“I don’t have any money.” I was wishing she would move on before Myles wrapped up his conversation.
She hit me on the shoulder. “Girl, I don’t need your money. I just wanted to come say hi, that’s all. I’m happy your boyfriend got this building for us. We need it.” We stood in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.
“Okay, then,” I said, trying to ease closer to the car.
“You know, since Mama died, I hadn’t been back home, so I was just wondering how everyone was doing.” She lowered her head and her voice got soft. “I don’t want to go back till I’m completely cleaned up.”
I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but I still knew I had to wrap up our conversation. “I don’t know how anyone is doing. I don’t talk to them anymore.” I looked around nervously and noticed Myles heading to the car. “Oh, well, see you around.” I reached for the door to try to hurry and ease into the car.
“Maybe we can get together some—”
I slammed the car door before she could finish her sentence.
Myles joined me in the car. “Man, I’m tired. I can’t wait to get home. Who was that homeless person you were talking to?”
“Nobody. Just someone begging for money.”
Myles leaned back in his seat and loosened his tie. “I can’t for the life of me understand why those people don’t just get a job.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
Chapter 7
There had to be something major going on. Everyone in the newsroom was gathered around the big monitor that hung at the front of the room. I had just gotten in, late as usual. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get to work on time. Usually, I didn’t care what anyone thought, but today, I was thankful for the diversion. I know people have been whispering about my hours and I just wasn’t in the mood to add fuel to their fire. I glanced at Richard’s office. The light was off and the door was locked, which meant he wasn’t even in today. I relaxed a little.
“Oh, no! He’s gonna crash,” one of my colleagues shouted.
“He’s going down the freeway the wrong way!” another one screamed.
It sounded like they were watching another high-speed chase. I glanced up and saw the chopper camera aimed at the U-Haul flying down Interstate 610. Why do we insist on carrying those things live? I wondered as I made my way into my office.
“Don’t you want to watch this?” one of the photographers asked as he passed by my office.
“No. Unlike you people, I don’t get off by watching high-speed chases,” I snapped.
The photographer, Todd, laughed. “This is good. This dude just escaped from prison, held up the Bank of America downtown, shot a security guard and a six-year-old kid. Now, he’s about to kill somebody else flying down the freeway like that.”
I ignored Todd and grabbed my coffee cup before heading to the break room to fill up on my daily dose of java. I passed by the studio set where Keith, my male coanchor, was giving a play-by-play of what was going on.
After filling up my cup, I took a slow sip and savored the hot liquid as it slid down my throat. Myles was pleased with the ribbon-cutting ceremony so he’d wanted to go out to a jazz club. We were up late celebrating. I was absolutely worn out.
I glanced up at the TV in the break room and shook my head again at the way our helicopter camera followed every move of the U-Haul.
I was making my way back out to the newsroom when one of the reporters stopped me. “Rae, that guy has the same last name as you.” He laughed, pointing to the mug shot that was flashing on the screen. “You sure that isn’t your brother?”
I prepared to roll my eyes when I glanced up at the TV set. The next thing I knew, my cup of coffee had slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. The noise made everyone jump and turn toward me, but the panicky voice of the helicopter pilot quickly diverted their attention.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the TV. Kevin. Oh, my God. That was my cousin’s mug shot plastered across that set. What the hell was going on? How could I be dealing with two of my relatives within the same week? I hadn’t seen him in years, but there was no denying it. Those were his features, the narrow, cleft chin and eerie-looking eyes. Then they flashed his name on the screen—Kevin Rollins—and I swear, I thought I would pass out right there.
I managed to compose myself and ask Keria, one of the assistant producers, what was going on.
“Girl, this guy overpowered a guard in a prison work-release program in Huntsville and escaped. They say he’s from Arkansas and a dangerous felon. He supposedly killed four people.” Keria’s wide eyes remained glued to the set.
I felt my throat dry up. I was so grateful no one knew I was from Arkansas.
“You know, I feel sorry for his family,” Keria said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand what kind of upbringing breeds a cold-blooded killer.”
I could barely talk. Kevin’s mother, my aunt Ola, my mother’s oldest sister, was a churchgoing, God-fearing woman. She had done her best to raise her one girl and eight boys. But seven of the boys turned out terrible. And her only daughter, Nikki, was the biggest slut this side of the Mississippi. I wondered if Aunt Ola had any idea it was to this extreme with Kevin. This would kill her.
“Rae, are you all right?” Keria asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I-I just have to get back to work.”
“I think the whole newsroom is on an official break while they watch America’s Most Wanted,” Keria joked.
But I was in no laughing mood. That was my cousin, a wanted murderer/bank robber/escapee/God-only-knew-what-else, speeding down the highway.
I moaned as I walked back into my office. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. If I ever needed confirmation that getting away from my relatives was the best thing that had ever happened to me, this was it.
Chapter 8
I was still stunned over seeing Kevin this morning and had been holed up in my office all day trying to get my bearings about me.
I wondered if Aunt Ola knew; a question that was answered as soon as I checked the voice mail messages in my office.
“Raedella, it’s Mama Tee. Just letting you know your cousin Kevin done up and broke out of jail,” Mama Tee said in the message. “He robbed a bank, hurt some folks and we heard he was down your way. Lord, Ola ’bout to lose her mind. If you see that boy, you ask him what in the world is he thinking and tell him to take his butt back to that prison. Oh yeah, Shondella got promoted to manager at Jr. Food Mart and Mrs. Miller gon’ have to have her leg cut off. I told her that diabetes was gon’ get her if she didn’t take care of herself. You call me back and—” My machine cut her off. Her message actually made me smile. Not only because she just kept calling me with these crazy family updates, but I wondered if she actually thought I’d see Kevin—other than video of him running from police.
I shook my head as I deleted the message. I was contemplating whether I should call Mama Tee back when I glimpsed up to see Simone standing in my doorway. She had a hesitant look across her face.
“Yes, what is it, Simone?”
She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t know whether she should.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Actually I wasn’t. I was about to read the latest issue of Essence. But she didn’t need to know that. “If you have something to say, spit it out.”
“I…I was just wondering if you would take a look at my audition tape and give me some feedback,” she stammered.
So I was right on target. She did want to be on air. Probably wanted my job. I frowned up at her.
She spoke again. “It’s just, well, I respect your work and would love to, umm, get some constructive criticism on how I can improve.”
I leaned back in my chair. The girl was brave. Part of my persona as this high-powered diva was being unapproachable, yet she still felt compelled to come ask for my opinion. If she wasn’t trying to take my job, I might have some admiration for
her. Might. “I don’t know, Simone. I’m really busy.”
Simone stepped into my office, a pleading look across her face. “I know that, so just whenever you get around to it, if you could maybe take a look at it…”
I sighed, making sure my irritation was evident. “Sorry, you’ll just have to ask someone else.”
Simone managed a smile. “I understand. I just thought I’d ask.” She turned to leave.
I thought about it, then stopped her just as she reached the door. Maybe I needed to see what she had. “Simone, give me the tape. I can make time. I’ll do all I can to help another sister out.” I gave her a phony smile.
Simone quickly turned around, beaming with excitement. “Oh, thank you so much! I really appreciate this.” She handed me the small Beta tape. “I won’t harass you about it, just whenever you get a chance to look at it would be good.”
“Umm-hmmm. I’ll get around to it.” I threw the tape down on my desk, then turned back to my computer, acting as if I were engrossed in my screen.
“Thank you, Rae. And I am thick-skinned. So I can take an honest assessment.”
I waved her off. Believe me, I was going to be honest. The girl had to learn the hard way that this was a cutthroat business. If down the line she ever hoped to compete with someone of my caliber, she would have to be able to endure the hard times.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure she was gone, then I got up, walked over, and closed my door. I grabbed the tape off my desk and popped it in the outdated Beta machine in the corner of my office. I pulled up a chair, sat down, and pressed play.
“Knock, knock.”
Shereen’s voice startled me. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. I glared at her. “Most people knock, then wait for an answer before they come in.”
“I’m not most people. Whatcha doing?”
I grinned. “I’m about to watch Simone’s audition tape. You in for a good laugh?”
Shereen pulled up a chair next to me. “I’m always down for a good laugh. I didn’t know Simone wanted to be on air.”
“Don’t they all? The tape just started.” We turned our attention back to the TV. I turned up the volume. Simone was already in the middle of her first story. It was about the police department being under fire for shoddy procedures at the DNA lab. She did a stand-up—the part of the story where you see her walking and talking to tell us something about the story—and in this case, showing how a leak in the roof had allowed rain to drop on critical DNA evidence. I remember seeing the story on air. She had actually told my boss about it, but because she was just a production assistant, they gave the story to another reporter to do. I guess she put a story together herself for her tape.
The next two stories were also rehashes of stories that had aired on our news. But they were actually written better than the ones that had aired.
I stopped the tape before her last story could finish.
“Damn,” Shereen said, looking at me with her mouth open. “That heifer is good.”
I got up and turned the TV off. “She’s all right.”
“All right? Man, she’s better than half the reporters we have on air right now. I’m in awe.” Shereen was shaking her head.
“She wasn’t that good. Did you see the way her hair looked on that first report? She really needs to see a stylist to do something about those split ends.”
Shereen laughed. “All you can find negative to talk about is how she looks? Come on, you know those stories were da bomb.”
“Shereen, nobody says da bomb anymore.”
“I do. Anyway, it’s just a matter of time before someone snatches her up and puts her on air. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got a job in a nice-sized city real soon.”
“Please. She needs to take her little tail to Victoria, Texas, and pay some dues like the rest of us.”
Shereen’s smile faded. She got up, then walked over to my desk, plopping down in the chair in front of it. “Can I ask you something? Truthfully, why do you treat her so bad? She’s a really nice girl.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t feel like getting into this with Shereen, but she was the type that wouldn’t let up, so I decided to go ahead and be real. “Look, I know her type. Little yellow girl who thinks she can break into this business because of her looks. She’s in for a rude awakening and I’m just trying to prepare her.” I had been where Simone was, bright-eyed and ready to conquer the world. She had to be tough to make it, and believe it or not, I was really trying to toughen her up.
“But you have to admit, the girl is good,” Shereen said.
“I don’t have to admit anything. Even if she is that good, which she’s not, she doesn’t need to get a big head.”
“Like you?” Shereen smiled slyly.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Look, I used to be Simone. Cute, thought I was full of talent, and ready to take on the world. I got to Tyler and reality hit me smack dead in the face. I was the only black person working there, and those people treated me like dirt. I was nice and people ran over me left and right.”
“You don’t seem like you were ever nice.”
“Shut up and let me finish.”
Shereen shrugged.
“As I was saying, I cried myself to sleep so many nights. I turned to the only other black person in the business and she was mean to me, too. But you know what? It made me a stronger person. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“You’re doing it well.”
“Whatever.”
“It just seems to me that as people of color, we should be more supportive of one another, not fighting like crabs in a bucket,” Shereen said matter-of-factly.
“I’m no crab,” I protested.
“Hmph. If you say so.”
“That little Miss Thang has nothing that I want. She’s the one who wants my job.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure that eventually she’d like to have your job. But I doubt very seriously she wants to take your job from you right now.”
“Not that she even could.”
“Exactly. So why do you feel threatened?”
“Shereen, no offense, but you work in promotions. The news business is a different creature. I don’t feel threatened from that little wannabe. But all my life, no one has given me anything. I have had to work for everything, twice as hard. So, I’m just trying to prepare that girl for the hard days ahead.”
“Oh, so this is all about you caring for her?”
“Something like that.”
“Yeah, okay. Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you like I do.” Shereen got up and walked toward the door. “You don’t care about nobody but yourself.”
I resented that comment. And why was my so-called friend going off on me?
Shereen stopped in the doorway. “Oh, yeah, you care about me, too.” She smiled. “I don’t know why, and even though you try and act hard, I really think you care about our friendship, which is why I’m still hanging around. So, stop pouting at me for being real with you. And don’t forget, you’re going to church with me Sunday.”
“I never said anything about going to church with you Sunday.”
“Ummm, yes, you did. I told you last month I wanted you to come with me on the twenty-first because my niece was singing a solo. You promised.”
I raised my eyebrows. I remembered making that promise, I just never thought Shereen would hold me to it. She knew I seldom went to church.
“If you don’t go with me, you can forget about me being your friend,” Shereen playfully threatened. “I’m always there when you call. Maya is your biggest fan and I told her you’d be there. So do this one thing for me. Okay? Thanks, you’re a doll.” Shereen blew me a kiss, then sashayed out.
I reluctantly smiled. Shereen was my girl. Even though I didn’t agree with some of the stuff she’d said earlier, I knew she was frank. She loved me despite my faults and I couldn’t help but love her as well. If she wanted me there for her niece, I’d be t
here.
Chapter 9
I studied the numbers in my checkbook register once again. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I kept coming up short $200. I eased out my calculator and tried to balance the numbers again.
Shereen leaned over toward me and hissed, “I can’t believe you’re sitting up in church balancing your checkbook.”
“What? I need to do something. This man is about to put me to sleep,” I whispered back. I knew I shouldn’t have let Shereen talk me into coming to church with her today. Even though I’d grown up in the church, I just didn’t get anything out of coming. I hadn’t regularly attended since I’d left Sweet Poke and hadn’t even set foot in a church since Easter Sunday last year. My disdain probably came from Mama Tee forcing us to go to church every time the dang doors opened.
Shereen poked me in my side and motioned for me to put the checkbook away. I reluctantly slid it back into my purse. I should just leave. Shereen’s niece Maya had already performed her solo, which was absolutely beautiful. So, I’d done what I’d promised I would do. But I knew Shereen would have a fit if I tried to leave. Besides that, we were seated right in the middle of the pew and I’d have to cross over several people to make an escape.
I sighed, leaned back, and tried to turn my attention back to the preacher. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, strikingly handsome with a salt-and-pepper beard. Shereen had told me he was a widower; his wife had recently died from a heart attack. And from the looks of the women in the pews salivating over his every word, it seemed like the Reverend Simon Jackson could have his pick of women willing to step into the first lady’s shoes.
“The problem is, God speaks to us all the time, we just don’t hear him,” Pastor Jackson said.
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