“Zola, you can certainly do that. I hope you understand the position I’m in. Are you going to be all right?” Raymond asked as he gently touched my shoulders.
“Oh, don’t worry, Raymond, I’m a survivor and I’ll be fine,” I said. I tried to sound calm and in control. I was concentrating on not breaking down into tears. Not in front of Raymond and not after he left. I had to hold it together. I had to devise a battle plan to fight both Davis and Yancey B.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you get the file I have backing up the story?” I asked.
“Where is it?”
“It’s in my desk. At least it was,” I said.
“What do you want me to do with it? I still work for Davis and this might be a conflict of interest,” Raymond said.
“Don’t worry about it. I am sure Kirsten still has her set,” I said.
“Is she the writer?”
“Yes.”
“I think that’s what you should do. I’ll find out what happened to it because we will need it in our defense,” Raymond said.
“Thanks, Raymond. I guess it’s better to hear this from you than showing up and getting my face cracked when I tried to enter my office. I’m sure that’s what Davis wanted,” I said. Raymond didn’t answer, but his eyes told me I was right. I realized that this was hard for him and I didn’t want to make it any more difficult. After a few moments of silence Raymond asked again if there was anything he could do.
“Get my job back,” I said with a fake laugh.
“Zola, I know this is tough, but you’re going to be fine,” Raymond said.
“You got that right. I’ll be more than fine. You might not know this about me, but my parents raised a fighter,” I said, trying hard to sound calm and in control, hoping that my stoic refusal to cry could hold on for a few more minutes.
“I know that,” Raymond said.
“Now, I just need to show Davis,” I said. Raymond nodded and offered a polite smile and was out the door just moments before my dam of tears broke.
I was exhausted, so I didn’t get out of bed until a little after noon. I had tossed and turned so I couldn’t even allow myself to think that last night was a bad dream. Besides, the letter and agreement Raymond and Davis wanted me to sign was on the edge of my bed. I had read it over ten times, hoping that it didn’t say what I knew it said. I was out of a job and I couldn’t look for one in the industry I loved.
I went into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and breathed deeply as I looked in the mirror and said to myself, “Wake up and live, girl! He can’t do this to you.”
I pulled a robe from the back of the door and slipped it on as I headed to the kitchen to make myself some tea. I needed to make a few phone calls, so I put a cup of water in the microwave and zapped it and then dropped in a tea bag.
I walked into the room adjoining my bedroom, which housed my piano. I sat down at the piano and pounded out Beethoven’s “Pathetique” like I was in Carnegie Hall. The sonata was beautiful and expressed the pain I was feeling. But it wasn’t helping; I needed to get busy clearing my name.
After two o’clock, I picked up my Palm, located Kirsten’s home number and quickly dialed even though I thought it might be too early. I needed to make sure she still had a set of her notes and documentation, because I knew I would need it to get my job and most likely my reputation back.
After about four rings a groggy-sounding Kirsten picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
“Kirsten. I hate to bother you so early, but I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Zola.”
“Zola from Bling?”
“Yes, Kirsten. Look, do you still have that set of notes and documentation from the story you did on Yancey B.?”
“Yancey B.? I think so.”
“Kirsten, you can’t think, honey. I need to know. I need a copy of those notes and the tapes,” I said.
“What happened to your set?”
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“Yancey B. ain’t trying to sue you, is she?”
“Have you heard something?”
“A couple of my girls told me they just heard Wendy Williams on WBLS talking about it on her show and there was some mention in the local rags today,” Kirsten said.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Zola. I didn’t actually hear it. But you don’t have to worry. I verified all of my stories and it’s all true. Miss Girl is probably trying to save herself. I bet that organization MAC, Mothers Against Crack, is going to want their Entertainer of the Year award back,” Kirsten said.
“Right now I’m not worried about Yancey B.’s award. She and her record company are saying our story is nothing but a bunch of lies,” I said.
“Then let them prove it in court.”
“When can you let me know if you have your information?”
“Let me get out of bed and get myself together. Do you want me to call you at the office?”
“No, call me at home. We should meet this afternoon and I can make another set. How does your day look?”
“I think it’s pretty open. This is the day I reserve to work on my stories.”
“Great. Call me in a couple of hours and we can figure out where we can meet,” I said.
“Cool. Bye, Zola,” Kirsten said.
“I’ll see you later. Sorry again about waking you up,” I said. Kirsten must have fallen back to sleep, because I didn’t hear her say good-bye, only the dial tone.
I was feeling a little uneasy and I wanted to talk with someone who could reassure me that everything would be all right. I started to call Justine, who for so long had been a master at building up my confidence, but now I figured she would think that I was getting what I deserved for sleeping with a married man who was also my boss. I thought of my mother but didn’t want her to worry. I was sure Hayden would cheer me up but knew he was in rehearsals for The Lion King.
After a few moments, I picked up the phone and dialed Kai’s number. I needed to hear a friendly voice.
“Good afternoon, Zola,” Kai said.
“Girl, what did we ever do without caller ID?” I said with a fake laugh.
“Talked to a lot of people we didn’t want to,” Kai said, laughing.
“What are you doing today?”
“I am working out with my trainer later, then depending on how I’m feeling I might take a yoga class or treat myself to a massage and facial,” Kai said.
“Do you know any good lawyers who are reasonably priced?”
“My divorce lawyer, but since you’re not married, I don’t think he could help you. I’m assuming it’s for you.”
“It’s for me, and I feel like I’m going through a divorce. Davis had Raymond fire me. Davis had him deliver some papers to me last night,” I said.
“What happened? I guess he didn’t take you dropping him too kindly,” Kai said.
“I know that’s what it’s about, but Davis is saying he did it because we’re being sued for a cover story I ran.”
“What? Don’t tell me one of those fine men you been putting in the magazine is really a woman or some type of terrorist?”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes and said, “No, Kai. It’s the Yancey B. story.”
“I wish I could help you out, Zola, but I don’t know anyone right off the bat. I will ask around. Are you going to sue him?”
“Right now I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I need to at least talk to an attorney.”
“Why don’t you come to the gym with me? I know you must be stressed.”
“I wish I could, girl, but I got things to do. Maybe sometime later in the week. It looks like I’m going to have a little time on my hands,” I said.
“Okay, but let me know if there is anything I can do. I’m here for you,” Kai said.
“I appreciate that, Kai. It means more than you’ll ever know.”
I spent my first day of unemployment updating my photo albums while listening to my favorite sista singers like Toni Braxton, Anita Baker and Faith Evans. Their voices and lyrics made me feel good about feeling so bad. When the songs became too much, I returned to the piano pretending I had chosen it as my career.
Before I knew it, evening was approaching. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost five o’clock. I had been waiting for a call from Kirsten so I could meet her and get copies of the tapes of her interview and other documentation. I checked my answering machine to make sure I hadn’t missed the ringing phone over my music. No calls from Kirsten.
I looked up her number and dialed it. Kirsten picked up after a couple of rings.
“Hello.”
“Kirsten, this is Zola,” I said.
“Zola, did you get the information?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. Did you send it to me? I thought we were going to meet,” I said.
“I gave it to the messenger,” Kirsten said calmly.
“What messenger?”
“The one you sent,” she said.
“Kirsten, I have no clue as to what you’re talking about. I didn’t send a messenger to pick up anything,” I said. I could feel my neck become moist with panic.
“Well, a messenger showed up at my apartment a couple of hours after we talked and said he was picking up the information for Bling Bling and I gave it to him,” Kirsten said.
“How could you be so stupid?” I screamed. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Hold up, Zola. I thought it was for you, and I don’t appreciate you calling me names. I was trying to help you out.”
“I’m sorry. But I didn’t get the information. Please tell me you have another copy,” I begged. There was a long silence, and I knew I was in trouble.
“Kirsten, are you still there?”
“I have to go, Zola. I need to call my lawyer,” Kirsten said as she hung up the phone.
28
__________________
When I walked into my office two days after firing Zola, Bristol greeted me with a cup of coffee, extra light, and told me Davis wanted to see me immediately. He had been in Paris the previous day, probably worried Zola might show up at the office and call him out about dismissing her.
“When did he call?” I asked.
“About fifteen minutes ago,” Bristol said.
“Did he say what he wanted?” I asked. I knew he wanted to talk about Zola.
“Didn’t mention anything to me, just told me to make sure you came right up,” Bristol said.
With coffee in hand, I took the elevator to the top floor and Davis’s office. His executive assistant wasn’t at her usual post guarding Davis’s office like it was Fort Knox, so I walked to his door and tapped gently. I didn’t hear a response, so I just walked into his office.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked.
Davis had that dazed look of someone who had just glanced up from reading something important.
“Yeah, Raymond, come on in,” Davis said.
I walked toward his huge desk and just stood until he told me to have a seat.
“How did the bitch take it?” Davis asked in a cold, impersonal tone.
“Are you talking about Zola?” I asked. I wondered how Davis knew, or if he knew that I had delivered the termination papers to Zola in person.
“I understand you took the papers to her,” Davis said.
I didn’t ask him how he knew. From what I learned about Davis since I started working for him, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he was having me followed, so I figured I should just give him the information I had.
“Yes, I took them to her. She didn’t really have a strong reaction. I think everything was clear,” I said.
“No tears?”
“No.”
“You pointed out that she can’t work for any other magazine, right?”
“I didn’t, but I was there as she read the agreement.”
“Did she ask you anything?”
“Like what?”
“Anything?”
“Zola did mention that she stood by her story and had documentation backing her up,” I said.
“Zola might think she has documentation. It’s clear she’s forgotten who she’s dealing with,” Davis said with confidence.
“That information might be important when we go to trial,” I said.
“There won’t be a trial,” Davis said.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll settle the case in the next couple of days.”
“What if we have proof that the story is true?” I asked.
“Raymond, I don’t have time to waste on a trial. I will instruct my lawyer to get the case settled.”
“Why don’t you let me handle this? I mean, that was one of the reasons you hired me, right?” I asked.
Davis looked at me sternly and said, “No offense, Raymond, but when you’re dealing with black people, especially those idiots from the music industry, you need to show them right away that the record company would advise the singer to settle. The way to do that is with a white lawyer. You understand, don’t you?”
“I have to be honest and say that I don’t. It’s reverse racism,” I said.
“Call it what you want. But that’s how I’m handling this. Your job is to keep in touch with Zola and make sure she goes away quietly. She needs that severance check if she’s not going to be able to work for a couple of years.”
“Who is going to run the magazine?” I asked.
“Bristol,” Davis said quickly.
“Bristol?”
“You heard me! Bristol is a very talented young man. He’ll be fine,” Davis said.
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, a white guy running a magazine geared toward the hip hop crowd. How long do you think that’ll work?”
“It worked at Vibe. It can work here.”
“What am I going to do for an assistant?”
“Call the executive search firm we used to find you. There are a lot of people out of a job,” Davis said.
“I can’t talk you out of this?”
“What’s the problem, Raymond? I thought you liked Bristol.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Bristol. I just think if there is some way Zola can prove her story, then you’re right back to firing her because of a failed relationship,” I said boldly.
Davis leaped from his chair and started pounding his desk. I had never seen him lose his cool like this. Then he looked at me as though fire were about to beam from his eyes and yelled, “Don’t you talk to me like that. Do you know who I am? I’m Davis McClinton, and when I want somebody out of my company, they’re out. Do I make myself clear, Raymond? Have you forgotten who signs those big checks of yours? Zola just better get used to sitting on her ass for a couple of years. Now, unless there is something else we need to discuss, I think you should go downstairs and wish your assistant well in his new post.”
I was stunned and felt like I had been stabbed with a verbal ice pick. I stood in silence then walked out of Davis’s office.
“I don’t know how long I can keep working for Bling Bling and Davis,” I said.
“Why, Raymond? I didn’t know you were having problems at your job,” Dr. Few said.
“It’s not that I’m having problems. I just don’t feel good about the way Davis does business,” I said.
“How does he treat you?”
“He treats me okay, I guess.”
“Then I don’t understand your concern.”
I spent about five minutes telling Dr. Few about how Davis had forced me to fire Zola because of the lawsuit. I also told her how I prevented him from firing her after she broke off their affair and how I was convinced that he had information that could help the company in the lawsuit filed by Yancey B. and her record company, but Davis was so full of revenge that
he would rather lose in court and have a reason to fire Zola.
“That doesn’t sound like a way to run a business,” Dr. Few said.
“It goes deeper than that,” I said.
“How so?”
“When I first started working for Davis, I felt a certain degree of pride. Here he was, a successful African American man making a difference in the world. Davis is one of the few black men who have both money and power, and whenever I mention to people I work for him, everyone, both black and white, is somewhat impressed. I guess it’s another case of a man thinking with his jimmie rather than his brains,” I said.
“Have you ever done that?”
“What?”
“Thought with your penis?” Dr. Few asked. I looked at her for a second with a slight smile tugging the corner of my mouth, when I realized she knew Basil’s word for dick. This white lady was listening to me after all.
“I have in my personal life. Even now thinking about Basil, even though I know he would be the worst thing in the world for me,” I said.
“Have you talked to him?”
“He calls every now and then, but I realize he’s busy trying to get custody of his daughter, and even if he comes back to New York, I realize his daughter has his heart,” I said.
“Is that a problem for you?”
“Oh, no. That’s the way it should be. A father putting his children first. My parents did,” I said.
“Did you have a personal relationship with the young lady you fired?”
“Yeah. I felt like her big brother. She was one of the few women who I felt like I didn’t have to lie to. There is something very open about Zola. When I told her that I was gay, she was cool,” I said.
“So you don’t think she should have been fired?”
“No. Zola told me she had taped transcripts of the information she published in the magazine and supporting evidence. When I told Davis that some information that could help our case was missing, he just smiled and said very low, ‘That will teach the bitch she can’t just drop me because she suddenly develops morals.’ When I asked him what he meant, he just stared at me like a gangster or a character out of a prime-time soap opera,” I said.
A Love of My Own Page 24