“Your father was sitting by the phone waiting for us. He suggested that you get one of those cellular phones, so that we can stay in touch.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary, Mama?”
Virginia shrugged her shoulders. “It won’t hurt to look into it. If it will make your father feel better, then I’m all for it. Your leaving is hard on him, you know.”
Deborah Anne nodded. “I know, but you didn’t think I’d stay home forever, did you?”
“Of course not, but after you stayed home for college and then all those years afterward”—Virginia paused and laid her hand on her daughter’s cheek—“you can’t blame us now if we’re a little sad.”
Deborah Anne took her mother’s hand. “I’m sad too, but don’t get too comfortable. I plan on making lots of trips home.”
“Good!”
“Anyway, now you and Daddy will have that big house to yourself. You won’t have me underfoot.”
Virginia waved her hand. “Your father will be at one end of the house and I’ll be at the other.” She smiled. “But seriously, I am so proud of what you’re doing.”
Deborah Anne bowed her head. “I know you would have preferred that I sing different music.”
“Baby, I would never tell a grown woman what to do. You’re a woman of God, Deborah Anne. As long as you stay on your knees, He’s the only one you should listen to. And He will tell you what to do.”
“Hey, let’s not get all serious. Let’s do something—even if we just walk on Hollywood Boulevard.”
Virginia stepped back into the room. “Okay, and let’s ask someone at the front desk if they know the best way to search for an apartment. Maybe we should get a Sunday paper and look in the classifieds. I’d love to have you settled before I leave.”
Virginia went into the bathroom as Deborah Anne gathered their sweaters and purses. Just then, the phone rang.
“That has got to be your father,” Virginia yelled through the bathroom door.
Deborah Anne laughed as she picked up the phone.
“Hey, I hope that laugh is because you’re glad to hear from me.”
“Triage!” she exclaimed. “How are you? And how did you know I was here? I was going to call you in a few days—”
“Whoa, girl. Give me a chance. First, welcome to LA! I’m fine. I found out you were here from Grandma and Lavelle’s people. You didn’t think I was going to let you come to LA and not look out for you, did you?”
She smiled. “Well, I am glad you’re here. Mama was just talking about when she had to leave, and the thought of being here alone . . .” She sank onto the bed.
“Well, I have my orders from Grandma. If she had her way, you’d be moving in with me.”
Deborah Anne felt the heat rise to her face.
“Of course, she’d make us get married first,” Triage continued.
“Is that your father?” Virginia asked as she came back into the room.
Deborah Anne shook her head. “It’s Triage.”
“So, what are you ladies doing?” he asked.
“Mama and I were just going out to get something to eat.”
“Then I called just in time. Give me about thirty minutes, and I’ll be there.”
While they waited in the lobby for Triage, Virginia asked at the front desk about searching for an apartment. In less than thirty minutes, Triage pulled up in front of the hotel, this time driving himself in a black Range Rover.
He hugged Virginia first, then kissed Deborah Anne on the cheek.
“I was thinking that we would go back to my place, and I can fix you both dinner,” he said, as he helped them into the car.
“That’s so nice of you, Milton,” Virginia said. “Maybe I can do a little cooking for you.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I would never let you do that. You and Deborah Anne are my guests.” He smiled at her in the rearview mirror.
“You don’t understand, Triage.” Deborah Anne smiled. “Mama loves to cook. That would be a treat for her.”
“Well, Grandma says there is only one person on earth who can cook better than her or her daughters, and that’s you, Mrs. Peterson. So you don’t have to ask me twice.” Triage’s enthusiasm for a home-cooked meal made Virginia laugh.
They chatted casually as Triage maneuvered the SUV through the winding hills of Hollywood.
When they drove through the white iron gate, neither Deborah Anne nor Virginia was prepared for the mammoth Mediterranean-style home that loomed in front of them.
When Triage opened the front door, Virginia exclaimed, “Milton, this isn’t a house. Mansion, maybe.”
He chuckled. “Let me give you the grand tour. We’ll start on the third floor and then come down. I always like to show the house that way.”
They strolled through the ten-thousand-square-foot home in awe. The third floor held Triage’s office and a library stocked with books, floor to ceiling across three walls. His studio, complete with sixteen-track digital recording equipment, completed the enormous workspace.
“My goodness, we could have had my audition here.” Deborah Anne laughed.
“This is where I hang out when I really want to chill,” Triage said, taking them into the second-floor media room, which housed a seventy-two-inch TV screen, and stereo equipment that lined one wall.
From there, they continued through the eight bedrooms, each decorated in a different color. But it was the master bedroom that Deborah Anne loved most. With the octagonal-shaped sitting room and the gold-and-black-enamel furniture and accessories, the room had an elegant, spacious feel.
As they came down the curved staircase, Virginia said, “I feel like I’ve walked a couple of miles.”
“You have, Mama.”
“Well, don’t get too tired yet, Mrs. Peterson. I still have to show you the kitchen and the pool.”
“Now this is the kind of place where I can really get cooking.” Virginia laughed.
The gourmet kitchen was totally white, with granite countertops and embossed lacquer cabinets. As Virginia admired the stainless steel appliances, Triage took Deborah Anne into the backyard, where there were an Olympic-size pool and a Jacuzzi.
“Do you swim a lot?”
Triage laughed. “I don’t swim at all. But I couldn’t buy a house in Los Angeles without a pool.”
Deborah Anne shook her head. “Well then, I’ll just have to teach you.”
“Girl, you won’t have any time. Next week at this time, I’ll be calling you and you’ll be asking, ‘Triage who?’”
“I doubt that. You’re too good a friend.”
They strolled back into the house and joined Virginia in the kitchen, where she was peeking through the cabinets.
“I hope you don’t mind, Milton, but I’ve already checked the refrigerator. I think I can put together something for us.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Peterson? I can fix something, or we can order in.”
Virginia waved him away. “This will be my pleasure. You and Deborah Anne just go somewhere and talk. Tell my daughter everything she needs to know about what she’s getting into. She needs all the help she can get.”
“Okay.” He handed Virginia an apron and Deborah Anne a can of Hawaiian Punch. Then they returned to the pool area.
“Triage, your home is really nice. It’s the kind of house I’ve dreamed of owning. I want a place where my parents can live comfortably when they get older.”
Triage leaned his head back as he swallowed a swig of Miller Lite. “You’re going to have all of this and much more, Deborah Anne.”
“I hope so.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m floating in the center of a bubble. I’m afraid that it will all burst, and I’ll find myself back in Villa Rica.”
He put the beer can onto the wrought-iron table. “What’s up with the lack of confidence? Don’t you know how well you sing?”
“It’s not my singing; I know what the Lord has given me.” She dropped her eyes. “I just want to make sure I’m goi
ng to fit into this life. When I was at the studio for the audition, I felt so different from Vianca and Emerald. The way they dressed, the way their hair and makeup was done—they looked like professional singers. But me . . .” Deborah Anne glanced at the jogging suit she’d worn on the plane.
Triage chuckled. “Do you think Vianca and Emerald came to Lavelle looking like that? Believe me, they’ve had a lot of help, and you will too.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “But, Deborah Anne, don’t go changing too much. The best people are the ones who stay themselves. You’ll find your own style.”
She wondered if she should mention the way Lavelle had made her feel when he hugged her, but decided against it. No need to stir the waters for no reason.
“I thank God for you every day, Triage.”
He leaned back and smiled. “I keep telling you I have to take care of the daughter of the woman who took care of my mama.”
They laughed and waited for Virginia to call them in for dinner.
CHAPTER 11
THE NEXT WEEK PASSED AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT. Triage took time from his recording schedule to help Deborah Anne and Virginia accomplish all the tasks on Virginia’s list.
“There’s so much to do before I leave,” Virginia kept saying.
“Mama, it’s fine if we don’t get everything done. I can handle it, and remember, I have Triage to help me.”
But Virginia could not be diverted. By the time Triage and Deborah Anne drove Virginia to LAX the following Saturday, they had accomplished a long list of to-dos. They purchased a year-old Toyota Camry, leased a studio apartment just ten minutes from the studio, filled the kitchen cabinets with food; had the phone and utilities turned on, bought clothes that Deborah Anne felt more comfortable in, scheduled delivery of Deborah Anne’s possessions from the moving company, and cried more tears than either had thought possible.
“You take care of yourself, you hear me,” Virginia said, as she pointed her chin forward.
“I will, Mama. And you take care of yourself and Daddy too. I’m going to miss you so much.”
They hugged.
“Milton, I can’t thank you enough for all that you did for us this week and for everything that you’ve done for Deborah Anne. But I’m going to ask you one more favor. Keep an eye on her. She means the world to us.”
Triage smiled and hugged Virginia. “Yes, ma’am.”
They waved and watched until Virginia could no longer be seen in the passenger walkway. Even then, Deborah Anne stood by the window to wait for the plane to take off. Triage stood behind her, signing his name for a few children who asked for autographs. Finally, he took her hand. “Come on,” he said gently.
As they walked quickly through the terminal, they were able to avoid any more requests for autographs, though someone called out Triage’s name every few steps.
Right before they got to the front door, a paparazzo clicked his camera several times before they were able to get into the car and drive away.
They were on Century Boulevard when Triage finally asked, “Are you okay?”
Deborah Anne had leaned back and closed her eyes. She nodded because she didn’t want him to hear how empty she felt inside. Triage placed his hand over hers, and she opened her eyes. The concern on his face made the hole in her heart grow a little smaller.
“No matter how hard I tried to prepare for this,” Deborah Anne said softly, “I didn’t think I’d feel this sad.”
“I know. When I went to college and watched my parents drive away, leaving me standing there on the edge of campus, I knew I’d never be the same. And that was what scared me.”
He gave her a sideward glance. “But that’s what’s so exciting, Deborah Anne. You will never be the same. And when you think about it, that’s what life’s about.”
She smiled. “I know I’ll be fine. All of my prayers are being answered.”
He squeezed her hand.
When they stopped at a red light, Deborah Anne said, “Triage, there is one thing, though.”
“What, Deborah Anne?”
“Since I’ll never be the same again, why don’t you call me Deborah?” She grinned, put on her sunglasses, and turned on the CD player, blasting Triage’s latest song, “The Truth Be Told,” all through the Range Rover.
CHAPTER 12
WHEN THE ALARM BEEPED, DEBORAH RAN from behind the divider that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room and turned off the clock. She’d been up for hours, even though it was just six.
She returned to her kitchen/dining area and picked up her cup of tea, taking it to the two-chair dining table. Her Bible was already opened; she’d been sifting through the pages for almost two hours.
She’d been reading Psalms, and now she turned back to her favorite scripture: “Be still and know that I am God.” She read it over and over again, knowing that those words would get her through anything. God had brought her to this point. Surely, He would take her all the way.
When she looked up again, it was only six-thirty, three hours before she had to be at the studio. Yesterday, she had taken several trips from her apartment on Santa Monica over to Sunset. Since she had tested the drive in light Sunday traffic, Deborah knew it wouldn’t take her more than fifteen minutes to get to work.
She decided to start getting ready anyway—she would just take her time. But even after showering and dressing in capri-length leggings and a long white man-tailored shirt, she still had hours to wait.
She picked up the phone, then put it back in its cradle. As an ER nurse, Virginia didn’t like to take calls at work unless it was an emergency. And Elijah was always out in the yard, even though he was a supervisor.
Deborah sighed, but then a smile crossed her face. She dialed a number quickly. “Hey, Willetta, it’s Deborah Anne.”
“Oh my gosh, girl. I just spoke your name. I was talking to Steven and told him that I hadn’t heard from you. How’re you? Are you working yet? I saw Aunt Virginia yesterday in church, and she was so excited. . . .”
Deborah laughed. “Girl, you sound more excited than anyone. I’m glad I caught you. I just remembered that you were off on Mondays.”
“Yeah. So how’s it going?”
Deborah sank onto the bed that she hadn’t turned back yet. “Willetta, I’m so nervous. In a few hours I have to be at the studio.”
“So what are you nervous about? They already chose you. You have the job, remember?”
“I know, it’s just that I want so much to fit in there.”
“What’re you talking about?” Willetta said incredulously.
“Willetta, you should see these women I’ll be singing with. They are so sharp, so together. When I stand next to them, I feel like a country girl from Villa Rica, Georgia.”
Willetta laughed. “Deborah Anne, that’s who you are. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed, not exactly. I’m just so desperate to do well. You don’t know how much I want this.”
“Girl, that California sun has baked your brain. You sing like Michael Jordan plays basketball. You’re at the top of your game. You can’t do anything except do well.”
“It’s not my singing that concerns me. It’s that this is a different world. There’s a lot I have to learn, and then . . .” She paused. “What if Vianca and Emerald don’t like me?”
Willetta moaned. “Oh, brother! I should have moved out there with your crazy behind. When did you start caring about what people think? Honey, you better get right and remember you’re a child of God. He’s the only one you need to think about. Stop worrying about what people think or else I’m gonna get on a plane, fly out there, and give you a reminder.”
After a few moments, Deborah laughed. “That’s why I love you so much. If I need to be brought back to reality—”
“Just call me, and I’ll slap your behind back where it belongs.” They laughed. “Deborah Anne, I really want to chat, but I’ve got to go—”
“It’s okay. Thank
s for the pep talk.”
“I love you; call me later. I want to know everything about your first day. And don’t worry about those heifers liking you.”
Deborah laughed, but the moment she hung up the phone, it rang again. “What did you forget to tell me, Willetta?” Deborah was still laughing.
“Nothing.”
Deborah chuckled at Triage’s high-pitched tone.
“Triage, what are you doing up so early?”
“I wanted to make sure you were up and on time for your first day.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been up for hours.”
“Dang, girl. Did you sleep at all?”
“Not much. I’m so anxious I just want to run over there now.”
“Go on; someone will be there.”
Deborah looked at the clock. “I’m not supposed to be there for another hour. I don’t want to appear too anxious.”
“Deborah, in this industry, everyone is anxious. And that’s considered a good thing. Go on over there. It’ll do you good. You can have some coffee, relax, get to know the people.”
She was thoughtful for a moment. “Okay, are you going to be home tonight? I want to tell you all about it.”
“Yeah. I have a few meetings today and some friends in town, but I’ll give you a call.”
Deborah felt her heart drop a bit. Friends? Who were they? But why should I care? she thought. Triage is just my friend.
By the time she hung up and gathered her bag with the clothes she’d rehearse in, Deborah had forgotten about Triage’s words and was focused on the day in front of her.
She ran to her parking space and jumped into her car. The sun was still screened behind the clouds, but she was smiling. It could have been snowing in LA and it wouldn’t have mattered to Deborah.
Just as she thought, the trip took just about ten minutes. She parked in the back of the building as she’d been told to do and took one last look at herself in the rearview mirror. “This is it, Deborah Anne—Deborah. This is what you’ve been waiting for.” Then she closed her eyes and thanked God for every blessing.
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