Muted Read online

  I’m gonna need y’all to get it together!

  Signed,

  Ya girl Denver

  might have been

  the biggest lie

  ever invented!

  A forty-two-minute ride

  from the airport

  was really code for:

  Might as well take a two-hour NAP!

  (A Suburb of Atlanta)

  home to

  Tyler Perry,

  Ne-Yo,

  Usher,

  Whitney Houston,

  Merc,

  and now …

  US!

  In other words,

  welcome to

  Black Hollywood!

  tips dipped

  in 24-carat gold,

  closed tight.

  Stayed that way

  till the voice

  waiting on the

  other side of that intercom

  heard the driver say:

  Denver Lee Lafleur

  and Dalisay Gómez

  have arrived for Mr. Ellis.

  The buzzer rang,

  gates opened,

  chrome wheels

  rolled against

  smooth pavement,

  snaked its way

  past sky-kissing trees,

  a pond filled with koi fish,

  basketball court to the left,

  tennis to the right,

  me and Dali,

  arms linked,

  100 percent

  GEEKING OUT

  till we reached the front steps

  of the biggest house I had ever

  seen in all my life.

  waited at the door for us,

  my disappointment settling

  that it wasn’t Merc.

  She led us to a two-story foyer,

  chandelier elevated,

  each crystal

  capturing a piece of the Earth’s sun.

  Soon as she opened

  those puckered hot-pink lips of hers,

  the midnight of her words

  swallowed daylight whole.

  “I’ma need your phones, ladies.”

  One hand out,

  the other propped on her hip.

  “What for?” Dali asked.

  “Ain’t like we recording right now.”

  “Yeah,” I said,

  “we’re actually gonna

  be staying up in this piece.

  Can’t live without our phones.

  How are we supposed to call our—”

  But then the sun in our universe walked in,

  muting all

  my words.

  Merc had that camcorder in his hand

  finger pressing the record button in

  3 … 2 …

  “Welcome home, my stars!”

  His voice echoed through the first floor.

  Me and Dali squealed like schoolgirls,

  ran to him

  like a father gone

  too long.

  “How you like the crib?”

  “Oh, it’s perfect!”

  “Ditto what Dali said.”

  “Wave to the camera, Say Say, baby gurl.

  Do a little turn,

  show ’em what you working with.

  You too, Denver!

  “Welcome to the journey of

  my next multiplatinum artists,

  Untouched!”

  We waved and blew kisses

  to imaginary fans.

  Merc stopped recording

  and handed the camcorder to Meat,

  who secured it in that duffel bag.

  “Now first order of business

  I can’t have y’all

  rocking these old-ass phones—”

  Marissa cut Merc off.

  “I told them to give ’em up—”

  Merc raised one hand,

  and like a soldier, homegirl stood at attention.

  “Now, now,

  I’ma have to ease them into this.

  This is new territory for them.

  See I’m ’bout to take y’all on a whole journey,

  and for starters, I’ll need your complete attention.

  “All work.

  No distractions.”

  Merc pulled out two boxes wrapped in

  a pretty pink-and-silver bow.

  We opened them

  like two kids on Christmas day.

  Two brand-new iPhones

  for us to keep with us at all times,

  which woulda been cool,

  ’cept they had

  only one saved number (Merc’s),

  no internet,

  NO social media,

  and a code

  only he knew to unlock

  it all when necessary.

  “Come on, Merc! Why so extra?”

  I couldn’t help it.

  No matter how Dali looked at me

  with those pleasebabyplease eyes.

  The crease around

  Merc’s mouth deepened.

  “Never forget, baby gurl,

  distractions breed failure.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  Shoulders went in full slump mode.

  I mean, I got it.

  Didn’t mean I wanted to.

  When it came to Merc’s plan

  to get us to the top,

  Dali and I agreed there’d be

  no clapback,

  no compromise,

  just a nod

  and a yes

  to give in

  to his

  every demand—

  no matter how bad

  we I felt like popping off

  at the mouth.

  Because with an opportunity

  of a lifetime

  staring me in the face,

  what other choice did I have?

  Give up (and break my promise to Dali) …

  or lean in? (and make my wildest dream a reality)

  Uhhh-hmmm.

  EXACTLY!

  I may not have liked

  that whole no-technology

  caveman living,

  but the next part

  made up for it …

  Sort of.

  A walking tour through Merc’s castle,

  just me and Merc,

  while Marissa took Dali godknowswhere:

  Indoor swimming pool

  Gym

  Sauna

  A never-ending

  freaking Wonderland …

  Barbershop

  Salon

  And then,

  upstairs,

  a little big palace …

  painted black

  rhinestones scattered

  to offset the darkness.

  Windows dressed

  in thick velvet curtains,

  a bed fit for a queen

  tucked in the

  deepest corner of the room

  A Gibson Montana Hummingbird

  on top of the bed.

  Next to the guitar, two journals

  each one labeled: FOR YOU.

  Inside inscribed:

  A place to hold

  lyrics waiting

  to turn to gold.

  Your biggest fan,

  Merc

  “Wow, thank you, Merc.

  I can’t believe you got this for us.”

  “Us? No. Just you.

  This room and everything in it

  is only for you.”

  I looked around the large space,

  feeling hella small.

  “But what about Dali—”

  Merc grabbed me by both hands.

  “Baby gurl, you are a genius in the making.

  I need you focused, separate. Say Say’s talented and all,

  but you? You’re the real star. She’ll catch up …

  eventually.”

  I felt a burn incinerate my whole chest.

  Was that a compliment?

  But most of all … did I like it? (yes. wait,
no. right?)

  Merc snapped his fingers.

  “Enough about that! Take a look

  around your master suite!”

  In the hall, leading to

  my bathroom,

  a walk-in closet,

  full of designer clothes,

  (why did I even pack?)

  shoes, jewelry,

  everything I was gonna need.

  A spa-like bathroom,

  white marble soaking tub

  to the right,

  walk-in shower

  with twelve jets

  to the left.

  And in the center of the floor,

  a digital scale

  staring back at me.

  “Baby gurl

  It’s not that you’re fat …

  It’s not that you’re skinny …

  It’s just that you’re …”

  A lot?

  Those last words didn’t come out of Merc’s mouth,

  but I saw them in his eyes.

  Once upon a time,

  he called me strong.

  “Don’t worry,

  I got you a trainer

  and errthang.

  We gonna get you tight!”

  Merc tapped

  my shoulder,

  turned his back,

  and headed out of my suite.

  Two feet,

  quick step on the scale.

  The numbers

  flashed bold and blue

  on the screen.

  I folded myself

  arms to gut,

  caught up to Merc in the hall,

  pressed down those feelings,

  (of too muchness?)

  whispered to myself …

  Just a little off the top, right?

  How hard can it be?

  Speaking of feelings

  Moving in with Merc

  felt like

  some kind of

  reality show

  where the most disciplined,

  most focused

  ended up the winner.

  Grand prize!

  Set for life!

  Which wasn’t far off

  from how things were

  for the Lafleurs back home …

  that whole #workhard #teamnosleep

  philosophy instilled since birth.

  So if hard work was what

  it was gonna take

  to make it to the top,

  then that’s exactly what

  I’d serve up.

  Black girl:

  mixed with grit,

  stardust,

  spice,

  magic.

  was on the opposite end of that

  big ole castle of a house.

  I would

  tell you what it looked like

  if only I was allowed in it.

  we sat on plush sofa chairs,

  in front of a huge bow window

  overlooking peach trees.

  An older lady,

  dressed in a full-on maid uniform,

  brought us glasses

  of something bubbly.

  “Thank you, Ms…. what’s your name?”

  I asked, but she didn’t even

  make eye contact, nor did she respond.

  Just propped up the serving tray

  and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Well, alrighty, then.

  Dali nudged me in my side.

  “Show him, muchacha.”

  I asked Merc

  if I could use the internet,

  like a goddamned kindergartner.

  Marissa passed me a tablet,

  I pulled up the link,

  and handed it to Merc.

  He squinted his eyes,

  stretched the tablet back …

  “Tell me what it says, Denver.”

  The whole room

  Merc

  Meat

  Marissa

  Dali

  went silent,

  lips sealed,

  eyes open,

  ears tuned in

  as I read

  the fiery words

  of that article Shak sent.

  “Captive?” Merc said.

  I couldn’t tell if

  that was a question

  or flame.

  Merc couldn’t hold

  it any longer.

  Laughter poured out

  like a rushing river,

  lampshades trembled

  with each stomp of his foot.

  Meat and Marissa

  joined in like a chorus.

  “Baby gurl … Say Say …”

  Merc hunched over,

  drowning in his own laughter,

  extended a finger.

  “I’d like for you to meet M.”

  Marissa waved at us,

  a smile

  big enough

  to clear furniture

  out the room.

  (according to Marissa)

  Does it look like I’m being held captive? Or a whole-ass woman with a job?

  Never read (or believe) the media. It’s all FAKE NEWS.

  My parents are batshit crazy, which is why I left in the first place.

  And honestly,

  I was so relieved

  I coulda laughed and cried

  at the same damn time.

  But not Dali.

  She had this look

  painted on her face.

  “So … you used to sing? Not anymore?”

  Dali’s eyes shifted from Marissa to Merc,

  lightning speed.

  “Turns out it wasn’t meant to be.

  Not everybody’s cut out for fame.

  I’m good on the business end.”

  Marissa winked at Merc, brushing her hand

  on his knee.

  “Well … you’re happy, right?”

  Dali whispered, so soft

  I almost missed it.

  But Marissa bolted up from the sofa,

  leaving Dali’s question

  hovering in the air.

  “Follow me, girls. Merc’s got something to show you.”

  a crowd of cheering people shouted

  soon as we reached the patio

  decorated with

  balloons,

  streamers,

  confetti,

  cake,

  presents,

  the WORKS!

  I scanned the faces

  in the crowd,

  most unfamiliar,

  but some definitely not …

  like

  Lil’ Mega

  and

  DJ Syncere

  and

  every! single! member!

  of B-Unit!

  A party

  of epic proportions

  with the stars!

  I ugly-cried,

  Dali jump-hugging me,

  eyes all glistening.

  “You knew about this, Dali?

  But my birthday isn’t until—”

  “Tomorrow?” Merc said, hugging both of us,

  Papa-bear style.

  And for a moment,

  I ached for family, for home,

  until I remembered how empty it we were

  for so long.

  “Don’t worry, Denver, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  sipping champagne

  with celebrities

  to celebrate

  the arrival,

  the unfurling,

  of

  US,

  the adulting

  of

  ME.

  Fine cuisine,

  hip-hop,

  R&B,

  OUR SONGS(!!!)

  blasting,

  me and Dali

  losing our freaking minds!

  Sun setting,

  moon creeping,

  mind made up

  I was NEVER going back to Shohola,

  drowned my whole self

  in spirits of every color:


  one shot

  two shots

  three shots

  FLOOR!

  Head spinning,

  sun blinding,

  pain building,

  gut releasing,

  every!

  single!

  thing!

  my lips had touched

  the night before.

  (no monster period that time tho)

  (and also … no Dali)

  I tossed and turned,

  in the dark,

  loneliness and

  dreams taking root.

  I saw myself,

  so clear,

  two feet planted on the floor,

  rushing out the door,

  dashing down the hall

  The walls were long

  winding,

  bending,

  emotions sending

  me on a

  tailspin

  I grasped at each doorknob,

  door after door,

  each one

  locked, locked, locked

  some more

  It was too dark,

  too quiet back in that massive suite

  and I needed someone,

  anyone,

  a taste of home.

  A ghost appeared

  a transparent image

  that morphed into

  a mindfuck on repeat

  First Ma

  then Shak

  then Gwen

  then you, Papi

  And finally, Dali,

  playing hide-and-go-seek

  as I chased her

  to the farthest room

  at the end of the hall

  I placed my hand on the lever

  and clicked it open

  Candles lit,

  a smoky stench,

  ganja hovering

  like a cloud,

  two lovers intertwined,

  completely unaware of my presence,

  lips pressed into parts I’d yet explored.

  It wasn’t Dali.

  Nor Marissa.

  Or Merc.

  Or anyone I’d ever seen before.

  One caught sight of me,

  rapture on pause.

  “Bounce yo!” someone shouted.

  I turned on my heels, hauled ass,

  landing smack-dab

  against a giant teddy bear,

  in human form

  “What are you doing outta your room, Denver?”

  Meat whispered,

  his breath a combination of peppermint and heat.

  “I … I … was looking for Dali.”

  My voice cracked.

  “Who was that back there?”

  Meat placed his hand on my shoulder,

  walking us both forward,

  leaving my question unanswered.

  We reached my door.

  “Merc wants you focused, Denver.

  So try and rest. He’s got a lotta

  plans for you coming up. You’ll see him in a few days.”

  “Days?” My throat felt raw.

  “Where is he? Is Dali with him?

  Answer me!”

  But he didn’t.

  He closed my door, locked it with a key, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”