his insights on show business. While I was living with him, he received regular late-night calls from Luther Vandross when he was back in his hotel after a show. The phone was on speaker, so I heard Luther talk about how lonely he was. It didn’t matter that women all over the world were insane for him. He told David, “Child, the ladies were screaming, ‘Luther! Luther!’ and all I wanted to do was yell back, ‘Where’s your brother? Your brother?’” It’s so sad that at that time, Luther couldn’t be himself. Listening to Luther, I could hear that the magnificence of his singing voice was coming from the deepest part of his soul.
On April 1, 1984, David and I were driving down Hollywood Boulevard in his pickup truck. Michael’s “Billie Jean” was blasting on the radio. Before the song was over, though, the deejay broke in to say, “Soul singer Marvin Gaye has been shot to death at his parents’ home in Mid-City, Los Angeles. Reports indicate that his father, an ordained preacher, has been taken into custody as the prime suspect.”
I was sure it had to be a sick April Fools’ joke, but it wasn’t. When I later learned that Marvin Gaye Sr. was his son’s murderer, I shuddered. I knew about father-son rage. I understood how fury could turn violent. But this was an outcome beyond my imagination.
LADY T
I could freeload for only so long, even off someone as gracious as David Lasley. I was always moving on. Angels appeared out of nowhere. One day, I looked up and there was Teena Marie.
As much as I liked writing songs, I was eager to get on the road and play with a real artist. That’s why I auditioned to be Teena Marie’s guitarist. I didn’t get the gig, but Teena and I had a connection, and when her tour was over, she invited me to her home. We became friends for life.
At the time, I was nineteen, and Tina, a white singer-songwriter signed to Motown Records, was twenty-seven. When they released her debut album, Wild and Peaceful, the cover depicted a calm sea and a stormy sky instead of an image of the artist. Because Teena sounded so Black, Motown, aiming for a Black audience, didn’t want to show her white face. Rick James, who became Teena’s champion, produced the record and also sang on her hit “I’m a Sucker for Your Love.” I loved her rendition, on that same album, of “Déjà Vu, I’ve Been Here Before,” written by Rick. When her picture appeared on her second album, Lady T, legions of Black fans started calling her Vanilla Child. Soon after, she appeared on Rick’s Street Songs, singing the classic duet “Fire and Desire.” She then shocked the industry by suing Motown for injuring her career by refusing to release her new material. In a landmark victory, Teena broke new ground for artists looking to leave their unsupportive labels. “Lady T,” the name on the license plate of her pink ’57 T-Bird convertible, was a warrior.
Teena’s monster hit was “Square Biz,” and her real-life manner was straight talk. She told me about being confused when, at age eight, her parents, seeing her musical talent, sent her out on the audition trail. She felt like a performing monkey. As a teen, she grew up with the gangbangers on the rough side of Venice, California. Yet Teena was all about love: she was loved by her musicians, her fans, and anyone else who came her way.
Tina would let me drive her T-Bird while, from the passenger seat, she sang and wrote songs on the spot. At the time, she was living with Rick James’s sister Penny. I stayed with them for months. It was a beautiful interlude in my life. Those two women nurtured and loved me unconditionally. Teena took me to her sessions and let me sit in. She and Penny took me to Rick’s house, where he’d cook his ass off for us. I also got to see Rick in the studio. Teena and Rick were self-produced visionaries. I was privileged to witness artists in command of the total studio setting. Huge lesson.
Teena also took me to my first Maze concert, at the Universal Amphitheatre, a family reunion for all Black America. When Frankie Beverly, the Maze lead singer, broke into “Happy Feelings” and “We Are One,” the bond between the band and the fans became mystical. We were one.
Teena was my big sis, the person who