Fortune & Fame: A Novel

by Murray, Victoria Christopher

  Ignoring her, Mary continued, “And you don’t have to like me. We’re just doing this show and after that, you won’t have to see me again.”

  “Yeah. Just make sure of that. Because if I ever see you sniffing around Lester—”

  “I don’t want your husband.”

  “Or coming anywhere near Lewis—”

  “My son’s name is Lester Jr.”

  Rachel balled her hand into a fist and Jasmine was sure that Rachel was going to punch Mary in her throat. She really wanted to see that happen, but then she thought about the talk that she and Rachel had just had. And in a little corner of her heart, she did care about Rachel. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want her on TV beating down this white woman.

  So, she jumped in. “Rachel, no,” Jasmine whispered, grabbing her hand before it could connect with Mary’s face. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “No, I need to stop this heifer, right here and right now.”

  “Not with the cameras,” Jasmine whispered.

  “What?” Rachel whipped around just in time to see Chauncey clicking off the camera and stepping from the restroom. “Wait!” Rachel said, running behind him. “You can’t use that!”

  Mary rushed out behind her, as if she forgot that she needed to pee.

  And while they ran, Jasmine turned toward the mirror. She pulled out her cosmetic bag, brushed the shine from her face, applied a little more lip gloss, then puckered her lips. Her work here was done. Rachel would surely help her now, especially once she convinced Rachel that Natasia was responsible for all of this.

  Chapter

  TWENTY

  Rachel

  No matter how hard she tried, Rachel couldn’t reign in the side of her that was prone to acting a fool. That’s because people were always trying her, pushing her back into her past, when she wouldn’t hesitate to give someone a piece of her mind. But she’d worked to move on from being that chick. Things like that stunt in the bathroom, though, made her want to revisit that cut-some-tires persona.

  Rachel knew how these shows worked. They thrived on the drama and loved to feature women going at it. Whether it was any of the Real Housewives series or Mob Wives, the numbers soared when the blows were flying. But while she definitely wanted to be a part of this show, it wouldn’t be at the expense of her dignity.

  “Honey, what are you doing?” Lester asked, approaching Rachel. “Jasmine just left and it looks like the others are leaving as well.” Rachel couldn’t help but notice that her husband took great care not to say Mary’s name.

  “Give me a second, babe,” Rachel said. She’d been searching for Natasia, and finally spotted her in the back running her mouth on the phone.

  “Excuse me, Natasha. I need to speak with you,” Rachel said, stomping over to where Natasia stood.

  Natasia cut her eyes at Rachel and said into the phone, “Winston, let me call you back.” She ended her call and turned to Rachel. “First of all, it’s Na-ta-si-a,” she replied.

  “Yeah, okay,” Rachel said, waving her off. She couldn’t stand bourgie black folk. That woman knew her mama named her Natasha.

  “Secondly,” Natasia continued, “it’s very rude to interrupt someone on a phone call.”

  “I need to speak with you,” Rachel demanded. “Now.” She would’ve gone to speak directly to Melinda, but Melinda hadn’t been at the last few tapings, almost as if she had completely turned the show over to Natasia.

  “Yes, Rachel?” Natasia asked. “What can I do for you?”

  Was that irritation she detected? Natasia might think she was in charge, but she didn’t need to get it twisted. Without Rachel there was no show. It was her idea and that afforded her certain liberties. What these people didn’t know, what no one knew, was that tucked away on page eight of the contract no one thought she was smart enough to read, Rachel had gotten Melinda to agree to creative input. That meant the drama that was just filmed would not be airing.

  “I don’t know who sent that janky photographer into the bathroom to film me but I can’t appreciate it,” Rachel snapped.

  “The bathroom?”

  “Yes. I didn’t stutter. Luckily, I wasn’t sitting on the toilet, but that’s a complete invasion of privacy and I’m going to need that tape destroyed.” Rachel’s voice was firm because she wanted this woman to know she meant business.

  Natasia had the nerve to laugh. “It doesn’t quite work like that, Rachel. But I will talk with Sonny because no one should be following you in the bathroom.”

  “You might need to read the fine print of my contract, because it does work like that. If I don’t want it to air, it doesn’t air,” she said matter-of-factly. She had been trying to give Natasia her respect, but this whole sneaky filming had changed the game.

  “Rachel, I really don’t have time—” Suddenly, Natasia stopped, and as if a thought crossed her mind, her whole tone shifted, then a small smile crept up on her face. “Okay, I’ll make sure it doesn’t air. I just want to make you happy.”

  Her dramatic shift gave Rachel pause. “Well, ummm, thanks.”

  Natasia’s smile grew even wider. “Well, since we’ve wrapped for the day, I was wondering if you’d like to go grab a coffee or something.”

  Rachel frowned. “Who?”

  “You and I.” The expression on Rachel’s face must’ve belied her confusion, because Natasia’s voice softened as she continued. “Look, Rachel, I know there’s tension on the set. I’m not exactly on ‘hanging out’ terms with Jasmine, but you and I, I think we could be good friends.”

  Rachel cocked her head, studying Natasia, then said, “Okay, what are you up to?”

  “I’m not up to anything. I’m here to do a job,” she said innocently. Rachel wasn’t buying it. She turned up her lip and folded her arms until Natasia finally confessed, “I need your help.”

  “Ha!” Was this some kind of joke? “My help? For what?”

  Natasia released a long sigh. “You know the tension between Jasmine and me. You know it all too well.” Natasia looked around. The crew was breaking down. No one was within earshot, but she lowered her voice anyway. “I’ve seen the way Jasmine looks down on you, the way she treats you like you’re beneath her, and I don’t think it’s fair.”

  “I’m not worried about Jasmine.”

  “Well, you should be.” She continued whispering, “She’s trying to get you kicked off the show.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.” Natasia sighed like it pained her to continue. “I deplore gossip, but I just wanted you to be aware.”

  When Rachel’s mom was alive she used to always say that a dog that brings you a bone will take one away. Natasia was up to something.

  “Why are you making me aware? I know it’s not because you just like me so much.”

  “Well,” Natasia said, dragging out the word. “I do need your help in getting Lester to talk to Hosea and convince him to come on the show. That’s all I want. And this has nothing to do with my issues with Jasmine. This is business.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You want me to go behind Jasmine’s back and get my husband to convince her husband to be on my show.”

  Natasia smiled, satisfied. “Exactly.”

  It was Rachel’s turn to laugh. Game recognized game and Natasia was running a full court press on her. Rachel didn’t know what this woman was up to, but Rachel couldn’t appreciate Natasia trying to get her to stab Jasmine in the back. Rachel had her beef with Jasmine, but that was her own motive and Rachel didn’t need anyone else fueling that fire. No, Natasia Redding was trying to use Rachel and Rachel didn’t appreciate being played.

  “The truth of it all,” Natasia continued. “You help me out and I’ll make sure your video doesn’t air.”

  That definitely rubbed Rachel the wrong way. This heifer probably set it all up anyway. “Sweetie, it’s not going to air. Again, check the contract. And furthermore, you need to watch who you threaten. I know that you want Hosea and no, Jasm
ine isn’t my favorite person in the world, but I’m not about to help you steal her man.”

  Natasia glared at Rachel. “You have no idea what I’m trying to do.”

  “Yes, I do. You’re trying to get with my friend’s man.” Rachel looked her up and down. “Matter of fact, why don’t you get your own man? Trying to get with Hosea when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want you, that reeks of desperation.”

  Rachel turned and summoned her husband. He was sitting at a table, typing away on his iPad, no doubt working on some ABC business. “Come on, Lester. It’s time to go.”

  Lester stood, grateful that Rachel was finally ready to go. He followed Rachel to the exit, but just before she reached the door, Rachel saw Chauncey putting his gear into his bag. She knelt down next to him and whispered, “If I ever catch you sneaking and filming me again, you’ll be lucky if you can find a job shooting YouTube videos.”

  She didn’t give him time to reply as she stood and sauntered out the door. Chauncey had definitely better recognize. Everybody around here had better recognize. She was not the one. At least Jasmine was starting to get that. That’s why she’d come to her, begging for help. Now, here was Natasia doing the same.

  Rachel slid her sunglasses on as she climbed into the back of the limo. As they pulled off, her mind replayed her conversations with Natasia and Jasmine, both begging for her help. Yeah, it felt wonderful to be on top.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-ONE

  Natasia

  Natasia was hot! And it had nothing to do with the flashes that often came because of her medication.

  She was hot because of Jasmine Cox Larson Bush, Mary Frazier, and now especially, Rachel Jackson Adams. These diva wannabes had sent her blood pressure soaring.

  Who did these women think they were? Obviously, they didn’t know who they were playing with. These three cows were nothing more than fame-hawks and fortune-seekers who were never going to make it past the airing of this show. She was an award-winning journalist turned award-winning TV executive, and the First Ladies needed to bow down and recognize.

  But it didn’t seem like Jasmine, Mary, or Rachel cared about who she was, especially not Rachel.

  Rachel’s words still played in Natasia’s mind: “Why don’t you get your own man? Trying to get with Hosea when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want you, that reeks of desperation.”

  Rachel had said those words yesterday and still they played over and over in Natasia’s mind like there was some kind of replay button in her head. She wasn’t sure why Rachel’s words haunted her so much. Maybe it was because without even knowing it, Rachel had spoken the truth—at least partially.

  Natasia was desperate . . . desperate to stay alive. And she knew that Hosea could help her with that.

  “Ugh!” she groaned out loud. Glancing at the clock, she put down her cup of coffee. She had to leave now if she was going to make it to her doctor’s appointment on time.

  The knock on her door made her moan again. Why were the housekeeping staff coming so early? When she’d moved in, she’d arranged for the morning staff to come around ten and the evening staff to arrive about eight. She was not in the best of moods and when she whipped the door open, her plan was to call whoever was on the other side incompetent and inept. But then her scowl went poof! In its place was a grin that revealed the joy in her heart.

  “Hosea, what are you doing here?”

  He leaned against the door jamb. “Don’t we have a doctor’s appointment?”

  There was that we again, the word that made her feel like she could do anything, even beat this disease, as long as he was by her side.

  “We do have a doctor’s appointment,” she said, laughing. “But I thought you were going to meet me there.”

  “I was, but only because I had a breakfast meeting. It was canceled so . . .”

  “Well, let me grab my purse,” she said.

  He held out his arm and she hooked her arm through his.

  “Let’s get going,” he said. And when he smiled down at her, she melted.

  From the moment she stepped into the hallway, it didn’t feel like she was on her way to a doctor’s appointment. Never before had she felt any kind of happiness as she was heading to hear what she always knew would be dismal news.

  Today, as she held on to Hosea’s arm, as he led her into the elevator, then through the lobby to his car that was right out in front, she felt nothing but joy.

  Inside the car, he turned to radio to 107.5, which surprised Natasia a little. She would have thought he’d only listen to gospel now.

  And then, when Luther started singing, “Woke up today looked at your picture just to get me started . . .” Hosea blasted the music through the car.

  “Do you remember,” he shouted, “that little Thai restaurant we used to go to and they played Luther’s songs all night long?”

  She laughed. “Oh, my God! How could I ever forget it? It was our favorite food and our favorite music!”

  “And those waiters would be singing right along, with their accents. We should’ve bought stock in that place.”

  Then, she asked him, “Remember our Friday nights?”

  At first, Natasia wasn’t sure that she should’ve asked that question. But when Hosea grinned, she exhaled.

  “You mean our movie nights? How could I forget them? That’s another place where we should’ve bought stock. . . .”

  Then, together, they said, “Blockbuster!” and laughed.

  Their conversation continued about the apartment they shared, their lakefront views, even the open-house estate homes they visited every Sunday as they dreamed about the home they’d one day buy together.

  Every bit of their talk made Natasia feel better, feel stronger. Every bit of it made her feel as if she’d live forever.

  When Hosea kept talking about their life together, she was surprised. In the past, he’d wanted to stay far away from the subject of their past. When she’d come to work on his show in 2007, he made it clear that these types of discussions were off limits because he was married and loved his wife.

  Today though, it was like he couldn’t get enough of looking in the rearview mirror at their life. Maybe it was just that he knew this conversation was good for her soul, better than any medicine that could be prescribed.

  But then he rolled his car into the parking lot of the Peachtree Medical Center, and turned off the radio. And all talking stopped.

  Hosea squeezed her hand before he jumped out of the car and came around to her side to help her out.

  It was like Hosea had been in the building before. Maybe he had scoped it out. He took her hand and led her straight to Dr. Ginsberg’s office.

  He checked in for her as she sat, and it wasn’t until Hosea sat next to her that her knees stopped knocking.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded. For more than a year now, she’d been going to these appointments, meeting with doctors, all by herself. With Hosea here, she really was okay.

  They didn’t even wait five minutes before they were called into the doctor’s office, and he met them right at the door.

  “I’m Doctor Ginsberg.”

  Natasia shook his hand, but even when she let go, she couldn’t stop staring at the young Robert Redford look-alike. Surely, if this medical thing didn’t work out, he could find some kind of employment in Hollywood.

  “So, I have your records from your doctor in Chicago,” Dr. Ginsberg said, getting straight to business. “You’re going to be here in Atlanta for a while?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m working and even though the filming wraps up soon, I’ll still be in Atlanta for probably another month or so.”

  “Maybe even longer than that,” Hosea said to the doctor without looking at Natasia.

  Natasia drew in a deep breath. What was Hosea saying?

  “Well, we’re going to take care of you while you’re here,” the doctor said. “What I want to do is get a list of all y
our medications, to make sure it matches up with your records.”

  Natasia nodded, working hard to keep her focus on the doctor when all she wanted to think about was what did Hosea mean?

  “And we want to do some tests . . . are you ready to do that today?”

  “Oh, no,” Natasia said. “I thought you just wanted to meet me today; I have to get to my office.”

  “That’s fine, that was the purpose of the meeting today. Just make an appointment with the receptionist before you leave. I’d like to get you in this week, though.”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “Okay, well, do you have any questions for me?”

  Natasia shook her head. “Not only have the doctors explained it well to me, but I’ve done a lot of my own research.”

  “That’s a good thing,” the doctor said.

  “I have a few questions,” Hosea piped in. “I don’t know much about lupus, and I know even less about the type that Natasia has.”

  The doctor nodded. “That’s understandable. Lupus is not a disease that gets a lot of attention.”

  As the doctor began telling Hosea everything that Natasia had already shared with him, she sat back and tried to glance back and forth between the doctor and Hosea. But what she really wanted to do was stop everything and make the doctor be quiet while she asked Hosea what he meant when he said that she might be in Atlanta longer. Was he thinking about a future with her already?

  She let her mind wander and wonder and dream for the five minutes that the doctor spent explaining her illness to Hosea.

  The doctor ended with, “We are going to do everything we can for your wife.”

  “Uh . . .” Hosea said.

  “We’re not married,” Natasia said quickly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry . . . I just thought . . . I assumed.”

  She shook her head. “We’re just very good friends and Hosea is helping me.”

  He nodded. “Well, that’s a good thing. While I’m a medical doctor, I’m also a Christian. And I believe that God is going to use my hands, but we all need to use our mouths and pray for His best.”