Dandre

The Diary of Alissa Morrison

Age: 26

Profession: Television Reporter in Albany, NY

Born: Great Neck, LI

Graduated: Cornell University, Cum Laude (Communications)

Height: 5'2 and ½"

Weight: 117 lbs

Hair: Black

Breast Cup: D

August 12

th

--

Dear Diary,

Unfuckingbelievable! My patience has been tested before and now it is being tested again. I have been a beat reporter for News 19 Albany for three years now. I keep waiting for my break, but I don't know that it will ever come. God gave me a pretty face and a good brain, but he did not give me enough height! I used to wear 6" high heels, but they started messing my feet up so badly I had to switch to 4". I'm convinced height alone is the reason why I'm not in The City.

Dad told me to hang in there and I would get my break soon enough. In the meantime he is helping me out. Otherwise, I would have quit by now and gone into Public Relations. Our state capital is DEAD. Finding a decent restaurant or a good man is near impossible. Sure I can go into the city and meet random boys down there on the weekends, but I am getting tired of the quick hook-up. College ended almost five years ago. Enough already.

So today I got my latest assignment. D'Andre is in town this week and he is putting on a couple of shows at the Times Union Center. Supposedly he wanted a break from the big city (What a fucking idiot), and so he's here a few days early. If you're waiting to hear what D'Andre's last name was, he doesn't have one. He was born Reginald Brown and changed his name a few years ago.

In any event, who exactly is D'Andre? Well, according to Wikipedia he's a 22-year-old black--, uh, excuse me, African American recording artist. Born in South Central Los Angeles, D'Andre's debut album "Das Right, I'm a Nigga,'" led by the hit single, "Girl, the Sun Ain't the Only Thing Risin' this Mo'ning," sold almost 250,000 copies last year, which does not put him in Jay Z / Kanye West territory, but makes him a pretty big deal, or so I'm told. Because I'm bored, I look up his album and can't help but grimace as I read the names of the songs:

Ain't No Baby Daddy

What What (The What Song)

I'm Type Nasty

(I like) Vanilla Bitches

Dirrrty Sheetz

Six Pack

(Gonna) Tear You Up

Dat Ass

Can't Quit Dat Ass

Given the name of track #4, I imagine I will need to be on the defensive. Not that I have any interest in blacks. Judging from the photographs, D'Andre spends a lot of time at the gym. Before he dropped out of high school, D'Andre played wide receiver. He looks like he's 6'4" and he has a six-pack. Just ask him and he'll tell you (in the song

Six Pack

he says it helps "reel in the bitches") and is rarely seen in public with his shirt on. Gross, right?

Yes, Andre is a sexual predator and I will have to be on my guard with him, but I'll be more than up to the challenge. I have wanted to be an anchorwoman since I was seven years old and when it comes to interviews I don't back down from anyone. No exceptions.

The only reason D'Andre is even doing this interview is for publicity. He is having trouble selling tickets. The economy doesn't help, and so his promoters are using News 19 to help them promote the show. That's where I come in. I'm just being used. It's depressing when I think about it, but I suppose there are less entertaining gigs out there. Plus I'll ask D'Andre a few tough questions and shake him up a bit.

The funny thing is that my friend Gina would be jealous. That slut loves black dick! Not me. No way. For one thing, most black men are uncircumcised, or so I hear. This may sound racist, but they are kind of animals too. They have no respect for women and from what I hear they don't like going down "there" with their tongue. Though I suppose the myths are true and black men are well hung. I think I would be worried about getting hurt. Nope. No thanks. Gina likes to say that once I try the dark chocolate that I'll never go back. I always laugh when she says it, but seriously, she and I are different animals. She's also bigger than me. The largest I have ever had was 7" and I suppose it also felt good in a way, but I have no desire to take anything much bigger than that. D'Andre can keep his cock to himself and I won't hesitate to tell him that if he tries any funny stuff.

So I meet with him tomorrow. I'm not racist or anything, but I am totally put off by this assignment. Black rappers in particular are such misogynists. I am not a women's libber, but you better believe I support women's rights and I will not allow D'Andre to speak down to me. If he does, he'll get an earful from me. I won't back down.

August 13

th

Dear Diary,

What a confusing day. D'Andre is, in many ways, what I expected. He is a vile animal, who has zero respect for women and no personal manners to speak of. As expected, he showed up shirtless and emitted this musky, typically black smell that at first I hated and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

On the other hand, despite having dropped out of high school when he was 15, D'Andre was actually smarter than I thought he would be. He has a good vocabulary and probably could come off as an intelligent boy if he didn't feel the need to speak his "black jivetalk" to me.

In any event, our first interview (I say first because at his insistence I am going back tomorrow for a second round) was interesting to say the least. As you will see at the end of the interview, he deployed some sordid tactics and tried to do some very inappropriate things. But I held my ground.

We met in his customized double-decker bus, which is currently parked outside the west end of the civic center. My cameraman Joe was initially on-hand for the meeting. D'Andre has a luxury room in the upper rear corner of the bus. It is just big enough for a pair of leather couches and D'Andre's huge chair. The walls and ceiling are covered with mirrors. D'Andre was originally sipping a 40 ounce bottle of Crazy Horse Malt Liquor when I first came in.

Here is a transcript of the interview, word for word, because I recorded it.

D'Andre: Well isn't you a site for sore eyes in that pants suit. Course it'd be better if you was wearing a mini.

Alissa: I'm not going to be able to interview you if you are drinking alcoholic beverages. It's against company policy.

D'Andre: [turned to Joe] This girl serious?

Alissa: Yes I'm dead serious.

D'Andre: You gonna come into my house and tell me I can't drink my fo'ty? Girl, you cray!

Alissa: I can see this is going to be a waste of time. Maybe I should leave.

D'Andre: Whoa girl. What yo producer gonna say if you don't capture yo big story.

Alissa: He will understand when I tell him I felt my safety was threatened?

D'Andre: You in the safest place in the world. Ain't nothing

bad

gonna happen to you in D'Andre's love bus.

Alissa: Either put away the booze, or I'm out.

D'Andre: Okay, I'll make you a deal. You tell yo cameraman to leave and I'll put away my

bevvige.

Alissa: Are you serious? Joe is part of the package.

D'Andre: Seems to me Joe could just mount that big camera on a tripod and then me and you can get down to bidness.

Joe: It's okay, Alissa. If you want me to leave I will.

Alissa: Absolutely not. Don't be ridiculous.

D'Andre: Oh I see. Daddy's girl got to have her bodyguard here to make sure the niggah don't threaten her

person!

D'Andre see how it is.

Alissa: What? Oh my God. Okay, fine, Joe. I'll be fine. This won't take more than a half hour. I'll meet you outside.

D'Andre: [smiling] Oh, I see I struck a nerve.

[Joe leaves]

Alissa: There, now put the booze away. Or we're done.

[D'Andre takes his time capping off the big bottle of beer. He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. He's wearing a white tank top and when he leans back I get a sense for just how

big

he is. His arms are massive. He clearly lifts weights. I can feel my heart in my chest, but I quickly regain my composure. This isn't my first rodeo. I have been to car accidents where police were removing dead bodies from crumpled vehicles. I won't let this guy intimidate me]

D'Andre: So I'm glad you wore those tight pants. Gives me a nice view of yo assets, girl. When the last time a man grip those hips?

Alissa: [I can feel myself blushing, but again I compose myself] So D'Andre, tell me what brings you to Albany?

D'Andre: You fo' real? I'm here to run for Governor. What you think I'm doing here, girl? I'm here to get on the mike and get some of that green

papuh

in my bankroll.

Alissa: So it's all about the money then.

D'Andre: Fuck yeah it's all about the money. You think I'm doin this fo' my health? Girl, it was up to me I'd have my crib in Hollywood, and drink

fo'ttys

and puff blunts all day long. But I ain't there yet. Soon as I get me 25 million in the bank, I out. D'Andre don't care about the limelight. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's nice when all them bitches and hos are calling my name, but I know what I want.

Alissa: And what's that?

[D'Andre leaned forward in his chair so he was closer to me, and my position on the couch]

D'Andre: I want you, girl. Look at you with all that make-up. You so fine. And you're such a little thing too. But you got that booty. D'Andre want to

work you ovah!I

Alissa: Oh Jesus, can we stay on topic please?

D'Andre: You the topic I feel like talking about. And you smell so good too. What, you don't like black dick?

[At this point I stood up}

Alissa: This was obviously a mistake.

D'Andre: Sit down, girl. I ain't laid a finger on you. What you can't take a compliment? White girls is so

strange

sometime. I tell a girl she got a fine little body with a nice figure and most bitches be

fawning

all over me. You got this look on yo face like you better than me or something? I'm a self-made man. How much money you bank last year anyhow?

Alissa: Fuck you! This is ridiculous

[D'Andre smiled. I guess I expected him to stop me as I shuffled in my chair. Instead he just leaned back and smiled]

D'Andre: Oh, I see how it is. You think you better than me because you got that fancy

edumacation!

Is that it? Well riddle me this then. How you think I got all my fancy lyrics?

Alissa: I don't know. And I don't really care.

D'Andre: Oh, she getting all

indignant

now. Well, here's a scoop for you, pretty little white reporter lady. I may have dropped out of school. But I read one book a week.

Alissa: Oh really? What books are you reading?

D'Andre: I read the Da Vinci Code. I read almost all them John Grisham books.

Alissa: [laughing] That's garbage writing, D'Andre.

D'Andre: Oh you gonna get all snobby when I tell you I read books? Typical stuck-up white bitch.

Alissa: Maybe so.

D'Andre: So you gonna put that comment in your little story about D'Andre.

Alissa: Probably not.

D'Andre: I didn't think so. I'm guessing you won't let them know that D'Andre thinks Alissa is a little Daddy's girl, who ain't never been with a real man, and probably never will be.

Alissa: Oh, and I suppose you're a real man?

D'Andre: Das' right I am.

[D'Andre stood and began to lower his gym shorts, which were already half way down to begin with]

Alissa: WAIT! Keep your cock to yourself, D'Andre.

D'Andre: [laughing] okay, settle down, girl. I don't want to scare a little Daddy's girl. Ha. You shoulda seen your face, going all

prude

on me, girl. It's like you rehearsed that line in front of yo mirror at home."

I could feel my face turning red and probably registering surprise over D'Andre's perception and so I moved to turn the camera off. As soon as I turned it off, I felt D'Andre's hands on me and he nudged me into the corner. I began to voice my protest as D'Andre persistently attempted to shush me. "I'll scream rape," I said, as D'Andre shoved me into a corner, his massive hands grabbing me by my waist.

"Take it easy, girl. D'Andre won't touch yo private parts," he said. "I promise."

For some reason I stayed quiet. D'Andre sounded genuine. Plus, I think having his hands grip me had this odd affect on me. It made me not only fearful, but...this is difficult. Maybe a tiny bit intrigued. Then his scent hit me. I know I mentioned that I didn't like the way D'Andre smelled, but I'm not sure I was totally put off by his scent. There was something about the way he towered over me and how small and helpless I felt as he held me against the wall. I can't put my finger on it.

"What do you want?" I said, in as fierce a voice as I can muster.

I gasped as I felt D'Andre's huge hands take hold of my waist. "It's not a matter of what D'Andre wants. It's a matter of what A-LISA wants and needs."

"It's 'Alissa,'" I said, so softly that I couldn't even hear my own voice. I began to feel this

pressure

from within my thighs. My face was burning. I couldn't move.

D'Andre leaned forward until his nose was almost touching mine. My knees began to wobble, but I still didn't move and I wouldn't make eye contact with him. "Easy, girl," he said. His thumbs were pressed against my hipbones and he began to rotate them in a circular motion. Now I felt tingling in my nipples. I guess it had been a long time. D'Andre pressed his thick chest forward and that's when something snapped in my head and I regained my senses.

"WAIT!" I said. "Let me go."

To my surprise, D'Andre released me. He stepped back and sat back down in his chair. "Okay, girl. Go ahead, you can leave."

I grabbed the camera and my handbag and rushed out of there.

"Hold it, girl," I heard D'Andre say. "We still haven't finished our interview. "A-LISSA!" he said, making a point to get my name right. "We gots to get this right. Get my Stow-Ree told! I ain't gonna lay a finger on you. C'mon girl!"

"I'm not a fucking girl."

"Das' just a figure of speech. D'Andre

know

you're a woman. Come back tomorrow 3:00 sharp and we finish this thing the

right way

.

August 14

th

Dear Diary,

Words will never adequately describe the type of confused emotions I am feeling right now. But I will do my best to recap the events of today.

My hands shake as I write this. My stomach is still unsettled as of this writing and I haven't been interested in eating yet. It's almost midnight and it has been eight hours since I left D'Andre's suite. Since then, I took a four hour nap, followed by a bath. I took several ibuprofen and have used ice as necessary. I'm quite sore, but fortunately I am young and expect that the soreness will go away soon enough. I admit don't know what to what to do next, but I suspect the process of writing about what transpired will help me gain clarity.

I wasn't expecting to interview D'Andre again. I woke up this morning with the idea that I was going to tell the producer that I only got a little bit of footage and that he had gotten fresh with my physically. But then I drank an iced coffee and my attitude began to change. Why deal with all that messiness. D'Andre wasn't going to cross the line because he didn't want to go to jail for rape. That's what I began to tell myself. Plus I thought of the way he backed off at the end of our meeting yesterday and I decided that maybe D'Andre wasn't the worst guy in the world.

I recently just watched the 45 minute video replay of what took place (I have since destroyed the tape). Much of what happened took place off screen, but the audio came through rather clearly. Having heard the noises I made and the things I said! It's no wonder why when I spoke to my parents a couple hours ago my voice was quite hoarse. This is not a good problem for a reporter to have and I have been feverishly treating my vocal cords with steam and tea with honey. In addition, I have been gargling plenty of salt water.

This will read somewhat like a confessional. In some ways I'm ashamed of what I did. In some ways I'm not. As I have written in the past, a girl has needs and I would only be lying to myself if I claimed those needs weren't filled in a major way this afternoon.

D'Andre was off signing copies of

Das Right I'm a Nigga'

at the mall today, so the meeting didn't take place until 3:00 in the afternoon. When I told Joe that I didn't need him to join me, he gave me a bit of a strange look and a wink. I then proceeded to snap at him and tell him to watch the way he addressed me. His wink turned out to be prophetic and now I owe poor Joe an apology.

So, without further adieu, here is the transcript of my brief conversation with D'Andre before things went a bit awry:

Alissa: So D'Andre, tell me how you first got into making rap albums?

D'Andre: How's a man supposed to concentrate with you wearing that mini-skirt.

Alissa: Oh god, it's not a mini skirt. It's at the knee.

D'Andre: You know I don't usually let bitc—um, women speak to me that way.

Alissa: I'm not your average hoe, I guess.

D'Andre: That's what they all say.

[I gave D'Andre my best glare and he smiled]

Alissa: D'Andre, just so you're aware, you aren't my only assignment today. A tractor-trailer just jackknifed on I-90 and at least three people are confirmed dead. I could call the chopper and be there in ten minutes.

D'Andre: [laughing] Whoa, they give you all the big assignments, eh girl? You a big deal around here.

Alissa: I can see I wasted my time coming back.

D'Andre: Way I see it - I think it's kinda

interestin'

how you want to come back after I pushed you up 'gainst the wall yesterday. I'd a think a little white girl like you want to get as far away from D'Andre as possible. Yet you back fo' mo'.

Alissa: [blushing] I have a job to do. And you aren't making it easy.

[D'Andre paused at this point. Upon reviewing the video I could tell that he was sizing me up. I'm embarrassed to say that I think he figured out something at this point]

D'Andre: Okay, fine, you win, girl. So, you may not have noticed this when you did yo' research on D'Andre, but D'Andre not from the hood. D'Andre grew up in Culver City. D'Andre's moms was a school teacher. She done whup my behind good til D'Andre get too big for her to lay a finger on me. D'Andre's pops left D'Andre's mom in the early going, but D'Andre's pops done okay working in Real Estate and he kept feeding D'Andre's mom them child support checks.

Alissa: Do you have any sisters or brothers?

D'Andre: Every black muthuhfuckin' friend of D'Andre his sister or brother.

Alissa: Cute, but you know what I mean.

D'Andre: Hell no. D'Andre's mom not even interested in sex after D'Andre was born. Probably didn't help that D'Andre was 11 pound at birth.

Alissa: Wow. So how did you get interested in rap?

D'Andre: D'Andre's father left his record collection and he too scared to come back and get it when D'Andre's mom kick his ass out. My father had good taste. I grew up listening to Curtis Mayfield, Gil-Scott Heron, Easy E. I also listened to Led Zeppelin til D'Andre find out that those muthuhfuckers stole all their shit from them 1920s niggas like Robert Johnson. That explain why D'Andre like them white bread muthuhfuckers in the first place.

Alissa: So then, tell me—

D'Andre: Listen girl, I'm getting' tired of all these questions. How about you and me get butt naked? You know that's what you want anyhow, girl.

Alissa: [I sighed] Cut the shit.

D'Andre: 'S'time you trust me, girl. [he leaned forward and lowered his voice] You know what I think? I think you a fully realized woman with a woman's body and you been just waitin' for a hard-hittin' nigger come along and sweep you off yo' feet, you know what I'm sayin'?

I think at this point I felt open to the possibilities. I remember feeling light-headed. I think maybe my body betrayed me, or my mind betrayed my body, I'm not sure. Either way, I didn't have a strong response to D'Andre. I guess in retrospect a part of me wanted to know what it might feel like if I actually gave in. On the camera my face turned noticeably red when D'Andre made his indecent proposal. Finally I managed to open my mouth and softly say, "That's not true."