. . . on his way to a dream . . .
Dawn wouldn't let me bone her that night. She let me work my fingers until my right arm was sore, but every time I tried to sneak in place for the real deal, she pushed me away. Then she had the nerve to whisper, “Go downtown on me.”
I was like, “Nope. Maybe when we know each other better.” Afterward, I kept thinking that I could have gotten some if I did what she asked me to, but I wasn't brave enough or fool enough to find out.
We traded phone numbers with them that morning, and when John and I got back to school at A&T, my boy was restless as ever. His whole interest in school was gone. He didn't even feel like playing in the band at the basketball games, and he was still on scholarship. I guess that weekend treat of being so close to music stardom was too much for him to bear.
On the management end, I had about thirty phone calls to make on John's behalf, following up with all of the people that we had met at the Philadelphia Music Conference. John said that I could make all of the phone calls from his room, and that he would pay for them. This boy had no idea how many different assignments I had to work on to manage him. All his ass thought about was performing. He really needed a manager!
I said, “Okay, John, here's what we need to do. We need to contact a strong booking agent to get you more shows. I'm not really connected like that anyway. We also need to set up your own music publishing and copyright all of your songs, because you write and perform your own stuff, and you want to get full credit for that. Plus, you could write for other artists through your own publishing company. Then I can call my brother Darryl to talk about the whole business side, with accounting and everything, because I don't know that much about money to really help you when it gets thick, man.
“And eventually, we have to sit down and talk to a good attorney who knows a lot about the music business,” I said. “Because when you're ready to start talking to different record labels about getting you a record deal, you're gonna need someone who knows what they're doing.”
I had it all mapped out like a football game plan, because I knew that I wouldn't be there to help John with everything. I figured that I also needed to contact some real managers who could help him out full time and do more for him than I could. Outdoor track season was right around the corner. I also had to get myself ready for football's spring training. My boy was on the way to his dream, and I wanted to start preparing again for mine.
John just nodded his head and was mute about everything I had explained to him.
I asked him, “What's wrong, man? You look down.”
He said, “I just want to do my thing, man. I'm tired of school. I want to teach and learn my own lessons about music. That's all these teachers are talking about anyway, man, music theories based on what other people did.”
I said, “You're gonna get there, man. Just hold your horses a little bit.”
I started making the phone calls, and if any contact didn't remember who John “Loverboy” Williams was, I made it a short conversation. I was interested only in people who wanted to work with John as badly as John wanted to perform onstage. I also wanted people who would be on the straight and narrow when it came to the business. If you couldn't help us, then I couldn't help you.
I noticed immediately that some of the stronger contacts in the music business were harder to reach. I ended up leaving a bunch of messages with their secretaries and whatnot. But the smaller people, who answered their own telephones, seemed too eager.
“Oh, yeah, Loverboy was great! That kid can sing! When can you guys sit down and talk to us?”
Maybe I was just too skeptical about things, but I didn't feel any warm response to that. I had plenty of smaller colleges who were eager to recruit me out of high school for football and track, and I just knew better than to jump at the first happy face available. I was so damn skeptical that I started playing the big man on campus by challenging some of the people to represent us with no paperwork signed.
I told this one booking agent from the Detroit, Michigan, area that we needed to see what kind of venues he could get for John before we could get serious with him. I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew that John was getting anxious, and that made me feel desperate to make things happen faster because I knew that I was running out of time with him. So instead of passing the torch to a more experienced manager, I made a last-ditch effort to work something out on my boy's behalf.
This guy from Detroit said, “You know what? We have a Black History Month Celebration coming up in Detroit that would be a perfect spot to see what Loverboy is made of.”
He was kicking the ball right back to me. I just smiled at it.
“How much is it worth?” I asked him.
“Two plane tickets, food, and a couple of nights in a hotel.”
I started laughing. This guy was straight business.
He said, “Look, I don't mind taking a chance on you if you take a chance on me. But there won't be any money involved until we sign a contract.”
I thought about it, and it sounded fair. If John killed them in Detroit, like I knew he would, then only a fool would not try to sign him. In the meantime, it gave John another opportunity to do his thing in a new city and in front of a new crowd. Motown's crowd! Then I thought about including Tony Richmond as a band mate.
“We have a drummer who needs to fly in from Philadelphia,” I said.
“Well, that's your problem. I'm signing Loverboy right now, not a whole band. He's a solo singer, right?”
I said, “Yeah, but you know you can't jam without a drummer, man.” I was trying to convince him.
“We got plenty of drummers right here in Detroit. How many of them do you need?”
His point was made. He wasn't doing it.
I said, “Well, let us think about it and call you back.”
“Don't make it a long wait. Time is of the essence.”
I hung up with him and looked at John.
He asked me, “What's up? We got another gig?”
“Yeah, in Detroit. But I'm trying to get Tony in on it. You want him?”
John nodded and said, “Yeah. And I'll pay for it if I have to.”
John always had a stash of money somewhere. He was one of those bare necessities guys.
I said, “Well, let me call him first. Ain't no sense in offering more than we need to. And he may want more than you can pay.”
I called Tony Richmond in Philly and he answered on the second ring.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Tony. This is Darin and Loverboy calling from North Carolina.”
“Oh, what's up, man? I'm still in fuckin' bed. You lucky this long distance, or I'd hang up on your ass.”
I said, “We got a gig in Detroit, man, but since we won't sign with the booking agent just yet, he's just giving us plane tickets and a hotel room. We wanted to include you, but he wouldn't do it.”
Tony said, “Detroit? I got family out in Detroit, man. When y'all going?”
I said, “Next month for a Black History Month Celebration.”
“Well, yo, tell that booking agent to get me plane tickets, too, and I'll just stay at my cousin's crib. Can you do that?”
I said, “So, all you need is plane tickets?” I wanted to make sure.
Tony paused for a minute. He said, “I'll put it to you like this, I like you niggas, man. I wanna see if John'll blow up like I think he is. And if he blows up, then I'm blowing up right with him. Is that a deal?”
I smiled at the idea. I said, “That's what I'm calling you up for, man. That's a deal.”
I hung up and told John, “We just need to get him plane tickets.”
John nodded and told me, “Okay. Let's find out how much the tickets cost.”
I laid all of the groundwork for the trip to Detroit and John seemed a little-more stable again. I mean, that boy was starting to fiend for shows like a junkie or something. I figured that hooking him up with Tony Richmond was the right thing to do, so that they could rise to the top together instead of John being all by himself when I decided to return to my own sports thing. I wanted to talk to Tony about both of them being represented by the same manager. I just trusted that Tony guy. He seemed real down-toearth and sincere.
On John's twentieth birthday, February 8, his mom called him up to wish him a happy birthday and to check up on him.
I happened to be in his room when he received the phone call.
He said, “Thanks, Mom. I love you, too . . . Well, I feel closer to my goal now.” He rolled his eyes and said, “Well, I'm still in school for now.” Then there was a long pause. I figured that he was ignoring her again. It was something else to watch John and his mother in action. It was as if John had finally figured her out. He was all that she had, her son and God. Once John understood that, he began to have this power over his mother where he could basically do whatever he wanted to and dare her to do something about it. It was like having an employee who was the only man for the job, so you couldn't fire him. John began to string his mother along like a plaything, and then she would complain and bring me into it. I figured after all those years I spent trying to make John a rebel, when he finally decided to do it, it came back to haunt me.
John looked at me and said, “She wants to talk to you, man.”
I mumbled, “Shit. I knew I should have left the room.”
I answered the phone and said, “Hi, Sister Williams.”
She asked me, “Is John still going to his classes?”
That mother's intuition thing is something else. I guess she could just sense that John was losing his interest in school.
I said, “Yes ma'am, as far as I know he is.”
“And what's going on with this music stuff?”
I said, “Well, he's still trying to work toward getting a contract.” It was no sense in lying about it just because his mother didn't want it to happen.
She said, “Well, has he sung in the school choir?”
“No ma'am.”
“Why not?”
“Ahh . . . I guess he just hasn't thought about it,” I answered.
“Well, tell him to try it, Darin. He listens to you. He always has.”
I hated when she started talking like that. She made it seem that I was John's daddy or something, and I wasn't.
I told her that I would try anyway, just so she could sleep in peace that night. But I didn't promise her that he would agree.
When we hung up with John's mother, I said, “Have you ever thought about singing gospel, or a solo in the school choir, man?”
John started smiling. “You think the choir director hasn't asked me that already? He's called me about once a week, ever since I performed at homecoming.”
“So, what do you tell him?”
“I tell him no. Every time he asks me.”
I said, “But why not do it?” We were still from the church, and even though John and I no longer went every Sunday, I didn't see anything wrong with him singing in the school choir.
John said, “How many singers do you know that are famous from staying in the choir?”
I said, “Nobody told you to stay in the choir, I'm just asking you to sing with them. You could practice some more with your voice and all.”
The telephone rang before John could answer me.
“Hello,” he answered it. He looked at me in alarm and said, “I got some plans already . . . I can't do that . . . But I— But— Well . . . Yeah, all right,” he said, defeated.
I asked him, “Who was that?”
“Pyra. She's on her way down here with Angie.”
I started smiling. I had done my best to keep Two Scoops out of my mind. As far as I was concerned, John could grab backup singers from anywhere. He didn't need any extra stress from an unorganized and only moderately talented duo. Leaving people in the wind was part of the business. Just like I learned in track, if you can't keep up, you don't advance to the next round.
I asked John, “So what do they want to do, hang out on your birthday?”
“Yeah, but I already made plans,” he told me.
“With who?”
“Janese, from Bennett.”
I said, “So, she forgave you?”
“I mean, she knows that I'm busy trying to do what I need to do, but then she started talking about how I've gotten too big for her and all that kind of stuff.”
I laughed and asked, “So she got you with the guilt trip?”
He said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, good luck tonight, man. It sounds like you gon' need it.”
I was planning to ask John all of the details that next morning, but I was pulled into it before the night could even get started.
Pyra called my room and said, “Where is John?”
“Enjoying his birthday somewhere, I guess,” I told her with a grin. I had company of my own that night.
Pyra said, “Well, I know that, but where?” as if I was supposed to tell her.
I said, “Pyra, did John tell you he had plans?”
“Look, I told him I was on my way down here, and he said okay. Now where the fuck is he? Don't play with me, man.”
I wanted to laugh at her, but I kept my composure.
I said, “I don't know what to tell you.”
Pyra paused for a second. She said, “All right then, watch this,” before she hung up in my ear.
My company asked me, “Who was that?” She could hear Pyra's voice over the phone.
I said, “One of John's new friends,” and went on about my business.
According to what John told me over the phone that night, Pyra and Angie drove to a Bojangles' fast food joint, probably on their way back home, and they spotted John and Janese waiting in line to be served.
I broke out laughing before he could even finish. I guess it was just meant to happen to him that night.
“So what happened?” I asked him.
He said, “Man, Pyra stepped up to me talking about, ‘John, didn't I tell you I was on my way down here?’ So I told her again that I already had plans, you know. So she looks Janese up and down and says, ‘I see.’ Then she said, ‘Can I speak to you for a minute?’
“So I walk over to see what she has to say, and she looks me straight in my face and says, ‘Leave that bitch and come on.’”
I said, “No, she didn't say that.”
John said, “Yes she did, too. So I told her I couldn't do that. And she said, ‘You can do anything you fuckin’ want to do. She ain't nobody. Or is she?'”
John said, “And by that time, Janese had overheard what she was saying. So Janese turns and says, ‘Some people just don't know how to conduct themselves like ladies.’”
I broke in and said, “I told you that girl Pyra was crazy, man.” My ribs started hurting from the laughter while John continued.
“Then Pyra said, ‘Did I say anything to you? I didn't think so.’”
“So, who threw the first punch?” I asked him.
“Oh, they didn't fight. It was other people in there, so the manager came out and calmed everything down before it got to that.”
“So where are you now, with Pyra and Angie?” I teased him. John used to be a big pushover for forceful girls. They would get over on him just like his mom used to do.
He said, “Nah, I told Pyra to go find something else to do. But I'm at a hotel with Antoinette now.”
I said, “Antoinette?”
“Yeah, the freshman music major I told you about.”
“Well, what happened to Janese?”
“Aw, man, when we left, right, she started talking about, ‘Light-skin girls always think they rule the fucking world. That shit gets on my damn nerves.’ Man, I didn't even know that Janese could curse like that. So I told her, ‘Well, I'm still with you. The light-skin girl didn't get her way this time,’ right? And Janese started talking about, ‘Yeah, but you like her, though. Now I see what you were so busy doing.’
“So I told her, man, ‘Look, this is my birthday, and I want to have a good night. I didn't invite her down here. She just came on her own. I'm with you. So let's just enjoy it.’
“Then she started grunting and acting all antisocial, man,” he told me. “So I said, ‘Look, if you don't want to be with me tonight, then just let me know, because the night is still young and it's still my birthday .’
“Then she got real mad after that and started talking about, ‘So what are you going to do, Loverboy, go find somebody else to be with? You know what, you're just like all the rest of these guys out here. You don't really care about me, John. I'm just temporary enter tainment for you,’ and all this other stuff.”
He said, “So after that, man, we just went our separate ways. And then I went and called up Antoinette to see what she was doing, because I didn't feel like being alone.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. That boy had arrived at full playerhood. If the first girl ain't acting right, then call the next one. I broke up laughing.
I said, “Well, what did Antoinette say when you called her?”
“Oh, man, I told her straight out, you know. If you don't want to be with me tonight, then I understand. I just don't feel like sleeping alone.”
I said, “Oh my God! You told her that?” Not only had John arrived, he was bold about it!
He said, “Yeah, man. I mean, I didn't want to mislead her. And I felt like . . . you know, doing something for my birthday .”
I thought about it and realized that it would be the first time John would ever get any on his birthday. I went ahead and asked him about that just to make sure.
He said, “Yeah, man, this'll be my first time. You know, on my birthday.”
I said, “Well, where is Antoinette now?”
“She's up in the room. I'm downstairs on a pay phone, man. I just had to tell you how my night was going, D. It's crazy, man. I'm gon' have to write a song about this. Crazy Situations. ”
I started laughing again and said, “Well, go ahead and enjoy yourself, man. It's your birthday.”
I hung up the phone with my boy that night and thought about it. When John blows up with this singing thing . . . if girls have a problem with him now, they're really gon' feel the burn from him later. I could just imagine it. Twenty thousand in dark arenas. And John was a solo act, so he wouldn't even have to share. I thought to myself, Damn! No wonder this boy's so anxious!
We made it out to Detroit's airport with our bags and John's keyboard, and we were ready to be picked up by the booking agent. Tony Richmond's plane from Philly was due to arrive thirty minutes after ours.
When we reached the baggage claim area, this big muscle-bound guy asked us, “Are you Darin and John?”
We nodded and said, “Yeah.”
He smiled at us and stuck out his beefy hand.
He said, “My name's Daren, too.”
“With an i-n?” I asked him.
“An e-n.”
“Oh. Well, this is Loverboy,” I told him, introducing John.
Daren nodded and smiled at him. “You better be able to sing with a name like that.”
I said, “I know, right? That name sets him up every time. And then my boy knocks them down like bowling pins.”
John just sat back and smiled. He never was much of a talker when it came to his music. He would just go out there and bring the house down.
I said, “Our drummer is landing from Philly in about twenty more minutes, on Delta.”
Big Daren nodded and said, “Okay, well, let's load your stuff up first and go get him.”
We loaded our stuff into a fully carpeted black van.
John looked inside and nodded. “That's nice.”
Daren said, “Yeah. We know how important and expensive the music equipment is, so we make sure to protect it as best we can.”
I said, “That's a good idea.” And so far, I liked how we were being treated.
While we waited for Tony, I asked Daren if he played any football. He had the size for it.
He smiled and said, “Yeah. Middle linebacker. I went to Michigan State. I got into the booking business after playing a couple of years in the Canadian league. You play?”
“Yeah. Cornerback. I'm at North Carolina A&T. This'll be my first year starting, coming up.”
He nodded. “What division is that in? That's a black school, right?”
I said, “Yeah. We're in Division one-double- A .”
Daren said, “That's a long-shot division.”
I asked, “You ever heard of Steve ‘Air’ McNair, from Alcorn State?”
He got excited and said, “Oh yeah! That boy deserves the Heisman. With all them damn yards he's passing for, if he was white there would be no doubts about it.”
I smiled and said, “He's from my same division. A black school.”
Daren laughed and said, “All right, young brother. You don't have to prove that you can play. I believe you.”
John spoke up and said, “But still, I'm trying to convince him that managing me is a better deal for him. How come you didn't keep playing in the Canadian league?” he asked Daren.
Big Daren shook his head. “After a while, it started to take too much of a toll on my body. Taking pain medicine all the time, with the bumps and bruises. I just figured that if I couldn't make the NFL, then why bother. I just lost the love for the game. I mean, I still like to watch it, but plenty of us had to put the ball up and find something else to do, you know. It's plenty of other opportunities out here.”
He smiled and added, “You'd be surprised how much money you can make transporting the stars and their equipment. And there's plenty of perks involved in it, too.”
John looked at me and said, “You hear that? You put the ball down and make other money.”
I gave John a look, but I kept my thoughts to myself. I was thinking, What would you say if I told you to stop the fucking singing and become a damn game announcer? I was a little pissed with John, but I figured I'd tell his ass a thing or two later on when we were alone. Just like music was his thing, football was mine. He needed to respect that.
When Tony rolled in, we loaded all of his stuff in the van and headed to the hotel. Herbert Blake was waiting for us when we arrived. He was wearing all black with no tie. He looked liked a cool hipster in his early forties.
He looked at Tony and said, “Oh, this is your drummer from Philly? I heard you play at the music conference.”
Tony nodded and said, “Yeah, I showed them a little somethin'-somethin' over there. That was me.”
Blake's familiarity with Tony was a good thing for me as well, because I wanted to push John and Tony on him as a package deal.
I spoke up and said, “Well, these two guys are qualified to make some real good music together.”
Blake nodded and said, “Well, how close are you guys to signing a record deal? Maybe I could help you out with that.”
Tony joked and said, “What, is Berry Gordy still here in Detroit with Motown Records?”
We all laughed.
Blake said, “He moved Motown out to L.A. a while ago. But I have a few connections of my own. You guys show me something, and I'll show you something. We could even make a live demo tape with the audience screaming in the background.”
That sounded like a good idea to me, but what would Blake get out of it?
I nodded and said, “Yeah, we'll have to think about that.”
Blake said, “That's fair enough. Thinking ain't never cost me a dime, unless I made the wrong decision after thinking. Or in this case, it's if you make the wrong decision. Well, let's check you guys into a room.”
Blake had made reservations at a Hyatt Regency in the Detroit suburb of Dearborn. If he was trying to impress us, he had succeeded. This hotel was phat!
Tony said, “I'm staying over my cousin's crib. I just need a ride over to Southfield.”
Blake looked at him and frowned. “Is that what you want to do? I could put you up in a room. I have an account over here. I mean, since they went through the trouble of flying you out here by themselves, the least that I could do is give you a room. That way you guys can all travel together like you're supposed to.”
Tony smiled and said, “Aw'ight. You don't have to talk me into it. I'll just call my cousin and tell him then.”
Blake looked at me and John and said, “That showed me a lot of initiative, you know, that your drummer meant that much to you. Because a lot of young guys in this business will get their own opportunities and just break camp on their bands. You know what I mean?”
He smiled and added, “Then again, in some cases, they needed to break camp, because dead weight has been known to drown everybody.”
Before he left us that night, Blake said to have a good time in Detroit but not to overdo it, because he wanted all of our energy ready for the shows on Saturday and Sunday afternoon. We would fly back to Greensboro that Monday morning, and Tony would fly back to Philly.
John and I walked into our hotel room and started acting like two kids again.
I said, “We got this room for three nights, John. Oh, we gon' get some girls up here, man.”
John laughed and asked me, “Have you kept in touch with Dawn from New Jersey?”
“Nah, not really,” I told him.
He smiled and said, “Yeah, me neither. I think I only talked to Kellie once.”
That was just the nature of the business. If you really stayed in contact with every person you met, you would have a killer phone bill, and we didn't have that kind of money while in college.
It didn't take us long to hit the night life in Detroit that Friday. Tony's cousin Bean took us to this place that was jam-packed with Detroit locals. They had to tell the security there that we were performers to even get us in, because John and I were not twenty-one and we had no fake IDs. But it was all worked out and they let us in, as long as we didn't try to order any drinks from the bar.
The first thing I noticed in there was that Detroit wasn't a dress-up kind of city. There were a lot of jeans and tennis shoes in that place, like at a college party. The parties that my older brothers went to in North Carolina and around the South were a lot of dressed-to-impress spots with no jeans or tennis shoes allowed. But the beats were booming in Detroit!
Tony smiled at us and hollered, “YOU HEAR THAT? THE BEATS MAKE THE PARTY EVERY TIME! JOHN HAS TO WRITE SOME PARTY GROOVES TO REALLY GET THE PEOPLE JUMPIN'! I'M TELLIN' YOU! ”
His cousin Bean agreed with him. He was a mellow, light-skin dude with light brown hair and freckles.
“YEAH, THEY LOVE BEATS UP HERE IN DETROIT!” he told us. “DETROIT AND CHICAGO BOTH LIKE THAT HOUSE MUSIC FEEL! THAT BIG KICK DRUM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”
John just looked around and took it all in.
The beats in that place were so thick that it made my chest vibrate. They were playing a lot of funky oldies music, too, that classic soul sound when the bands were still big.
I said, “WHAT DO YOU THINK, JOHN?!” I could barely hear myself talk.
John said, “I just can't wait to do my thing, man. I just can't wait. ” That boy seemed seriously anxious. He was getting impatient with the whole process of putting in his dues. John was much more impatient than I was about playing football. I just understood that I had to wait my turn.
He said something to me about a girl, but since he wasn't talking as loudly as the rest of us, I could barely hear him.
“HUNH?”
“LOOK AT THIS GIRL OVER HERE!” he repeated.
She had to be about twenty-three, one of the younger sisters in the party. And boy did she fill out her blue jeans! An artist couldn't draw better curves than what this girl had if he used a compass. I mean, DAMN she was curved! I just started laughing and shaking my head.
“GOD DAMN! ” Tony commented. Him and his cousin Bean saw what we saw. Bean started laughing like I was.
Tony said, “IS SHE STANDING OUT, OR WHAT? AND THE THING ABOUT IT, HER ASS AIN'T LIKE IT'S ALL THAT BIG, IT'S JUST . . . IT'S JUST . . . PERFECT! ”
John nodded his head with a grin and started walking toward this girl as if he was in a hypnotic trance. I know everything he said to her because we asked his ass a hundred times afterward.
“Excuse me. You wanna dance?” he asked this girl.
She looked at him and said, “What?”
They were both talking lower than everyone else, and when she turned to face him, her titties were just as ripe as the rest of her, with a smooth brown face and empty eyes, as if nothing fazed her. Hell, with a body like hers, I guess that nothing did!
John spoke up louder. “I SAID, DO YOU WANT TO DANCE!?”
She began to shake her head before he was even finished with his question. After she told him no, John just stood there like he was still in a daze.
He said, “WHY NOT!?”
She didn't even acknowledge him. She just walked away.
Me, Tony, and Bean all assessed the situation and started laughing in the distance. I guess that was why no one seemed eager to speak to this girl, she was just too damn hot to handle. Her man had to be the ultimate, if she even had one. Maybe she was too much for any man! She had my knees weak from just looking at her. Nevertheless, John went ahead and followed the girl. That's when the shit became scary.
He walked over to her at the bar, where it was quieter.
“Do you dance at all?” he asked her where she could hear him.
She looked at him in a huff and said, “Yeah!” and turned to order her drink.
By that time, Bean looked at me and said, “AY, MAN, YOU BETTER COOL YOUR BOY OUT BEFORE HE GET HIS ASS SHOT IN HERE!”
I hurried over to John to pull him away from the girl.
He walked away with me, mumbling, “What the hell she come in here for, if she don't wanna dance?!”
John had never been much of a dancer anyway. The boy had just gone crazy for a minute. There were some rough-ass Detroit guys all staring as if John had just asked for a beat-down. That's when my heart started racing triple time.
I said, “Man, what the hell is wrong with you?! If she don't want to dance, she don't want to dance!”
I don't know if it was the singing that made John extra bold that night or what, but it scared the hell out of me. At first it was cool, but after he went overboard with it, I just wanted to get back to the hotel room, where it was safe.
We made it back to Tony and Bean, and they had already come to a quick decision. We were leaving.
Bean said, “YOU JUST PLAYED YOURSELF, BOSS! YOU SUPPOSED TO BUY A GIRL LIKE THAT A DRINK FIRST, AND THEN LET HER ASK YOU TO DANCE!”
Once we walked out and hit the road in Bean's car, we were all able to laugh and tease John about it.
John said, “Man, she was fine, that's all I know.”
Tony looked back from the front seat of his cousin's Oldsmobile and said, “Boy, I can see it now. I'm gon' have a good time touring w ith Loverboy. This boy is crazy! He was gonna force her ass to dance. ‘Get your fine ass out here and dance, girl!’”
We all started laughing again, but I had to think everything through. That was a drastic emotional swing that John had showed us. Come to think of it, he had always had these minor mood swings. I figured it was from being so damn obedient to his mother for so many years and not being able to express himself like he really needed to early on in his life, even sexually. He had all of these emotions plugged up inside him like a genie bottle, and he didn't know how to let them all out. They just tended to come from nowhere, like his stage performances. And as John was able to have more of his way from his popularity with singing, his mood swings would get worse.