by Lolita Files
Meredith saw her opening, the one she had been waiting for, yawning its opportunity before her.
“I might even have something that will placate the networks in the face of all this.”
He looked up, frowning.
“Placate them how? They don’t want to be placated. They want fucking solutions!”
She sat upright on the leather couch, her breasts pointing towards him like two cannons about to fire.
“Remember when you told me once that if I brought you a show, a really good show, you would let me have a creator’s credit and get my chance at building my own little kingdom?”
He frowned deeper.
“Yes, yes,” he replied with irritation, “but what does that have to do with what we’re talking about now?”
“Well … I have said show. Something that will make the networks’ mouths water. It’s diverse, and you know how uptight everyone is with all the issues about diversity in Hollywood right now. The networks are under pressure to provide more representation.”
Wade’s face was a scowling outline in the dim shadows where he was standing.
“Go on,” he grunted.
“It’s a dramatic series, based in Los Angeles, revolving around five characters in a restaurant setting. They’re rich, they’re middle class, they’re black, white, and everything in between. Each of them has a struggle of the mind and heart. I’ve got it all laid out, and, Wade, the demographics it will reach—you can’t even imagine!”
Wade listened, desperate for a solution.
“How come you never told me about it before?” he grumbled.
“Timing, honey. Timing is everything. I just worked out the full proposal a few days ago. How ironic it is that we may get to use it now.”
Meredith was up, sauntering across the room to him. She slid her arms around his shoulders, pressing her full breasts against his back. The two were dim silhouettes against the flickering lights of the houses in the hills behind them.
“I don’t know, Meredith,” he said with a heavy sigh. “This situation has to be resolved, and I’m not so sure that this is the way to do it.”
“Wade, calm down,” she whispered. “This situation can and will be handled, and this is exactly the way to do it.” She slid her hands down to his chest, gently tweaking his nipples.
“First thing Monday morning,” she said, “we call up the networks. We won’t wait for them to call us. We tell them we’re already culling new writers for Stickies and Westwood, only the best the WGA has to offer. We give them an action plan for both shows.”
“Are you going to come up with the action plan?”
“I already have it under control.”
She slid her hands downward, running her fingers across the ridges of his tight abdominal muscles.
“We let them know this was an internal fracture that may have temporarily impacted the company, but that the company had nothing to do with it and we can immediately recover.”
Her wandering hands were now down around his boxers.
“Then we show them the proposal. We tell them it’s what we believe will be our next big hit, something we had been keeping under wraps, but now we want to offer it as a good-faith gesture of our commitment to excellence in television programming. Then we see if we can pitch it to them and get things rolling.”
Her fingers were rolling across the vent in his shorts. She pressed down firmly, feeling his hardness spring forth.
“And you have the proposal ready?” he groaned.
“I do. It’s on my computer at home. All I have to do is print it out and package it as a company presentation.”
Wade, unable to resist his body’s call, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against her. He reached back, draping his arms around her, resting his hands in the small of her back. He ran his finger across the tiny, delicate, fleshy ridge, her spot, and she moaned with pleasure. His hardness caused his shorts to tent, creating an interesting reconfiguration of their silhouettes against the sky.
“What’s the name of this show?” he asked.
“Native Suns,” Meredith replied, triumphant. She was impressed at her ability to come up with a name so quickly. She cupped him in her hands, massaging him with her fingers and her words.
“We can do this, Wade. You and I, together. We’ll restore Massey-Weldon’s good name. And everything will be just fine. Even better.”
Wade was weak, almost faint, as he surrendered to her hypnotic touch. It all made sense. Everything she was saying had an absolute order.
As the hormones rushed from his pituitary to his privates, he began to envision Meredith as the company savior, an ideal he reserved exclusively for his wife.
If Meredith had suggested at that moment that they leap, hand in hand, from the office window because they could fly, Wade would have happily submitted, so strongly did he believe her words.
“We’ll pitch it on Monday,” she whispered, gently kneading his groin. “Together. You and I.”
“Yes, yes,” he moaned in submission. “You and I will pitch it.”
“The hell you will!” Anna Weldon proclaimed.
Meredith backed away from Wade, jettisoning him without a second thought. Her hands were covering her breasts. Wade remained frozen, the tent in his pants still prominent.
Before he could even respond, Anna, a petite woman, was using her dainty hands and feet to restore order back to the company she co-owned. She ran her fingers through her bobbed thick black hair and assessed the chaos of the room. A woman of refined confidence and pragmatic spirit, she began switching on lights as she walked about the office, announcing to them what would be done.
“If anybody’s going to present this Native Suns deal, it will be me and my husband,” she said.
Anna had obviously been in the room for a while to know the title of the project.
“You have the proposal at your house?” she asked Meredith.
Meredith nodded.
“Put it together and have it couriered here to the front desk by Sunday morning. Send the action plan you talked about as well.”
Meredith nodded.
Anna turned to Wade.
“I’ve already requested a meeting with our people at NBC. The president will also be there. We’re scheduled for two o’clock. We’ll pitch it to them then, and get the rest of this debacle cleared up. We’ll talk to ABC next.”
She turned back to Meredith.
“Please gather up your clothes and leave my husband’s office. I’ll contend with you on Tuesday. Don’t come back until then.”
Meredith, burning with humiliation and outrage, picked about the room like a hen, searching for errant articles of lingerie, her skirt, blouse, jacket, and black block heels.
Anna stood sentinel, waiting until she had collected everything. Her eyes met Meredith’s. Meredith slunk from the room.
She disappeared into the hallway, hovering in the shadows just outside Wade’s office. She watched as Anna approached him, stopping just a few feet away.
Wade’s head hung to his chest like a forlorn child. After a few chill moments, Anna opened her arms. Wade rushed into them and began to cry. Anna’s arms closed around him, wrapping him up within her bosom as if she were a guardian angel.
Anna glanced up, out into the hallway. She saw Meredith in the shadows, watching. For a moment, their eyes met.
Meredith turned away, still naked except for her panties and the bundle of clothes she held close to her body. She made her way down the hall, then stopped to slip back into her clothes and shoes.
Anna wouldn’t get away with this.
Meredith realized that she had lost the fight for Wade. She saw now that she had never stood a chance to begin with.
Anna was a different story.
And when it came to her, Meredith noted, Anna obviously didn’t know exactly who it was she was dealing with.
MIDLOGUE #2
“You can’t stay here. I can’t handle this anymore. I’m tired
of all the boys and the drugs. And turn that TV off!”
Fine, Alicia thought as she kept flipping through channels. The boys and the drugs are tired of your ass, too.
It was time she cleared out of this shitty old space.
“I don’t have to stay here,” she yelled in the direction of the bedroom. “I’m grown, whether you choose to believe it or not. I’m about to break out and go to California!”
“California? For what? What’s in California for you but more trouble?”
“I guess trouble follows me everywhere I go,” Alicia sang under her breath.
She flipped through more channels, stopping on Ricki Lake to check out a sexy guy sitting onstage between two feuding women.
“Ooh, he is too fine,” she said to the television as she licked her lips.
“Haven’t you had enough trouble in your life as it is?”
Alicia, rolled her eyes.
“What you got, a seven-second delay or something? Ain’t nobody even talkin’ ’bout that shit anymore.”
“Stop cussin’ in my house.”
“Stop giving me reasons to cuss.”
A wailing sound came from the back of the room. Alicia shook her head, clicked off the television, and got up from the recliner.
“I’m outta here,” she yelled. “Thanks for raising me by your damn self after Gramps died. California here I come!”
“Where will you get the money?”
“Don’t worry about that, I already got loot.”
The wailing wafted down the hall and filled up the living room.
“I will not miss this shit,” Alicia mumbled.
She walked to the closet and grabbed her FUBU jacket. It matched the FUBU overalls she wore.
She pulled a skullie over her starter locks. Some of them were unraveling because her hair was too fine and too curly. It was chilly outside, and it was a far walk to the station. She pulled the skullie all the way down over her ears.
She felt her left pocket. Inside was twenty-five hundred dollars, compliments of her current boo.
Alicia was gonna miss him, he could pack a mean blunt. But a rolling stone like her had to keep moving before she gathered too much moss.
She wasn’t taking anything but what was on her body and in it. She was making afresh start, in a fresh place, with fresh cash.
She reached into her right pocket. There was a slip of paper with a phone number scratched on it. Alicia had gotten it from the Internet. She was a whiz on the Net. She’d found the phone number when she found out all that other business, the time she was online looking into her birth records. The discovery shocked her, but filled her with interest and intrigue. Many searches and discoveries later, she was seriously piqued. Enough to make her want to take the show on the road, all the way to California.
Every now and then, she dialed the phone number and hung up.
Once she got to Cali, she would use it for real.
I’m feeling a little hellafied, she thought as she left the house and headed down the street. I think it’s time I give my dear sweet mama a good old-fashioned wake-up call.
PART THREE CHANGE
PERSON TO PERSON
Are you alright?”
Bettina was in bed, on the phone. It was the same tainted bed she had vowed, just yesterday morning, to replace. Now she couldn’t afford to do it. She was out of a job and needed to hold on to as much of her money as she possibly could.
She still hadn’t replaced all the underwear she’d thrown away. It had been her plan to go shopping for new items after work yesterday, but that never came to fruition, either.
After she’d been summoned to Wade’s office, then accused by Meredith, everything else had gone downhill.
She was escorted from the Massey-Weldon building like a common thief, in front of everyone. Humiliated, she jumped into the Viper, closed out the world, and got from Century City to Santa Monica in record time, in spite of the Friday traffic. Once she entered her condo, she stayed there. She had been in bed sulking ever since.
Bettina would still have to buy underwear. There was no getting around it. She would just have to use her credit cards.
The beginning of a new month was also coming around in a few days, and with it came a new cycle of bills. She was going to have to use her credit cards to pay for most of those. She didn’t have any backup options, especially since she had kicked all her well-heeled lovers to the curb.
She was in a big blue Spelman T-shirt and had on a pair of white footies. She didn’t have on anything underneath the T-shirt.
She had the remote in her hand, flipping channels. When the phone first rang, it startled her. Once she realized it was Steve, that surprised her even more.
“How did you find out what happened?” she asked.
“I got a call from Nina Swanson,” Steve said.
“Today?”
“Yeah, actually, this morning around nine, before I went to the gym.”
It was now one o’clock in the afternoon.
“Why would Nina call you on a Saturday and tell you I got fired? Are people that starved for gossip that they’re willing to give up their weekends for it?”
“No, Bettina. It wasn’t anything like that.”
She flipped the TV from channel to channel, not even registering the images as they passed across the screen.
“How was it, then?” she asked. “Explain it to me.”
Steve cleared his throat.
“I was thinking about you a little yesterday after we left. So I called Nina and left her a voice message telling her to have you call me. I didn’t want to bother you while you were working the phones.”
“Didn’t you have to talk to me when you called there for her?”
“No. I dialed her direct extension.”
Bettina sighed listlessly.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked. “Am I keeping you from something?”
She flung the remote on the bed.
“No, Steve, you’re not keeping me. I’m just worried, and a little stir-crazy, and a whole lot of other things. I don’t know what to do, now that I don’t have a job. I’ve never been fired before, do you know that?”
“But you were leaving anyway.”
“Yeah, but on my own terms. I wasn’t expecting them to fire me!”
Out of nowhere, she burst into tears.
Steve was on the balcony of his apartment in Beverly Hills. He had debated and debated with himself before he mustered the nerve to dial her number. Once they started talking, he began to relax. He was wearing a blue windsuit and Nikes, and was leaning back in a canvas director’s chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. When he heard her cry, he sat up in a panic.
“Bettina! Bettina!”
“What?” she wailed pitifully. “Stop screaming my name like that. I’m alright … it’s just tears. Haven’t you ever heard a woman cry before?”
“I don’t deal with tears very well,” he admitted.
“Well, then, maybe you ought to hang up.” She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with her comforter. “What did you call me for, anyway? Why all the sudden interest in me?”
“I was worried about you,” he said.
“Oh. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Steve hesitated.
“I was also thinking that, maybe …” His words trailed off.
“Maybe what?” she asked, reaching for the remote again. She needed something in her hands to make her feel busy. Somewhere to send all that extra nervous energy.
“You know, I was wondering if, perhaps, you’d be interested in …”
“Hold on a sec, my phone just beeped.”
Steve was staring down from the balcony at the cars passing below on Wilshire Boulevard.
“I’m so tired of whoever it is that’s doing that,” Bettina announced, clicking back over. “If you’re gonna call my house, dammit, speak. I got five years’ worth of hangup calls working at that front desk.”
“See,” Steve
said. “A few minutes ago you were crying because you were fired. Now here it is, you’re complaining about the job.”
Bettina smiled a little.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s more my ego than anything. I take pride in my work, even if it is just answering phones. Actually, that sounds even worse. All I did was answer phones, and I got fired from that.”
“Stop reaching. You were moving on anyway. Think about the fact that you’d been there for five years and never got promoted.”
Bettina thought about it.
“True. But that’s all the more reason why I should have walked out on them, and not let them send me packing. Do you know that I was just about to—”
“Would you mind having lunch with me?” he blurted.
He gripped the edge of the balcony, closed his eyes, and waited for the blow.
“What did you just ask me?” Bettina whispered.
Steve sighed, not wanting to have to say it again.
“I wondered if you’d be interested in having lunch.”
“But it’s already after one o’clock.”
“I eat late on the weekends. And I thought it would be good for you to maybe get out into some of this beautiful LA smog.”
Bettina leaned back against her pillows, smiling.
“Is this a boss asking a new employee out to a business lunch?” she asked.
“Uh-uh,” he said.
“Is this a man asking a woman out on a date?”
He breathed heavily, the top of his lip breaking out in a sweat.
“I suppose it is.”
Bettina was quiet.
“I know it probably seems awkward,” Steve said. “You’re black, I’m not.”
“Actually, Steve, that doesn’t bother me,” she replied. “I think you’re a handsome man. Color can’t take away from simple fact.”
Steve leaned against the balcony, his eyes still closed. He couldn’t tell where she was going with her comments. Was she about to say yes?
“Thank you, Bettina. That does wonders for my ego.”
“I’m sure your ego gets along just fine.”
Bettina took in then released a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” he said.