Rising Star: Mike-O

Its a rare thing, to witness a star in the making. It's as rare as a blue moon, or if that's too generic for you, then as rare as a bloody steak on a Saturday afternoon.

I was sitted in the front row, just like always. And just like always, I was completely blown away. Michael Onen had a gift. A gift so big, so obvious that there was no denying it. Of course there was the additive that he had been doing this for quite some time now. Twelve years if you were to ask him. But if you were to ask me, I would say that it it's been a whole lot longer than that. He penned his first song when he was eight and form his own group at the very same age.

Twenty-two years later and he's still at it. Everyone is put on this earth to do something. For Michael Onen (or Mike-O to you), it is to sing. You can see it in his conviction when he's on stage. The way he hold the mic, the way he controls the crowd, the way he hits his notes.

The house is packed. And although they are not necessarily there to see him, its Power Fm's Movie Night (I swear Muji you should pay me for that plug) they might as well be. As I look back at the crowd, he has them transfixed. Eating out of the palm of his hand.

I hear one person ask whether he's Ugandan. Another, a girl, commenting on how he has the voice of an angel, too bad he's married.

I smile to myself, they haven't seen, or in this case, heard nothing yet. Get ready world, Mike-O is about to take Uganda by storm.

To listen to his latest single “Napenzi (the wedding song)” click on the link below:

http://www41.zippyshare.com/v/21563673/file.html

Russian Roulette

She had him eating out of the palm of her hand. He was like her little lap dog. He would have done just about anything for her. Gone to the ends of the earth for her. Taken the gun, counted to three and pulled the trigger for her. All for the promise of one night. The promise of one night of heat and sweat and naked abandon. All for the promise of a fantasy that she could never, not even on her best day, live up to. But that didn't matter. What did matter was that this promise, although a lie, heck probably because it was a lie, was her power. And she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Thomas asked her if she wanted another drink. Checking the time, Nicki decided against it. It was almost three. It was getting to be that time. She shook her head. Placed a hand on Thomas' chest.

“I'm good. How about we get out of her?”

Nicki could have sworn she felt Thomas' heart do a somersault in his chest. It was time to cash in on that cheque. And about time too. He was beginning to wonder.

“Yeah, sure. I was actually thinking the same thing.” he replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Do you want to check out another joint or just head home?”

best to sound as if you're not rushing to get her home, Thomas had learned from past experience. Best to let her think that you're doing what she wants to do. Things go a whole lot smoother that way.

Nicki allowed herself a smile, Thomas was so transparent it was actually kind of funny. Let him think that he's in control, letting me think that I'm in control, Nicki said to herself.

“No, let's go home.” She said to Thomas who was already on his feet. Nicki held out an arm so Thomas could help her up. Once up, she leaned up against him, giving him a feel of her body. If he noticed the stares he was getting, Thomas didn't let on. And the fact is, he did notice the stares. He took them, however, for stares of envy and jealousy and not for what they really were; stares of forbearance and from some, pity.

He had been after this for quite sometime, of course he was going to see what he wanted to see. Almost two years now. Well, one year really. She had dropped off of the radar for a while. Some people had said that she had been pregnant. had been shipped off to the village so that she could have the kid away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. And even if it was true, Thomas couldn't have cared less, the girl looked good. And to him that's all that mattered. Of course there had been whispers of something else but Thomas hadn't entertained those at all. Hearsay was hearsay and that was all it was. Until he heard it from a reliable source, Thomas had decided he wasn't going to listen to all of the chatter. The thing was, could he really afford to not to? He was running quite the risk; what if they were right? Yeah, but then what if they were wrong? But then every night, every girl was a risk, how was this any different?

Taking Nicki's hand, Thomas led her past the curious looks and the ill disguised stares. Through the entrance slash exit and into the night. The night air was a huge relief after the heat of the club.

“how close is your car?” Nicki asked, snuggling up against Thomas. Sure the night air was a relief but it also was kind of chilly.

“Right over there.” Thomas replied, pointing at a green corona not fifty meters away.

They reached the car, Thomas opened his side first, leaned in and then opened the passenger side for Nicki. She slid in next to Thomas who had already started up the car, closed the door behind her and they were off.

As they sped through the mostly empty streets, Thomas turned on the stereo, Usher's “DJ got us falling in love again” blasting through the speakers.

“Whoooo!” Nicki exclaimed, bouncing her seat. “I love this song!”

Ten minutes and three songs later and Thomas was pulling up in front of his gate. Climbing out of the car, Thomas opened the gate, jumped back into the car and drove into the compound, parking a few feet away from the waiting veranda.

Tossing Nicki the keys, Thomas told her to open up while he went and locked up the gate.

He found her in the bedroom admiring the paintings on the wall.

“Did you do these?” she asked, gesturing at them.

“Yup.” Thomas nodded, “You like?”

“I love.” Nicki replied, throwing Thomas a smile.

Thomas walked up to her.

“Just how much do you love them? Enough to offer the artist a little something for all of his hard work?”

He wrapped his arms around Nicki's waist and pulled her until her front was pressed up against his.

Nicki raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile dancing around her lips.

“I think I can rustle up something...”

The first time he used protection. The second time too. The third time though...Nicki coaxed him into forgetting about it.

“We're just going to end up doing it again anyway. A waste of time and latex, I say. Unless of course you don't trust me...”

and just like that, Nicki got Thomas to get rid of what was left of his sense of caution.

Three months later and Thomas found out the hard way that all the whispers, all the chatter, all the indications that he had tried so hard to ignore had all been true...and Nicki? He never heard from her again. One night is what he had wanted and one night is what he had gotten. That and something from her that he would take to his grave. A grave that, as he sat in that doctor's office holding his head wandering just what the fuck he was going to do, loomed a whole lot bigger and a whole lot closer than it did moments before.

BANG!

So What I Lied (12 Rounds)

Ive hurt her more times than I care to remember. Broken her heart, waited for her to piece it back together only to break it again. And now here I am, about to do it again. Left with no choice but to do it again.

She loves me. She's always loved me and what pains me is that I am unable to say the same. What pains me even more is that I will never be able to say it. There's no spark, no flicker, no chemistry, no attraction, nothing but physical gratification. Something I had been longing for, for a very long time. Something that had been a splinter in my mind, tainting everything I see, everything I touch, everything I drink, everything I taste. I needed a release and writing just wasn't doing it for me. I hadn't written anything in weeks.

She was reluctantly willing. Willing because she believed that she loved me. Reluctant because it went against everything else that she believed in. That we believed in. I regretted it even before I was inside her. But I couldn't stop myself. I could have but I didn't want to. I wanted to, to stop that is, but I was an engine on full throttle; I was ready to go. And even though I was the one behind the wheel, I wasn't the one driving...

Ive caught myself in the most crushing of lies. And not caught as in found out but caught, as in stuck. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, between a rock and a hard place, between...well you get the picture. And as I sit here, I wonder, how did I ever get myself into this mess in the first place...?

Whispers....whispers faint but clear, far and near. Whispers that only I can hear.

“You already know the answer to that one dear boy...”

I lied because I thought that it would be much easier to pretend to love her than to come right out and break her heart...again. She had already forgiven me more times than I deserved too be forgiven. Had white washed her wall of hate and had still found it in her heart to paint it red and love me. I thought that it would be easier to try and learn to love her than to live with the guilt of crushing her after everything I had already put her through. I guess I was wrong. Hell, I know I was wrong. Living this lie is beginning to take its tole. I feel like my soul is bleeding. Bleeding right into the Devil's golden chalice, my old demons lapping it up, gulping it down like the devils they are. My already limping faith is now on all fours, crawling, begging, crying for help. But help will not come when I'm still like this. Of that much I am sure.

The question now is; will I be able to man up enough to deal with it? To break her heart, to set myself free but to do it as softly, as gently, as humanely even if it means as slyly as possible? With as little blood as possible? With as little cursing and swearing and gnashing of teeth as possible?

Well, I sure hope so, because that time has come. So tie up your boxing shoes kid, cos' we're about to go twelve rounds.

Fade Into The Background

They say that a woman is never as beautiful as she is on her wedding day. It doesn't matter how old she is, whether she's fifteen or fifty, there's just something about that day that is truly magical.

And so as I sat there in the last pew, trying to go as unnoticed as possible, it hit me. Not only was she not the exception to the rule, Samantha was the rule. She had never looked so beautiful.

Her gown was simple. Elegant. Not overwrought with beads or bows or ruffles or those sparkley thingies that rub off on you if you're lucky enough to have a dance with the bride.

It was uncomplicated in every way. Much like she was. Or rather, much like she was before I complicated things. She never did deal well with complications. Complications confused her. And more than anything, Samantha hated the feeling of being confused. And so as a result, standing where I should have been standing was some other man. Or to be exact, the other man. The man who had stolen all of this from me. And on his face was a smile. He had won in the end, the lucky bastard. I was just too flawed and he was just too good at hiding his for me to have ever had a chance. To her he was Mr. Safe, he was Mr. Predictable, he was Mr. I'll-Never-Let-You-Down-When-It-Really-Matters. I, on the other hand, as she never lost an opportunity to remind me, was Mr. None-Of-Those-Things. It was a pretty simple choice. Hell, if I had been presented with the same choice, I probably would have picked him too. But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt though. It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. Like having your heart ripped from your chest and stomped on again and again until there's nothing left but a pulpy stain, a bloody mess.

And yet as much as it crushed me, I still sat there. Watching as the one thing, the only thing I had ever truly wanted to call my own, stood there and declared before everyone and before God that not only did she not belong to me but that she belonged to him. And that she would always belong to him. Till death did one of them in. I was punishing myself and I had no idea why. Although I cant entirely say that I didn't deserve it. I had messed up and there was no getting around it.

Marcus slipped the ring onto her finger. Samantha said , “I do.”

“and now, with the power invested in me,” the minister proclaimed, speaking into the microphone in his left hand, “I now pronounce you man and wife. Marcus, my son, you may now kiss the bride.”

People clapped, people cheered, the organ played, cameras flashed. Everyone was on their feet; but as for me? For some reason I just couldn't get mine under me. I was glued to my seat. I just couldn't believe that this was really happening. Hell, that it had already happened. Samantha was finally getting her happily ever after. I knew that she always would. She had never deserved anything less. I just never thought that it would be without me.

The ceremony was over. The deed was done. I had somehow managed to stick it out. And I could have left it at that. Left with some of my sanity still intact but no. No, no, no, no, no; I decided to stay. For the speeches, for the food, for the champagne, for the cake.

All were ways tho inflict pain on myself, all of which paved the road to my own personal hell.

Call me masochistic but deep down I was actually enjoying it. The pain giving me some sort of sick pleasure. I held up my glass with all the rest of them, wishing the newly weds the best of luck with all the rest of them. Drinking to their health, their wealth and lots and lots of babies with all the rest of them. But unlike all the rest of them, by the time the speeches were done and it was time to cut the cake I was rather if not pretty hammered. Not blubbering on and on about absolute nonsense and likely to piss myself and pass out hammered but speech slightly slurred and likely to step on her feet if I ever got a chance to dance with her hammered.

The new Mister & Misses cut the cake amidst more cheers and more flashes. After one, two, three slices the bridesmaids then took over, piling Styrofoam plates high with small slices of cake and icing and made the rounds in and around the sea of tables.

Now would probably be the best time for you to leave, I told myself. And it was. But just as I positioned myself to stand up with as little wavering as possible, there was a shimmer of white and there she was standing in front of me. Samantha squatted until her gaze was more or less level with mine.

“Hi you.” Her voice was as a breeze on a warm summer's eve. Inviting. Deceivingly intimate, transporting me to another time.

“Hi yourself.” I managed to get out. If just barely.

“I didn't think you were going to make it.”

“You look beautiful.”

Samantha smiled, which only made her look more radiant.

“Thank you.”

“And I guess a congratulations are in order as well.”

Samantha tilted her head slightly to the side, the smile lessening some what.

“Only if you mean it Lloyd.”

“Well, in that case then...”

Samantha pulled a face, I touched her arm.

“I'm joking. Congratulations Samantha. You've written your own happy ending. One befitting a sequel. One I'll be looking out for. I'm proud of you.”

Samantha shook her head,

“You with your writing metaphors.”

“I thought that was one of the things you used to love about me.”

“B.T.W, I read the book.” Samantha said, quickly changing the subject.

“Wow,” I said play mocking her, “listen to you with the texting abbreviations. So what did you think?”

Samantha took a moment to phrase her words.

“It wasn't exactly how I remember things happening but still close enough to the truth so that I cant complain.”

“You know what, Sam? Just give me some cake.”

Samantha laughed. Striking some sort of chord in me.

“I miss making you laugh.” I said suddenly nostalgic. “I remember when thats all I ever wanted to do. Just make you laugh. And it was more than enough.”

“Lloyd,” Samantha warned, “Don't.”

I closed my eyes.

“Right.” I said coming back to myself. Opened them again. I grabbed some cake off the plate she was holding.

Samantha stood up. Then leaning over she kissed me on the forehead.

“Try not to get too drunk Lloyd. And leave the bridesmaids alone.”

Samantha gave me one last half bemused look then walked away.

I watched her for a moment then grabbing my glass of champagne, I downed it in one gulp. Now, where was that bridesmaid with the Erika Badu head wrap and the killer cleavage?

Epilogue...

The sun rose over the horizon. I hadn't slept a wink. She lay there, her hair a halo, naked, dreaming, the trace of a smile on her lips.

My head hurt, my heart ached but my body...was oddly satisfied.

I looked over at her. They say that a woman is never as beautiful as she is on her wedding day but right there, right then, stripped bare of all her defenses, no layers of amour to protect her, vulnerable, she was now, the exception to the rule, she looked even more beautiful.

I touched the side of her face. Ran the tip of my thumb over her bottom lip. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Hmmm, that feels good,” she mumbled. “what time is it?” her voice was a near whisper.

“Early.” was my reply.

She studied me. Placed her left hand on my face. She still wore her wedding ring. The symbol of the commitment that she was now breaking.

“Are you okay?”

“I don't know,” I told Samantha, “I just don't know.”