..Monique I

Monique was a hairstylist in a salon on Highland and Olympic Boulevard. On a slow Tuesday, in strolled Ms. Cassandra Shaw. She asked, did they take walk-ins? Monique was seventy-five dollars short on her rent, so Cassandra was an answer to her prayers. This woman had a stuck-up attitude coming and going, and she gave you the impression that her bloodline was blue and that "Princess" should be on the front of her name. But she gave Monique a ten-dollar tip, cause her hair was smokin’ when she slid out of the chair. Monique hoped to God she’d never see Cassandra again. Thank goodness he doesn’t answer all our prayers the way we want him to. A month or so later, Cassandra called and asked Monique if she could take her and a friend; they had a late-night date and needed an evening appointment. Once again, Monique had taken a few bad checks, and if the Princess and her "friend" could set things straight and put her back into the black, it was all good. And yes, she added a twenty-dollar fee for after-hours service. They showed up at eight o’clock, thirty minutes late; so all the guilt she felt for the extra dollars fell to the floor like cut hair. Now here’s where it gets good and a new life for Monique begins. The girl Cassandra brought in was Bianca Shaw. This chick was the hottest thing on the Top 40 pop chart and the current "Queen" of R & B. Bianca looked angelic; her skin tone was cocoa brown and flawless. Her smile was from ear to ear; this girl even had a clef in her chin, how sexy was that! Bianca’s shiny jet black hair hung past her shoulders, and it was all real. She was truly nice and gracious, unlike Cassandra, who was actually her cousin.

After she hooked the two ladies’ hair up, Bea, short for Bianca, asked Monique if she’d like to hang for the night. Monique declined. She said she had an early client; truth be told, she wished she had a few walk-ins in the morning. Besides that, she had nothing hanging in her closet on their level. They left and Monique locked up, and that was that, or so she thought.

Three weeks later, Monique got a call from Bea. She had a small role in an independent film with no budget, and she would have to take care of her own hair and makeup. She told Monique her skills were limited. Bea explained it was four days of work, and she’d be so grateful if Monique could help a sister out.

Monique accepted, and on Sunday night, she was sitting in first class on her way to Columbus, Georgia. The flight alone was worth the trip for her. The major cast members and crew members had come out early in the week. Bea was on the edge, this being her first film and all. She wanted to do a good job. Monique asked her why she accepted this role. She said she’d been offered a few roles in big-budget films, but if this was not the venue for her, she wanted to fail quietly. Bea was playing a poor Southern girl trying to get accepted into any Ivy League college.

Bea’s wardrobe was limited to jeans and T-shirts and a dried-out summer dress, and her hair was all natural. Basically Monique was just oiling and platting her hair. Yes, you’re correct; she could have done this herself. On Tuesday night, they flew up to Atlanta for a little nightlife and soul food. On the flight, she wanted to ask Bea, only because she was nosy, where Cassandra was. She didn’t ask, but she found out anyway over a plate of baked chicken, greens, yams, and corn bread. Bea told her all about how she was discovered, singing in church, by an up-and-coming record producer. He signed her, and her first album was a success.

Bea’s mother made her hire her cousin Cassandra as her personal assistant. Her mother said, "Baby, we’re going to keep as much money in the family as we can." Bea couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother that Cassandra was self-centered and no real help to her. Cassandra took advantage of her position, which included dropping her name around to get out of paying for food and admission into clubs, as well as taking liberties with Bea’s funds without consulting her. On the flight back, Bea said, "Monique, my spirit spoke to me the moment we met. We’re gonna be good friends and a blessing to each other." So Bea didn’t need Monique in Georgia; she just wanted to get to know her. Bea was hoping that Monique might bring a new vibe and peace to her inner circle.

That next week, they hung out and hung out hard. Bea had a release party for her new album, shot two video cameos, and was a guest on a late-night talk show. Sunday morning Monique woke up in the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel in New York, compliments of a major label looking to steal Bea from her current label. Bea asked Monique if she wanted to work for her full time. Now we ask you, after 1,600 hours of beauty school, booth rent, bad checks, and working in someone else’s salon for walkin clients, is this anything you need to think about? Boy, was this going to be a hard decision . . . not.

Bea started her out at six hundred dollars a week. The cool part was everything was paid for. That’s a fact, Jack—housing, food, and transportation were all free. Well, they don’t say free, they say covered. Monique had problems on her new job from jump street, day one. It took a few weeks for her to get the hang of the job, so Bea hired someone to train her.

Cassandra cried foul until Bea’s accountant faxed her a copy of all her unauthorized purchases, which included a 1990 325i BMW. Every complaint Cassandra had ended with that fax. Bea’s got a soft heart. She sent her a check for five grand and wished her the best, along with the pink slip for the car.

The following year, Bea’s independent film became the sleeper hit of the year. So along with keeping her company and on time to her appointments, Monique started reading most of the scripts that the studios and independent film companies sent her.

There were many things Bea wanted to do. She wanted to have control of the kind of music she made and expand her career in new areas, learn the behind-the-scenes aspect of the music business and make another film. She also wanted to record a gospel album, but her label said that was out of the question. They had barely let her record her holiday album. Bea’s contract would soon be up for renewal, and she had no plans to re-sign. Her last album went double platinum, and her current one, "I’m a Woman, Not an Angel," had a number one hit: "Have you seen my lost love? /And if you do, send him home to me." That song nested at the number one spot for six weeks on the pop chart. Bea had several collaborations on that album, "You Make My Spirit Fly" with Orlando Blackwell . . . mmm . . . he’s one hunk of a balladeer. That song was in the number eight spot and moving up. There was also a collaboration with Coco McKay Brown, "Yeah, I put your bags on your momma’s porch." That song was about to break into the top twenty-five. Bea also had two low-budget independent films that year that took in $80 million at the box office.

Things couldn’t have been any better for Monique, or so she thought. Bea decided to produce her next independent film, and she let Monique help. Truth be told, Monique did almost all of the work, and Bea’s money paid for it. Monique never knew that she held one of God’s greatest gifts, creativity. While she was reading a book on a fl ight from Los Angeles to New York, she told Bea it would make a great short fi lm. Bea lowered her glasses, tilted her head to the side, and, raising one eyebrow, asked, "How much?" As if Monique was asking her to buy her a hamburger. For the first time, in that moment, Monique questioned herself. She knew this would be a great project, but at the same time, she never wanted Bea to see her and think of Cassandra. Then Bea asked, "How big would my role be?" Monique told her there wasn’t a role in it for her. Bea laughed till she cried, sat up, kissed her on the forehead, and turned off her overhead light.