“A hit dog will holler. No reason for them to get offended if it doesn’t apply to them. Even if it does apply, if they are willingly sharing dick, it should become their national anthem. You’d be surprised at how many chicks are actually proud to be a man’s side–ass action.”
“You definitely have a way with words.”
“You’re surprised? Where do you think my song lyrics come from? If I’m not going to go hard, I might as well go home.”
“So it’s a fact that you write all your own music?”
“I pen all my own lyrics and then, as I’m sure you know, I have a few producers who I collaborate with on the music itself. I bring the thoughts to life and they give me the beats to flow with. It’s a lovely thing.”
“So when is your next tour?”
“After this new album drops. While some may be able to pull it off, I can’t tour and work on new cuts at the same time. Those are two different lives completely. Touring is a twenty-four-seven process. Between traveling, sound checks, rehearsals, and the actual shows—where I cannot afford to disappoint—there is no time to go into a zone and create new music.”
“I’ve always admired those of you who do big tours. It has to be exhausting. I get tired even watching the performances. You must work out.”
I stood up and turned around, tapping myself on the behind. “With an ass like this, you know good and well that I have to keep it lovely in the gym.” I walked around the table and grabbed his left upper arm. “All this muscle you have on you, you must hit the gym daily.”
“I actually have a gym in my home.”
“Oh, do you and your wife work out together?” I asked, being nosy.
He looked up over his shoulder at me. “I’m not married. Well, I’m divorced actually.”
“That must be hard on your kids.” I let his arm go and sat down on the edge of the table, with my hip rubbing against his wrist. “How many do you have?”
“What makes you think I have any?” he asked, looking up into my eyes.
“You have a daddy feel about you.” He smelled so damn good as I inhaled his cologne. “We seem to be roughly the same age. Most men my age have a gaggle of kids.”
“Gaggle?”
“A flock of geese not in flight.”
“You’re a brilliant woman. I love listening to your choice of words.”
“Again, it’s the nature of my business. I would think that the other artists you interview are creative spirits. At least, they should be.” I sighed. “So how many kids do you have?”
Here is what Jonovan had to be thinking at that very moment:
Is Wicket coming on to me?
Oh my God, is Wicket really trying to pick me up?
This shit is crazy! Wicket’s coming on to me.
Truth be told, I had no idea what I was thinking. What I was doing was foolish, reckless, completely irrational, and unwise.
“I have a son, Jonovan Jr. He’s thirteen and he lives in Seattle with my ex-wife.”
“Why all the way in Seattle?”
“Her job transferred her there. She’s in IT.” He cleared his throat. “My father actually lives with me. He has Alzheimer’s and I didn’t want to put him in a home. At least, not yet.” He seemed to be visibly upset. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“That must be hard.”
“It can be a challenge.”
I got down off the edge of the table and walked back around to the other side. “I apologize for getting off track from the interview. Sometimes I enjoy hearing about other people.”
“It’s no problem. I’m just surprised you would even be interested in my life.”
“You have a very kind aura about you. I find it sweet that you would take care of your father. Is your mother still living?”
“No, she succumbed to breast cancer when I was in my early twenties.”
I remembered seeing Jonovan’s parents at school functions at Powers High School. They seemed so happy, and Jonovan was his father’s twin. It looked like he had spit him out and that his mother had been the carrying vessel. Strong genes, so I could only imagine that his junior was his split image as well.
“What about your parents?” he asked. “How did you end up in the orphanage in Guyana? Do you know if you have any existing family there? Were you scared to come to the United States? How long did it take you to learn English, or were you already speaking it? Did you have a thick accent at first?”
I chuckled. “You are really good. Journalism is about trying to get information, and even though I made it clear that I don’t discuss such things, you went for it anyway.”