Mama Dearest

by E. Lynn Harris

  He giggled. “I thought it was funny, but we will most likely have to cut it out.”

  “Both of us have told her that her language has to be clean, and already she’s said two cuss words.”

  “Don’t act like I’m not here,” she called to both of us. “Those words just slipped out. I will get better.”

  I looked across the room and saw the camera coming closer to me. I placed my hand over the lens and yelled, “Stop it. I need to pull myself together.”

  Cale stepped in and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You look great, Yancey. And this exchange can be edited. But I think one of the big reasons we got Lyrical is so you two can play off each other, to show the difference between you and her. Now, why don’t we go into your office and talk again about your schedule. I will speak with Lyrical and make sure she tones down the language.”

  Maybe my nerves were getting the best of me. I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said, then went into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the former den that the producers had turned into an office. There was a glasstop desk with a pink computer for me and several of my headshots on the wall. I took a seat in the black leather chair. When the cameramen came in, I called out for Lyrical to come in.

  “Do you need me, Miss Yancey?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Yes, I do. What’s on my agenda today?”

  “Agenda? What in the hell … I mean, heck, is an agenda?”

  I rolled my eyes and took a swig of water. “My appointments. What do I have to do today?”

  “Oh, that.” She took a pocket-size notepad from her jeans and opened it. “You have a session with your trainer in thirty minutes. Then you have lunch with some girl named Rochelle. You have an audition at two and then an appointment with Dr. Kym at three. Where would you like to have lunch?”

  “I don’t care. Make some suggestions.”

  “I know this great place up in Harlem. They make some great fried chicken and rib tips.”

  I smiled to show that I knew her game but wasn’t going to let her get to me. “I don’t eat fried foods.”

  “You don’t? I think you might be the first black person I ever met who don’t eat fried chicken. What’s up with that?”

  I ignored her question and looked over at Cale, who had a hand over his mouth in order to suppress his laughter.

  “Forget about the restaurant, I’ll find one. Where is my audition?”

  Flipping through the pad quickly, she finally landed on the information. “It’s in midtown, on 46th and Sixth Avenue.”

  “What’s it for again?”

  “Your agent said it was for some show called Ugly Betty, whatever that means. Is that a television show or movie?”

  “It’s a television show. Fabulous show. Did they send over a script?”

  “Yeah,” Lyrical said, plopping herself in the white leather chair in front of my desk. For a moment I just stared at Lyrical, wondering how big a pea she had for a brain. She simply stared back at me.

  “Well, where is it?” I almost shouted.

  “Oh shit, it’s over here,” Lyrical said as she jumped up and picked up a manila envelope from the loveseat. I wanted to snatch the package from her hands, but the cameras were rolling. As I pulled the pages out of the envelope, horror filled my face. The character I was auditioning for was to play Vanessa Williams’s mother. Are you kidding me? No way, no how, I thought and knew I had to get another agent. He should have told me this information personally.

  “Is everything okay?” Lyrical asked.

  “Get my agent on the phone.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Just push four on my cell phone and give it to me.”

  “Where is your cell phone?”

  “Lyrical, that’s your job. Find my phone.”

  “Okay,” Lyrical said huffily as she left the office. As soon as she left, Cale came closer and said I needed to loosen up and not let everything Lyrical did get to me.

  “We’re just starting and it’s going to be a headache for everyone if you don’t chill.”

  “But she is so stupid,” I said in almost a whisper.

  “You’re playing off each other. It makes great television. Look, she won’t be in every frame. We will be shooting you without her when you work out and go to the audition.”

  “I’m not doing the audition.”

  “Why not?” he asked, surprised by the news.

  “The freaking script calls for me to play Vanessa Williams’s mother. Can you believe that shit? Do I look old enough to play that role? That’s something my real mother should be doing.”

  “Speaking of real mothers, where is Ava?”

  For the first time that morning, a true smile lit my face. “I sent her to Naples for a week or two,” I said.

  He looked at me skeptically. “And she went without a fight?”

  “Of course,” I said. So what if I had to use some of the money S. Marcus had given me to find Ava a five-star hotel and give her some money for new clothes? I was hoping that Ava might get lucky and snag herself another rich old husband. I had my fingers crossed when I didn’t hear from her the first three days. When she did call, it was for more money, naturally, for spa treatments.

  “So what are you going to do?” Cale asked.

  “About what?”

  “The audition?”

  “I need a new agent,” I said as much to myself as to him.

  “Do you have any prospects?” Cale asked.

  “Not really.”

  He was quick on his feet, and sure enough, in another moment he suggested, “I think you need to come up with three agents you’d like to represent you, and then we could follow you while you meet with them. I think that would be great.”

  “Good idea,” I said. I was thinking that maybe with cameras following me around, maybe some of the top agents might reconsider representing me. This was a great plan.

  “Hey, why don’t you give me a list of five, and I will have my assistant contact them and we’ll film three?”

  “That sounds like a plan,” I said, finishing my water. I swiped the cold, sweaty bottle across my forehead and thought how I couldn’t wait to immerse myself in the pool at the new health club I was going to join as soon as the money started rolling in.

  I WAS A LITTLE surprised when Cale showed up at my town house the next morning without his two cameramen. The scowl on his face told me that something wasn’t right.

  “Cale, where are David and Billy?”

  “I need to talk with you, Yancey.” His tone was serious. “Where can we talk?”

  “Let’s go into the office. No, wait, let’s just sit here on the sofa,” I said. I figured Lyrical would be arriving shortly and I could just send her to the office. I didn’t want her around if I was about to be handed bad news.

  “Yancey, I think we got a problem,” he said, raising a finger, “but it’s one I think we can solve and make into a win-win situation for the both of us.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. When had anything ever been a win-win for me? “What’s wrong? Oh my, where are my manners? Can I get you something to drink?” I asked nervously.

  “I’ve been looking over the footage we shot, and I showed some of it to one of the producers and Jeff. Let’s just say they were not impressed. They’re talking about pulling the plug.”

  “What!” I jumped up from the sofa.

  “Yancey, sit down. We can work this out,” Cale said calmly.

  “We can’t let them do that. Why are they talking about stopping the show before it even goes on the air? I need this show, Cale.”

  Cale grabbed my hand and gently pulled me back to the sofa. He told me we could make sure they didn’t stop production of the show. He went on to inform me they had been unimpressed with my daily routine, and the only thing they liked about the show was Lyrical. I scowled at that news. I knew it was a bad idea to hire that bitch. Just like Ava, I knew she’d try to steal my show, but I wasn’t
going to let that happen.

  “How can we stop them? What if they’ve already made up their minds?”

  “We just make it more exciting. Put more focus on you.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He looked away—a bad sign. “I’ve thought of a couple of things. Besides focusing on your career and your comeback, I think it might be a good thing to show some of your past. But you’d have to agree to help me.”

  I didn’t know exactly what he meant about my past, but if talking about it would save the show, I was ready to listen. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “I think we might need to bring your mother into the picture. I think she would add a lot.”

  I groaned loudly. “Why? I don’t want to do that. Ava will try to upstage me. She always has.”

  “I also want to explore some of the things that have happened in your past and use them to show how much you and your life have changed.”

  My antenna immediately went up. Changed? How much did Cale know?

  “I want you to revisit some people from your past.”

  Confused, I turned my head slightly to signal for him to explain.

  “I want to set up meetings with Nicole Springer and Basil Henderson, and I want you to try and reconnect with your daughter.”

  Had Cale thrown cold ice water in my face, I could not have been more shocked. The mere mention of those names left me speechless.

  Cale placed a hand over mine to help calm me. “Those are a few of the people I think we should visit, but I think the real focus should be on reconnecting with your daughter. I understand she’s in the business as well. I think the ratings will go through the roof.”

  I stood up and paced the room, searching for the right words. “Who told you about Basil and Nicole? Who told you I had a daughter? That’s a lie, Cale. I don’t have any children. Who have you been talking to?”

  He remained utterly calm, a director used to handling divas. “Now, Yancey, if we’re going to continue to work together, you have to trust me. Don’t you want to get to know Madison better?”

  “Madison. I don’t know a Madison,” I said firmly.

  “Yancey, I’ve checked it out and it’s all true and you know it. First, tell me about this Basil Henderson guy you almost married. And you can’t deny that, because I searched the web pre-production and saw all the gossip columns talking about the wedding and when you recorded that song, the speculation was on if it was about the former football star. Is he out now and do you think he would let us tape the two of you meeting?”

  “I don’t know what Basil is doing,” I said, my arms crossed as if to block my memory. “I haven’t talked to him in a long time. Why do you want to do that?”

  “Imagine it like a forgiveness tour, if you will. Every week you could visit someone who’s hurt you or who you’ve hurt, and seek forgiveness. Let’s start with Nicole Springer. When was the last time you talked with her?”

  “It’s been a long time. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

  “She is. She has children and lives in Atlanta. Is it true you once poisoned her to go on in her place in a company of Dreamgirls?”

  “Hell no! Who told you that? Cale, you’re tripping. I would never do something like that.”

  “Come on, Yancey. I’ve done some things I’m ashamed of as well. We all have. But just think how great it would be for your audience and your fans to see you’ve learned from your mistakes and are willing to admit them.” His eyes were blazing. I could tell he had a glorious vision for how the series would unfold. The series that now would embarrass the hell out of me. “Those would be mini episodes,” he went on, still dreaming, “but the meat of the show would be trying to establish a relationship with your daughter. I think the fact that she’s a big star now makes it even better.”

  I was still not willing to confirm Cale’s information. These were secrets that were best kept that way. Why would I open old wounds like that in front of the world? I continued pacing as images of Basil, Nicole and Madison danced in my head. It suddenly dawned on me that Ava had something to do with Cale finding out this information. What a bitch she was. Ava had used my past to parlay her ass onto my show.

  I went to the window and stood there, attempting to gather my thoughts. “Let me think about this, Cale. I don’t know if I want to do this. Even if it means saving the show, you’re asking a lot from me.”

  “I understand, but I think if we told the producers what we’re going to do, they might not only keep the show in production but also give us a bigger budget to work with.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to face him.

  Cale approached me, remarking gently, “Trust me on this, Yancey. We will still follow your day-to-day activities related to your career, but I think this gives the show more than a one-season run.”

  My shoulders slumped, already starting to give in. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “We can do it like a little confessional. Just you sitting on a stool with a black backdrop, talking to the camera about some of the things in your life that have brought you deep pain. I think it will endear you to the audience. They will feel for you and also feel like they can relate to you.”

  “So it’s just me on camera by myself?”

  “Yeah, I will be shooting you questions off camera. They won’t see me, but they will hear my voice.”

  If I could tell my side of the story, I might be able to make people see I wasn’t a horrible person. “Let’s try it. But if I don’t like it, then we won’t use it. Okay?”

  “That’s fair enough.” He pulled away, and instantly his voice gained about fifty decibels. “I was hoping you’d say yes, so I’ve already set up something in your bedroom. We will make it a closed set. Just one cameraman, me and you,” Cale said.

  Why wasn’t I surprised he’d already counted on me to say yes? “Okay.”

  I followed Cale to my bedroom, where he had a mirror covered in black fabric behind a stool. A bright light hung overhead.

  “Sit on the stool, Yancey.”

  I looked into my dressing mirror to make sure my hair and makeup looked okay. I was wearing a white man’s oxford shirt, which I thought would look dramatic. Right before I sat down, I pulled out a pair of black pearls from my jewelry box and held them up for Cale to see.

  “By all means put those on,” he said.

  I put the pearl earrings on and then took a seat. Cale checked to make sure the lighting was okay and asked me if I was ready. I nodded my head.

  Off camera, sitting in a chair near me, he started shooting questions.

  “Tell us your name.”

  “Yancey Harringon Braxton.”

  “What is your occupation?”

  “I’m an actress and recording artist.”

  “Have you had any hits?”

  “I had a song that was number one on the Billboard charts for nine weeks.”

  “What was the title?”

  “ ‘Any Way the Wind Blows.’ ”

  “Has that been the best thing that has happened to you?”

  “That was good. But I’ve had other highlights.”

  “Like?”

  “I’ve had some love in my life.”

  “Anyone you want to talk about?”

  I paused for a moment and said, “Maybe later.”

  “Okay. Where were you born?”

  “Jackson, Tennessee.”

  “So you’re a southern girl.”

  “Southern born but not southern bred.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “That I’m not a southern belle.”

  A note of humor entered his voice. “So you see something wrong with that?”

  “I’m more sophisticated.”

  “Okay. Tell me about your mother and father.”

  “What about them?”

  “Whatever you want to tell us.”

  “My mother was an actress and singer.” With a measure of satisfaction I added, “She di
dn’t meet with a lot of success in the States, but she was popular in Europe and Japan.”

  “So she was your role model?”

  I didn’t have to pretend my ridicule of such an idea. “Oh hell no! She was hardly in my life.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did that bother you?”

  I thought for a moment and looked in the camera dead on and said, “You know that line in the movie A Chorus Line?”

  “What line?”

  “ ‘I felt nothing,’ ” I sang.

  “So is she in your life now?”

  “She’s around but not really. I come from a long line of bad mothers and most likely the reason I was so afraid to be one myself.”

  He paused, as if deciding whether to press on, but said instead, “Let’s talk about Madison.”

  I started to fidget on the stool, suddenly fearful of what Cale was getting ready to ask me.

  “What about Madison?”

  “Do you ever hope to meet her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell us who Madison is, Yancey.”

  I looked over at Cale and rolled my eyes at him. I suddenly had the urge to tell him this wasn’t a good idea, but if this was going to sell my show, then I had to go for it.

  With a sigh I said, “I gave up Madison when she was born. I had her while in college. I thought I’d given her up for adoption, but later I learned that her father, my boyfriend at the time, had prevented the adoption and raised her by himself.”

  “How did you feel when you found that out?”

  “I felt betrayed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s not what we agreed on.”

  “But that makes it pretty easy for you to get in contact with her. Have you ever thought about doing that?”

  I paused for a minute and lowered my head. Finally I lifted it toward the camera and said, “Maybe someday I will.”

  “How do you think she might feel about that?”

  “I have no clue about how Madison might feel,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt an intense rush of emotion gush out of my body like I was giving birth again. I got off the stool and rushed past Cale toward my bathroom.