding you close to me while I feel you breathing*”
Immediately I knew that was Janet hiding behind the name. I just stared at her as she looked at me through her mask-we both didn’t know quite what to say to each other. I had grown scared to receive her niceness for too long. I couldn’t accept it-because I knew it would only be for a short time. I really wasn’t in the mood for her lustfulness that day, however. She had already taken so much out of me. I just sat there, letting her caress my neck until it was time for me to go. I didn’t come back for the rest of the afternoon.
That Friday evening, I finally logged onto I.M and waited for her to come in. It took her forever to come in and I did not want to go into the room, so I stayed logged onto I.M while I stepped outside on my porch to talk to a close male friend mine who too, knew the rules (but without knowing exactly why): Drive by and toot the horn. With my having the only driveway on Hollister, if I was on back on my deck or in the house-up, or downstairs-because of the gravel, I could hear you pull into my driveway. Everybody that knew me and where I lived, knew the drill.
He and I sat on the porch and talked a while. When I came back into the house, Janet had left a few lines:
“Where are you?”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, you’re trying to be funny because it took a while for me to come in?” …stuff like that.
After reading them, I kept trying to get her to come back on and although she stayed logged on, she refused to answer me. I went on over to the room and she was there. I just watched her doing what she does best; staring at me from across the room deciding what she was going to do next. Anytime someone said anything to her, she would respond but kept her eyes on me the whole time-daring me to move or excuse myself all the while, refusing to talk to me. I already knew her moves. She was top of the line stubborn and could outwait and out-persist you, the type that could squeeze blood from a turnip like no one else could. I refused to play that game with her tonight, so I logged out like slamming the door in her face.
The next day was Saturday and I spent it at Shauntay’s. She wanted to get me out and away from the house and I hurriedly did so. What’s Love Got To Do With It‘s “Anna Mae” visiting the old friend who knew her innermost feelings about it all was the surreal scene:
I arrived to her house in the late morning and we basically hung out, cleaned up, cooked, had dinner, and talked all day. We got caught up on the goings on in her life that had been back-burner conversations for she and I whenever I could find the time to pull myself from Janet for longer a period of time than a one-hour lunch.
Shauntay confessed to me that in that one conversation last night and finally finding out what had all been going on (besides what she had known the surface) she was so winded of the situation I was going through that she wanted give me her favorite bible as a “no weapon formed against me shall prosper” gift. She wasn’t a highly religious person like Kia, but after learning what I was feeling and going through, she said she felt like it would be like kryptonite to Superman, daylight to a bat, and a cross in the face of the devil. Immediately I flipped through it, reading through some things that I could relate to at this point in my life. Together we came up with a remedy to alleviate a lot of the things I had been going through with these people in this other-worldly world of theirs.
We selected some scriptures for me to recite for when the need would arise again.
I already knew that day would not be too far away…
Our day was just like old times. It had been a while since Shauntay and me spent a weekend day for so long and so many hours with just me, her two girls, and her husband coming in and out of the house finding something to complain about while we’d all laugh and he and Shauntay would argue like Ma’ and Pa’ Kettle.
When I got in the house late that night, I walked straight past that damned computer and retreated to the quarters of my bedroom that hadn’t seen the likes of me lounging in it to merely sit back and watch television in like-forever. I could feel the four walls of my room doing a dance with the flickering light from that television dancing on it-wondering what the heavens was going on up in here! My slumber extended it my audience while I slept like a baby until I was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.
It was 3:30 a.m. I snatched my curtain back, opened the window and looked down:
“WHO is it?” I yelled.
A tall black guy with a cap on his head yelled:
“Uh yeah, is Shanina there?”
“WHO?” I asked.
“SHA-NINA!” he enunciated and confirmed.
“Uh, you have the WRONG house playa,” I yelled.
“Well, do you think she lives right here?” he pointed at door number 2.
Perplexed, in my rough “I’m a woman but will bust a cap in yo ass voice” I hollered down:
“Uh no, I’m more than sure she doesn’t live there Playboy…”
“Yeah, ok. Alright then…” said the tall black guy, as if he did not believe me and ‘willll be back.’ I sat up in my bed in the dark, not believing what just happened.
“This can’t be,” I said. “This just can’t be.”
“Shanina” is the name of Shauntay’s eight-year old daughter. “Shanina” is a name that Shauntay and some family members made up from a mixture of about three late loved ones in her family, so that tripped me out-the irony of some big, tall strange black guy knocking on my door in the middle of the night asking for a “Shanina” and enunciating it like he meant that shit, and wanted me to hear him pronounce the name-make no mistake about it.
And to add interesting to irony, Shauntay (and Shanina)’s was where I spent all my time that whole day, up and away from Janet.
I watched the guy walk away from my house headed south-down the hill, and from the house next to mine; the view from my window disallows me to see any further down the hill in the direction he was headed.
I lived on a popular street by my college called Hollister: A hill close-together row-houses filled with mostly all college students. My house was the only house on the whole street with a driveway, and if he was driving, why didn’t he pull into the driveway? It’s not that often that one walks the streets in my neighborhood at almost four in the morning ringing wrong doorbells on my small residential streets, either. One would pretty much make sure he had the right address before ringing someone’s doorbell in the dark morning hours asking for a name like: “SHANINA.”
I was livid and a little shaken up because I really didn’t know how to take that, but I had been through enough with Janet and experienced the lengths she would pay for and go to, to get the results (and the reaction) she wanted-to match her wishes, her sweetness (or her wickedness).
Sunday July 10, I entered the room. Everybody was just staring at me. A couple people spoke, and the rest just stared.
When they would prepare an arsenal of drama (or even fun), they loved to make harmless nicknames to poke fun at my red/orange skin undertone, my duck lips, or my round bottom. So when they began to drop nicknames down like “peachy,” “orange,” “daffy,” “red,” and “basketballbutt,” that would be like their inside jokes and siren-like a warning that I was in the room. Whether this day was going to be drama, or fun had yet to be seen.
So far, what she wanted to be seen (by me) was the conversation they were carrying on about what she knew about me sexually-and just like a dude, she even brought up our May encounter where she placed the thingy between my breasts and I gave it head while merely in the moment-demonstrating what she wanted to see: how I give head. Then she went gangam style on me.
Like a dude, she turned it on me and called me every dick-sucking slut she could in front of her friends. She began to drop and arsenal of things that she kept on safety for a day to come around like this. Other things (that she most probably “overheard” at some point in one of my phone conversations) she brought up. She began to repetitiously drop down real last names of a couple of true to [my real] life old boyfriends-one in which she had to have really sent the dogs out for, because he a) had an unusual last name and b) she had never heard me mention anything about him-not even on my phone.
She was on a hunt to hunt and gather, and was very jealous-she just wanted to pick a fight with me that day (as if I didn’t have a life before dealing with her). She was unbelievable. I think her digging into my “heterosexual” was inspired by me telling her that my male friend stopped by and I sat outside on the porch with him (when it took her too long to get back on the line).
The way she behaved this day reminded me of one of the times back in May when we cybersexed and she told me I “looked like the type that liked these” (talking about “Mr. Happys” e.g-penises). That sexsion took her through a strange kind of sexual and sadistic agony that on this day in the room, she turned into anger at the thought of it, so she decided to taunt me with her friends (like a dude would do to a girl-trying to entertain his friends).
I watched them insult me off and on for almost two whole hours. I just sat there, wondering which nicknames Janet was hiding behind, or wondering if she was just sitting back letting it happen. It was brutal. They carried on like a bunch of jealous girls picking at the pretty girl at the party. In my comfortable black Futon chair, in front of a computer that once belonged to me, I sat there and cried; hardly unable to catch my breath. Then by the second hour, when they saw that I would not fight back with them, they started cracking “Yo Mama” and “You Be Ghetto,” jokes amongst each other. Other times they would crack jokes or mention something here and there about Janet. In my virtual world, I was laughing and finishing up my cry while they were cracking these jokes (because they were funny as hell-I can’t lie). Still, I didn’t post, I just-watched.
Finally, Lissa turned to me and said something to me about being in my own little world (or something to that effect). I then responded:
“The best way to be in touch with the world is to be out of touch…you discover that silence has a sound. Then life doesn’t intrude, you invite it in.”
All the laughter stopped. Janet and her buddies (Lissa included) just watched. They know me and knew that I was about to once again put something on all of their heads, so they waited to see what it was. Then I posted: “If you chase your goals, but do it without following your heart, you’ll always be answering to someone else.”
Conversation continued-somewhat. Next I posted:
“If u travel the same path without exploring others, you’ll always be left-wondering.”
Then I posted: “If u strive for perfection but do it without your heart, your work will have no soul.”
They watched and listened…
Here comes Janet: “Cinamon did you write this? Are you making these up?”
I turned to her and said: “Now what do you think? Do what you do. Go hunt, gather and investigate!”
She didn’t respond. She really didn’t know how to respond.
I continued: “If you sing like an angel but do it without your heart, then your work will have no soul.”
Her heart was beating-everyone else was wondering where I was going with this.
Next: “If you sing like an angel but do it without love, then you’ll never rise above the crowd…”
I then glanced over at Janet: “If you seek to please your eyes but neglect what can’t be seen, then you’ll always be looking for something else.”
I watched her horns rise higher and higher but I was on a roll, I wouldn’t let up: “If you make strives but can’t stand still, then you’ll always be running in circles.”
Janet finally spoke: “Cinamon, Cinamon. Then maybe you can help me out with something. I’m going through a situation with a friend of mine that I love so much and I thought that she loved me too…We’re just having problems right now and I don’t want to lose her,” she said-wanting me to know that she was talking [about us].
I responded: “Well, is it something that you’ve done or something that you’re doing to hurt this friend or cause problems in the friendship?” I said-flipping and proposing the question [for her].
“No, well, we have a relationship and a friendship and I love her, but she…we are just going through some things right now,” she said desperately-not caring what her buddies were thinking of her.
Janet’s not stupid. Whether it be to test you or vex you, she knows how to use words with the precision of a writer with the most exceptional wordplay. And she hated to see me confirm it being a “friendship” (after her test of using the word: “friendship” rather than “relationship”-first), therefore, she wanted to flip it to what she always felt we had: a “relationship”—just to remind me (in case I had forgotten while I was absent).
I was gaining a little ground. They put their guns down, somewhat, and so did I.
We went on to talk a little more civil amongst one another while some of them suddenly felt the need to speak positive and talk to me as if they hadn’t just sat there and tossed me around like a ball while they were cracking me with their bats.
Janet kept posting questions for me (mostly emotional scenarios like she had been doing). I was feeling stronger and that this time, I could be done with her for good. I had never felt so empowered in the middle of a time like this with her.
I knew now was the time to whip out something really good for her: “The Good Book.” I posted:
“Now these things became our examples, to the intent that we should not lust after evil things as they also lusted…”
The room went crazy-everybody started trying to speak at once. Others were yelling at me, and at each other. It was crazy in there-all those devils. I muted them out and continued: “And do not become idolaters as were some of them. Therefore, let him who thinks he stands, take heed, lest he fall. No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation, will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bare it.”
Everybody continued to talk about. The room was rockin.’ Some of them started proclaiming their belief and non-belief in God or the bible. Some stated that what I was saying was crap. Others even began to apologize and refer to what they had done to me was nothing more than typical harmless banter amongst chums.
Lissa began referring to me as: ‘CinamonReverendDoctorProfessorPastor.’
I shut them all up and responded:
“I’m not preaching the gospel nor do I proclaim to be anything other than just human. Be it my books, or any book, if the message applies to you and you benefit, learn from it, or identify with the message; then use it. This just happens to be from a bible. I’ve questioned some versions of the bible myself however, it-just like many other book, I find nourishing and on-time sometimes. I’m human, just like the rest of y’all.”
Nobody had anything to rebut after that. They just stared. Janet didn’t know what to do or what to say. I looked at all of them. I then said:
“You know, I sat here for almost two hours and watched all of y’all sit and insult and ridicule me with information that y’all illegally retrieved from me as if I wasn’t even here. I sat back and watch while y’all continue to toss me around until y’all got bored. Next, y’all decide to get into something else like cracking jokes and speaking about the hostess of the room, which to my understanding; is how it is supposed to be conducted as per the rules I read before entering. But I forgot those rules do not apply to the employee-friends awaiting their paychecks-like I said! There is certainly a difference between intelligent conversation, harmless banter, gossip, and hurtful bullshit, which is what I just sat here and watched for almost two hours. Shame on all y’all!
Next, someone dropped the nickname: “PeaceOMine” down.
I looked at it and said: “Oh ‘PeaceOMine’ do you have that?”
“Yes,” said the ‘peaceful’ one.
“Oh well, that’s really good to have because misery loves company, so I see.” I replied.
Next, the nickname: “GhettoSupastar” rolled down.
Oh lord, I had to let them have it: I took a deep breath and said:
“Hmm, I wonder what the difference is between GhettoSupastar and a STUPIDStar!?”
Janet was pissed, but she could not touch me.
The whole scene reminded me of the end of “Color Purple” at the dinner table when Mister got up to backslap Celie one last time for old-time sake [for mouthin’ off-then Celie gave him the E.T finger and said to him: “Everything you done to me already been done to you…]”
I felt so strong at this point. She stood at a distance, and said in her smartassed way replied: “Oh so Cinamon, are you saying that all people from the ghetto are stupid?”
“No dear. The difference is, if I’m the GhettoSupaStar, you’re the STUPIDStar!.”
I squinted my eyes and looked at all of those fools.
Janet replied: “Umm…Cinamon, this situation that I’m going through with this friend of mine…that I feel like I’m losing…is putting her closer to her death. What should I do?”
I then yelled (in caps): “SHE AINT SCARED OF YOU!!!” although I was-just a little bit, because she had the money and resources to put her hands on me without putting her hands on me and thus far, had done a literal damned good job of proving that (and getting away with it). If things got nastier, who’s going to hear or believe a story like this…about her: Janet, a celebrity, and these types of things-a bizarre story like this?
The room got real quiet. They knew Janet was steaming mad.
I could tell they all flocked to their I.M’s because in I.M you have the capabilities of talking one-on-one like Janet and me would, or you could open it up to a buddy chat with however many people you want to open it up to, and boy…they all got busy on theirs.
Somebody must’ve forced Janet to clean up what she just said in the best way she could, so she came back a few minutes later and said something else off the wall and bizarre:
“…Yeah because she is involved in this Satanic kind of cult and I’m worried about her Cinamon,” talking about herself that time, (I wouldn’t know exactly what she meant by that until a short time later), but I looked at her and said:
“Well like I said, she ‘aint scared of you…”
I rolled my eyes and tightened my lips.
I just felt stronger. I can’t explain it, but some kind of feeling came over me that in all these months of dealing with her-never did.
She didn’t say anything else and I just walked out of the room without announcing my departure or feeling like I even had too…
In my virtual world, I had promised my 4:10 p.m. friend (my TGGF) that I would do her pedicure for her before she left to go out of town. Before I went to her house, I stopped over to my mom’s to see what she was up to (she lived right near this friend of mine). My mom mentioned that she was upset with me because I never do her pedicures and wondered how I could be right down the street from her about to do someone else’s. I secretly needed to know if my friend told my mom over the phone that I was about to come to her house to do her pedicure, or (like I hoped) she mentioned it to my mom while over for a visit. But when my mom said she had just talked to her-it let me know that my friend did talk to her over the phone.
That sent my antennas up because ever since that 4:10 p.m. day [that Janet called her house and ran those series of beeps—at 4:10 p.m.]; although I never discussed my friends with Janet, she pretty much was under the impression that I hadn’t talked to this friend (because did tell her that we didn’t see each other in that way anymore–and we didn’t), because alongside our other issues within our friendship, hooking up caused too many problems.
With that in mind, and Janet not hearing me talk to my 4:10 p.m. friend on my telephone in such a long while, I was hoping that was one friend’s phone who she didn’t have tapped anymore, because last I knew-she did [have her phone tapped] after those series of beeps]-that’s where it all began: those series of beeps. And I would soon know for sure, the very next time I headed over to Shauntay’s again, because she was next…
At any rate, no love lost. It’s business, personal, and pleasure principles as usual with Janet and me.
When I got home from doing the pedicure, I sat in I.M to see if she would come.
She did, and we spoke. As if nothing poignant, and cryptically specific had ever happened at last left her, her first question (again) was: “Where have you been!?”
That girl is something special. She was probably sitting there waiting on my log-in chime to ring to her, especially considering the fact that I hadn’t so much as sent her an email or checked in all day (before I started and had gone on with my day, and I never do that).
Whether or not she still had my friend’s phone tapped weighed heavily on my mind and this conversation would give me my answer. If I lied and told her I was somewhere other than my friend’s house and she did have the phone tapped, she would have taken me through it. If I did tell her that I was at this friend’s house and the reason why, she may give me “credit” for being honest (or be mad at me just the same-simply because she hadn’t “overheard” me talking to her in a long while).
I took my chances with the truth-the whole truth:
“I went over to my friend’s house to do her pedicure. She was about to go out of town and I had been promising her for forever and a day that I would, so I got around to it today.”
She replied: “Oh…ok : ) ”
The smiley face made me know that I scored the points with her…
She continued: “Cinamon, by the way, how did you like that web page?” (Talking about that “Three Amigos Page”)
“Well…it was nice,” I replied.
“Well, why didn’t you sign the guest book?” she asked. (I noticed they had a thing about needing me to sign these lil’ guest books-just like the one around the time of her birthday. I remember when they were upset about me not signing that one too).
I then went to the Three Amigos’ Page and simply signed: “I love it!”
My turn now.
When I came back to I.M, I asked her why did she post: “I’m out living my life?” in that “Away” message on her I.M page (which was now deleted by the way). She acted as if it was something she just put there for no particular reason, so I left the issue alone.
Hidden behind her EsCaPaDeJ name in I.M, she was really nice and back to her same sweet and childlike self. When we would talk in I.M (under EsCaPaDeJ), she would use: “JigglinJanine” in the room. When she used both those names, she was more jovial rather than sexual or seductive like she was when she used:
This alter ego of hers was young and kind of wild.
“EsCaPaDeJ/JigglinJanine” could be that one competitive friend she probably would be with me in the real world. Since she already knows me inside out-upside down; she knew just what to do and what to say to me to get me to act and react (just like how women carry on in the real world with each other). This alter ego of hers was that personality. I could tell that she often fantasized what it would be like to be as physically fit as she is now, and as pretty in the face like she is now–and be able to be that person out in the real and regular world-being the envy of all other girls. She wanted that life, I could tell, so she role-played through that. Although she played behind the “JigglinJanine/EsCaPaDeJ” nickname/character mentally and emotionally, the physical Janet was still “Janet.” She liked that part.
This wild thing would talk about hanging out at parties, going to the movies, wedding receptions and cutting the rug and breaking it down, honey!
She always talked about wearing tanks to show her abs of steel and how great she looked in all her pictures that she took! I would laugh and call this wild thing “Jiggs” for short. She liked that. She liked to play like this-the way I’m sure she missed out on what it was like playing “Barbie” as kids with other friends where you and several other girls would get together and make up impromptu scenarios with Barbie Dolls in your hand-making up life and happenings until you all got tired. “Jiggs” was a release for her-to act out a life that she could only pretend, but never have-never had, and never will have…so I would assist her in that [and all those] experiences under her countless nicknames. I was a psych major so I understood-she needed it. But within all alter egos (the seductive ones and “Jiggs”) since the beginning, the real Janet was always there if she needed to say anything about us, got upset, or would be overcome with emotion if we would talk about the two of us.
Janet was so addicted to this whole computer world; she could carry on a ton of conversations all at once. She amazed me sometimes. She would be carrying on conversations in buddy I.M’s with her buddies (several people privately chatting) + chatting in her room with them, and in private I.M (one on one) with me. Sometimes if she was too involved, she would have me on hold for like twenty minutes and would come back practically breathing hard as hell and apologizing.
This particular day, “EsCaPaDeJ” was saying very little to me in I.M while “JigglinJanine” (over in the room) would be messing around and about with her buddies but telling me to just hold on. I sat around for about two hours just watching her carry on while purposely ignoring me but occasionally peeking over to see if I was still on her playground. She was just being contrary-still a little pissed about my performance this past Sunday in the room, and punishing me for whatever I may have done while with my 4:10 p.m. friend while at her house all those hours, the day I did her pedicure.
I really didn’t have much to say and was quite tired actually, because she really wasn’t talking (to me)-just wanted me to stay on and give audience to her passive-aggressive game.
She was always good at doing that especially when she still had an attitude with me about anything.
After I had been on hold for another twenty minutes too long, I sent her a line in I.M to tell her that I was tired and was about to condition my hair then go to bed.
She didn’t reply back to me in I.M but instead, over in the room, she posted: “WaxeeBldup” and most probably went to her buddy I.M with her buddies to let them all in on the joke. I just shook my head. She thought it was so funny that she even sent it down a few times more-logging in and out of the room using the nick, so I could see it. They all then prepared their arsenals and began shooting down their usual: “basketballbutt” “punkin,” “pumpkin,” “Daffy” “Duck” “peachy,” “dusty” and other banter to identify my complexion, my dishwater blonde hair color, my lips, or my butt.
Much to my chagrin, especially compared to times before, this was actually an insult-lite day. Because if she was too mad, she (and her buddies) would shoot nicks down to identify something relating to my sexual or personal business, my friend’s personal business, and any other thing relating to what she “overheard,” hunted or gathered-all just to keep me reminded that whatever it was, she was always in control of knowing everything I hoped was secret and sacred. That was her way of “punishing” me.
Slowly but surely though, I was growing numb to her kind of hurt, and she was feeling it. The things she would do, and allow them (her buddies) to do to me seemed to make their day more entertaining (and kept them paid and busy I guess). That kind of stuff was all Janet and her buddies had to do for costless fun (that was of no emotional or mental expense to them). The only thing they did all fucking day was build web pages for the Internet for Janet, and fuck with people’s computers and phones for her.
What a life…
All she did was promote and tour for two years, off for four, then go back and promote and tour for two years again-routinely. She used her four years down time to fuck with other people, gain weight, lose weight, write and co-write music, studio-some, and then sink into depressions from all the shit she had done that come smacking her in the face. And then she reinvents herself like a chameleon by starting her two year escapade all over again.
What a living…
From the outside looking in-blinded by her glitter, camouflage and career; one would question and first-guess her being too busy to be doing all the shit she was doing [to me] and no telling who else. But that’s just it-they’re on the outside, I’m on the in, having no idea that being “in” with her would hurt as bad as the times were good (although still “not normal” or typical).
Unlike most other entertainers who do a whole lot of collaborating, partying, hob-knobbing and Hollywood’ing with other entertainers, Janet is not one and never has been. She has been working with the same and exclusive number of producers since her sophomore album-they know her formula and what she wants and what she needs. She’s not that damned busy-what she does is effortless and routine to her (again): tour for two years, down for four years. And it’s during her four years down time this is just the kind of mischief that she gets into. The invention of the Internet was the next best thing to virtuosity and obscurity to this woman, so it made a damned good co-conspirator, especially for all the resources she could afford to pay for in order to bring a kind of virtuosity to her that she could remote control.
With all that in mind, what the hell can “Janet” do like normal people but hide behind a computer screen and bring the world to her? She sure as hell can’t go out like normal people, or even like many other people in that business [can do]. Internetting is right up her alley. Let her think it, it’s all in her name: Janet. In her heart of all narcissism, she probably even thinks the inventor of the Internet had her in mind when it was founded. She loves this shit. People amaze me thinking the bigger celebrities are “too busy” to do covert, or wicked shit like such.
Actually, it’s the “average” celebrity who doesn’t have time to do shit like this (the kind that has to place sneak third party calls to the paparazzi to drop dimes on their own locations for press-the “C” and “D” list ones, or even the “B” list ones who aren’t popular in the media currently). In order to get press-they have to go eat at “Mr. Chow’s” where the paps hang out, in order to get press. Janet’s an “A” list superstar-already got her niche’ dug and routine set-her hustle is not as hard as the average “busy” B-D list celebrity who too, can at least step out and doing normal things without a sleuth of paparazzi and screaming fans tearing at their clothes.
It’s the average 9 to 5 working person who doesn’t have the time (or money) to do shit like this. Having money buys time, and also affords you the resources to do shit like this for as long as you want, how you want it, and whenever you want it.
It was surreal to me; how I could watch her anywhere on television in one face, but know that in my world-back home, although I was the recipient of her good and sweetness, but too: her evil and her bad that at one time, you couldn’t have paid me to believe could be.
The ability to be that about-face ruined it for me for anybody (whether you were a school teacher or a celebrity), to (in front of a majority or a public); show one face, but be doing something sinister, or illegal, or hurtful, or damaging, or cryptic to one person in receipt of something(s) you’d never want other staff member and students (or the blinded public) to know.
I never knew how ignorant and blinded by glitter and trend the public was when it came to public people (and especially superstars) until this situation and my being on the inside looking out (at them-the “outsiders.”). I secretly began to have a very deep-seated disdain for the fanfare of people who were blindly starstruck (outside of just love for a superstar’s craft) but in addition; latched on to every single redeeming quality that their “people” put out to make them look good, upstanding, or harmless. These kinds of “outsiders” that felt like they had some kind of connection to a superstars good and their life (outside of respect for their work) immediately made me look at them like completely packaged idiots in my eyes, especially being blinded by the bigger and more “public” ones. Because in my experience with Janet (as it was being demonstrated in my life and in real-time) the bigger they were, the more shit they have to hide because of the wicked shit they most probably do-do. I don’t trust them.
Because of what I was experiencing, my thinking was-even if they weren’t naturally wicked people, they are most certainly going to attract wicked people to assist them in doing wicked things to help them spend their lonely time and big money.
Whereas the average person with limited resources could experience something that
made them angry or jealous, their only option is to take it to the streets and duke it out, talk it over, or take it to court or run gossip mills in the streets. But if they have the money, the resources, the access to the media (and especially that growing and large portion of a deaf, dumb, and blind public), innocent people caught in the crossfire of their evil-if any ounce of evil is in them–whomever they select as a object of their envy, or desire, or anger, or see as a threat:
- -because the media won’t care to take the time to see truth in you (from only caring to get ratings and a freak show)
- -because the a great majority of the public won’t believe you (from being completely packaged blinded, deaf, and dumb starstruck, chain-gang like group thinking follower idiots who won’t use their own brain) and
- -because your family and your friends will eventually grow to talk behind your back and deceive you (because they don’t know how to use their brain beyond the level of their own living and circumstances)
… you’re left with nothing but to mold yourself into the circumstance and try and pull from it-anything that felt like good or like love, in order to maintain your sanity (at least that was the case with me). It’s called survival. Something I had to do: rest on my sloth, until I could muster up the strength to figure a way out.
Because of the blindness of her glitter, years later into this (ironically) I had nobody-but her-and for years. I know what it meant to “sleep with the enemy,” and “dance with the devil” in order to keep angels in my head in order to keep me sane.
But it turned my heart black-coal black in places where if I could see anybody (celeb or regular person) in one face-fighting hard to, or paid for the “good face,” but experience for myself, or hear tell that somebody was the victim of that person’s back door evil. They could fall in a lake of fire that I would gladly light and marinate, if it’s left up to me.
I knew for the first time in my life (not just in the movies) that people like this existed. I experienced this. And because of, I became conditioned to not trust anybody like that-at all. I grew to hate people like that and fight tooth and nail to keep my natural self at all times. I refused to put on a face for some: thing, some attention, an audience and a world of people where it is not consistent with my true self just to gain their attention, love, adoration, or to increase my popularity and income.
So don’t hate me. Understand my experience. Feel my plight. And if you don’t…I could give two shits about your opinion and your life, because you don’t know (or care) about mine-the sensations inside of my heart and on my mind that I go through everyday…
I knew, I was watching, I was learning, and most of all, I was experiencing that ninety-eight percent of what they do and say publicly (be it spiritual and light-footed, religious and sanctified, or sound and sane) is for public face-for “show”-all things that aid in increasing their income and popularity, not what’s real (many of them-a great majority of them)…
From the inside looking out, I was watching this, living this, experiencing this and knew that they become conditioned droids, programmed and machine-like; appearing human and relatable. It’s hard to truly be human and relatable in an occupation where if you slip up and do anything human, you got a whole team of handlers that will put their heads together, go into spin and damage-control mode, and clean your ass up to the public-even if your victim died and left behind people who too, loved them in the process. After a while, when you get so used to this kind of privilege and that side of a world of complete idiots who will believe everything you say (simply because of your glitter), you can’t help but have no regard for the average person, and to act your impulses with a blatant disregard for consequence (or other human beings).
It’s their livelihood. They too, have family and friends to feed, countless people on the payroll (with families to feed, too), and what they don’t need is your sense and sensibilities, and your inability to be blinded by their glitter. They have to have your ignorance and gullibility they can’t make a living without that in you-the ignorant population of public. Even if they are, or once were nice people, it’s “not their fault,” (per se’) it’s the nature of the business of “entertainment” and “show-business.” All that glitters aint gold, and it could be a dangerous thing get caught up into the clinches of just that one who absolutely positively could give two shits (too).
I knew this, I was experiencing this. I knew for a hardcore fact that behind the closed doors of their lives is a totally different animal and horse of another color that people on the outside looking in would never ever ever understand.
So in my little life and virtual world, no matter what redeeming qualities or intelligence I may have known about the outsiders (of my little end of the world) if they fell for all and only all things that made people look good, upstanding, or harmless (true or not), they immediately looked like completely package idiots in my eyes, and nothing they could say or do could make me respect them-ever again. Skeptical but balanced [rather than blinded] thinking was the only thing I could stand near me or in my life. I began to have very little patience for people who didn’t use their heads—not just where “show-business” or “entertainment” was concerned, but in any area of life.
Life turned very serious for me because of this. I didn’t know how to have blind, stupid, meaningless fun anymore because I saw and experienced life from behind the blind. Anybody who didn’t use their head but lived and chose to be blind to anything, was enemy-mine. Whether they could help it or not, I lost all and any pity for people who elected not to use their heads because my heart, my mind, and my life was being used in such a way that if you did not use your mind; I hadn’t a leg to stand on, and quite frankly through this (for years-I did not), and it broke me down, but built me up three times as strong—such that only the weak-minded, weak hearted, and Tom-Foolery would see my diesel and fear me, hate me and envy me. I only began to attract people who too were rational, smart, and used their heads-and that’s how I rebuilt my world, with no care or concern for opposite that. No fear. Something was given to me that after I made it through the fire, made me feel like Moses having come back with the truth in his hands-and no one could touch me, no one. No fear.
From a hurtful kind of sight-inside of all that I was: knowing, seeing, and experiencing; I ascertained that people see these celebs on television and lose their heads-it stops there-they don’t think beyond that. The “TV People” swooped up more than just Carol Ann on “The Poltergeist;” as well, it swooped up people on the outside, being fortunate enough to never have to experience things that their eyes would never see, and their small and controlled minds could ever conceive anyways. I feel like a higher power felt I needed to know this-to be on the other side of the matrix of life-so I don’t hate her, I was glad that I met her.
Even on the “in,” she continued to blow my mind in ways that people on the “out” lose their minds over people like her (not knowing her). I just had to remain conscious and keep fighting hard to keep my mind. I have to admit, that in that regard (and with those things in particular about the world of “outsiders”-the ignorant-in the audience of it); this thing with Janet fucked up my mind about what’s real, but removed a kind of blindness from eyes that until you experience what I did, you could only be ignorant, jaded, hoodwinked, and bamboozled in this matrix of a “life” that you think you live (as long as you stay out of the way of the other side) even if, like me, if you didn’t ask for anything but: “Does she really come in here?”
Having experienced what I experienced. I would much rather be ignorant, jaded, hoodwinked, and bamboozled in this matrix of a life (just like you). But knowing what I now know, (as a result of what I experienced ); with what my heart knows and my head kept-that built me-I would hate to be living on the side of that matrix of life (like you) because unless you keep your own mind-you don’t even know you own mind (unless you were forced into an experience like such that forced you to wake up and use it well past life’s little normal trivial trials and tribulations). There’s more to life than that, trust me…
Wednesday rolled around. I was riding around in my car thinking myself through (and ingesting my music). One song in particular rang in my head and I couldn’t stop listening to it. I left it on repeat. It was a song called “Lost One” by Lauryn Hill. Every word of it was so significant to the mess of this mess I was in. It reminded me of all that I was feeling and wished I could say to her.
When I walked into the house, I immediately put the song into my computer’s CD Rom, and on the Windows Media Player’s track listing, I erased all the other songs so that that one song could play repeatedly. I played that motherfucker to DEATH…I mean-DEAF. The words were blasting: “It’s funny how money change a situation. Miscommunication leads to complication. My emancipation don’t fit your equation. I was on the humble you’re on every station…” And I mean Lauryn was busting it wide open for me. She had no idea that the day she recorded that song in-studio, it was she who was strummin’ my pain and singing my life with her words. That song was working for me that day-creating a séance beyond belief.
I just sat there in my comfortable black Futon chair and stared at the computer that I used to own-imagining Janet’s red face with her horns rising to the top of her head as she was forced to listen too, since I knew now, that she and I simultaneously ingested lyrics to songs together (in real-time, even under her remote control). Considering the lyrics, I knew that she would know what I was doing was for a different reason this time. It was personal.
I left that one fucking song on repeat, even while I walked out of the house and went to the grocery for nearly two hours. It played, and it played, and it played. Lauryn was singing her ass off! That was the night I OFFICIALLY fell in love with Lauryn Hill. She did wonders for me that night that up north while in the comfort of her Jersey home, she hadn’t a clue about.
While I pushed that cart at the grocery store, I could just imagine how Janet was pacing the floor and waiting for me to come in so she could crack her whip.
I finally made it home, but still made her wait until I put my groceries up, up, and away.
I went in.
Of course she was logged on to I.M, but would not answer me. I kept calling out to her over and over, but she still would not answer. I came into the chat room and she was staring at me with the horns high as hell. If looks could kill, she would’ve shattered my computers glass all in my face and eyes. My heart was beating, but I stared back at her with defiance. Condescendingly, I sent page after page of I.M’s asking her to “please talk to me” (just “fuckinwit” her. I got her damned Jedi Mind Tricks all right).
She would log off I.M as if to slam the door in my face, while in the room she steadily dropped the nickname: “Lauryn” down, just to let me know she knew what the hell I was doing, repeated (making her listen to) and shooting to deaf her with.
I was laughing my ass off, because we knew each other way too well. She knew I was trying to be funny. She dropped down: “Lauryn” repeatedly, until her fingers got tired. The lyrics drove her crazy like I knew they would. She knew how significant every lyric was to this entire situation-as did I.
Next: “Sassy” comes back to life and (she) carries on a short conversation back and forth, with herself (“Lauryn”). “Sassy” and “Lauryn” (Janet) were going at it. I just shook my head and watched her do it while she continued to drop the nickname: “Lauryn” down nonstop, like she was goin’ crazy. ( I got her ass…)
When she finally came in I.M after about an hour of my watching her give her one woman show in the room, just “fuckinwither,” I posted: “ *(in my country Alabama voice)*: Man, you are one stubborn ole mule.”
She responded simply: “Oh,” she was pissed.
I kept asking her if she was still mad at me (from the past few days) as if my sending such powerful and significant lyrics through her laptop wasn’t the issue, now.
She still ignored me. She knew what I was doing.
To aggravate her and pretend to be oblivious and harmless, I continued to play on the past few days as if I didn’t even know she had access to listening to anything I inserted into my CD Rom, and man, this one time, she probably wished she didn’t. This one time I know she wished she
could communicate right to me rather than at me. She wanted to take off her:
“QUEENJANETQbenlyric2SECRETSassyKajiraMissSecretiveNappyNikChuloINFATUATED” mask bad as hell. It worked her nerves like never before. I kept telling her how much I loved and cared for her and that I wanted us to quit fighting and how desperate I was for all the madness to stop (which was true-I felt that way), but at this moment, she didn’t care. She would listen, disconnect, reconnect, drop “Lauryn” and disconnect again, until she thought of something that would piss me off (and it worked), she got my ass right back. She knew that what always got to me, would get to me now…
She started talking her third person talk-to “un”identify herself but worked it such that she made sure she mentioned things that only she and her buddies knew about me.
Serious or small, the bottom line is that it was all personal (about me). She was always pulling new shit out of the bag-just to let me know that she knew something new and had an arsenal (if she ever needed to pull it out). I let it get to me and I know I shouldn’t have, but it drove me crazy-just like she knew it would. I couldn’t believe how much I still let her work my nerves when I already knew how she operated. I was so frustrated because in my virtual life, I don’t put up with people for longer than one time past anything foul. I would have cut somebody like her out of my life a long time ago, yet here it is; I couldn’t just cut her off knowing that somebody out in this world had access to more things about me than anybody who earned knowing-and too, could afford to do damage. And my feelings were woven all through this-right along with hers.
Tit for tit, all the time-typical “cat and mouse games” is what my friend Denise would say we were doing to each other: “You do shit-then she’s running around like crazy. She does shit-then you’re running you around like crazy. Y’all both doing shit and running around chasing each other’s tail like y’all crazy or something” is what she’d say. I couldn’t agree more. I wanted so bad to be able to pull out and away from her but I just couldn’t for sweet + sour reasons. Just like this cat had me by the tail and knew shit about me, I had her by the tail and knew shit about her too-so we were both trapped in more ways than many…
I listened to her third-person talk until I couldn’t listen anymore, then I yelled at her about how stupid she was and how sick I was of her being in my life (my same ole song and dance that I could do nothing about-the same one that she had grown numb to hearing). So I just logged off as if to slam the door in her face. The shit hit the fan, my phone rang immediately: “What are you doing? What is the problem?” asked the girl on the other end.
Urgh. It was that same girl’s voice from the time when Janet was trying to get to my city with Mr. Happy and Lil’ Bit in 3 hours so that she could “swab me down.”
I yelled at the girl, and asked her not to call my house.
“Well this is my dime!” she said. “Well this is MY TIME dammit!” I responded.
I hung up the phone. She called back: “Look, I’m just trying to be your friend, maybe I can help you. What’s the problem?” she said, as if she was on my side. That sent fire through my body. I spit fire at her: “How DARE you call my fuckin’ house with this bullshit as if that bitch aint behind none of it and you give a fuck about me!!!!!!!! How DARE you!”
We argued on and on as I complained about my phone being tapped as well as every other phone that I used-friends, family and all that. I complained about my computer not being mine anymore and how ridiculous all this shit was. This resourceful chic, whose the voice I hated so badly, explained something about some buffer system sweep needed to run a tap check and she mentioned all this computer jargon that I could not comprehend. She serenaded her computer information systems savvy as if she was really trying to help me-like I should be standing there taking literal notes. Insulted again, I yelled at her some more.
She then (out of nowhere) asked me that same question that “Chris” asked me on the phone that day: “Are you talking to someone whose name has four letters?” she asked. Again, in an instant, I thought of Janet’s boyfriend Rene having four letters in his name and got even more pissed. They all insisted that I knew something that I wasn’t telling. Whatever it was he did to bail out of Janet’s life (that she obviously caught him plotting and planning) she and they think I had some part in it (but maybe unknowingly). He left my ass holding the bag in the worse way.
At times, they wouldn’t let up. It was almost like he (from some other side of the world), could push her buttons and say things that could instantly send she and her buddies all on me with the force of a firing squad. Whatever he got caught doing, planning, and plotting (with Rob, or alone), I fit some plan in it that at any point, she could be convinced I was holding back from the grasp of her knowledge, control, and remote control. It didn’t matter to Rene though, I was nobody. And Janet was settling out of court, so he didn’t give a damn how he could push her buttons-especially when he sat back and watched her flirt with me while they [although were separated] but were still married. He used to lurk and watch it all, so he didn’t give a damn how he left me hanging with the bag or what he had to do to mind-fuck her. Alls I knew is that it was working.
“Okay this whole fucking thing is stupid and whatever is going on, she nor you assholes, can get any results or answers this way. I wish you would keep that stupid crazy bitch away from me, my phone and out of my life! I’m sick of all of y’all bitches.” I yelled.
That worked her nerves this time.
“Wait a fucking minute dammit! You’re not gonna pull that “stupid” shit again-my friend’s not fuckin’ stupid! And for your fuckin’ information, Janet is completely computer illiterate!” she revealed-lying like a fucking rug.
I finished with: “…amongst other things, however, she has the time, resources and the money to pay YOU! You “computer buff.” She can pay you to teach her all that you would love to convince me she does not know. Close, but no cigar or good defense, Buff!”
I continued to pour on the insults about Janet in ways that could fill a page. I lit into her ass like a bull to a matador. like the capital letter “T” turned sideways.
In her heavy east coast accent, the girl got really defensive and yelled at me: “I have been friends with her for thirteen motherfuckin’ years and so fuckin’ what, my roommate used to work for the CIA and you can’t do anything about it anyway because it is not illegal to tap telephones in the state of Ohio-stupid! Have you ever seen anybody outside your house working on phone lines? Huh!?”
I thought I was going crazy. I couldn’t believe them. She went on to explain something about some kind of box outside the house and talking all this language that I knew nothing about-again (but yes, I have seen servicemen out on poles in front of my house by the way-for long periods of time-two different apartments during this ordeal). I continued, however:
“I don’t know about none of this shit you are talking about and what makes you think I would even take your advice about how to get this tramp off of my lines and out of my life as if you care about me! I’m sick of her STUPID ass. Shit, to even have the phone company come out to run a tracer on the line, I have to file a fuckin’ police report. What the fuck I’m gone look like telling them that her dumb crazy ass is tapping my phone? Huh? Why doesn’t somebody with some damn sense talk to the crazy bitch? She needs to work out whatever issues she’s got with that damn daddy of hers that’s done fucked her up mentally and emotionally, and quit running around fucking with other people’s lives and deal with her own crazy ass problems! But that’s okay. She’s going to get hers one day real soon!” I yelled.
The girl laughed in my ear as if I said nothing, and in a firm whisper she snapped broodingly and said word for word: “Girl…You. Can’t. Get. Near her!”
I responded: “I ain’t trying get near that crazy whore.”
As if she was shaking her head, she responded:
“Nall, please, girl I’m trying to MAKE YOU KNOW SOMETHING REAL…” she continued and took on an annoying and careless laugh with that horrible masculine and strong east coast accent: “You can’t touch her! You can’t touch this STARRRRRrrrr!…” she growled-down to the sound of the last ‘r’ she pronounciated.
I looked at the clock and saw that we had been on the phone arguing for over an hour while I know Janet listened on. Playing out images in my head about how I could do nothing about this bizarre and crazy situation without looking crazy trying to explain it, I took a deep breath and I SCREAMED to the top of my lungs–some word I forgot I said to that bitch. I hung up on her with the force of a decibel that I prayed would send her eardrums to her brain to combust.
I ran upstairs to my bedroom and sat in the middle of my bed on my hind legs. I threw my head back and screamed to the top of my lungs. I don’t even remember the words I said after: “God.” The last thing I remembered was my head shaking from left to right uncontrollably while the tears streamed down my face-making me foam at the mouth.
My body began to twist and shake opposite my head like a washing machine in use.
In that moment, it was like an outer body experience. I was outside of my body, looking at my body, but I could not stop myself from twisting and shaking-my other body was trying to twist me in the opposite direction. My mind, my spirit, my soul, and my body had a serious fight that night. It was like someone was trying to breathe life into me but was trying to twist and pull me from someone else who wanted me to check the fuck out of here.
If I never believed there was a God, I believed after that day, because somebody put their hands on me and fucking saved me from something else that wanted my mind and body into another world. In that moment, I could clearly feel what it was like for a sane minded to person to go through a mental breakdown to the point where they never returned back to normal again. And I was in that moment, then I passed: The. Fuck. Out.
In the middle of night, I woke up on my tummy. My body was so light. I opened my eyes and looked around my room-everything still looked the same. I ran downstairs to the bathroom to cut on the bright light so that I could feel and see my face that I couldn’t stop touching and examining on route to it. I was altogether there.
I put my hands on my hips and began to pace the floors of my house to make sure I didn’t check out and was fully up and in one piece: mind, body, and soul. I sat on the couch and stuffed my feet into the thick cushions then turned on the television and let it watch me.
About an hour later, I got two phone calls.
The first one, they hung up. I then sat up and wiped the sandman out of my eyes.
The second one, they just sat there and just held the phone for as long as I would say “hello.”
I knew it was Janet, so I held the phone for a little longer with her, still angry, but feeling horrible deep down inside that we had gotten down to this. She was on the other end breathing hard, hurt, and probably crying because of all the insulting, mean, terrible, nasty, and disrespectful things I had said about her to that girl on the phone. Although I felt bad deep down inside, I couldn’t let myself care anymore because of all the things she had done to me, allowed to be done to me, was still doing that as far as I could see, was never going to end.
My numbness was pulsating to a near flat line for her tears and manipulation anymore. I don’t even remember who hung up first. Alls I know is that we did…
From the next/upcoming chapter excerpt drop:
I was so winded of this (and her), and I knew that something was going to have to give.
I refused to wait until I was angry and at another point in time when I would break down in mind, because I knew that if I got to that point ever again, I was not going to check back in-I had my chance already.
I had to get a plan together, since I knew that there was no way out of dealing with her (unless by some turn of events) she got unexcited and decided to go away. I saw that happening no time soon either. The day I could see that happening would be a day she was able to walk to the corner store to buy and pack a bubblegum, chew it, and walk down the street whistling without a bodyguard or paparazzi in sight or paying her any attention: No time soon.
In between the times that I too, would get happy that she was “EXCITED” (and sweet and cute) I would get frustrated, agitated and on-guard; wondering how long, and what the hell was she going to do next-and more importantly-how far she would go to turn it up on me and my life.
All I knew is that whatever she wished to do, it could only make me look like the crazy one and leave her smelling like a rose.
I looked at it like this:
I already made a deal with this woman that she sure as hell was not about to let me out of easily or in any way that would be fair or in care of me at all.
And each day, I became more and more caught up into her web of the web (a.k.a: her life)-depleting me of mine with nothing to fight with and no way to take it all back.
The only thing I could tell myself was: “Ok, since you already made a deal with the devil…then deal with the devil.” Yeah, I’m going to have to deal with her-my way…and by way of the thing that I do best…
- excess in eating or drinking, greedy or excessive indulgence
“During a close conversation we were having, she said knew she was guilty of selfishness and greed-and to hell with whoever had a problem with it. LoL. It was pretty funny because it was in one of her more sensual moments of a conversation (although she still meant what she said). But what I think she meant was that she was gluttonous and she was; well over “greed.” Because whatever she liked in sex, virtuosity, madness, goodness or badness; she had to have it to a power over-explainable: excessively. All things considered, I know that in order to balance this thing out, I was going to have to do something for me that would definitely leave a sour taste in her mouth. And with this
thing, if she really loved me like she said she did, she would understand-and still be with me, and if she didn’t-she would leave me. I would have to cross that bridge when we got to it in order to be able to determine if this (for us) would be a bridge, or troubled waters ahead. So, here goes…everything.”
That night time blindness is a motherfucker.
The decisions and finalities of all that we say, think, feel and do should never be made final in the night-time hours. I don’t trust new decisions made in the night-time from people.
I had my night of contemplation about what I needed to do, and just like I don’t trust night time decisions from anybody else, I don’t make my own decisions final in the night-time either and if I do, the morning will tell me the right thing (if the night-time wouldn’t let me wait).
Morning came. I felt the same…
I figured it was time for me to put my head in front of my heart, some pep in my step and quit being such a sucker and a fool her-by making a decision to look out for me, first. Because one thing’s for certain: she’s looking out for herself first, and not even the love she claims to have for me is going to stand in the way of that. In the bigger scheme of things, I’d be an even bigger fool to think otherwise.
It had been going on seven months into this thing, and for the very first time, on this July 20th morning (ironically-Shauntay’s birthday); I was able to step outside of this ordeal and look at myself to really see what was going on. I had a very long talk with myself the way that I would advise one of my own friends if they were involved in this same exact predicament:
“Regardless whatever feels good and feels right about anything in this, there is nothing, and I do mean nothing “normal” about it-all the way down to the person you’re involved with. I can soften the blow by shedding light on the dark facts of it by stating another fact that you cannot ignore: this whole thing is just as unstable as she is unstable and volatile her literal damned self.
The scariest part about it is that the unstable and volatile person involved is the one with the money, the power, the resources, the access to the media and the ability to turn this lil’ secret love nest you have into a bad-bad situation, that by the time she is done with you; she can have you looking like a completely packaged idiot. In an effort to prove your trustworthiness, here you are having turned yourself inside out to this bitch to the point of having a paper trail of all true facts about you and your part in this-down to your real name-all in the palm of she and her team’s hands.
But you on the other hand; have no power in this that you can control other than whatever she opened up to you to reveal in order to give you some security that I’m sure that with the touch of a button, her people can flip and undo to make you look like a damned fool in five minutes of this love nest your ass has set up over here and built with this broad. Without Rene’s help and your documenting everything, 80% of what you have is circumstantial by conversation or testimony. 100% of what she has is all-true, you (and in print).
Fuck who she is, what she tells you, and how all over you she is in an effort to prove her love to you. Use your head. If you were completely convinced of her love, you wouldn’t have red flags all over the fields of your mind constantly reminding you to be on your toes with her. If this was completely and 100% about her getting with you the right way, there wouldn’t be some many things that she and her cohorts do to upset you and antagonize you over silly shit that y’all go through over her tantrums (which are never ending I might add).
You can’t win or have a relationship with somebody unstable like her and who has access to knowing things about you that the average partner in a relationship would have to sit back and trust but not know or hang around long enough to learn. A relationship cannot grow healthy with a jump-start and heads up like that. It cannot work, it’s impossible. She didn’t get a chance to get to you like she does everybody else: spy on them enough to have them checked out, meet, get her shit off, part ways, spy on them and tap their phones and whereabouts and shit, then cut them loose after a few or no more trysts. You pressing ‘pause’ on her getting to you “in 3 hours” shifted the game in a big way that forced her to do something she never took the time to do with everybody else: Get to really know you and love you. Now she’s revealed herself to you and what it is she does, and because of-you are indebted to her for more ways than your ass think you are. Now she and her people have to be on you in more ways than they planned for—more than for “love” for you.
This is about life now, and her livelihood-and this thing can get ugly. But considering her-how she is…count on it. She is too volatile, too unstable, and she’s got way too much money, worldly power and influence over the same world of people who are going to send you to the nut house at the very moment she pulls the plug and you’re not prepared to go toe-to-toe with this bitch. If you think that one girl on her team, that one night was enough to set you off on the telephone, what are you going to do when this sick bitch sends the world to your door?
You may not have her money, her worldly power and influence, but you are smarter and savvier than she and her people are technologically smart and savvy. And you had better start acting like it- fast.
They can only and specifically act and move from the inside looking out from her ego. You have an advantage too. And one that you had better begin to value like the world values her over you. You are on the inside, but a part of that same outside looking at her ego, but unlike them; you are in the know about her alter egos, and her real self-having been the victim of her ego and her power. You have her more cornered she and they can push buttons to hurt you but only if you get it all on paper.
There is no way you can relay the intricacies of this complicated story in a matter of three minutes to an hour with a microphone in your face like you can do on paper. And you had better collect your paper trail on her ass and prepare to chronicle this tale to tell in the event that she pulls that plug…that’s your only fight and defense. You can be rested in assured that pulled plug is coming, and they have been preparing it since the first day she came at you in-even in the name of adoration and lust. She’s already seven months ahead of you. You, my dear, had better get seven months caught up in less than seven days-seven hours if you can.
Stop tossing your silly little yellow tape of caution to the wind and going at these seven deadly sins with her devil ass on “love” and a type of loyalty that she wouldn’t give to you even if she wanted to.
She’s got a whole machine behind her that’s got to eat—families to feed-that don’t give two shits about you or even her “love” for you. You had better put as much caution and care into the seriousness of your own life and career as she and her people place on hers and theirs. Start NOW. These 7 months of bullshit is something you can get caught up on in 7 hours or 7 days at minimum! Because that’s the only luck and defense you’ve got in this pickle you’re in dear. If you want to sit back and love her crazy ass like her crazy loves you-fine. That’s between you and her. But be your own machine too-like she has her machine (that doesn’t give a flying fuck about you). That way, if you wish to keep dealing with her, you will be armed and ready down to the wire. But right now at this very moment in time, your shit is on click-click boom, and you’re the one unprepared to detonate when the real war begins. Love doesn’t love anybody. Your time is ticking.”
…is the advice I would have given to someone else, so I answered my self back-the same way.
I spent the night [hand]writing the outline and timeline and prepared to go right in with the story-all truths-my part that I played in this thing and her part too. I had no time for fabrication, lies, and creative cover-ups on either of our parts if I was to get caught up and get this story chronicled and on the go. I put a special star with a circle around it in areas of the timeline where I needed to pull emails to duplicate them in the story, but because I knew she had access to my email account that we used between us; I put that on the back burner-until then, I could write the story around the emails. I knew what happened on what dates and what times because I had so much saved on the “BULLSHIT” discs for a while from January through March when things got crazy and she started freezing and fucking with my computer after I quit her chat room.
I was armed and ready to go.
Bright and early, I got up and went to my school’s computer lab to take my chances. Skipping all classes, I started at 8 a.m. I went to a different lab that I had never talked to her from, feeling like I would have a special kind of peace without one computer in that whole room reminding me of anywhere I sat during the many evenings and days that I would have to run there to beg her to give me my service back at my own home.
From the time I laid my finger on the first key and my thoughts started to flow, I felt something come over me that I hadn’t felt since she had taken from me one of my loves; my outlets-writing (in peace). Although this piece was very necessary for my emancipation, I was writing in peace-regardless. The feeling was like a “fix,” if you will. I was on a roll-just flowing. The story started pouring out. But at exactly 2 p.m., after I had gotten to the part about how Rene and I met, my computer completely froze just like the way she would do my computer at home…
Considering the moment in the story the computer froze, I knew it was her. I had been through this thing with her for long enough to know her moves, and how she moved. It was like she sat there and watched me do the first thirteen pages until she gathered exactly how I met Rene and what had occurred. That was her only missing link to the puzzle (thus far)…
She got her chance to fill in some blanks, so I was kind of relieved that she did read that part and found out that was all that occurred when I met him.
The screen was frozen for about five minutes, no need to panic. Of course I knew what was going on but didn’t worry about it either. I only worried about how I was going to be able to get this ordeal on paper to get myself caught up to date. I needed this.
I didn’t feel stupid or sneaky, actually I couldn’t wait to talk to her so then perhaps we could carry on like normal with one another (I hoped).
Since my breakdown that night, I woke up a little stronger and a little less emotionally detached from her-the worry, the fear. Since that time, Lauryn’s “Ex-Factor” was the second song whose lyrics were true to life from me to her that I just hadn’t put through my CD Rom’s speakers for her to hear yet-for she had already lost one part of me that (after my breakdown that night) I didn’t have in me anymore for her. I still cared about her and loved her but at this point, I could take her or leave her. If she left me alone it sure as hell wouldn’t be too soon for me. I preferred to take her over leaving her because I knew that [unlike anybody else in my normal life who, for hurting me, I certainly would up and leave and never look back], I couldn’t leave her unless she decided to, because she had unusual ties to me in ways that (because I knew about) I could never really feel back to my “self,” before her.
I would never fully have my life back to the way it was before her unless it was she who walked away. If she would walk away, that would leave me no choice-and she knew that too, but she never would, despite at times going off on her own and hooking up with a couple of Hollywood dudes, and few industry honeys [and even telling me about those people in an effort to go her own way] still, she could leave, but she tried hard to-a couple of times.
Call it her karma and my biggest spiritual life lesson; for many years after this and from different spectrums of our individual lives, this predicament snowballed into a mountain that neither she nor I could handle. It became bigger than the both of us after some time that (behind the scenes of her public) I know for a fact-eventually affected her career down to the minutes before her major debacle, and every other flop, and venue cancellation.
This predicament affected my entire life as I once knew it and would never be again, for me. She blew my mind so much and in so many ways, for so many years (even after I started writing the story) that I had to dig deeper into what I already knew about her-because I knew there had to be more (that obviously) she was not going to tell me. I just knew it was more to her story, this “thing” with me, and this whole Internet thing. And low and behold, I found much more than I never even expected.
I knew that the use of “character names” and nicknames was a very big deal with them in her room, so I started my research there. I headed over to a completely different college’s computer lab and sunk myself into that chair all day one Saturday afternoon and began my research first, by researching one of the main character nicknames that she used with me-the most that caught my attention: “Kajira”(the one she said meant: “slave to passion.)I found out that a “Kajira” was indeed a submissive slave in this lifestyle called “Gorean” (very similar to BDSM) where the choice to inflict psychological, mental, and physical pain upon the submissive was not a necessary practice for the lifestyle; but total power exchange, 24/7, dominance and submission, and servitude (especially) was the name of the game.
Upon deeper investigation, I began to look up several nicknames used by she and her friends in the room (whose names I purposely omitted while writing the story) and through searching those names, I landed right into the online game that Janet and her friends were the players of the rituals, and the screenshots from last played. I started printing my ass off when I came upon the pages.
It was by the stroke of luck and my memory recalling one particular friend’s name that Janet mentioned to me in conversation before whereby that same friend’s name; I hit the jackpot…and through her page and links, I was over into a whole other world of Janet’s that too, explained so much more to me-it even helped me better understand the jacket cover pics of her Velvet Rope CD: all that bondage, ropes, slave mistress smeared eye makeup, latex body suits, her outfit worn at the debacle, the psychological stress she would put me through-all that. I was floored at these pieces coming together. But when I came upon the video game screen shot of a ceremonial piece, there was a girl dressed in a white wedding dress (a submissive), kneeled to her dominant. Guess the name printed across the top of the submissive?: “Angela.” That was the only non-Gorean name in the screenshot’s ceremony scene. Considering what I had been going through with her-that was no fucking coincidence, at all.
Sitting there in that computer lab and coming upon all this, I thought I was in the “Twilight Zone,” the “Matrix,” and very much apart of the cutting room floor reel of the “The Enemy of the State.” I was blown away. I never said anything to her about all of this but I sure as hell printed it and got the hell out of dodge. I flew home like a bat out of hell, and tucked that evidence away and proceeded without too much more caution. I got a lot of answers to things I hadn’t even questioned.
So even before I studied into her deeper, I knew her moves. I knew everything about her and how she and her people operated. Getting a hold of these first thirteen pages that they intercepted was going to cause one or two things to happen: She was going to completely turn away from me and shut this thing down altogether, or she and they were going to turn it up-in every way.
I waited patiently.
From home (and from the school’s computers), they had me blocked from getting into the room for the duration of that July 20th day.
July 21st –game on.
I came into the room, and the first person that showed their face was “Danielle.”
I knew this was their day to perform for me like never before. I gave audience to it and performed right along with them-there was no shame in my game whatsoever:
“Hey Danielle, so that is your full name?” I asked. (I asked that because “Danielle” was “Daniee’s” full name. “Daniee” was the girl from the Jack and Jill conversation with “Kajira” and me way back in earlier into this).
“Ah yes Cin, it sure is,” she responded.
They carefully took every name that I mentioned in the beginning of those first thirteen pages, extended the spelling of the names, and posted them down in front of me (just to let me know they were combing through each page they had received).
Next, they cracked jokes about Janet’s dancers-calling them “band members” (as I had originally called them in those first thirteen pages) because I was going to try to be as discreet as I could be by avoiding using the obvious: “dancers,” so instead, I called them “band members.”
I sat there to wait to see who was next: “QUEENK” came down.
In those first thirteen pages they now had in their possession, “QUEENKYRA” was the name that I had originally thought to use instead of the name that Janet really used: “QUEENJANET” because again, I was calling myself being discreet (in case this chronology turned manuscript became a published book). I did not want to completely drop the dime on them by turning it into a “tell-all” and putting the spotlight right on Janet.
My main concern was to tell the story-on paper-and put it away for safe keeping-if ever I needed a defense prepared with details to tell my side of this story (should Janet and her people tried to fuck my life up). I didn’t do it necessarily to hurt or tell on Janet simply because I knew I could and had quite an interesting story to tell, but as hard as I tried to write a chronology only, the details of the story could not chronicled in any way other than by telling it as a story. Because of that, I called myself being considerate, by changing names and functions. But after they started their performances, I turned “QueenKyra” back to QueenJanet, turned “Kyra” back to Janet, and turned the “band members” back to dancers-fuck it. I’m not the one with anything to hide in this but in the meantime, I will finish the manuscript and put it up for safe keeping (if ever needed to defend myself)…
The performances continued. I sat and gave them audience.
A guy named “DaveB” came down and posted: “Uh yeah sorry guys but I have to go. I have a big interview on the Oprah Show so make sure you guys watch me! LoL…”
They all “LoL’d.”
Next, the nickname: “College Girl” came down and carried on a skit with another employee who asked: “Yeah uh, college girl. What are you studying in college?”
“College Girl” capitalized: “THE LAW.”
The employee then responded: “Yeah keep up the good work because we need our lawyers…”
I just sighed and watched the show. Lissa then showed up next:
“Um I’m going quit being nice to some people in this room if they don’t stop their lies!”
To that, I had to respond:
Get ahead of the excerpt drops!
Get Friend Request Intercepted on paperback copy or Kindle-from Amazon , TODAY!
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .