awkwardness. “Are you going to sing for me?”
“I can. What would you like me to sing?” Fabiola took off her sweat-suit jacket, making herself comfortable.
“I didn't mean to put you on the spot. You can sing whatever you like, anytime you like.”
“No problem. I'm taking requests, so you let me know what you want to hear.”
“You know any Roberta Flack?”
“Yup,” and she begin to sing “The Closer I Get to You.” Her voiced carried outside Casino's room and a couple of people came into the room to hear her. After she was done with the song, people clapped, and so did Casino.
“Bravo! Bravo!” He smiled. “Your mother wasn't lying at all. I had no idea you were so talented.”
“Thank you,” Fabiola said, blushing. Although Fabiola gotcompliments on her voice all the time, getting one from Casino surprised and delighted her.
“How did your photo shoot go yesterday?”
“It went wonderful. We picked up the photos today.” Fabiola was surprised that he remembered.
“Did you bring any?”
“I didn't think you would want to see them, but I can bring them when I come tomorrow. My mother sent some of them to Johnny Wiz of The Wizard Entertainment Group. He heard me sing and now he wanted to see how well I come off on camera. You know … what type of look I give off, and if I'm marketable or not.”
“Your look is one in a billion,” Casino commented.
“Although you said it with the emotion of a cadaver, I'll take it as a compliment.” She blushed.
“It really wasn't intended as one—just telling the truth.”
Just then the StarQuest show came on on the television. “Can we turn the channel please?” Fabiola asked.
“Sure. We can watch whatever you want to watch, but the sick and shut-in usually gets the remote.”
“If we were watching anything else I would never ask, but I refuse to help this show's ratings.”
“Why? I like me some Melon Low.” Casino smiled as he looked at the television. Melon Low was a big star in the eighties who had a big voice like Chaka Khan, the timeless beauty of Janet Jackson, and a banging body like J. Lo in her prime. Casino's response was no surprise to Fabiola, because every man—young and old—seemed to love Melon Low.
“About a year ago, I was on that show and Melon Low had no love for me, even though the crowd went B-A-N-A-N-A-S for me.”
On-screen, Melon Low talked about the vision of the show and her passion to help up-and-coming singers.
“What she's talking is bullshit.” Fabiola sung the word
bullshit
in the key of A minor.
“Why? What happened exactly?” Casino asked, unable to take his eyes off Melon Low.
“The crowd and both of the men judges loved me and the applause meter was off the charts, but she really ripped into me and said I didn't have what it takes to go to the next level, and that my look wasn't marketable.”
Casino looked Fabiola over and said, “Well, we know that ain't true.”
“Good thing I didn't have low self-esteem, because I would have never sung another note, not even in the shower.”
“That's because she hasn't had a hit in—what? Ten or fifteen years?” Casino turned the channel to CNN.
“I know. I guess my first mistake was singing one of her old songs better than she ever sung it.” Casino and Fabiola both laughed. “One of the judges came backstage and told me that Melon must have saw so much of herself in me and that it was scary for her to see a new and improved model right in front of her face. I reminded her of who she used to be. Thank goodness the other judge talked to me, because between him and my mother's encouragement I was able to get past the incident.”
“Well, I'm boycotting the show and her jealous-hearted ass, too.” Fabiola smiled at her new friend.
The two talked for a long time. Well, Fabiola did most of the talking and Casino listened intently. Fabiola had him laughing at her stories about the drama she experienced while doing gigs.
“I had no idea
“I can. What would you like me to sing?” Fabiola took off her sweat-suit jacket, making herself comfortable.
“I didn't mean to put you on the spot. You can sing whatever you like, anytime you like.”
“No problem. I'm taking requests, so you let me know what you want to hear.”
“You know any Roberta Flack?”
“Yup,” and she begin to sing “The Closer I Get to You.” Her voiced carried outside Casino's room and a couple of people came into the room to hear her. After she was done with the song, people clapped, and so did Casino.
“Bravo! Bravo!” He smiled. “Your mother wasn't lying at all. I had no idea you were so talented.”
“Thank you,” Fabiola said, blushing. Although Fabiola gotcompliments on her voice all the time, getting one from Casino surprised and delighted her.
“How did your photo shoot go yesterday?”
“It went wonderful. We picked up the photos today.” Fabiola was surprised that he remembered.
“Did you bring any?”
“I didn't think you would want to see them, but I can bring them when I come tomorrow. My mother sent some of them to Johnny Wiz of The Wizard Entertainment Group. He heard me sing and now he wanted to see how well I come off on camera. You know … what type of look I give off, and if I'm marketable or not.”
“Your look is one in a billion,” Casino commented.
“Although you said it with the emotion of a cadaver, I'll take it as a compliment.” She blushed.
“It really wasn't intended as one—just telling the truth.”
Just then the StarQuest show came on on the television. “Can we turn the channel please?” Fabiola asked.
“Sure. We can watch whatever you want to watch, but the sick and shut-in usually gets the remote.”
“If we were watching anything else I would never ask, but I refuse to help this show's ratings.”
“Why? I like me some Melon Low.” Casino smiled as he looked at the television. Melon Low was a big star in the eighties who had a big voice like Chaka Khan, the timeless beauty of Janet Jackson, and a banging body like J. Lo in her prime. Casino's response was no surprise to Fabiola, because every man—young and old—seemed to love Melon Low.
“About a year ago, I was on that show and Melon Low had no love for me, even though the crowd went B-A-N-A-N-A-S for me.”
On-screen, Melon Low talked about the vision of the show and her passion to help up-and-coming singers.
“What she's talking is bullshit.” Fabiola sung the word
bullshit
in the key of A minor.
“Why? What happened exactly?” Casino asked, unable to take his eyes off Melon Low.
“The crowd and both of the men judges loved me and the applause meter was off the charts, but she really ripped into me and said I didn't have what it takes to go to the next level, and that my look wasn't marketable.”
Casino looked Fabiola over and said, “Well, we know that ain't true.”
“Good thing I didn't have low self-esteem, because I would have never sung another note, not even in the shower.”
“That's because she hasn't had a hit in—what? Ten or fifteen years?” Casino turned the channel to CNN.
“I know. I guess my first mistake was singing one of her old songs better than she ever sung it.” Casino and Fabiola both laughed. “One of the judges came backstage and told me that Melon must have saw so much of herself in me and that it was scary for her to see a new and improved model right in front of her face. I reminded her of who she used to be. Thank goodness the other judge talked to me, because between him and my mother's encouragement I was able to get past the incident.”
“Well, I'm boycotting the show and her jealous-hearted ass, too.” Fabiola smiled at her new friend.
The two talked for a long time. Well, Fabiola did most of the talking and Casino listened intently. Fabiola had him laughing at her stories about the drama she experienced while doing gigs.
“I had no idea
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