They giggled as they walked through the lobby and into the parking lot. Deborah decided to drive.
“So where do we begin?”
Vianca looked at her watch. “It’s a good thing Tisha let us off early. We still have an hour before the shops on Rodeo close.”
“Oh, no. I’m not shopping on Rodeo Drive.”
“Why not? I keep telling you about this image we have to have.”
“And that image costs too much money.”
“You could always have Triage pay for your dress. That’s what most women would do.”
“Then I’m glad my parents didn’t raise me to be ‘most women.’”
Vianca sighed. “Well, before you say no altogether, let’s go to Gianfranco Ferre. Sometimes you can get some great buys at that boutique.” Before Deborah could protest, Vianca added, “And if that doesn’t work out, the malls will still be open and we can go somewhere like Robinson’s-May.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“You’re kidding, right? You wouldn’t really wear a dress from Robinson’s-May to Triage’s premiere?”
Deborah’s glance told Vianca that she would.
Vianca raised her eyes to the sky. “Lord, please help this child.”
“Oh, so you’ve found God now!”
They laughed, and within minutes they pulled up to the boutique. It didn’t take many minutes for Deborah to decide they needed to go elsewhere. A few glances at the price tags had her running for the front door.
“I don’t know why you’re being such a boob about this. You can afford these kinds of clothes now.”
“Vianca, I don’t know how much money you’re making, but I can’t afford to spend nine hundred and fifty dollars on a dress that I’ll wear once. Even if I could wear it every day, it still wouldn’t be worth it.”
Deborah held her hand up in front of Vianca’s face and marched out of the store. The valet had not even had the chance to move her car, but the five-dollar service charge still applied.
“If you’re going to buy something off the rack, at least go to Nordstrom,” Vianca pleaded.
It took them almost forty minutes to get to the Westside Pavilion.
Each time Vianca picked out a dress, Deborah vetoed it. The first dress Deborah chose made Vianca gag.
“As one of Lavelle’s girls, you cannot wear that matronly bag!”
“Just because I choose not to show every part of my body doesn’t make me matronly.” But by the time Deborah put on the dress, she agreed with Vianca.
When she came out of the dressing room, Vianca was holding a salmon-colored gown with a high neck. “Now, girl, this is the bomb!” She held the dress above her head. “How do you like this one?”
Deborah smiled as she took the hanger from Vianca’s hand. “This is nice.” The scoop-necked, long-sleeved dress was trimmed with sequins. Deborah took a quick glance at the price tag—$375 was more than she had ever spent, but this was a special event.
She was surprised that Vianca had chosen this, until Deborah twisted the hanger around. “What happened to the back?”
“That’s the style, girl. Come on, you’ve got to live a little.”
Deborah squinted her eyes in doubt.
“Deborah, you’ve got to think about Triage.” Vianca continued to plead her case. “He’s a star, and people will be looking at his date.” She held up her hand before Deborah could say anything. “I know you’re not his date, but everyone else will think that you are. So if you don’t care about yourself, do this for Triage. Especially after all he’s done for you.”
Deborah looked at the dress again. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.
“Come on, I’ll help you get into this,” Vianca urged.
A few minutes later, Vianca had zipped the dress and tied it at the waist. She stepped back as Deborah turned from side to side, looking at herself in the mirror.
“Girl, you are drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I don’t know.” Deborah chewed her lip. The low-cut back stopped barely above her waist. “This is a little more risqué than anything I’ve ever worn.”
“That’s why you have to do this. It’s time for you to live a little. Your life is different now.”
Deborah twisted in front of the mirror. I don’t know, she thought.
“Go on,” Vianca prodded.
“What kind of bra would I wear with this?”
Vianca rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to wear a bra at all!”
Deborah raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, okay. There’s a Victoria’s Secret here in the mall. There are all kinds of things you can wear.” She paused. “Triage, just remember Triage.”
After a few moments, Deborah said, “All right, but only if I can find a bra to wear with this. If not, we’re going to come right back here, and I’ll get that grandmother dress!”
Vianca clapped. “Girl, you are finally on your way.”
CHAPTER 17
ABOMBARDMENT OF FLASHING LIGHTS BLINDED her as Triage took her hand and helped her from the limousine. The Granville Theater in Westwood was mobbed with fans and reporters, and their screams of “Triage, Triage” overwhelmed Deborah even more than the size of the crowd itself.
Deborah wobbled a bit as they promenaded down the red carpet. The four-inch heels that Vianca had talked her into were at least an inch higher than anything she’d ever worn. She was grateful when Triage stopped to talk to one of the reporters.
“I know you’re excited tonight. From just the little bit I’ve seen, I think One of Those Days is your best film yet,” said Della Robinson, the only African American reporter on the carpet.
Triage smiled. “Thanks, Della. I’m pretty excited about it too. We’ll see how everyone feels about it tonight.”
“So . . .” Della smiled. “Introduce me to your date.”
Triage squeezed Deborah’s hand. “This is Deborah Peterson.”
Deborah and Della shook hands.
“Are you two an item?”
“No,” Deborah said quickly, not wanting Triage to be put on the spot. “We’re hometown friends, in a way.”
“Uh-huh.”
Deborah noticed that Della’s tone was similar to Vianca’s whenever they talked about Triage.
“Well, enjoy your night.”
Triage paused a few more times to talk politely to reporters; then they posed for the photographers.
“At least they’re not chasing us down today,” Triage whispered as they grinned for the cameras. It took almost thirty minutes to walk to their front-row seats.
Deborah wondered what was going to happen. Was anyone going to speak? Would they introduce Triage? She was surprised when the lights dimmed and the film began. For the first time she relaxed, and for the next two hours and twenty minutes, she forgot that she was sitting in the midst of some of the country’s most famous people.
When the final credits began to roll, Deborah joined in the audience’s cheers and kissed Triage on the cheek. “You were fabulous. You didn’t tell me the movie was this good.”
His smile was proud. “Thank you, baby.” He hugged her and then waved as many in the crowd called to him. They were still standing and clapping.
Triage led Deborah from the theater into the lobby where Ted Davis, the producer, immediately approached him. Deborah backed away a bit, giving Triage room. As more people came into the lobby, she was pushed farther back, until she could only see Triage’s head.
She sighed. Her eyes roamed the lobby as people rushed by. Now that she wasn’t at Triage’s side, no one seemed to notice her. She wished she had someone—even Vianca—here with her.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed—it could have been an hour—when Triage took her hand.
“I’m really sorry about that. But you know this business. Are you ready to go to the party?”
She smiled and nodded.
The limousine took them to the Ambassador’s Hotel in Century City, where they were then whisked b
y Triage’s bodyguards to the penthouse suite.
The suite was already packed with people, though Deborah was surprised that there weren’t many she recognized. The room was sprinkled with a few celebrities, but the rest were unknown faces. It took only a few minutes for Deborah to realize that most were just hangers-on.
Triage tried to keep Deborah by his side, but only minutes later, she found herself sitting in the corner on the couch, holding a plate of three hot wings and assorted vegetables.
She crossed her legs and chewed on a celery stick. The man sitting next to her took a vial from his jacket. Deborah had never seen cocaine before, but she didn’t have to; she knew what he was doing as he spread the white powder on the table.
Her eyes were wide as she watched men and women take turns filling their noses. She looked around, but no one else seemed to notice—or care. Laying her plate on the table, she stood, and another woman immediately took her place, eager to join the group.
She had to find Triage. The adjacent room was filled with as many people, and, to her horror, the same thing was going on.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”
She turned around. “Triage, there are people here doing drugs,” she whispered.
He took her hand and led her into the hall. “Don’t worry. No one is going to get into trouble.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She stopped and looked at him. “You don’t—”
“Oh, no.” He waved his hand. “I’ve never done drugs and don’t want any part of it.”
“Triage, I’m sorry, but I feel—”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Would you mind if I went home?”
“I can have the car take you, but I have to stay. There are people—”
She squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to explain.”
With his bodyguards at his side, he took her downstairs and gave instructions to his driver. When she was inside the car, Triage leaned through the open window.
“Thank you for inviting me, Triage. I really did have a wonderful time.”
“Thank you for coming. I hope I didn’t forget to mention that you looked beautiful tonight.” He reached into the car and took her hand. “I have to go out of town for a few days.”
“Oh.” Deborah felt her heart skip a beat.
“I should be back Monday or Tuesday. I’ll call you then.” Suddenly, he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers. She held her breath, taking in the gentle kiss until, long seconds later, he pulled away.
“Now why couldn’t a photographer be here to get a picture of that?” He smiled. Then he turned and walked away.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Deborah lifted her hands to her mouth where the kiss lingered. “Don’t let this get out of hand,” she whispered. “Triage is only a good friend.”
Vianca attacked Deborah the moment she walked into the studio.
“I want every detail, girlfriend.”
“There’s no time for chat.” Tisha clapped her hands. “It’s already noon, and we have a lot of work to do. Remember, on Monday our time will be cut in half when you start vocal rehearsals with Lavelle.”
“You remembered that I was coming in late this morning, right?” Deborah asked.
“Yeah, but you’re here now, so let’s get to work.”
It wasn’t until four that Vianca and Deborah had a chance to talk.
“Are you going to the gym?” Vianca asked. “We can talk in the car.”
“I’m too tired.” Deborah yawned. “I’m going to get up early and go in the morning.”
“How late did you get in?”
Deborah shook her head. “Not late at all. I left early.” She held up her hands. “Long story.”
As they walked to the car, Deborah told Vianca about the evening. “It wasn’t all that exciting, you know. I didn’t get to really talk or meet anyone new, and it turned out to be all business for Triage.”
“But girl, I know he loved your dress.”
Deborah lifted her fingers to her lips. “He said I looked nice.”
“Nice? You looked better than nice, so either he’s a blind man or you’re not telling me the whole story.”
Deborah got into her car. “Go to the gym, Vianca. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She smiled as she pulled away and looked into her rearview mirror. Vianca was still standing in the parking lot, shaking her head, with her hands on her hips.
The phone was ringing when she put her key in the door. “Wait,” Deborah yelled and ran to the phone without closing the front door.
“Deborah Anne?”
“Hi, Mama.” She smiled. “I was just getting in.”
“We didn’t really expect to find you home. We were just hoping. Hold on a second.”
Deborah heard her mother call to her father to get on the extension, and her smile widened when her father’s voice boomed through the phone. Even though she had spoken to them a few days before, her body warmed to the sound of their voices.
“We couldn’t wait to find out about the premiere. How was it?”
Deborah smiled. “Oh, Daddy, it was so glamorous. All the celebrities and the cameras and the red carpet—”
“Oh!” Virginia exclaimed. “Did you get to meet anyone?”
“Not really, though we sat next to Nia Long. She’s in the movie too.”
Deborah could hear her mother’s excitement. “So, tell me what you wore.”
The ends of her smile turned down just a bit. “It was . . . nice. But, I can’t wait for you and Daddy to see the movie. You’ll really enjoy this one.”
“Didn’t you tell us that there was a party afterwards?”
Deborah sighed. “Yes, but I didn’t stay long. You know, I had to be at work this morning—”
“Well, baby, I hope you had a nice time,” Virginia said.
“Oh yes, Mama.”
They chatted for a few minutes more before Deborah was able to escape from their questions.
“Call us on Sunday and let us know about church,” Elijah said before they hung up.
She sighed. “Talk about Hollywood meeting Villa Rica.”
She leaned back, put her feet on the table, and turned on the television. She surfed the channels, finally deciding to watch the news.
When the phone rang again, she didn’t answer, knowing it was Vianca. Her friend would just have to wait to hear any more details.
CHAPTER 18
THE MORNING LIGHT WAS SHINING THROUGH THE studio window as Deborah paced the floor with the sheet music in her hand.
“You’re here early.”
She looked up and smiled at Emerald. Today her braids hung past her shoulders, and Deborah admired the teal kimono-style, knee-length top that she wore over teal leggings.
“Hi. I’m just trying to get a little extra practice in.”
“You’re going to be fine. You’ve done well so far.” Emerald dropped her leather backpack on the floor.
Deborah slumped into one of the chairs. “I’m nervous about working with Lavelle today.”
Emerald shook her head as she walked over to Deborah’s chair. She sat on the side and put her arm around Deborah’s shoulders. “He needs us, darling. Lavelle is nothing without his backup.”
Deborah nodded, lowered her head, and covered her nose with her hand. What was that smell? she wondered.
“Good morning, y’all!” Vianca strolled into the studio, two steps in front of Lavelle.
Emerald rolled her eyes, picked up her purse, and rushed into the bathroom.
“Are you ready for this session?” Vianca said, as she sat next to Deborah.
Deborah nodded, then looked up at Lavelle, who had stopped by them. Silently, he handed Vianca her bag and smiled at Deborah. She could count the number of words he had uttered to her since she’d been here.
Lavelle strolled to the breakfast table and sat with the musicians and Brent Holman, the show’s director.
; “I’m a little nervous,” Deborah confided to Vianca. “I’ve studied the words over and over.”
Vianca laughed. “I was like that last year. But think about it, Deborah, the words to the songs are imbedded in your brain permanently. We’ve been dancing to them for weeks. You probably knew them all before you got here anyway.”
Emerald joined them, and Deborah waited for Emerald and Vianca to exchange greetings, but neither said a word to the other. This wasn’t the first time that Deborah noticed that they barely spoke.
“Anyway, Deborah,” Vianca continued, “I know you’ll be just fine. You can sing your butt off, girl.”
“That’s what I was just telling her,” Emerald joined in.
“I’m not concerned about my singing.” She paused. “I don’t think Lavelle likes me much. He hasn’t said much to me since I got to Los Angeles.”
“Just give him a minute,” Emerald grunted. “Soon, he’ll be all over your bones.”
Vianca rolled her eyes but spoke to Deborah. “Lavelle likes you. He’s just like that. He has to get to know you—”
“And she means in the biblical sense.” Emerald smirked.
Again, Vianca spoke pointedly to Deborah, ignoring Emerald. “After today, you’ll see. Lavelle’s cool people.”
Emerald stood. “And Vianca should know.” She strolled away from where they sat, leaving Deborah with her mouth dropped open.
“What was that about?”
Vianca sucked her teeth. “Girl, don’t pay any attention to Emerald. She’s jealous and she’s always negative.”
Deborah shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it.” She stared at Emerald, standing at the window sipping her coffee.
“Okay, everyone,” Brent yelled out. “Let’s get started.”
Deborah stood. She tugged at the short knit skirt she wore under a sleeveless tunic and took a deep breath.
“You look great, by the way.” Vianca smiled. “I see you’re finally getting some taste in clothes.”
Deborah looked down. Suddenly her skirt seemed shorter.
Brent lined them up the way they would be standing onstage. “Okay, let’s start with ‘Love’s Game.’ No steps; only sound today.”
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