rude to me that I thought perhaps she didn’t speak English. Jermaine went over and gaver her a kiss and introduced me. I barely heard more than a grunt from the woman in my direction. To Jermaine,

however, she was warm and open and invited us back that evening for dinner. I was not thrilled. I was deliberately made to feel uncomfortable by this woman and would have been perfectly happy to pass

on the invite. It seemed important to Jermaine, though, so that evening I dressed in something appropriately gaudy and arrived back at Madam Bongo’s door with Jermaine.

During the meal I was introduced to Madam’s half-sister, Lea. Same father, different mother. Lea was a bright, chunky, seventeen-year-old African girl who had gone to a Swiss boarding school and was now studying petroleum engineering and international business at UCLA. Lea was the only one who

paid much attention to me. Madam and Jermaine were busy discussing business, including Jermaine’s availability to sing on Madam’s album. Madam Bongo did not have a record deal but she had more than enough money to finance and produce and album on her own. She had so much money, in fact, that she bought an entire recording studio in Hollywood. As Madam saw it, having Jermaine on the

album would put her right over the top.

We ate dinner in the living room, which was decorated with inlaid ivory. Twenty Moroccans had been flown in for the job. Gold and white Italian chairs were arranged in a circle on an enormous Persian

rug. The meal was served on paper plates by an assortment of little children whom Madam had adopted in Africa and brought to the United States. She was putting the children through school at the

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