In My Father’s House

by E. Lynn Harris

  She still looked like she wasn’t buying my story. “But, Bentley, that’s all been taken away from you.”

  I shook my head. “But I’m working hard to get it back. Jah never had any of that.”

  Dr. Fenton said, “It sounds like his new friend might provide some of that.”

  “But at what cost?”

  She drew her eyebrows together as if she were worried. “Do you think he could be in physical harm?”

  I didn’t even want to put into words what I really thought. “This guy is way too much of a public person than to try and hurt Jah. I think.”

  Dr. Fenton looked at me like she was waiting for me to explain that. “Then are you worried about the emotional toll? If so, someday soon, someone will break this young man’s heart. It’s how we learn to live with heartbreak. Remember how you talked about when your lover left you?”

  Thinking about that heartache did nothing to make me feel better. I hated that therapy was so hard because it forced me to confront things head-on. And I loved Dr. Fenton’s style, even though today it seemed like her every question and comment was just cranking me up another notch toward worried, annoyed, or sad.

  I sounded more excited than I intended when I asked, “Did I tell you he was at the party?”

  “No. Did you talk with him?”

  “Did I talk to him? We did a little more than talking, Dr. Fenton.”

  She smiled. “So it was a good meeting?”

  I thought for a moment about her question and the time Warren and I spent at the lake. I smiled.

  “I guess that means you were glad to see him.”

  “And he was glad to see me.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I will if he moves down here.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  I exhaled, feeling the brief happiness of my smile give way to disappointment. “It’ll make it a little harder. Look, I know I love Warren, but he’s made it perfectly clear that he’ll always live life behind closed doors. I might be able to do it now, but I don’t know about forever. Besides, I basically gave up my family for Warren and then he dumped me. Not good! I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that.”

  She spoke gently as she said, “Bentley, it’s not too late to reconcile with your father. He’s probably wishing for that just as intensely as you are.”

  I shook my head. “I just don’t see how that could happen.”

  “You can make it happen,” she said. “As simply as picking up the phone. Or passing on a message through your mother and sister. You still have a relationship with them.”

  “Yeah, I do but . . .”

  “But?”

  Suddenly the image of my father popped into my head. For an instant, I was really sad. I missed him and the relationship we had shared. My thoughts flashed back to the first time he’d taken me to a University of Michigan football game and a Detroit Tigers baseball game. I thought about the days we’d spent out on Lake Michigan on his boat, just the two of us, father and son, talking about how we were both responsible for changing the world. So many times during the recent election, I wanted to pick up the phone and call him and talk about the issues. But I was so afraid that he would say something mean, which would damage our relationship further.

  Dr. Fenton’s voice snapped me out of the daydream. “Are you still with me, Bentley?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “What are those tears about?”

  “What tears?” I asked as I used my arm to wipe my damp face.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When Jah got back from Denver, I talked to him but didn’t see him. This morning, right after I’d had my first cup of coffee and shaved, Jah called again.

  “B, I’m outside your condo. Please come out right away.”

  “What’s going on, Jah?”

  He sounded as happy as if it were Christmas morning. “Just come outside, B. I got something I want to show you.”

  “Okay. Give me a couple of minutes.”

  I walked into my closet and picked out a pair of black warm-ups with a white stripe running down them and put on a pair of red sneakers. I tucked my T-shirt in and walked outside. When I looked to my left, there was Jah smiling and leaning on a beautiful silver Porsche. I walked toward him. When I got close, Jah started clapping like a young kid.

  “Can you believe this? Isn’t this the most beautiful car you’ve ever seen?”

  “It’s nice, Jah. Is this yours?”

  “Seth had it waiting for me when I got back. It was waiting at the airport for me. He is the greatest guy ever. I feel like Cinderfella. Finally things are going so well for me.”

  “I’m happy for you, Jah,” I whispered as I gave him a hug. I was not completely convinced that I was happy for him. “Nothing in life is free,” Father used to always tell me as a warning that things that seem free often come with a huge price tag. What price would Jah have to pay for accepting this car? And being Seth’s boi toy of the week?

  “Are you really happy for me?”

  “Yes,” I said, because that’s what he wanted to hear. I didn’t want to seem jealous or any of the negative things Dr. Fenton and I had talked about. “That’s a whole lot of car for an eighteen-year-old.”

  “You keep saying that. But I’ll be nineteen soon and before you know it, twenty.”

  “Did you ask Seth for this car?”

  “No, that’s the beauty of it!” Jah explained that he’d told Seth this was his dream car when he saw it in a magazine while they were together in Los Angeles. “No one in my entire life has ever given me such an amazing gift. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  “It’s certainly dreamlike,” I said as I stuck my head in to inhale the new car smell that I hadn’t sensed in a long time.

  “Get in. Let me take you for a spin.”

  “You know, Jah, can we do that later? I have a meeting and I can’t be late.” That was a lie. Maybe I wasn’t happy for Jah.

  He offered to take me to the office. I promised him he could when I had time. Jah looked disappointed, but perked up when he asked, “Did you hear any more about the gig?”

  I told him I’d talked with Wilson and that the deal was postponed. “Are you still interested?”

  “Of course, and why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Looks like Seth is going to take pretty good care of you.” I really didn’t know what I was feeling right now. Did I secretly wish that someone would come along and sweep me off my feet and shower me with beautiful gifts? Had my relationship with Warren jaded me so that I believed that romance was dead because everyone had some sinister motive? What if Seth really did want to do the right thing with Jah? What if I really was jealous?

  Jah leaned on the car. “Yeah, Seth is taking care of me. But you’re always telling me that I need to be able to take care of myself. I still want to work. I’m not some trophy boi.”

  “Really, Jah.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt bad, but Jah didn’t react. He hadn’t heard me because he was too busy caressing his new toy.

  I was trying to figure out answers to Dr. Fenton’s questions and understand my reaction to Jah’s new car as I reached the reception area of my office.

  “Hold on, please, he just walked in,” said my assistant, Laura, into the phone with authority. She put the call on hold and said, “Bentley, there’s a Ramon calling for you.”

  Laura looked so cheerful in her turquoise dress and sparkly earrings, her hair swooped up in a ponytail.

  “Okay. I’ll take it in my office.” I stopped. “Laura, good job. You’re not making everything sound like a question anymore.”

  She smiled. “Thanks to you.”

  As I walked to my office, I thought about how so many things seemed like nothing but questions in my life. I sat behind my desk and picked up the phone. “This is Bentley Dean.”

  “Hey, dude, what’s up? This is Ramon.” It sounded like he was in a gym, with deep voices
echoing, whistles blowing, and basketballs bouncing.

  I turned on my computer. “Hello, Ramon. What’s going on?”

  He had an accusatory tone that I really didn’t like as he asked, “How come you didn’t tell me my dude DeMarco was there when I called you?”

  I logged on to check my e-mail. I really didn’t have time for Ramon’s childish chitchat. “I don’t see why that is important.”

  “I thought I was looking out for you.”

  “And I appreciate that, Ramon. But to be truthful, he was already there, so you did look out for me. You were right. He was trying to seduce me.”

  I read an e-mail from Alex saying she had arrived safely in Los Angeles and was preparing for her meetings.

  Ramon said, “But dude ain’t gay. I don’t think he would have gone all the way. I think he wanted you to make a move.”

  I sent an encouraging e-mail back to Alex as I said, “I know, Ramon, and I would have known that without your help. So thanks a lot.”

  “I did it for DeMarco as well. Who knows, you might be some powerful man who could have made life real hard for our teammate. We need DeMarco. He’s our point guard and makes our team click.”

  I read an e-mail from Mitch about the modeling gig in the Caribbean. “It never would have gotten to that. Trust me.”

  “So are you still interested in seeing me?”

  “If you’re interested in modeling.”

  Ramon paused. “I am, but I want to make sure I won’t get into trouble. Maybe I should wait until the season is over.”

  I scrolled through spam and deleted it. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you, Ramon. I really appreciate what you did for me, so you know I’ll look out for you. But if we meet, it needs to be in my office and both of us need to keep it professional.”

  Laura brought in a stack of mail and messages, along with today’s Miami Herald. I couldn’t read another article about the recession or foreclosures or unemployment. And that’s all I saw on the front page. So I put a stack of comp cards on top of the paper on my desk. I needed to concentrate on keeping the Benjamins flowing into my business. Hopefully with more athletic hunks like Ramon.

  He asked, “What do you mean by professional?”

  “You don’t have to worry about me coming on to you,” I said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “Dude, I can take care of myself. I wasn’t worried about that. But I understand you wanting to meet in your office and that’s cool.”

  I was ready to make an appointment and hang up when he said, “So what are you going to do about DeMarco? If he calls again?”

  I scanned my favorite Web sites for scouting new models. “I’ll see him if it’s about modeling. Of the three of you, DeMarco and you really could have a career in modeling if you really wanted it. I’m just trying to do what I can to help.”

  Ramon sounded surprised. “You’ll help dude, even though he was trying to set you up?”

  “ ‘Trying’ being the operative word, Ramon,” I said, sounding confident and professional. “You see, I’m a grown-ass man and I know when somebody is trying to run a game. I’ve been in this business a long time.” Even though it would have been easy to give in to DeMarco’s delicious-looking temptation.

  “I hear you,” Ramon said. “Okay, I gotta go to class. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “That’s cool,” I said, scanning my online calendar for any meetings today that may have slipped my mind.

  Ramon said, “Hey, I know some football players you might be interested in. Do you give anything for referrals?”

  I logged on to the agency’s bank accounts. Seth’s party had been a huge help for our bottom line, but money was starting to dwindle. I thought about Sterling’s request for models for their inauguration party. Did I want to reach into the shark-infested waters again to pull out another treasure chest of cash?

  “Ramon, we’ll talk about referrals later. Let’s get you and DeMarco in the fold first. Then I’d be happy to talk to any guys you send my way.”

  “Cool. You a’ight, Bentley.”

  “Thanks, Ramon. I feel the same way about you. I’ll talk with you. Have a good day.”

  “Yeah, you do the same.”

  What if I sent Ramon and DeMarco into the feeding frenzy of handsome young meat? Would they both end up as some rich guy’s boi toys, just like Jah? In Washington, perhaps a powerful lawmaker would impress them with gifts and fancy hotel rooms. Did I really want to do that again, even in exchange for a huge amount of cash?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Jah and I had just ordered Kobe beef burgers at an upscale burger joint off Washington Road. We were at our table and Jah was still wearing the Cartier sunglasses that Seth had bought for him. He’d worn them through a dramatic comment outside when he was so impressed with himself. When we pulled up to the valet, he threw the guy his keys. I smiled, amused at Jah’s playfulness. I had to admit it was a nice car.

  I ordered a beer and Jah ordered a Coke.

  “Jah, you can take off your glasses now,” I said playfully amid the bustling restaurant noises.

  Sitting across from me, he took them off and gently set them on the table. When I looked directly in his eyes, I noticed they were really red and glassy.

  “Jah?” I asked, trying to sound calm. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  Either he’d been crying or he hadn’t slept in three days or he’d been doing something illegal.

  I leaned closer. “What’s wrong with your eyes? They’re red as apples.”

  “I’m cool,” he said, wiping his eyes as if he could make them clear. He sipped his Coke, then made a face like he was in pain.

  I shook my head and demanded, “What’s up, Jah? Are you on something?”

  Jah tilted his head and snapped, “Something? What are you talking about?”

  My voice was deep and demanding. “Are you doing drugs?”

  Jah looked away. His face might as well have been stamped with a giant yes.

  “Jah, answer me!” I whispered loudly so that no one at the surrounding tables would hear me. “Are you doing drugs?”

  He exhaled. “Seth and I did a little blow when I was in Denver. I like it, okay? And before you start giving me lectures, B, don’t worry. I’m not hooked on coke or anything.”

  Anger shot through my whole body. We could have both been dead or in jail right now.

  “So that’s why you’re doing it in the middle of the day? And driving me here! Do you know how dangerous that is?” I glared at the naïve look in his bloodshot eyes. “I should knock the shit out of you. Not only are you playing with your life, you’re messing with mine. And that’s not cool, Jah.”

  He stared back with a sad expression. “I’m sorry, B. My bad. I promise not to do it again and drive.”

  That upset me even more. “Jah! You need to promise me you won’t do any more drugs. Period! Jah, I’m serious.”

  “I don’t want you to be mad at me, B, so I won’t.” Tears glazed his tomato red eyes. He sipped more of his Coke and made that painful expression again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My throat feels irritated. Maybe I’m catching a cold—”

  I remembered how some of the models back in my New York days used to stay high for days on coke. Then they’d always be sniffling and complaining about a raw throat because their sinuses were draining. “It’s the cocaine,” I said, staring at him with questioning eyes. I didn’t even want to think about what sexual acts Seth might have done involving Jah’s throat.

  “And I’m driving us home. If we get stopped, both of us will end up in jail.” I wondered what the hell else Seth was exposing Jah to. Unsafe sex? Porn? Weed?

  Jah yawned. “That’s cool if you drive. I’m tired anyway. I guess I must be coming down.” He looked worried.

  “What is it, Jah?”

  He leaned close and whispered, “How do I know if the things Seth wants me to do in bed are nor
mal?”

  I felt like a thermometer, and all the red mercury was shooting up to the top and exploding out because it was too damn hot—with anger. I inhaled to stop myself from going off.

  “What do you mean, Jah?” I asked as calmly as possible.

  He shifted on the chair and made that pained face again. And he ran his hands over his wrists, as if to massage away the pain. “I mean, sometimes the things he does”—he looked down at the table—“it hurts. But—”

  “Jah!” What the hell had I done? Tossing this troubled young man into the ruthless jaws of a sex freak, all in the name of making money for the agency. “Love is not supposed to hurt. Making love is not supposed to hurt!”

  He sighed, looking at me with pleading eyes. “B, I just don’t know if it’s because I’ve never done these things, or—”

  “Tell him to stop! If it hurts, or you’re not comfortable, tell him to stop, Jah!”

  He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. All of a sudden, that reminded me of a junkie I’d seen on the corner in the drug- and prostitution-plagued Cass Corridor. Our parents had driven me and Anna there once, after our middle school friends were caught with marijuana. Mother and Father wanted to show us what happened to people who got hooked on drugs. They ended up living on the corner, selling their bodies to anyone, so they could get more drugs.

  I was horrified at the thought of Jah turning into the luxury version of a Cass Corridor crackhead. The elements were the same: sex, money, and drugs. Even though he was driving a Porsche, fucking a rich, powerful man, and snorting coke in expensive hotel rooms. It was still wrong, sleazy, and dangerous.

  I cast a sympathetic look at him as my brain raced to figure out how to get him away from Seth. “Jah, you don’t have any drugs on you, do you?”

  The waitress delivered our expensive gourmet burgers. But suddenly I was too mad to enjoy this treat.