“Couldn’t she sue this Davis guy for sexual harassment?”
“It might be hard because from what I can gather, she entered into an intimate relationship with him before he hired her to run his magazine,” I said.
“So, are you going to quit?”
“I don’t know. I make a nice living. I mean, more money than I even dreamed of making.”
“Is that important to you?”
“I want to do well,” I said.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Dr. Few said.
“What would I do?”
“You mean with your career?”
“Yes, I’m not getting any younger and I wouldn’t want to have Davis as an enemy. I know he doesn’t play fair,” I said.
“Have you thought about confronting him about your suspicions?”
“Davis would deny it. When I terminated Zola, I just wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be all right. I have this friend who is a great lawyer. I want Zola to speak with him, but he’s a friend of Davis’s as well. I don’t know if he would take the case,” I said.
“So you haven’t thought of what you might do if you stopped working for Davis?”
“The only thing I think about is maybe working for a foundation, taking mine to the next level. Then there is always the opportunity of working for Basil if he ever returns to New York,” I said. A picture of Basil leaving my apartment and coming back and kissing me on the lips caused a spontaneous smile to cross my face. Dr. Few noticed.
“You’re smiling.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about Basil. You know the last time I saw him.”
“It looks like you had a good time.”
“I did.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I think I’ll keep the memory to myself.”
Dr. Few looked at her watch and then said, “You have about ten minutes. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
“Not really.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Does the fact that Davis is an African American man doing this to another African American bother you?”
I clapped and said, “Great question, Dr. Few. Great question!”
“Why is that?”
“It’s just another way we separate ourselves,” I said.
“I don’t think I quite understand,” Dr. Few said.
I thought maybe it was time Dr. Few got a brief message from the educating-white-folks foundation.
“Ever since I can remember, African Americans have had barriers that I think hold us back. Some call it the crabs-in-the-barrel theory. You know how when crabs are in a bucket and one tries to escape, there are always crabs pulling it back?”
“I get the picture. I think.”
“In the African American community there is always something. For a long time it was color. The slave mentality of light-skinned versus dark-skinned, or people who grew up in the big house against those who worked the field. When I came to grips with my sexuality, I realized that was another barrier in keeping me from totally being accepted by my community. When I met Davis and some of his friends, I realized there was another trend happening within our community.”
“What?”
“The haves and the have-nots. Those who have education and those who don’t. Those who have money, and I’m talking big money, separating themselves from those who might not be as fortunate as they are. If you compared what I’m worth against Davis, I might as well be penniless,” I said.
“You know other groups have the same issues,” Dr. Few suggested.
“Maybe in terms of class. I’m sure wealthy white people don’t have friends who live in trailer parks. I understand that people with blue eyes and blond hair may be treated better than brunettes with brown eyes. Still, this is the community I belong to, so I am more sensitive to what’s going on with black people,” I said.
“Do you think we will ever be a part of one community?”
“You mean a perfect world? You know, after 9/11 I thought there was a chance. I mean, for a few months I didn’t think as much about being an African American as I did being an American. I thought we, and I mean everybody, treated one another with more kindness and on an equal level. But I think we’ve gone back to our old ways of separation. Out of that tragedy our country was presented with a tremendous opportunity,” I said, looking at my watch.
“Do you think it’s too late?”
“I hope not. It’s one of the reasons I still thank God for waking me up each morning.”
BOOK THREE
Ready for Love
INDIA.ARIE
* * *
1
__________________
Three days and nights passed, and one day was just like the next. I lay in the coziness of my bed, wishing for snow during an unnaturally warm winter. I watched a lot of talk shows, some good and a few so bad I couldn’t believe they were on the air.
I drank a lot of water and tea and ate a lot of tuna fish with crunched-up potato chips, a delicacy from my youth. I don’t know what I was thinking or hoping for, maybe that Davis would show up at my doorstep and tell me he couldn’t run Bling Bling without me and beg me to come back on my terms.
I thought maybe my dream had come true when the doorbell rang just as dusk had begun to cover the neighborhood. I was so eager to see another human being who wasn’t a television character that I raced from my bed and opened the door quickly.
“Miss Zola, have you lost your mind scaring me like this!” Hayden said as he walked into my house carrying a brown bag with handles.
“Did Kai call you and tell you what happened?” I asked.
“Yeah, she did, but she didn’t have to. It’s all over the radio and in the tabloids. Wendy Williams has been talking about it every day, calling it the Battle of the Tennessee Titans. Did you know that you and Miss Yancey B. are from the same area?”
“I think so. What have they been saying on the radio?” I asked as I followed Hayden into the kitchen.
“You haven’t been listing to the radio? It’s been on Tom Joyner and Doug Banks. I thought you didn’t miss a day of listening to their shows,” Hayden said as he pulled out several plastic containers of what smelled like good food.
“If it hasn’t been on CNBC, Regis and Kelly or The View, then I haven’t heard it,” I said as I sat down at my little kitchen table.
“It seems that Miss Yancey has proof she was out of the country touring and promoting her CD when you guys said she was in rehab. The other day Wendy Williams said she had an interview with Yancey B. during the time Bling said she was drying out, and that’s major ’cause Miss Wendy don’t like Yancy B.,” Hayden said.
“Tell me you’re kidding,” I said.
“I wish I could. Don’t you have a lawyer or somebody helping you with this?”
“Not yet. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m going to do next,” I said.
“Might I suggest changing that old-lady nightgown,” Hayden said as he let out a short, powerful laugh.
“What’s that?” I asked as I pointed to one of the containers.
“I figured you weren’t eating right, so I stopped and picked up some food. You can’t be skin and bones when you’re getting ready for battle. I brought a little tossed salad with ranch dressing, some tasty spinach ravioli, and if you’re good, crème brûlée,” Hayden said. He walked over to my cabinets and pulled out two plates and then turned and said, “I hope you got some liquor up in here.”
“I have some wine, I think.”
“Then that will have to do,” Hayden said as he started dishing the food onto the plates.
“Hayden, aren’t you supposed to be working tonight?”
“I called in sick. The Lion King is grueling, honey, and Hayden needs more than a couple of days of rest. Back problems, you know.”
“That’s why I didn’t call you. I knew you’d be worried,” I said.
“I’m not worried. I just need to get you ready for battle. You can’t just let Davis take your job and then leave you out here to fight alone. If I were you, I would call one of them gossip columnists like LaVonya or Liz Smith and tell your side of the story,” Hayden said.
“They don’t want to talk to me,” I said.
“You’ve got to talk to somebody even if you don’t do nothing but tell them you thought the story was true. What’s going on with the child who wrote the article, and did she even pass by a journalism school?”
“I think Davis has already gotten to her. She won’t even return my calls,” I said as I took a bite of the ravioli.
“You want me to get one of my men to rough her up?” Hayden asked.
“Hayden.”
“I can’t have everybody disrespecting my girl. Have you talked with Reverend Justine?”
“No.”
“You want me to call her?”
“For what?”
“Zola, please. You girls need to stop this high school stuff. You two have been through so much. I know Justine would want to be here to support you. Shit, maybe you need to see how close she is to Jesus and let her pray and lay hands on you. I’m sure Jesus can get your job back,” Hayden said.
I didn’t say anything, but I felt the tears sting my eyes. I had carried the sadness of life without Justine in a private space in my heart that I refused to visit because it was so painful.
“What are you thinking about?”
I couldn’t tell Hayden just how much Justine’s friendship truly meant to me. I remained silent and clenched my eyes shut to fight back the tears and then opened them when I felt I could look at Hayden without crying. He moved his chair close to me and squeezed my hand lovingly. I could no longer contain my sadness, and the tears began pouring out of my eyes like water from a dam.
Hayden held me tight and whispered, “Everything’s going to be all right, Zola. Everything. We all love you and we’ll be there for you.”
I cried for several minutes and then I pulled myself from Hayden’s embrace. I was heading toward my bathroom to wash my face, but instead I just splashed some water on it from the kitchen sink. I used my nightgown to dry my face like I was a young child.
Hayden walked over toward the sink and took my hands and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What?”
“Whatever is making you so sad, Zola, I know you’ve had a lot happen the last couple of days, but those tears and moans sound like a deeper pain than losing your job,” Hayden said.
“I was thinking maybe I’ve been wrong about a couple of things.”
“Wrong about what?”
“Deserting Justine. Maybe this religion thing is real for her.”
“Is that why you’re crying so hard?”
“Sorta. I was thinking about a really painful time in my life and how Justine was there for me blow by blow whenever I needed her,” I said.
“What happened?”
“Maybe you should sit down for this. I promised myself I would never tell this story, because telling it means reliving that night,” I said.
“If it’s causing you so much pain, then you should release it. Now, Zola, you know I love a good story and gossip, but whatever you tell me will remain right here,” Hayden said as he patted his heart.
“His name was Wilson Montgomery III, and he was the man of my dreams even when he was in the seventh grade. He was smart and from one of Nashville’s finest families. Wilson’s grandfather owned a successful chain of rib joints from Nashville to Memphis. He had used his money to make sure Wilson’s father got the best education available to black men during that time. Wilson Jr., my boyfriend’s father, was the first black man to graduate from the law school at the University of Tennessee,” I said as I paused and took a tiny sip of wine.
“I dated Wilson from the tenth grade, since my parents wouldn’t let me go out with boys until I was in high school. Still, I felt like we started dating before then because he used to write me these wonderful love letters. The boy could write words of love, and he promised me he would write me a love letter at least every week for the rest of our lives. Wilson was smart and he was captain of both the golf and tennis teams.”
“So you were really sprung?”
“Big-time. When I graduated from undergrad, as I was walking across the stage to get my degree, I was stunned when Wilson suddenly appeared from behind the president with a smile on his face. I was shocked to see him, because he was enrolled at the Air Force Academy, and had told me he couldn’t come to my graduation. He looked so handsome dressed in military white. Wilson got down on one knee and—”
Hayden interrupted me and said, “Performed oral sex on you for the first time?”
“Fool, stop it or else the story will end there,” I said.
“Okay. I promise,” Hayden said.
“He proposed to me in front of the entire auditorium. When I said yes, everyone gave us a standing ovation. We made plans to get married that summer at the chapel at Vanderbilt University. Wilson had to fulfill his military commitment and I was headed to Chicago and Northwestern. Since the proposal had been so public, it seemed the entire city of Nashville was a part of our wedding. We were on the morning talk shows and in the newspaper. People were literally begging for an invitation. A local designer made my gown for free,” I said as I paused for a moment and thought about the beautiful white lace gown with the long train I had planned to wear on my wedding day. I could see the dress in my head like I was looking at a photo in a scrapbook.
“Earth to Zola. Don’t leave me hanging. What happened?” Hayden asked.
I continued. “The night before the wedding, we had the rehearsal. A lot of Wilson’s classmates from the academy had come down to serve as groomsmen. I was so filled with joy I couldn’t contain myself. I felt like a true princess. But during the rehearsal dinner at the Grand Ole Opry Hotel, Wilson disappeared. Several of his friends went looking for him, but no one could find him. I became upset because I thought something really bad had happened to him. I was crying just like I was tonight, so I went into the ladies’ room to pull myself together. When I got in there I heard moaning and groaning like somebody was in a great deal of pain. I pushed open the stall door and realized the sounds weren’t from pain but lust. Wilson, the love of my life, and my sister, Pamela, were having sex.”
“No, she wasn’t?” Hayden screamed.
“Yes, she was. My sister, with my intended. The man I had saved myself for couldn’t wait for me. I started screaming like a madwoman, and of course it brought several members of the wedding party into the bathroom. Everybody saw them. Even if I had wanted to save face and go through with the wedding, I couldn’t. Too many people saw them.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran away from the hotel like a pack of wild dogs was chasing me. When I finally collapsed in the parking lot, I felt somebody’s hand on my back, and when I turned around I saw Justine. She held my hand until I was ready to face the world, which took the rest of the summer. Justine’s always been there for me,” I said as the tears began to roll down my face.
“So now I understand why you and that tramp sister of yours aren’t close. Whatever happened to Wilson?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know,” I said firmly. I didn’t tell Hayden I saw Wilson when I went home Thanksgiving.
“Aren’t you a little bit curious?”
“No.”
“So let me get this straight. You were the original runaway bride, not Julia Roberts,” Hayden said with a huge smile on his face.
“I guess so.”
“Zola, if I were you, I wouldn’t be worried about your job at Bling Bling. I’d sit down at the computer and write a book about that shit.”
“I could never write about that. I couldn’t do that to my family. Besides, my crazy-ass sister would get a lot of joy out of more people knowing what she did to me,” I said.
“What
about helping Kai’s friend Parson write his story?”
“I think he’s going to do it himself. That would be an interesting story, but I still don’t know if I believe him.”
“Then write a book about my life. I’ve got some stories I’ve been saving,” Hayden said.
“Nobody would believe them,” I said.
“A lot of huz-bends would be running for cover. We’d both need twenty-four-hour bodyguards,” Hayden said.
“At least we’d have each other,” I said.
“Always,” Hayden said as he hugged me tight.
2
__________________
“Mr. Raymond, a Basil Henderson is on line two,” Jolie said over the intercom. She was the second temp that Personnel had sent me since Bristol had taken over Bling Bling. I started to correct her again and tell her that my first name was Raymond, but figured she wouldn’t get it and decided to call Human Resources and get a real assistant.
I picked up the phone and said, “What’s up, Mr. Henderson? How is ATL?”
“I’m getting used to it, but, man, I miss New York. What’s going on up there? I heard on the Frank Ski show this morning that ole Yancey B. is suing you guys.”
“Man, it’s a big mess. We ran a story and it looks like the facts are wrong, but our editor has documentation. She’s lost her job over it.”
“You talkin’ ’bout that fine sista you were protecting like she was a nuclear bomb site?”
“I was protecting the both of you from exploding,” I said, laughing.
“Dawg, that’s cold. I do have to say Yancey is a lot of things but a crackhead isn’t one of them. I think you guys better get out your checkbook, ’cause somebody is lying,” Basil said.
“We had rehab reports and everything. Besides, her mother backed it up,” I said.
“That’s your problem, then. That Ava Middlebrooks is a lying, evil bitch from the bottom of hell. She’ll do anything to keep whatever spotlight she can on Ava. She and Yancey don’t get along, but this is like scraping the bottom of the Hudson River in search of attention. Be careful with Ava. Watch out!” Basil said.
A Love of My Own Page 25