Boss Lady

by Omar Tyree

  I walked further into the room and spotted Alexandria under the covers with her nightclothes on. I could see them from her shoulders.

  “So, are you guys going to be up all night or what?”

  It smelled normal in there, like an air conditioner, carpet, and hotel sheets. Alexandria looked normal, too. Her light brown hair was still intact, and her face was not flushed or sweaty. I guess I didn’t have any idea what to expect out of a sexcapade.

  Maddy said, “You’re in the wrong room for that shit. We have to beat on the walls five times a night to stop Sasha and Jasmine from goofing the hell off. I know you can hear them in there.”

  “Yeah, I can hear them,” I admitted.

  I looked at Alexandria under the sheets. She looked totally relaxed and satisfied.

  I said, “So I guess you’re going to be well rested for tomorrow now.”

  She nodded her head and said, “Yup.”

  I couldn’t find any way to attack her. She looked too damned poised.

  I said, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you guys be then. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” I joked.

  “What bedbugs?” Maddy asked me.

  “The ones that crawl up in your sheets at night and give you the itches,” I commented. I was just talking to spark any conversation I could from them.

  Maddy looked at me and frowned.

  She said, “Girl, it sounds to me like you need to see the damn doctor.”

  All of a sudden, Alexandria started laughing loud, louder than usual for her. Even Maddy looked at her funny.

  She said, “You been in here smoking something, girl? It wasn’t that damn funny.”

  Alexandria shook her head and didn’t comment.

  I looked at her and said, “Have you been out of bed at all since you’ve been in the room tonight?” I wondered if she would walk funny or something. I was looking for anything.

  She said, “Yeah, to use the bathroom, and for room service. What else am I gonna get up for?”

  I looked around the room and spotted a room service tray with the remains of a nearly finished small pizza. I then looked for signs of dinner for two, but there was only one tray and not enough food on it for two. That was a long shot.

  I finally said, “Okay.”

  Alexandria asked me, “What are you looking for?”

  I wondered if she was on to me.

  I said, “Nothing.”

  “It seems to me like you’re looking for something,” Maddy commented.

  “I know, right,” Alexandria added.

  I looked over at Maddy. Was she trying to help Alexandria out?

  I shook my head and said, “All right, let me get to bed. You guys are boring,” I told them.

  “You know that already,” Maddy told me. “If you want a slumber party, go next door.”

  Alexandria started laughing again.

  Maddy looked at her a second time and said, “You must have been smoking something. Who brought you some reefer?”

  “Whatever,” Alexandria told her.

  I repeated, “Reefer? You use that word? I thought it was chronic.”

  “What does it matter, you don’t smoke either one of them,” Maddy commented. She was a lot more street than any of us.

  I said, “And you do?”

  “I did. I have. Yeah,” she answered.

  I asked her, “How does that stuff make you feel?”

  I had never touched a blunt or a cigarette a day in my life.

  Maddy said, “Damn, you sound like a square bitch.”

  Alexandria laughed a third time and shook her head again.

  Maddy looked at her and didn’t comment.

  I said, “Okay, well, let me retire to my room.”

  “You said that three minutes ago and you haven’t budged yet,” Maddy stated.

  I joked and said, “I have to warm up to it.”

  “Well, warm your ass out of here.”

  I shook my head and left the room. I guess Alexandria had gotten away with her creep. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. For what? So I went on about my business.

  * * *

  At the final casting on Thursday, we had really narrowed down our potential actresses and actors. That’s when things got really tense. We had had a peaceful time up until then. But we had too many nonprofessional girls all vying for a role they each considered to be their life calling.

  I still liked Shannon Gray, but she was no longer the clear leader. We had a girl from Baltimore, one from Chicago, and one from St. Louis, who had flown in and were getting the job done. Ironically, no girl from Philly was strong enough in the lead. Philadelphians were locking down most of the minor, one-line roles, but that just wasn’t good enough for some of them.

  There was a crew of girls who had auditioned from South Philly, and two of them were still left for the lead. However, when Tracy told them what I thought she would—that they just were not convincing enough—they caused a ruckus.

  “Wait a minute, so you’re telling me that you’re going to have a girl from somewhere else play this role? I mean, you don’t have anybody from Philly playing any of the leads.”

  I guess they had been checking the bios and asking around to see where people were from.

  Tracy said, “You don’t have to be from Philadelphia to play a Philadelphian, but you do have to be convincing in this movie.”

  “And I’m not convincing?” the South Philly girl questioned.

  She was a little too hard-edged for me. She didn’t have enough of the innocence that we really needed in the role of TRACY. She wasn’t jaded enough to play MERCEDES. She didn’t have enough body for CARMEN. She didn’t look as athletic as we felt JANTEL should look. And playing the roles of RAHEEMA or KIWANA was out of the question for this girl. But I surely felt she could have played a TRACY HATER in the movie. She was convincing enough in that role.

  Tracy maintained her poise with the girl.

  She said, “You’re convincing in some things, but not enough in others.”

  “Well, isn’t that what practice is for?” the second girl from South Philly jumped in and stated. They were both in the same boat.

  Robin spoke up and said, “You can practice all you want on your own time, but talent is talent, and as of right now, you don’t have enough of that to play a lead in this movie.”

  Whoa! Robin was a lot more forward than Tracy had been, but that’s why she was the casting director.

  “Well, that’s fucked up!” the first girl stated. “And I do have talent. We both have talent. But what are y’all looking for?”

  Robin spoke up again and said, “We’re looking for girls who are professionals; actors and actresses who do not curse out the casting director and the producers, actors and actresses who are on time, actors and actresses who come prepared for the role, and talented people who know that it takes hard work and dedication, and not self-righteous attitude to get the job done.”

  Robin had told them what time it was quick. However, my cousin Tracy went soft on them.

  She said, “We’ll keep your names and contact information. I believe that you are talented, and I’ll be willing to work with you.”

  The girls thanked Tracy and cut their eyes at Robin as they left.

  Robin pulled Tracy to the back of the stage and spoke to her in lowered tones, but I could still hear them.

  She said, “Tracy, like I told you before, you are going to create a mess by giving these girls so much false hope. Now if they don’t make the cut, they don’t make the cut.”

  Tracy said, “Look, we can’t come to Philly and piss everybody off because it will spoil their support for the film.”

  Robin argued, “Tracy, do you actually believe that these people won’t go and see this movie once it comes out? Now they’re all going to come back and enjoy their roles as extras, I promise you that. But for right now, we have to focus on these leads. And as we already know, the leads we’re choosing may only be temporary, if we really want this film t
o work.”

  She said, “It happens all the time. You start with a working cast as a model, then you upgrade the film with real stars to sell it, and the people who can stick through and fight their way in, God bless their souls. But you need to know this by now, Tracy. They are not you, and they can relate to your story all they want, but the reality is the reality. A star is a star is a star, and excuse my broken English here, but everybody ain’t gon’ be one.”

  * * *

  Even though we had less people at the final casting audition on Thursday, it was definitely the hardest day of the week for all of us. The tension was fatal in there. Everyone wanted what they wanted, and the results left us all exhausted and still incomplete. We still had several people we all liked in several of the roles, so Tracy decided to leave it up to the next stage, which was finding out if any star attachments would pay off.

  Before we were able to pack up for the day, an older black man came out of nowhere and took to the stage. He appeared drunken and homeless, while staggering and singing.

  “I can see the rainbow / I can see the clouds / I can see the pot of gold / waiting for me now . . .”

  Tracy looked at Robin. Robin looked at Tracy. Then Tracy looked at me.

  “Who the hell is he?” my cousin asked me.

  Shamor, my girls, and the rest of the camera crew all began to laugh, but no one had any idea who the man was or where he had come from. He just walked up onto the stage. So I shrugged my shoulders, and Tracy went ahead and called for security.

  “I don’t know who this man is, but he’s not with the casting,” she told the Freedom Theater staff. So they approached the man to escort him out, and he got extra loud with them, but he didn’t try to fight them or anything.

  “I was told there was auditions going on in here. I only wanted to audition. I’m a star. I just need my opportunity. I just wanted to sing for y’all. And I write my own songs myself.”

  He was busy talking while they led him out the door.

  “I’m telling you, I’m a star. You gon’ need me.”

  Everyone continued to laugh at him. However, in the back room, while we packed everything up, Robin continued to have her concerns about all of Tracy’s walk-ins. She said, “That crazy man is a perfect example of what I’m talking about. You are making this process a lot harder on yourself and everyone else. And you’re gonna end up having chaos on the set if you don’t get a firm grip on things from the beginning.”

  Tracy ignored her gloom and decided to look on the bright side.

  “Well, at least we sold out all of our shirts and hats. The marketing ideas will be working in our favor now.”

  Robin had to admit the truth of that.

  “Yeah, that was a stroke of genius. But getting this film deal with major distribution and a studio behind it, with a bunch of nobodies, is gonna be something else.”

  Tracy looked at Robin and let out a deep breath.

  “Okay, if you want to start sending the script around to the stars and their agents, now is the time to do it. I never said that I wouldn’t contact who I need to talk to. I know how movies are made. But I also know how great ideas are ruined by a lack of execution from people who you may think are great, and are not.”

  Robin said, “I’m only going to send it out to people I feel will fit the bill, Tracy. It’s not like I’ll be scavenging. Lynn Whitfield can be contacted. Meagan Good can be contacted. They were in Eve’s Bayou together in the same roles as mother and daughter, so they already know each other. These video girls can be contacted. And young track stars are everywhere. Outside of that, we can fill in who we need, and use all of the fantastic extras from Philadelphia that you want in this film.”

  It sounded good to me. In the meantime, Tracy could continue to push the new clothing line.

  Tracy saw Robin’s simplified point and agreed to it.

  “Well, that’s a wrap then. We start the next phase of the process,” she commented. “So tomorrow and Saturday, we film the locations I want to use around the city, and we all sit back and enjoy the rest of our stay in Philadelphia. I haven’t even been up to my parents’ house this week,” she mentioned.

  I hadn’t been home to North Philly to see my family, or to take my sister Veronica out to dinner. Nor had Tiffany showed up at any of the casting calls.

  “You ready to go clubbing tonight, Vanessa?” Jasmine snuck by and asked me.

  Tracy overheard it. She answered, “Not tonight. Vanessa and I have a few more dinners to go to. We’re over here to work. So you guys can hang out with the casting crew again.”

  What could I say? Tracy was the boss, and I had been the one to push her into it.

  So I shrugged my shoulders and told Jasmine, “She’s the boss.” But Jasmine knew that already.

  Shamor and Maddy overheard the brief conversation as well. I guess that gave them more time to get together or whatever without me in their way that night. And I was perfectly fine with that.

  * * *

  Tracy wanted to meet Bruce and Kiwana at Zanzibar Blue again. It was within walking distance with great food and great ambience, she told me. So I left it alone.

  But when we arrived at Zanzibar Blue for the second night in a row, Kiwana had brought her newborn baby with her. She and Bruce were there at the front entrance talking to each other with a detachable car seat in Kiwana’s hands.

  It was amazing to me that most of Tracy’s friends still lived in Pennsylvania. Tracy said that Bruce had joined the air force and had returned home, and Kiwana commuted back and forth to New York for Broadway.

  Bruce was tall, clean-shaven, with a thick mustache, and a tapered military haircut. He looked like he was still in the military. Even his dark blue suit looked spotlessly clean.

  Kiwana, on the other hand, was all loose. She wore a long silk or rayon multicolored dress with an orange top and brown leather sandals. Her hair was loose and flyaway, and her face was so smooth that she looked like an all-fruit eater. Maybe I was stereotyping both of them, but that’s what I thought as soon as I saw them there waiting for us.

  Tracy said, “I see you two have met already. And Kiwana, you’ve brought another surprise for me,” she said in reference to the new child.

  We both looked into the car seat to eye the gorgeous, hairless little girl Kiwana had brought with her. The baby looked right up at both of us with light-colored eyes that reminded me of Alexandria.

  “Awww, look at her,” Tracy crooned. She then held out her index finger for Kiwana’s daughter to hold on to.

  I just stood there and smiled.

  “Yeah, we’ve been standing here chatting. They said our table should be ready in a minute,” Kiwana told us.

  I didn’t even know you could bring babies to a fine restaurant like Zanzibar’s, especially at night while their jazz sets were playing. But what did I know?

  Bruce stepped back and looked my cousin over.

  He said, “Well, don’t you still look good. I’m about to turn into a teenager all over again.”

  Tracy grinned and said, “Thank you. You still look handsome yourself. I wouldn’t mind going back to our teen years for a minute.”

  Kiwana gave them both a look and said, “Okay, let’s cut it out. We get the point.”

  Tracy finally got around to introducing me.

  “This is my cousin and personal assistant, Vanessa.”

  “Hi,” I told them both.

  Bruce looked me over and said, “Good looks must run in the family.”

  I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Just don’t break the hearts of the good guys like your big cousin did.”

  Tracy smirked. “Here we go,” she responded to him.

  “What, did I say something that wasn’t right?”

  “Yes, you did. But I want to leave that alone and have a good time tonight,” Tracy told him.

  “Amen to that,” Kiwana agreed.

  We walked on in and they showed us to our ta
ble, where I noticed that Kiwana was already looking at her watch.

  She said, “I won’t be able to stay too long, Tracy. Treasure’s only four months old, and I’m breast-feeding her.”

  Tracy said, “Treasure?”

  Kiwana smiled at her daughter and said, “That’s what she is.”

  Then she pulled out wallet-sized family pictures of her white husband and her two mixed daughters to pass around the table. Tracy looked at the pictures and nodded.

  “Beautiful,” she commented while handing them back.

  She said, “So, let me get this right out in the open for the both of you. How is the married-with-kids life?”

  Tracy told me that Bruce had four sons.

  Kiwana answered the question first. “It’s wonderful.”

  Of course she would say that in front of her newborn baby.

  Bruce smiled and grunted before he answered. He said, “You sound like a happy wife. ‘Wonderful,’ ” he repeated to her.

  “You don’t agree?” Kiwana asked him.

  Bruce was more thoughtful about it. He said, “It’s ah . . . interesting.”

  “What’s so interesting about it?” Tracy asked.

  He said, “Well, you’re supposed to pick one person to share the rest of your life with . . . I mean, that’s just heavy material right there.”

  “That’s why you have to pick the right person,” Kiwana told him.

  Bruce looked her in the eyes and said, “And you believe that there’s only one person you could have picked?”

  “I didn’t pick. The pieces just fell where they were supposed to,” she answered.

  “The pieces just fell where they were supposed to,” Bruce repeated her again. “So, hypothetically speaking, there is no other man on God’s green earth who could have been, not a perfect, because no one is perfect, but a solid mate for you?”

  I must admit, I liked Bruce immediately. He had this sarcastic way of thinking and speaking that left me with a lot of intrigue. I didn’t like Kiwana’s “Wonderful” answer any more than he did. It sounded too simple, as if she was reading her response from a children’s book. And I knew that marriage had to be a lot more complicated than that. I had been around too many grown-ups in L.A., married and unmarried, to believe in simplicity. Every situation had its strengths and struggles.