by Cortney Gee
I noticed that there were still no drinks in front of them.
"What's up, didn't you order your drinks?" I inquired.
"Yes, we did. The waitress is just taking her sweet time about bringing them back. What the hell is her problem?" she asked, then thought about it. "Ooh Cameron, you put it in all the way, didn't you?"
I was cold called out and had no reply, which was all that Anna needed to verify her deduction. She was cool like that; Anna kept it real.
I didn't have to lie to her about my live-in girlfriend or my twin sons. All she required of me was that when we were together, I treated her with respect. That was easy for me. Real folks get real respect.
After Chris Tucker finished his set, Speedy did a few minutes of time in order to get the crowd's mind off of the young movie star and also to flex his own comedic muscles.
The MC position of the Comedy Act Theatre was a coveted job.
The likes of Robin Harris, Joe Torry, DL Hughley, and Martin Lawrence had held the position before going on to fame and fortune. Now that Speedy had the mantle, he had every intention of keeping with the tradition.
After blazing a patron about his too-small outfit, Speedy brought up Faizon Love, and once again the crowd erupted as soon as they saw the San Diego native hit the stage. His character, Big Worm, had been a hit with black people across the nation. It was so popular that he said people refused to call him by his real name. His set was dedicated to his frustration with newfound fame and the crowd was eating it up.
While he was performing, Speedy slid up to me and asked, "So did you hook me up with your girl's buddy yet?" like the possibility him getting his dick wet was equal exchange for prime stage time.
I realized that it was.
For a comedian, prime stage time is just like sex. You either boom or bomb. If you ripped, it's just like if you handled your business in bed -- you receive instant gratification and a call back. On the other hand, if you bombed on stage or your sex was whack, you couldn't exit the stage or a bedroom quick enough and you could completely forget about any talks of a sequel.
"Yeah, Donna is all in and she thinks you're handsome. I tried to convince her that you were just all right but she wouldn't hear of it," I replied.
"Fuck you, Cameron. You just get ready because I'm bringing you straight up," he told me.
"Cool, make the intro hot, pimp!"
"Gotcha."
I went over to the DJ booth and asked Omar to play Frankie Beverly and Maze “Before I Let Go.” Faizon finished his set and as promised, Speedy went straight into my introduction.
"All right y'all, coming to the stages is a brother from Cleveland. You’ve seen him on Showtime at the Apollo ... ripped it, BET's ComicView, handled his business, and just had a standing ovation performance on Russell Simmons' Def Comedy Jam. Give it up for the Ohio player, Mr. Cameron B."
Omar dropped the cued music and I headed onstage, clapping my hands to the beat, gesturing to the audience to join in with me as I arrived before the microphone. I had been out of practice, but my ego wasn't about to allow the Friday movie special guests to show me up. I knew that I wasn't about to out-funny Chris Tucker or Faizon, but I knew I could out-entertain them. Frankie Beverly began singing and so did I, much to delight of the female portion of the audience.
"You make me happy, this you can bet. You stood right beside me, and I won't forget. And I really love you, you should know...I wanna make sure I'm right, before I let go."
I gave the DJ the cut music signal and had to wait a few seconds before going into my act because the crowd was still singing and clapping. When they finally settled down, I went straight into my signature drunk bit.
"Let me apologize to the brothers in the room for my singing, you know how it is when you get fucked up and you sing your song. I don't care if you don't know all the words, you will sing the words you do know and hum the rest of those motherfuckers you don't." The crowd laughed as Keisha handed me my double Jack neat that I'd ordered for affect.
"As you all can see, I'm already high as giraffe's pussy and the kind folks at the bar have given me another drink. So here's a toast. Drink up, this shit is a lot more funnier when you drunk."
The crowd was eating up my acting like I was inebriated and they were enjoying my observations from a drunk's perspective. For 15 minutes, I had them feasting from the table of good humor I offered, then I thanked them for the good time, and said good night.
Speedy gave me dap as I exited the stage. "You ripped that shit, boy. There are few folks I want you to meet so don't dip off."
I assured him that I wasn't going anywhere and our deal was still solid -- he was rolling with me and the girls. I walked away and stopped by the table where Anna and Donna were sitting.
"Ooh Cameron, if I didn't have to be on the under about us, I would kiss you in the mouth. You were fabulous," Anna told me.
"Well, I don't want to kiss you and shit, but you did rock the stage," Donna said.
I thanked her for the compliment right before she asked me about Speedy. "So is your boy really interested? Because he can definitely get it."
"Oh yeah, we are definitely going to go get something to eat afterward," I replied.
"Tell Speedy I got something for him to eat all right, let him know I'm sitting on it, keeping it warm for him."
While Anna laughed like she was used to that kind of talk from her friend, Donna’s comment shocked me. I would have been standing there with my mouth wide open for not the fear of what she would have stuffed it with.
Before we left the club, Speedy introduced me to Grace Wu and Lisa Noonan, two women who stood out in this crowd like a brother at a Klan meeting. They were a vision of extreme difference, Grace was a diminutive woman of Asian ancestry. (Of which variation, I wasn't sure, but since I dug the Wu-Tang Clan I figured it would be of Chinese origin.) Lisa, on the other hand, was an amazon of Caucasian ancestry dwarfing her companion, standing 6'1" with closely cropped brunette hair. Grace was the first to introduce herself.
"Cameron, I found your performance to be quite entertaining. I'm Grace Wu." She paused to give me her business card. "I work for NBC's diversity casting division and what I saw in you tonight makes me believe you might be just the kind of talent that we've been searching for."
I was wowed by the compliment and opportunity she presented.
"Thank you, Ms. Wu. I really appreciate you noticing me." I shook her petite hand.
"And this Cameron, is my friend, Lisa Noonan from Three-Story Entertainment."
Lisa extended her hand with a business card as well and introduced herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I was wondering if you had management to help guide your career?" she asked.
"The pleasure’s all mine and to answer your question, at the present time, I’m without management or an agent," I replied, not disclosing that my "management" had booted me because of my chauvinistic attitude toward his wife.
"Well then, I would like to do lunch next week; is Monday good for you?" Lisa asked.
Upward movement in the comedy game was welcoming, but Lance and I had developed a rhythm over the past few months that couldn’t be disturbed. I had standing meetings with Lance until Wednesday so the lunch couldn't take place until after I had clocked that haul.
"Of course! I would be more than interested in meeting with you and discussing the direction of my career. But can we do it Thursday afternoon? I have prior commitments that I need to attend to," I explained.
"Sure that would be fine. I look forward to seeing you this Thursday, let's say twelve-thirty at the Wilshire Hotel?"
Grace informed me that she would be in touch after talking to some of her colleagues about me. We exchanged goodbyes and they left out.
"Man, they must really be looking for the next big thing to be in the heart of the Crenshaw district looking for it," I told Speedy.
"They know that if they want to find blacks who connect to the pulse of the black population, they're not going
to find him in Hollywood at The Store or the Laugh Factory. They got to come the Hollyhood!" exclaimed Speedy, making perfect sense to me.
We stayed at the club until about midnight when it closed, leaving more than enough time to have something to eat, kick it with the ladies, and get my ass back in the Valley before Karen started blowing up my phone wondering where the hell I was.
The girls were hungry; they wanted to feed the alcohol they consumed. Speedy suggested we go to Jerry's Deli in Beverly Hills, but that was driving toward the Valley and away from Anna's apartment near the airport. I suggested that we head over to Johnny's Pastrami on Adams, leaving us more time to hang out.
Everyone agreed and we headed over to the best sandwich shop in the hood. After getting four sandwiches and pickle spears, we dipped over to Anna's. Her one-bedroom apartment was nice. I had given her a few dollars to purchase an oversized couch and a love-seat so that I could be comfortable when I spent time there as well as a California King size bed.
We all sat in the living room eating our food while listening to my homeboy, Gerald Levert's “Groove On” CD. Though it had only been out a few weeks, R&B fans were already taunting the compact disc as a soul classic.
After finishing our meal, Anna and I excused ourselves to her bedroom. We were eager to get our freak on, plus Donna and Speedy could use the privacy to handle their business.
As soon as I closed the bedroom door behind us, Anna lifted her sundress over her head and laid on the bed to remove her underwear, pleading with me to come join her. Though I knew I didn't have a lot of time to spend with her, I removed my clothes in a slow, methodical fashion, taking the time to fold each article and neatly place them on the dresser.
"Don't make me wait; bring me my chocolate fix, Papa," Anna cooed.
"You sure you just want some chocolate?" I teasingly asked her as I crept closer to the bed with a hard-on that begged for attention.
"And I want the cream filling, too," she stated seductively as she pulled me down between her gaping legs, inviting me to a carnal fiesta.
We attacked each other's bodies in sensual warfare until the clock on her nightstand read two forty-five in the morning.
"Baby, I have to get going," I told her, wishing I could split myself in two, giving her one-half and sharing my other half with my family.
"Papa, I understand. I appreciate all the good you do for and to me. I knew what it was when we started," she replied, before she kissed me deeply with her tongue probing my mouth.
It took all the strength I had not to just lay it back down and enjoy myself, but I couldn't allow her promises of more pleasure to get in the way of my need to be home.
I lifted myself out of bed and went into Anna's bathroom to shower with soap (that matched the brand I used at home) and splashed on some Egyptian musk.
"Papa, you smell fresh enough to ravage all over again," Anna said the moment I came out of the shower, reminding me why I liked being around her so much. She knew how to make a man feel appreciated.
"I'll call you tomorrow and see you soon." I promised her as I left the room.
I was quiet, trying to respect Speedy and Donna, thinking they might've been asleep. Much to my surprise, Speedy was banging away at Donna who was bent over the couch. Her face being forced by each stroke into the cushions muffled her moans of ecstasy. Speedy, with his retarded ass, shot me the thumbs up, then delivered a thunderous slap across Donna's wide ass.
I opened the door and exited, lighting a Punch Robusto cigar, allowing the large plume of smoke to surround me so as to change my fresh-out-of-the-shower scent into a I've-been-hanging-in-a-smoke-filled-club aroma.
I walked downstairs to my car, put on Method Man/Redman's hip hop hit “How High” and pointed my kitty northbound on the 405 freeway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I had been so busy doing business with Lance and hanging with my new manager, Lisa, that I hadn't had time to look for a house so that we could move out of my cramped apartment.
Sarafina had upped the ante by dropping a check on me worth three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.
Lance said this was my last tango with my account. The fact that we had moved $917,000 and not had a snag made Lance speculate that either everything he knew about law enforcement was wrong or they were building a case against me and were waiting for the right opportunity to spring the trap on me.
Again, he implored me to keep the contracts he had given me with these transactions on my person and/or in my vehicle.
I wasn't the type who needed to be constantly reminded to protect myself. Self-preservation was engraved in my being.
Lisa had me working on a spec script to submit to Grace Wu so she could place me on the writing staff of a new show starring a nationally known comedian. Grace had also encouraged me to write a spec script about a show I pitched to her. The sitcom revolved around a struggling comic. It was called Barely Standing, starring me as the lead, along with a diversified cast of multiracial comedic characters.
I was in a very creative space, using the Final Draft program on my PowerBook laptop, working on the assignments and writing new material, that is when Lance, Chris and I weren't sticking up banks.
Karen was hyped that I was busy writing, which kept me home more and with all the money we had pouring in, the level of stress in our house was virtually erased.
I should have known that things going so smoothly was just the quiet before the storm. Instinct should have had me concerned about when the roof was going to fall in. But I was just enjoying this good space in my life.
The beginning of the end started the day when Lance and I went to pick up Chris and he was so sick he couldn't show his white face like he had shown it so many times before. I prayed that he got better, but Lance wasn't optimistic at all.
"Cameron, I know you're going to think that this is fucked up of me, but it would be to our advantage if Mr. Swenson doesn't pull through," he told me, being morbidly honest.
"You're right, I do think it's fucked up. Chris has helped us bring down almost one million bucks. You could at least join in prayer that our friend gets better," I snapped.
"The first and only lesson you need to know and better learn is that there ain't no friends when you're hustling."
After Lance said that I tuned his ass out, realizing that the same shoes were on my feet. He would rather chuck dirt into my grave than throw me a lifeline.
Mentally, I thanked Lance for unknowingly teaching me the greatest lesson he could have ever taught me. In the game it was truly no shook hands in Crooklyn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Cameron baby, I'm running late. Do you mind taking the boys to Lulu's for me?" Karen asked as she walked past me.
I was sitting at my computer hutch, busy typing away with two fingers trying to complete the task of meeting a deadline.
"Yeah, that's cool, let me just finish this script. Lisa is expecting it. I'll drop them off when I'm done."
"Ah, look at my man trying to be all busy," she said, giving me a hug from behind. "I'm so proud of you."
Of course, Karen had no idea that I was being deceitful in our relationship and I had been lying about our finances. What she did know was that things were better; she just had no clue how good shit really was.
If Karen had any clue that our loot was stacked like it was, she would have told the folks at the VA to kiss her ass. She was content with the couple of thousand dollars that I had given her for a new place as soon as our lease ran out. But if she had known the combination to the safe in the closet, I was sure that quarter of a million dollars I had stashed would've told her that all the bullshit I'd been telling her was nothing but a cover for something illegal.
I finished the script and printed it out, then went into the kitchen with the twins and fed them some hot cereal while they watched early morning television.
"Are you fellas ready to go see LuLu?" I asked them.
"Yes, but can we stay with you today?" they aske
d, freaking me out with the unison twin shit they did.
"Next time, I promise. Today I have some important meetings to attend to." I felt bad letting them down.
"Ah, man. You said that the last time."
"Yeah, but when I came to pick you guys up, I got both of you pizza and ice cream, right?"
"Yes!"
"Then today after I'm done, I'll come pick you up and whatever you guys want I'll get for you." I flashed a wad of loot to make sure they knew I had it. Maybe it wasn’t right for me to be bribing my boys like this, but after so many slim times it felt good to splurge now that the opportunity presented itself.
I got their things together and we went to the Jaguar parked in our apartment garage.
The boys both got in the back, even though I asked which one of them wanted to join me in front. They both refused, choosing to sit next to each other. Again I shrugged it off as some more of that crazy twin behavior. Lulu's was around the corner from us so however they wanted to ride for six minutes, I wasn't about to argue about it.
It was a pleasant August day in Van Nuys but that was only because the sun had just awakened and hadn't yet gotten into the full swing of torturing the folks of San Fernando Valley. I blew the roof off the coupe and played some feel-good Michael Franks, “Popsicle Toes.”
I tried not to play rap music around the twins. They were at an impressionable age and I didn't want to be the reason why they knew the words to “Fuck The Police” before they could spell their names well.
As we arrived at Lulu's the song was fading down. I parked the car, grabbed their bags, and took the children inside.
"Hey, Cameron," Lulu said, greeting me at the door.
"Wassup, Lulu? What's good?" I replied.
"You bringing over the twins and me making this money," she quipped.
"I know that's right. The twins have already eaten, so don't let them worry you like they haven't and they're starving. It'll all be game."