In My Father’s House

by E. Lynn Harris

  I went to the office early, trying to stay busy and not worry as much, but it didn’t work. Almost every hour, I would call Jah again or look on some of the celebrity blogs as if they would provide answers. I decided that a long workout might help, but as I was leaving my office, Alex walked in, looking grim.

  “We’ve got a big problem,” she said, standing there with her arms crossed. She had that look like her brain was going in a million directions, trying to solve a problem.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I just got a call from Seth Sinclair’s office saying that they could meet with me tomorrow, but I have a conflict.”

  “What kind?”

  She explained that she had a meeting that had been set up for a while with people from Serena Williams’s company. The tennis star was doing a line of active sportswear and wanted to use a black agency to find female models for the catalogue’s online Web site. Alex said the job was a sure thing if she showed up.

  “What do you suggest we do?” I asked.

  “I was thinking,” Alex said, “maybe you could go to California and meet with Seth.”

  My thoughts raced over the pros and cons of her idea. “Do you think he’ll be there? I can’t imagine he would attend an introduction meeting,” I said. But what if Seth did attend the meeting? Could I corner him and find out what was going on with Jah? Would he even remember me?

  Alex threw up her hands. “I don’t know, but unless you want to handle the meeting with Serena’s people, this sounds like the best plan.”

  The expense of a last-minute ticket made me pause. I asked Alex about it, and she said Seth’s people were willing to purchase my ticket.

  “I bet they fly you out there first class,” she said. “You don’t have anything tomorrow, do you?”

  My schedule had nothing that I couldn’t reschedule. We decided to call and tell Seth’s people that I’d be there in Alexandria’s place. This was just too big an opportunity for us to turn down, for several reasons. Alex and I agreed that tomorrow we could both score big contracts for the firm. Contracts that would keep us in business for a couple more months and maybe even make some money.

  As Alexandria and I talked, I made a plan to go to the gym, then head home and pack to stay in Cali a few days, because Alex said she could handle the agency while I was gone. “Alex, do we have enough young ladies for the Serena deal?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “because I knew there was a chance we’d be up for the deal. So I’ve been recruiting hard. We’ll be fine.”

  She said she had been planning to stay with her girlfriend and offered to have her contact recommend a hotel close to the production company’s office. I said I’d take care of it myself.

  “Alex, I’ll holler at you before I leave.”

  “Thanks, Bentley. Glad we could work it out. Hey, did you ever hear from Jah?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet, but maybe with this trip I’ll be able to see him.” Maybe I wouldn’t confront Seth. Maybe instead, I would try to find Jah at his place in West Hollywood.

  “I hope everything is okay with him,” she said. “He’s still a young kid.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  As I put my last pair of sweatpants and underwear in my suitcase, my cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Bentley, this is Ramon. What’s shaking?”

  “Hey, Ramon, good to hear from you. What’s good with you?” I looked around my bedroom, wondering what I was forgetting.

  Ramon said, “I was just thinking about you and thought I’d give you a call.”

  “That’s cool. How’s school and basketball?”

  “It’s all good. What you got up for tonight?”

  “I’m just packing.” I spotted my phone charger on the dresser and tossed it into my suitcase. “I have a flight out to Cali first thing in the morning. Why?”

  Ramon sounded disappointed. “Aw, nothing. I was thinking about dropping by, but sounds like you busy. When you coming back?”

  I headed into the bathroom, refilling the little bottles of shampoo and cocoa butter in my toiletry travel bag. I told Ramon I’d be gone a couple of days, and that I wished he’d have called earlier so that we could have hooked up. He said cool, maybe we could hang out when I got back.

  “I’d like that, Ramon.”

  “Have you heard from my home boi, DeMarco?”

  I put a new toothbrush in my bag. “No, I haven’t. Should I?”

  Ramon made a disgusted sound. “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned anything, but that nigga always got some stuff going. If he calls you, just be careful.”

  I was smart enough to not be played by some young gangsta like DeMarco and wouldn’t take any of his calls. But was this the real reason Ramon was calling or was he trying to get in where he fit in himself? Did this youngster have a crush on me and didn’t know how to go about telling me? I told him I appreciated him giving me the heads-up.

  “No problem. Have a safe trip, boss.”

  I checked out my reflection in the mirror. Good thing I’d gotten a haircut that still looked fresh. “I will. Hey, maybe I can come check you out at one of your games when I get back.”

  Ramon sounded geeked. “That would be cool! I’ll send you a schedule through e-mail. I think the address was on your card.”

  “Yeah, it is, and do that. Take care, Ramon.”

  “I will.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  When Seth Sinclair walked into the conference room he looked a little bit startled. I figured it was because he remembered me. I stood up as he walked down to the end of the table. He was wearing white pants with a pink shirt and white sweater. It was a very high-class country club look that I saw a lot of in Miami.

  Seth looked and sounded annoyed as he said, “I thought I was meeting with a female. You don’t look like an Alexandria.”

  “She’s my business partner and couldn’t make the meeting, so I’m filling in for her. It’s good seeing you again, Mr. Sinclair,” I said as I extended my hand toward him.

  “Do I know you?” he asked without offering his hand.

  “Yes, we met before,” I said, a little offended that this asshole didn’t remember meeting me.

  “I don’t remember you, but that’s not unusual,” he said with an arrogant tone. “I meet a lot of people. I can only give you fifteen minutes. I have a golf game.” He sat down.

  Fifteen minutes would not be long enough for me to find information about Jah. For a moment, I didn’t know if I should start with telling him about our company or Jah.

  “Did you hear me?” he snapped. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

  I kept it cool and professional. “Yes, Mr. Sinclair, we would love the opportunity to do business with you on your next film. We have a roster of people, both male and female, that you might be interested in as extras and under five.”

  He shook his perfectly groomed head. “We don’t shoot a lot of films in Miami. There aren’t enough tax breaks.” Seth wasn’t looking at me, but out of the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking a busy street. This guy was so full of himself.

  “We can make it happen anywhere in the country you need us to,” I said.

  “Fine. Just leave your card with my assistant, Alice,” he said as he stood up and headed toward the door, again without a handshake or any acknowledgment.

  With his back facing me, I stood up and raised my voice. “Mr. Sinclair, where is Jah? I need to talk to him to make sure he’s doing okay.”

  Seth turned around and looked at me incredulously. “Who?”

  “Jah, the young man you moved out here. He’s a good friend of mine and I’m a little worried about him.”

  He looked at me as if I were insane. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Why would I move some young man out here? I’m a married man.”

  I stared hard into his eyes. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  “No, why would I lie about something lik
e that?” He stared back at me just as hard.

  “I met you at the party in Miami. I supply models through your assistant, Sterling. We met right before the party. That’s where you met Jah.” I didn’t know why this dude was trippin’; surely he remembered me. I knew he was doing this to say I wasn’t important enough for him to remember me. I worked for him and should act accordingly.

  Seth walked close to me. He stared me straight in the eyes and pointed his finger so close to my nose that I could almost feel it.

  His voice was deep and angry. “What kind of bullshit game are you playing with me? Do you know who the fuck I am?”

  I didn’t flinch. “I’m very much aware of who you are, Mr. Sinclair. I’m just trying to find my friend. He’s a good kid and he’s very impressionable. A man like yourself could really have a lot of influence over him.”

  He looked at me with shock that I had the gall to talk to him like this. “Look here, I don’t know what you’re talking about! Are you trying to extort money or business from me? I will call the FBI on you so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

  I shook my head. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m just trying to find my friend. Can you give me the address of where he’s staying?”

  He squinted at me. “Get the fuck out of my face. I don’t know you or what you’re talking about.” He shouted, “Leave my office! Now!”

  “Just tell me where Jah is!”

  He balled his fists. “Do I need to call security?”

  “No, sir, I don’t think that’s necessary because I mean you no harm. I just want to make sure Jah is all right. When I do that, I’ll be out of your way.”

  He almost did a double take as I spoke. I bet nobody had the balls to stand up to him like this.

  “I’m not Jah’s parent or guardian and if he wants to stay here with you, then there’s no way I can make him come back to Miami.”

  He looked at me like I was in deep shit. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with, but you’ll find out soon enough if you ever come to my office or anywhere near me talking shit. You got thirty seconds to get out of my office or else you might find yourself flying out that window.”

  I felt like I was on autopilot. Trembling inside, but not really afraid. Just fueled by my protective need to find Jah and make sure he was safe. “I’m not afraid of you, Seth. Just tell me where I can find Jah.”

  He glared at me, his eyes saying a million unspeakable things. “We’re done. Leave the premises.” Seth Sinclair walked out and slammed the door.

  Outside in the parking lot, I stood by my rental car and texted Warren, asking if he’d found out anything about Jah’s whereabouts. Warren usually texted me right back, so I stood in the hazy California sunshine, waiting a few minutes for a response. Nothing came. So I drove back to my hotel.

  I felt proud that I’d stood up to Seth. Not that I’d gotten any information out of him, but at least I tried. Then it hit me that I’d completely blown any chance of Picture Perfect supplying people for his films. What would I tell Alex?

  THIRTY-SIX

  Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any crazier, it did. I ordered room service and was thinking about my meeting with Satan Sinclair and how I was going to get him to tell me where Jah was. Warren finally texted me back. But it obviously wasn’t meant for me:

  Hey, Baby—you ready for some of this dick? Are you going to put on the purple panties I like?

  I started to ignore it but instead I texted back, “What?”

  A few seconds later, he sent me another text that was clearly intended for someone else:

  You know the panties you like to wear, dude. Hey, my boi Bentley is still asking questions about his boi. I told him I couldn’t find out anything yet but he keeps asking. Good thing he don’t know about the Wentworth asshole. He could make big problems for Seth.

  Rather than text back, I quickly saved the message in my phone. What was Warren talking about? Who was Wentworth? And his reference about Seth made it sound like Warren was “in” on protecting Seth. Plus, his reference to me and my questions about Jah made it sound like he wasn’t on my side. Was Warren double-crossing me? I stood there, stunned, wondering if this man that I loved and trusted was actually working against me.

  The hotel phone rang. Nobody knew where I was staying, except for Alex and Seth’s people, so I answered.

  “Mr. Dean, would you like fries or chips with your club sandwich?” the friendly female room service attendant asked.

  “Chips are fine,” I said.

  “Good choice. We do homemade chips and I think you’ll like them better than the fries.”

  When I hung up, another text came in from Warren. I guess he’d gotten his numbers and names straight, but hadn’t realized that he’d texted me earlier.

  Hey, Bent . . . how did your meeting go? I’m still trying to find out some information on your boi but everybody is being tight-lipped. How long are you in Cali? I want to see you before you leave.

  I simply texted back, “K!”

  About twenty minutes later, my room service order arrived. I signed the check and let the attendant out the door. Starving, I sat on the sofa and just as I picked up one of the quarters of my sandwich, my cell rang. It was sitting right next to me and when I looked down at the screen, my first thought was, It couldn’t be. The name on my phone was KIM BOSTON. Could this day get any more strange? I put down the sandwich and picked up the cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Bentley, is this you?” a tearful Kim asked.

  “Kim, what’s wrong? Yes, this is Bentley. What’s going on?”

  She sounded frantic. “You need to come to Detroit right away. Something terrible has happened.”

  This made no sense. Why in the world would Kim be the one to call me with bad news? About who? I shot up to my feet.

  “What, Kim? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your father,” she said quickly. “I think he’s had a heart attack. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

  I paced the hotel room. This made no sense. Why would Kim know something had happened to my father?

  “My father? What happened?”

  She sobbed. “I called 911 and they just showed up. They put this machine on him. Then they put him in an ambulance.”

  I struggled to connect the dots. Kim, my father, ambulance, hotel room? “Where are you, Kim? Is he going to be all right?”

  “I’m still at the hotel. We were in bed when it happened.” She sobbed. “I think you need to call your mother and sister and tell them to get to Mercy Hospital as soon as possible.”

  Did Kim say hotel and bed? Heart attack? What was happening? My own chest squeezed tighter and my head spun. She was crying, out of control.

  “Kim!” I exclaimed. “Kim, talk to me. What are you doing with my father?” The idea of them being together in bed in a hotel room for the reasons that most grown folks do, well, my brain just refused to go there. Even when I remembered Alex’s playful dish about Kim’s new wealthy boyfriend. “Kim?”

  She sighed loudly. “Bentley, we have to talk. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

  “You have to tell me something because this is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.”

  She spoke softly. “We didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Oh, I’ve been hurt! My father stopped talking to me because I told the truth,” I exclaimed, losing my patience with her lack of explanations. “What! Tell me, Kim!”

  “Your dad and I, well, we both missed you so much, we sort of bonded over missing Bentley Dean the third.”

  “Bonded?”

  The image of fine-ass Kim with my father—that shit was crazy.

  I walked quickly toward the bathroom, sure that my empty stomach would retch up something.

  “Bentley,” Kim said with a pleading tone. “Don’t be upset. Your father loves you so much. He misses you like you wouldn’t believe. I somehow thought I could bring you both back together.”

  Yes, tod
ay registered as the craziest day of my life. Kim thought she could inspire my father’s reconciliation by fucking him in a hotel room?

  “Kim, this is the most whack—”

  “Bentley, are you still in Miami?”

  “No! I’m in California.”

  “Then you need to get on a plane and get here. Call your mother.”

  She said it like all this was so matter-of-fact. I caught my reflection in the mirror; my skin was pale and my eyes were wide with shock. I started tossing my things back into the suitcase.

  “Kim, you and my father?”

  “I don’t want to get into that right now, Bentley. We can talk once you get here. I don’t think we should go into this over the phone.”

  “We already did,” I said. “I have to get off this phone to get in contact with my mother and sister. I also need to see when I can get a flight out of here.”

  “Would you like me to send your father’s private jet?”

  I stared at the phone. So she had that kind of clout in Father’s life?

  “No, I’ll make my own arrangements,” I said, wondering now what kind of relationship Kim had with my father.

  “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here and if there are any changes, I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks, Kim.”

  I hung up and started pacing the hotel room, wondering what I should do next. Did I call my mother or should I let my sister break the news to her? Was my father still alive and would I ever have the chance to tell him how much I loved him? I felt tears coming, but told myself to man up. This was no time for tears.

  I called the hotel concierge and asked for help with getting a flight to Detroit and a car service to take me back to LAX. She was very helpful when I told her the situation and promised to call me in ten minutes with arrangements.

  I paced again, scratching my head like my hair was protecting my thoughts on what I should do next. I picked up my phone and hit the speed dial with my mother’s number. The phone rang several times and suddenly my mother’s voice came on sounding so cheerful, but telling me that she was not around for chatting right now and to leave a message. I didn’t. Instead, I called my sister’s number.