“Yes, you can, young man. I need to speak with Madison before this little shindig gets started.”
“May I ask why?”
“You may. I’m related to Madison B.”
He gave her a probing look. “That’s funny. Madison B. was telling me on the flight here that this was her first trip to New York. She didn’t mention any relatives. Can I just take your number and give it to Madison B.’s father? I’m sure when he gets some time, they will give you a call.”
“Well, that won’t do,” Ava said, taking offense. “You might lose your job if you keep me away from my kinfolks.”
He struck a bored pose. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about. What did you say your name was again?” he asked, eyeing Ava with suspicion. Thurston tapped an index finger, painted with a shiny clear polish, against his chin, looking as though he was in deep thought.
“Ava Middlebrooks. Maybe you know me from some of my stage and cabaret appearances.”
A light went on in his eyes. “Were you in one of Stanley Bennett Clay’s productions more than a decade ago?”
“Yes, I was. How nice of you to remember.”
“I remember now,” he gushed, coming to life. “It was one of the first musicals I saw at the Apollo.”
“Those were the days.”
“Girlfriend, you were fierce. You had me singing and hummin’ for days after the show was over. Can I get a hug?”
“Of course you can, love,” Ava said, thinking this might be easier than she thought.
Thurston held her tight, patted a number of times and then after the embrace said, “I have to run. It was so nice meeting you.”
“But what about Madison B.?”
His eyebrows twinkled in concern. “Oh Ava, write your number down and I’ll pass it on.”
“I need to see her now,” Ava demanded. She usually loved the gays but realized at times they needed to be put in their place.
“Well, that’s not going to happen today. Write your number down on my clipboard and I’ll pass it on,” he said while checking his expensive watch. Ava wondered if her granddaughter paid for that.
Ava looks at him, obviously disturbed, and said, “Mister Thing, you must know that a diva like me just doesn’t go around writing her number on clipboards. That’s way too common. Good day.”
Ava headed toward the door, pushing through the thousands of fans waiting to meet her granddaughter.
CHAPTER
11
I was watching Paula Dean’s Party on the Food Network and the doorbell rang just as Paula was getting ready to pull a casserole out of the oven. I found myself watching a lot of cooking shows just in case that was the reality show route I had to take. I was an actress, so surely I could pretend I knew how to cook. A part of me wanted to see how the casserole looked and then another part wondered who was ringing my bell unannounced. Perfect solution to the problem; I put Paula on pause and went to answer the door.
“Yancey, it’s me.”
“Dalton, what are you doing here and how did you get my address?” I asked.
“Danni, remember; we’re friends,” Dalton said as he walked into my living area uninvited. He had a sling on his arm but it didn’t seem to slow down the pace of his walk.
“Danni, what happened to your arm?”
“Can you believe that I fell on it trying to learn a new dance in this musical I’m working on? I might be a dancer slash actor but I’m still very clumsy. Wow, Yancey B., this sofa is nice. I guess you’ve already moved on up but I should have known from the address alone,” Dalton said as he surveyed the living and dining area.
“So you didn’t say where you got my address, Dalton … I mean Danni.”
“It was on the cast list from Dreamgirls just as plain as day. I was going to call you and see what you thought of the songs I’d written but I said to myself, Danni, why don’t you just go and see Yancey and find out what she thinks. I told you I was going to be living in New York working on this new musical. That’s how I got hurt.”
“What musical?”
“It’s called Claudine, based on the movie starring Diahann Carroll and James Earl Jones. Remember?”
“Yeah, I love that movie. Have they cast it yet?”
“We’re in the process. I’m assistant musical director and I was dance captain but I lost that job when my spin went out of control and I fell on my arm,” Dalton said as he took a seat at the bar. Again without an invitation.
“You think you can get me an audition?” I asked, thinking this might be great for my reality show and even better if I didn’t get the show.
“I’m sure I can but I really think you should be working on your music. With some of my songs we could make a bangin’ CD,” Dalton said.
“I haven’t had a chance to listen to your songs,” I said, looking around the room as if the CD was there when I knew I’d left it in the dressing room back in Miami.
“Do you still have the disc?”
“I’m sure I do.”
“Well bam, here is another one if you don’t have it, Yancey,” Dalton said as he pulled another CD from his bag.
“Oh thanks,” I said.
“Can I have a glass of sweet tea or something? I feel a little parched,” Dalton said as he fanned his hand toward his mouth.
“I don’t know if I have sweet tea but I’m sure I have some water and maybe some cranberry juice.”
“That will be fine.”
I walked into the kitchen with the CD. I placed it on the counter and when I laid it down I noticed a very nice headshot of Dalton with the name Homer House Productions splashed across it. I got a bottle of water and was heading back to the living area when I heard Dalton shouting, “So I guess you got all this when you had a recording career?”
“What did you ask me?” I asked as I handed Dalton the bottle of water.
“Thank you, Yancey. Now don’t lose this CD, baby. Those blank CDs cost a pretty penny.”
“I won’t. Where did you come up with the name Homer House?
Dalton bowed down his head and whispered, “It’s a long story.”
I was now officially intrigued and I crossed my legs and placed my hands over them and said, “I’ve got plenty of time.”
“I think I’m most likely being overdramatic but it’s really very simple,” Dalton said as he crossed his legs too.
“I’m listening,” I said, suddenly wishing that I’d gotten some water for myself and hoping Ava didn’t show up before Dalton finished his story.
“Homer is my birth name. Now do I look like a Homer to you? How country is that? It’s not enough that I was raised in Bumpfuck, Georgia. I remember the casting director looking at me like I was a country-fried fool when I told him my name was Homer. The first thing I did when I moved to Atlanta was to change my name. There is a secret about it, though, and you look like the kind of girl who would enjoy a good secret,” Dalton said with a devilish giggle.
“Oh honey, you know me too well,” I said as I playfully slapped Dalton on the knee. “Tell me the secret.”
Dalton leaned over still laughing and whispered like we were in a public place and said, “My family doesn’t know that I changed my named. They still call me Homer.”
“Haven’t they seen you perform?” I asked.
“Yeah they have but I told them that everyone on Broadway has a fake name. And they believe me. One night after a performance, they had me going through a Playbill telling them the real name of every cast member.”
“What did you do?”
“I made them up. Had a new name for every one of them.”
I started laughing so hard my sides were hurting. I really liked Dalton because he made me laugh and there’s a sinister glint in his eye that I like.
“You’re bad, Dalton, Danni, Homer or whatever your name is,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m so bad that I’m good,” he said.
Dalton and I were having a good laugh between friends when suddenly I he
ard a key in the door and Ava popped in. She looked at Dalton like she knew him and said, “Somebody has a hen party and I wasn’t invited. Now Yancey, is that any way to treat your dear mother?”
“Hey Ava. Where have you been all day?”
“Minding my own business, suggesting you do the same.”
Dalton gave me a quizzical look and then glanced at Ava, who wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m going to my room and get some beauty rest,” Ava announced.
“I have someone I want to introduce you to,” I said.
“Save it, Yancey. It’s obvious he’s on the boys’ team, so don’t waste my time,” Ava said as she waved one hand in the air in a dismissive gesture.
When she left the room, Dalton looked at me and said, “Now isn’t she special.”
“Not special but touched,” I said as Dalton and I burst into laughter.
CHAPTER
12
Ava walked through her bedroom and headed straight for the shower. She turned it on and removed her clothes, put on her robe and a shower cap, then picked up her cell phone to see if he had called. He had not.
“Oh, I can’t wait to get this bitch out of my house,” Ava said to herself.
She picked up her phone and hit speed dial.
“Hello.”
“When are you coming here?”
“What’s going on, Ava?”
“We just need to speed this up.”
“Why?”
“Because this girl is getting on my last nerve.”
“What’s new about that? That’s what daughters do or so I heard.”
“And that’s the main reason I never wanted one of those bitches.”
“Statements like that will get you nominated for the Joan Craw-ford Mother of the Year Award.”
“Joan Crawford ain’t got shit on me. I bet she couldn’t work an iron extension cord like me. Wire hangers my ass.”
“What’s the real reason you want Yancey out so quick? I mean you own the house. You could make it happen today.”
“Well, I hope to start dating soon and I don’t want to have to put up with her. I’m ready to move into the master suite. Besides, I don’t want to show my hand just yet.”
“Good thing you’ve decided to listen to me, Ava.”
“Whatever, dude,” Ava said as she clicked off the phone and headed to the shower.
AVA WENT INTO THE bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She picked at her shapeless tangle of hair and suddenly imagined herself as a beautiful, sophisticated socialite wife. That’s where she belonged, Ava told herself. That would be her first project once she took care of Yancey.
Just as Ava prepared to turn on the cold water a familiar voice intruded into her thoughts with a self-fulfilling prophecy. She heard her mother’s voice with its patent gut-bucket southern accent saying, “That gal ain’t gonna do nuthing but bring you trouble, Ava. Every female got a little bitch in ’em.”
Ava splashed some cold water on her face and mumbled to herself, “Not anymore, Mama. That bitch is going down for good.”
Part
Two
CHAPTER
1
Sixteen-and-a-half-year-old Madison Belisa Lewis is lying across the bed in the Presidential Suite of the Four Seasons Hotel. She’s wearing her favorite pink pajamas with matching robe and reading a copy of Teen People magazine, on which she happens to grace the cover.
Her father walks into the room and announces, “It’s bedtime, little lady. We have another busy day tomorrow.”
“I know,” she whines like the teenager she is and not the multimillionaire star she has become in a very short time. “I just want to finish this story about Chris Brown. Do you think he’s really dating Rihanna, Daddy? I mean Rihanna is pretty and she can sing.”
Derrick smiles and pulls back the spread on the leather-and-metal king-size bed. “Madison, I don’t care who Chris Brown is dating, just as long as it’s not you, young lady. You remember our agreement; no dating until you’re eighteen.”
“I thought we said after I graduate from high school.”
“Eighteen, Madison.”
“But Daddy, he’s so cute. I want to do a duet with him. Do you think you could talk to the producers of my CD about that?”
“Sure, baby. I’ll check it out as long as it’s strictly business. Now under the covers.”
Madison follows her father’s orders but holds on tightly to the magazine, like it is a prized childhood toy. Her father leans over her and kisses her on the forehead. “Don’t stay up too late reading that magazine; you’ve got a very busy day tomorrow, Miss American Star.”
“Daddy, one more thing I was thinking about. You remember Aunt Jenny’s favorite saying, don’t you?”
“ ‘To whom much is given, much is expected,’” Derrick says.
“I was thinking about what you said about taking some of my earnings and starting a foundation. I know what I want to do now.”
“What, Madison?”
“I want to start an after-school arts program up in Harlem or over in Jersey City and call it Jenny’s Place. We could have people teaching low-income kids dance, acting and singing. Won’t that be cool?”
“Sounds like a great plan, Madison. I’ll have the lawyers look into it.”
Madison can’t help but smile wide, and before her father closes the door, she says, “Thanks, Daddy.”
He pauses. “For what, sweetheart?”
“For everything. Just everything.”
“I didn’t do anything. It was all you, Madison,” her father replies, then closes the door gently.
Madison rolls onto her back and crosses her arms behind her head, knowing if it wasn’t for her father, she wouldn’t be where she is. He was the one who not only paid for but also took her to singing and dancing lessons when she announced at age seven that she wanted a career in show business. She closes her eyes and replays in her head the night that had changed her life.
“America has voted,” the host, a slight-built man with a head full of hair and a five o’clock shadow, declared. Madison could feel her heart start to race. A cold, clammy hand slipped into hers, and she realized that Cody, the blond, ex–boy band rocker, must’ve been as nervous as she was. He was gripping her for support. Madison squeezed his hand back. Although they’d been competitors the competition had actually brought them closer.
When the host announced that Cody had received more than twenty million votes, Madison felt her heart sink. With his throngs of young teenage girl fans, Cody had been the favorite all season. Madison knew she had some skills, talent, looks and all the ability in the world, but felt she needed an angel if she had any chance of beating the popular Cody.
After all the cheers had died down for Cody, the host looked at her as though he felt sorry about her pending defeat and said, “Madison B., you’re the new American Star.”
Madison gasped, almost choking as Cody’s arms wrapped around her neck, his body pressed into hers, giving her a big hug. The lights seemed to get brighter, the screams and music louder, and Madison felt as though she was floating through the clouds to personally thank her guardian angel.
Instead her eyes met her angel here on earth, her father standing among the thousands of people in the audience, clapping and crying joyously. He was smiling and mouthing the words, “You did it!” and “I love you, baby.” Madison smiled back and her own tears started to roll down her cheeks.
It was an amazing night, one that Madison would never forget. She was overcome with a deep love for her father. He had given up so much for her, foregoing his own love life to make sure that Madison knew how blessed and loved she was.
In Madison’s eyes, he is the greatest man in the world. He helps her with her homework when she needs it, watches her rehearse songs and dance routines and even goes clothes shopping with her if she asks him to. He would do anything for his daughter. Right after Madison was selected for American Star, Derrick broke off with his long
-term girlfriend Shanice, who wanted more of his time. He even left his job as a lead engineer to travel the world with his pop star daughter, insisting that he be paid not a penny for his efforts. That is real love, Madison thought. She figured God had given her a special father because she deserved it after being born to a mother who didn’t want her.
Her father never spoke much about Madison’s biological mother, even when Madison asked him about her. He would just shrug and say they were better off alone. But Madison knew that she was out there and often wondered if she ever regretted giving her up. Now that she was becoming rich and famous would this so-called mother suddenly pop up? What would Madison say to her? Would she accept her mother, welcome her back with open arms, or reject her for abandoning her?
Madison reaches over, turns out the light and tells herself not to worry about such a thing, because that day will never come.
Madison stood on the set of South Beach Dream Teen, a pilot about a motherless sixteen-year-old teenager, a rich, pretty and popular high school girl living in South Florida. Madison hoped it would become a hit sitcom for the Disney Channel and be even more popular than Raven Simone’s popular series That’s So Raven.
After the American Star win, doors were opening up everywhere. She was the first to be considered for the lead role of Austen Simmons in the pilot, and after reading the script, Madison told herself she had to have it because it resembled the life she dreamed of. Although Madison at eighteen would be older than the part she played, she was always a popular girl at her private school right outside Los Angeles. Her family wasn’t wealthy, but her dad made sure she didn’t miss anything without totally spoiling her.
Madison was pulled from her afternoon disco nap by her daddy’s deep baritone voice. “Maddy, wake your behind up.” At first she thought she was dreaming. When she opened her eyes Madison didn’t realize where she was.
“What? Is there something wrong, Dad?” she asked, lifting her head from the pillow.
“Wake up. I need to talk to you.”
Madison rubbed her eyes and looked at her daddy with his arms folded over his chest and a stern look on his face. She had seen that look before and knew this can’t be good.
Mama Dearest Page 9