Mama Dearest

by E. Lynn Harris

  She made several more calls this morning, but nobody was feeling her plight. Ava wondered if this had something to do with her all but laughing in people’s faces when they’d turned to her for help, but decided no one would go so far as to hold that against her.

  Sitting comfortably on the living room sofa, her bare feet kicked up on the coffee table, wineglass in hand, Ava again thumbed through her little black book. She told herself the problem was she’d picked the wrong people to call. Many of them were friends, but she hadn’t spoken to any of them in at least the seven years she was away. Why would she have expected them to have any loyalty to her? Why would it matter to them that she was struggling now?

  Ava needed to contact people who cared about her, loved her, or at least once had. That narrowed the list considerably.

  Her finger landed on ex-husband Jacob Comstock. He was an exclusive art broker, and she knew he would have the money to help her out. However, when she called his work number, his secretary, a woman with a 900 sex-number voice, said he wasn’t in.

  “Can I take a message?” she asked.

  “Yes. Tell him his ex-wife called, and that he needs to call me back ASAP.”

  Ava hung up, imagining the girl tearing the sheet she had written the message on from her notepad, balling it up, and tossing it in the trash can, because she was probably screwing Jacob and didn’t want any other woman getting a piece of his wallet.

  Ava tried his cell number, and when she got his voicemail, she said, “Hey, Jacob. It’s been a long time. Was thinking about you, and just called to catch up. Give me a call when you get a chance. My number is the same. I got a little favor to ask of you.”

  She hung up, regretting telling him the last part. Knowing Jacob, he would figure out she meant money, and there was no way he was calling her back.

  After that, Ava dialed David Middlebrooks, her second husband. But all the numbers she had for him were either changed, leaving no forwarding number, or disconnected. There was no way she could get hold of him, and by the sound of it, he might be broke, in which case Ava had nothing to say.

  This left her with one last hope in the ex-lover department. Hector, her last. He was a wonderful, handsome, gentle man, and the only reason he and Ava didn’t work out was because both of them had a problem with being faithful. But she had always been able to count on him, at least then. As she dialed his number, she hoped he would be able to do the same now. Hector, Ava thought, could serve a dual purpose by giving her money and great sex as well.

  After the third ring, Hector picked up, and Ava was almost surprised to hear his voice.

  “Hello, Hector,” Ava said, “it’s been too long.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Now, Daddy, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me too?”

  “Ava?” he asked with pronounced disbelief.

  “I knew you wouldn’t forget me, Hector.”

  His disbelief now turned to worry. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in New York with my daughter.”

  “You’re out of the joint?”

  “Free as a bird,” she sang. “I can’t wait to see you. We got some business to talk about.” Ava paused, considering the best approach now that she had him on the line. Never one to beat around the bush, she plunged right in. “Hector, I need some money.”

  There was silence and Ava thought he might be dead until she heard him whisper in the background, “I’ll be there in a minute, baby.”

  “Who are you talking to, Hector? Listen, I’m serious, when can we talk about the money?”

  “How about you text me a number where I can reach you?”

  “Text you a number? Fool, are you crazy? I want to talk now,” Ava demanded.

  “I got a better idea. Why don’t you call Steve or whatever his name was. Bye, Ava.”

  Ava looked at the phone when she heard the dial tone. “This motherfucker has lost what little mind he had.”

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON THERE was a knock at the door. Ava looked out and saw a brown-clad delivery man. Was this the package she had been waiting for?

  “Can I help you?” Ava said as she started to pull her robe together but decided maybe the handsome young man could use a cheap thrill.

  “I have a package for Mrs. Ava Middlebrooks.”

  “It’s Ms., sweetheart. Where do I sign?”

  He pointed as he handed her the electronic tablet. “Right here.”

  Ava signed quickly and almost jerked the package from the man. She quickly shut the door and ripped the box open. Inside was a note that read: “Please call me as soon as you power this on. We need to get started with our plan.”

  Ava pulled the BlackBerry out of the plastic wrapping, turned the power on and immediately dialed the number listed on the card. After a few rings, the familiar male voice answered.

  “So I see you got the package.”

  “Just a few minutes ago. What took so long? I’ve been here for days.”

  The voice was brusque, in a hurry. “I’ve been busy. So are you ready to start?”

  “I am. What do we do first?”

  “She’s coming back tomorrow, you know, but you need to gain her trust before we start anything.”

  Ava flashed a grim smile. “That part will be easy. I’ll make her feel like I owe it to her since she’s letting me stay in this dump. But how long do I have?”

  “We can’t move too fast.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. What, she was supposed to wait around forever? “Then can I get an advance of what you promised me?”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so, that’s why. Remember what I told you in the joint. You will follow my orders or else the deal is off and you might find your ass back in the slammer.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” she said matter of factly. “But I don’t see how a little money is gonna hurt our plan. Damn, you promised me five million when we get her. So I don’t see why I can’t get a little now. I can still act like I’m poor when I’m around Yancey.”

  “Ava, I said no. So just drop it. We need to complete our mission. As soon as you finish our little task, I’ll take care of you. But I have to make sure I can really trust you and that you’re doing what you promise. I don’t need you to suddenly develop a case of motherly love.”

  Ava let out a surprised laugh. “That isn’t going to happen. Yancey never showed any daughterly love when she testified against me. Any motherly love I felt for her went out the window of that courtroom,” she added, with a growling edge entering her voice. “Your timing in approaching me couldn’t have been better. A chance to get back at Yancey and get rich? What a golden opportunity.”

  “Yeah, for the both of us. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve sat up thinking of ways to get revenge on Yancey Braxton for what she did to me and my family.”

  “You’re almost as sinister as me.”

  “I do what I need to do. Getting revenge on Yancey has been on my to-do list for a long time.”

  “So what do I do first?”

  “Just enjoy your little family reunion. Make sure you hide this device but check it regularly. You never know when I will call you with further instructions. But be careful and make sure she never catches you talking to me or reading any of the texts I will be sending. We both know Yancey is no dummy.”

  Ava scoffed at that idea. “She only thinks she’s smart. When we finish with her, she will understand what a silly little girl she really is.”

  “Hey, I got to run. I will talk with you real soon.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  I returned to New York on a sun-splashed spring day. I couldn’t remember feeling so happy to be anywhere. The taxi let me off in front of my town house and I noticed the For Sale sign was missing. Did my real estate agent have some good news and hadn’t been able to reach me? If that was the case, then the first thing I was going to d
o was to draw a bubble bath and just soak for hours.

  I hoped whoever had bought my house didn’t need to move in right away. S. Marcus was coming to New York and I really wanted to spend some time with him in my town house.

  I entered my home expecting it to feel somewhat stuffy from being closed up, but it smelled as fresh as just-rinsed fruit. Maybe the real estate agent had cleaned the place for prospective buyers. I dropped my suitcases by the door and walked over to the sofa table to look through the mail I’d brought in. I was surprised when there were only a few pieces.

  I walked into the kitchen and noticed a champagne glass and coffee cup in the sink. Had I left those there? I was going to look in the refrigerator for a bottle of water but figured I needed to go grocery shopping first. I only hoped I had some of my Carol’s Daughter bubble bath and body lotion under the sink because I didn’t feel like trekking to the West Side to my favorite perfume store.

  I went back to the door to get my suitcases when I suddenly heard movement in the next room. Before I could turn around I heard a loud, theatrical voice say, “Welcome home, Yancey.”

  Like the clown in the horror movies, my mother stuck her face into the doorway. “Ava, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

  “How did you get in?” I demanded to know. Not only that but what the hell was she doing there? I wouldn’t have put it past the woman to tunnel her way out of prison.

  “I used my key, sweetheart. I was praying all the way here that you hadn’t changed the lock. Remember who paid the down payment on this villa. I always had a key.”

  “What are you doing out of jail? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “They let me out early. I don’t know if it was for good behavior or good pussy,” Ava said with a laugh.

  My eyes narrowed as I noticed her robe was a color I knew very well. Plus, she was too thick to wear it. “Is that my robe?”

  “It sure is. I almost couldn’t get in it. And before you say anything, yes, I’m aware I picked up a few pounds, but we didn’t have Jenny Craig meals in the joint. Nothing but greasy shit that went straight to my stomach and hips, so I got to join a health club quick. Which one are you a member of?”

  I ignored the diva act. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming to New York?”

  “I could only call collect. The last I checked you can’t call collect on a cell phone,” Ava said, annoyed. “Come here and give your mama dearest a hug. I’ve missed you, pumpkin.”

  I reluctantly moved close to Ava and gave her a limp hug. I had missed her and I did feel sorry for her. She had gained some weight, I thought, as I felt a lot of loose fat around her waist. Ava looked older and her skin looked like it missed her twice a week facials.

  “And don’t worry,” Ava said brightly. “I’m no longer upset with you for testifying against me and sending me to jail. It was good for me and I met some interesting people.”

  I crossed my arms defensively. “I only told the truth, Ava. I had to.”

  “Step back and let me take a look at you,” she said, sailing right over my last comment. “I see you still got that size-two figure. I hate you. You know I’m kidding, girl,” she added with a playful slap. “Where you been? Out in Hollywood working on some fabulous new television show or movie?”

  “I wish.”

  “So where have you been? I’ve been here a couple of days waiting on you. And hon, we need to go to the store and get some vittles, quick, fast and in a hurry. Ain’t shit to eat in this house.”

  I was still so stunned by finding her so unexpectedly that I hadn’t given a thought to her staying with me. I waved my hand distractedly. “We can order takeout tonight. I’m tired and I want to take a bath. There are some menus in the kitchen. Figure out what you want and I’ll order it when I get out of the tub.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me where you’ve been?”

  She was in her mother full-bore mode, and I sighed. “In every podunk town in this country in a bus and truck of Dreamgirls. Didn’t I tell you that in my last letter?”

  “You mean, your annual letter?” Her mouth twisted, and her tone turned nasty. “I don’t remember a mother role in the play. What role did you have?” Ava asked with cool sarcasm.

  There it was, out in the open. The Ava I knew so well. She hadn’t changed a bit. “Deena Jones,” I snapped. “Who else would I play?”

  “Touchy, touchy, aren’t we?” she said, light as pie. “But don’t forget I birthed you, so I know how old you are, Yancey. I must say, you look good for someone in her forties.”

  “I’m not in my forties!” Ava and I hadn’t been in the room together for more than fifteen minutes, and she was already coming for me. I wondered how long she planned to stay, and if I was going to have to move S. Marcus’s trip back for a couple of days.

  “Chile, please, I know better. But that’s cool because it would be hard to explain how a mother and daughter can both be in their forties. Now, where are those menus? And is there a liquor store around here that delivers? I need a stiff drink. The champagne and wine has been cute, but your mother needs a good swig of something golden brown.”

  I could feel a familiar tension in the base of my neck. “Let’s order our food first. I might have something in the bar.”

  “You don’t. I’ve already checked.”

  I wasn’t putting up with her demands anymore. I picked up my suitcase and said, “Let me take these in the bedroom and then we can catch up.”

  As I started down the hallway to my bedroom, Ava called my name. All the sting had left her voice. I turned around to see a sad smile on her face, which touched me and made me blink back tears. As crazy as she was and as much as she deserved everything she got, I’d missed her more than I was willing to admit to her or myself. Here I was almost forty, still longing for a mother who would never show up.

  “I’ve missed you, boo,” she said tenderly.

  “I know you’re glad to be free once again.”

  “I sure am, baby. Jail ain’t for no punk bitches or deluxe divas.”

  A WEEK PASSED AND Ava showed no signs of leaving or heading back to California. As a matter of fact, she seemed quite comfortable in my guest suite on the first floor. I don’t know what I should do, since it is only a couple of days before S. Marcus is coming to New York. When I entertain, I certainly don’t need my mother close by. Plus, I am trying to figure out what Ava is really up to. She’d been pretty mad when they took her out of court after the jury convicted her. Ava shot me a look that I would never forget. Our relationship had never been a typical mother and daughter one, and we’d enjoyed only fleeting moments of true affection.

  I hate to admit it but whenever I think about seeing Marcus again I’m as excited as a high school girl on her first date. I find myself smiling at the mere thought of him. S. Marcus sends flowers almost every day and I’m always getting texts from him telling me how much he misses me and how he can’t wait to see me again. I would text back k or me 2 because I didn’t want to seem too desperate or let him know how much he’d rocked my world during the time we’d spent together.

  I have to dazzle Marcus when he comes to New York, so I’m doing Pilates in the morning and going to the gym every afternoon. I’d packed my gym bag with a change of clothes and was on my way out the door when the phone rang. I look at the call identification and see the name of my real estate agency and pray it’s good news. My funds are almost depleted and having to feed and take care of Ava is putting a further strain on my resources.

  “Hello.”

  “Ms. Braxton, please,” a perky female voice said.

  “This is Yancey Braxton.”

  “Great. Ms. Braxton, this is Linda Huber, Ms. Weeks’s second assistant. She wanted me to see if you were at home this afternoon.”

  “I’m on my way out. Why, does she want to show my place?”

  “No, I was going to d
rop off your keys.”

  I removed the phone from my ear and looked at it in puzzlement. Am I hearing this dizzy bitch correctly?

  “Why are you going to do that?”

  “Ms. Weeks told me you’d taken your town house off the market.”

  I placed the bag on the floor in disbelief. “Where did she get an idea like that? I still want to sell my house.”

  “Hold on one second.”

  A few moments later Amy came on the line. “Yancey, how are you doing today?”

  “I’m fine, Amy. What is your assistant talking about?”

  “I was told you were taking your property off the market.”

  “Let me ask this question again. Where did you hear that?”

  “About a week ago I had a buyer for your town house. A Russian couple, and I had my other assistant call to arrange a visit. He was already sold, having seen the property online. When my assistant called, she said you told her you weren’t interested in selling. He was willing to pay the 2.3 that we were asking for. Instead, I sold him something similar to your home but cheaper in Harlem.”

  “What!” I screamed into the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? Does your assistant smoke crack?”

  “Yancey, no, she doesn’t,” she said in an attempt to calm me, “but that’s what she was told. Is that not true? You didn’t talk to my assistant about a week ago?”

  “No, I was still on the road.” Just then I saw the front door open and Ava walked in, wearing big dark glasses and a too-tight purple velour sweatsuit. “Amy, let me call you back. I need to check something out.”

  “Okay, then I’ll hold up on sending your key back, but please let me know what you want to do. I feel like the market is going to heat up very soon.”

  “I will. Thanks, Amy.”

  Ava was sweating like a pig, obviously back from a run. “Girl, I’m tired. I forgot how hard it is working out. I might need to see if I can get me some diet pills or something to get rid of this weight. I need to get me a trainer too. What do you have to eat?”

  I got right to the point. “Did you tell my real estate agent that I wasn’t selling my house?”