“What?”
“Your husband. Does he ever come to New York to see you?”
“Naw, he doesn’t like New York. What made you ask about him?”
“Nothing, really. I just figured he probably missed you or you missed him,” I said as I sat back down on the sofa.
“Of course he misses me. There is only one problem, and that’s the fact that I don’t miss him. I mean, New York’s got a lot of fine young men willing to spend the evening with a beautiful and rich woman,” Ava said as she placed the brandy in front of me and took a small sip of her champagne.
“I’m so glad you’re not really upset with me, and I’ll start paying you back the ten thousand dollars in installments as soon as I get another full-time job,” I said, not looking at Ava directly but at the arrangement of white orchids sitting on a beautiful rosewood desk.
“And when might that be?” Ava asked.
“Hopefully very soon. I just finished a video for a young diva that’s going to be big, but they don’t pay much no matter how popular the singer. I’m going to start checking with some friends of mine about catering, and lately my agent has been sending me out on a lot of calls for film work,” I said. “It’s only extra work, but one day I might get lucky.”
“In starring roles, I hope,” Ava said, her voice rich with sarcasm.
“Yeah, right,” I said as I took a long sip of the wonderful-tasting brandy. The doorbell rang, and Ava hopped up from the sofa. As she rushed toward the door, she said, “Oh, I’d forgotten I had ordered more champagne and some caviar to celebrate.”
While Ava dealt with the good-looking Italian room-service waiter wearing tight-tight black pants, I was thinking how long it was going to take me to pay Ava back. How many nights would I have to work on my feet serving ungrateful assholes who might leave me a decent tip? I thought about how many times I was going to have to raise my sweater and have greasy-looking clients admire my chest and how many times I would have to drop my pants and show my ass like I was a jail inmate. Was I being realistic thinking Basil might one day call me, or was it just one of my crazy, convoluted dreams?
After the waiter left, Ava swooped back over to the sitting area and poured me some more brandy. I took a sip and felt it tingling my nostrils and going straight to my head. I couldn’t believe I was sitting in an expensive hotel suite sipping brandy and getting ready to eat caviar, something I didn’t even really like. Ava prepared the caviar on toast points like she had been doing it her entire life. When she looked at me and blinked, I noticed the first signs of crow’s-feet at the corner of her eyes and wondered if she worried about aging gracefully.
“So Bart, are you sure you don’t want to get back at that bastard? I would hate to spend time finding somebody else Basil has fucked over, and I’ve already invested a great deal of time and money in you,” Ava said in a soft voice that sounded both seductive and menacing.
“I’m sure,” I said as I took another sip of the brandy.
“Is there anything else I could offer you?”
“What else could you give me besides money?” I asked. I hoped this dragon diva didn’t think I wanted sex from her.
Ava took another sip of her drink and pursed her lips, then took a deep breath. “What if I helped you find your parents?” she asked flatly, without emotion and with a slight tightness in her voice. How did Ava know about my parents? As far as I was concerned, they were dead. There was a long silence, and my heart was beating with a bulletlike quickness.
“You look like you’re surprised that I know you were given up for adoption,” Ava said.
“I wasn’t given up for adoption. I was abandoned,” I said. “Who told you about that?” I demanded. I knew Ava was dangerous if she had been snooping around my family tree. But how much did she know, and did she really know where my parents, and I use the term lightly, were?
“Now, Bart, baby, honey, sweetheart. You’re talking to Ava. I know everything there is to know about you, baby. Well, almost everything. My sources told me you were adopted.”
“I was almost adopted,” I said mournfully.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said firmly.
“I understand, baby. But haven’t you ever wondered about your biological parents? I mean, they were young. Maybe now they’ve come to their senses and would welcome you back into their life with open arms. I could find out for you,” Ava said.
“You could do that?” I asked. What was I thinking? I didn’t want to meet two people I didn’t remember. Maybe Ava didn’t know as much as she thought. She obviously didn’t know my parents. Two people who had dropped me off at day care, never to return. Two people who had left me to grow up in a foster care system most of my adolescent life. When I was eight, a couple teased me with adoption plans, only to return me when I was eleven because they caught me with their thirteen-year-old son in a questionable position and thought I was a bad influence. Why in the fuck would I want to meet my parents now? I didn’t give a shit how young they were. Nobody asked them to bring me into the world.
“You’ve talked about your sister, but do you have any children of your own?”
“Honey, look at me. Does this body look like one that belongs to a mother?” Ava asked as she stood up and posed with her hands on her hips.
“I guess not. So you really think you could find my parents? I mean, if they’re still alive?”
“Darling Bart, Ava can do almost anything,” she said confidently.
“Then why don’t you get even with Basil without me?” I asked.
“Because he would come after me, and then my sister. Lord knows she’s been through enough. I’ll be honest with you, he’s holding some information he has on me. I know this might surprise you, but Ava hasn’t always been a good diva. Have you thought about what you’re going to say to the people on our list?”
“I was just going to say whatever you thought I should say.”
“What if I make a call, maybe to one of his clients? You listen to me and see how easy it is, and then you give it a try,” she said softly. She made it sound so easy, but when I still hesitated, she added toughly, “Basil doesn’t give a shit about you, and if you think he’s going to brand that beautiful ass of yours, then it’s just wishful thinking. He’s probably fucking some great-looking man right now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right, or some stank-ass female,” I said. My anger toward Basil and his partner was returning, aided by Ava and the alcohol.
“This is what I would do,” Ava said. “I would just call—say, for example, this new client of his, Daschle Thompson. I would say, ‘Do you know that your agent is a faggot?’ Don’t say ‘bisexual,’ because those dumb-ass jocks might not know what you’re saying. You need to use terms like ‘dick-suckers’ and ‘butt-fuckers.’ Don’t mention women, ’cause that might turn their sick asses on. Same thing with his father. He’s from the old school and won’t know what words like ‘bisexual’ and ‘gay’ mean. You have to talk on their level and use terms like ‘sissy’ or ‘punk,’” Ava continued. She was drinking, and I continued drinking, and all of a sudden Ava’s plan sounded like a lot of fun. I took another gulp of my brandy, and with glassy eyes and slurred speech I looked at Ava and said, “Give me the numbers and pass the phone.”
• • •
I woke up with a throbbing hangover, but I couldn’t let that stop me. Bart, old boy, you got some serious shopping to do. I took a quick shower and put on my leather pants and off-white turtleneck sweater. I called Wylie and left him a message asking if he could meet me at my apartment later that evening. I had some apologizing to do.
I walked down to Sylvia’s soul food restaurant even though the winter wind was blowing without mercy and I had left my skullcap at home. I reached Sylvia’s and was warmed by the packed restaurant and the rich scents coming from the open kitchen. I ordered chicken livers, scrambled eggs, grits and toast. I drank two cups of black coffee and then re
ached for my wallet and pulled out my little gift from Ava. A check for one hundred thousand dollars made out to Bartholomew Dunbar. I felt a little bad about what I had done to Basil, but I also felt I had earned every penny Ava had given.
I whipped out a little notebook and wrote down a “to do” list. I wrote down: Go to bank and deposit check; shop; pay rent for two months in advance; shop; go to gym and get haircut; shop some more. Just as I finished my list, the waitress placed a piping-hot plate of food in front of me and I began to chow down.
When I finished eating, I pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill and gave it to my waitress and told her to keep the change. My kindness caused an unexpected reaction. She started crying and said, “I’ve just got to hug you. I need some extra money so I can get my son some Jordans for his birthday. Thank you … thank you,” she said as she hugged me tight.
“Glad to do it. I’m a waiter too, and I know how hard you work,” I said.
“You wait tables somewhere up here in Harlem?” she asked.
“Naw, I worked downtown. But I don’t have to wait tables anymore,” I said cheerfully.
“What happened? Did you hit the lottery?”
“I guess you could say that.” I grinned as I put my jacket on and walked out of the bustling restaurant.
I stopped at the bank and deposited my check. When Mr. Bell, the banking officer, confirmed the funds’ availability, he approved a personal check for ten thousand dollars. I left the bank with one hundred crisp hundred-dollar bills bulging in my wallet, and stuffed it in my backpack. I then hopped on the number 6 train down to Fifty-third, transferred to the E and got off on Fifth Avenue.
I walked to Fiftieth and stopped in at Saks Fifth Avenue, where I quickly spent over three hundred dollars on new scents and various facial products I had only dreamed of being able to use. I left Saks and stopped at Versace, where I didn’t buy anything because even the doorman acted snobby. I moved over to Banana Republic, where I dropped seven hundred dollars in fifteen minutes on sweaters and slacks.
I had the most fun at my last two stops. First, I picked up a beautiful pen and silver cardholder for Wylie from Tiffany’s. My last purchase was three pairs of nylon mesh underwear from Gucci. Never before had my ass been caressed by underwear that cost one hundred and ten dollars, but my ass had earned them.
Before catching a cab uptown, I stopped in an American Express travel office and bought a first-class ticket to Santo Domingo for the following week. I had a feeling I might need to be on the DL when Basil figured out who was responsible for his outing. I saw no reason why I shouldn’t surround myself with gorgeous men while figuring out my next move.
Judgment Day
Kendra buzzed me on the intercom and told me my sister, Campbell, was on the phone.
“Put her through,” I said. I moved the forms I had been studying to the right of the desk and leaned back in my chair, then pressed the speaker button.
“What’s the good word, baby sister?”
“How you doing?”
“Great. What about yourself? How is Austin and my little man Cade?” I asked.
“Everybody is doing good. We miss you, and I must say, we even miss Brooklyn. But I’m getting used to Pittsburgh. I mean, the real estate market out here is really good, and there aren’t a lot of women of color selling high-end real estate,” Campbell said.
“You know you can come back to New York anytime you want to,” I said.
“I plan to visit sometime this summer. Are you sure everything is okay?” Campbell asked with some concern in her voice.
“Yeah, everything is cool. Business is great. Social life is okay. I have no complaints. Why do you ask?” I wondered if Campbell had heard Yancey’s song.
“I was just asking because I got a strange call last night,” Campbell said.
“What kind of call?”
“Some woman, or it could have been a man pretending to be a woman, called and asked if I was your sister. When I asked who was calling, this person just repeated the question. So I hung up the phone. A few minutes later, the same person called back and said, ‘I have some information about Basil Henderson you need to know, especially since you have a young son.’ When I asked again who I was speaking to, they got smart and told me to shut up and just listen. So I hung up again,” Campbell said.
“Did they call back?”
“No, but it was really eerie. When was the last time you spoke with Yancey?”
“Not that long ago. Did it sound like Yancey?”
“Not really. I was just wondering who had a reason to be mad at you, and Yancey was the first person that came to mind,” Campbell said.
“Yancey is too busy with her career to worry about me. I wouldn’t call us friends, but I think we’ve both moved on,” I said.
“That’s good. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Last night made me wish I had caller I.D. or something so I could find out who’s playing games with me and my family,” Campbell said.
“Yeah, you need to step into the new century, sis,” I said. Before Campbell could respond, Kendra used the intercom to tell me Daschle was on the phone with an urgent call. I was hoping he had finally agreed to meet with the tutor I’d found.
“I know you’re right. Give Cade a call when you get a chance. He asked about you this morning,” Campbell said.
“I’ll do that this evening. Hey, gotta go, sis. I need to take this call,” I said.
“Okay. I’ve got to get out and make some money. I love you,” Campbell said. Every time I heard her and Cade say those words it made my heart a little softer, and I had to keep myself from becoming some emotional punk.
“You know, it’s all love. I’ll talk to you later,” I said as I punched line two on my phone.
“D. Whatsup? You got some good news for me?” I asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you thought about the tutor?” I asked.
“Not really,” Daschle said.
“Then what’s going on?”
“I’m signing with PMK,” he said coldly.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to represent me anymore.”
“Why not?” I asked. I couldn’t believe my trying to help this mofo better himself was going to cost me a client.
“Let’s just say I got some information that don’t sit right with me.”
“What kind of information?”
“I don’t want to go into that right now. I’m with my girl,” Daschle said.
“Is she the reason?” I asked, remembering how I had suggested Daschle wait until he got his signing bonus before he started buying fleets of cars for his girl and family. He had agreed, and he didn’t seem to me like a man who was whipped when it came to the females in his life.
“Naw, I make my own decisions. And if this information I heard gits out, I think some of your other people gonna jump ship too,” Daschle said with an ominous tone. What information was the dude talking about? I wondered.
“D, dude, I thought we were tight. Tell me what happened. If I’ve done something to offend you or your crew, just tell me. I’m trying to make sure you get the best not only with the league, but with your life as well,” I said.
“Looks like to me you need to get your own life straight. Later,” Daschle said, without even saying goodbye.
• • •
I was approaching Brison’s office to tell him about Daschle’s defection when I heard Nico talking loud. This was not usual for Nico, but as I got closer, I heard him say my name, so I stood right outside the door to hear what he was saying.
“Brison, I’m telling you, if this shit is true, then we need to cut our losses and buy Basil out. Not only will he hurt the client base we got right now, but it will hurt any chances we have to sell the firm down the line,” Nico said.
“Don’t bring up that ‘let’s sell’ shit. Tell me what Jamal said.”
“He said that somebody called him and told him B was
a fucking faggot. Has been for a long time. Now that I think about it, he was never really against that faggot you tried to bring in the firm last year. What was his name?”
“You talking about Zurich Robinson?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“How does Jamal know this? I mean, it could just be gossip. Basil is our partner. We can’t try to buy him out based on a rumor. Every famous person around has been accused of being gay at some point. And what if he is gay? He still brings in clients. He’s a good partner,” Brison said.
I was proud that he was defending me, but what in the fuck was Nico talking about? And what was Jamal Hay-wood, one of our top baseball clients, doing spreading rumors about me? I felt like some little bitch eavesdropping, and for a moment I started to just bust in the office and confront Nico. Instead I cleared my throat and knocked on Brison’s door. There was a sudden hush, and then I heard Brison ask, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Brison,” I said as I walked into his office. Nico nodded and then looked away.
“What’s going on?”
“Looks like we got a little problem,” I said. Nico turned around and just looked at me like I was the lowest of the low. I wanted to punch his punk ass out, but I resisted.
“Problem?” Brison quizzed.
“Daschle is leaving the company,” I said.
“What? When did that happen? And why?” Brison asked.
“Yeah, tell us why, Basil,” Nico said. His voice sounded so businesslike and official and not like the man I regularly called buddy.
“I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with me confronting him about not being able to read,” I said.
“Daschle can’t read?” Brison asked.
“No, he can’t, and I called him on it and tried to get him some help,” I said.
“What’s so surprising ’bout that? A lot of our mutherfucking clients can’t read or add two plus two,” Nico said. “None of them have left the firm ’cause they’re dumb as dirt.”
“Are you sure he can’t read? How’d you find out?” Brison asked.
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