Not a Day Goes By

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Sure does,” Campbell agreed.

  “So, I can keep all of these?” I asked as I offered the photos back to Campbell.

  “They are all yours. Cade insisted.”

  The waiter returned and we started with a midday martini. After we finished our drink and a salad, Campbell ordered a bottle of champagne, which we drank with our chicken Kiev. It was during our lemon sorbet dessert that Campbell did something that touched me deeply. It made me sad for a moment that she hadn’t been in my life since day one. Campbell gave me a box beautifully wrapped in silver with black ribbon. She told me it was from her and Cade.

  I opened up the box and saw a burgundy leather journal with a gold plate that had BASIL AND YANCEY inscribed on it. “This is nice,” I said, having no idea what I was supposed to do with a book of empty pages. I’m not a diary kinda guy. I guess Campbell figured out I was clueless, so she moved close to me and whispered, “You should make the first entry before your wedding. It should be a letter to your firstborn telling him or her why and how much you love Yancey. It’s a wonderful way for children to know they were loved even before they were born.”

  22

  WHEN YANCEY was deciding who would be in her wedding party, she suddenly felt sad at the lack of women friends she had in her life. She had never really had real girlfriends and never felt safe in the company of women. She felt most women wouldn’t understand some of the choices she had made and would eventually betray her trust. Being on stage, out front, was the only place she felt safe and in control.

  She didn’t have to worry about a matron of honor, since Ava had already placed herself in the role. But Ava felt she needed backup, so Yancey needed to think of three ladies she could stomach for a couple of days. She decided on Judith Moore, a leggy brunette she had become friendly with during her run in Fosse.

  Judith and Yancey had shared several long lunches on matinee days and shared the same views on having too many competitive females in your life. She would ask Basil’s sister, Campbell, for the second spot. It wasn’t as if they were close friends or were particularly fond of each other, but she thought it would make Basil happy. The final choice was the hard one, especially since the only other person who came to mind was Windsor. Yancey assumed Windsor would be thrilled to be a part of her special day—and she would, if she could meet some of Yancey’s requirements.

  Yancey called Windsor to tell her the big news. After a couple of rings, Windsor picked up the phone. She was happy to hear from Yancey and told her everything was going great at home.

  “How is Las Vegas?” Windsor asked.

  “Very hot and very . . . very gaudy,” Yancey said.

  “I know you’re a big hit with the show.”

  “Yeah, I am,” Yancey said with an air of confidence Windsor had become familiar with.

  “Has Basil been there yet?”

  “Yes, he surprised me with an engagement ring on my first night.”

  “That’s wonderful. When’s the big day?”

  “Before the new year. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling,” Yancey said.

  “Do you want me to help with the preparations? I’m real good with stuff like that.”

  “My mother is handling most of the plans, but I’m sure she would welcome the help. I really wanted to know if you’d be in the wedding party. I want you to be a brides-maid.”

  “You’re kidding . . . right? I’d be honored to be in your wedding. I can’t believe . . .”

  But before Windsor could finish her sentence, Yancey interrupted. “Of course, you’ll have to lose some weight. I want my bridesmaids to be looking fierce!”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a couple of moments and then Windsor said, “Thank you, Yancey, but I can’t be in your wedding if you want me to lose weight. I’m very happy with my body, and if changing myself is required . . . well, I won’t do it.”

  Yancey was stunned, and now the silence was on her end of the line.

  “Yancey, are you still there? Did you hear what I said?”

  “I heard you. Maybe you can still be in my wedding. You don’t have to lose weight.”

  “Let me get back to you,” Windsor said. “I might be better in the background.”

  “Whatever,” Yancey said, as she hung up the phone.

  23

  I HAVE NEVER understood why mofos feel the need to tell the world their business. We’d flown Zurich into New York for a formal interview. We were getting ready to offer ole boy a chance to become a partner when he said there was something he thought we should know. I thought he was going to tell us about his strong ties to the church thang, which was pretty obvious the way he peppered his conversation with “Praise God” and “The Lord did this for my life.”

  Brison smiled and leaned forward and said, “What do we need to know? You haven’t killed your ex-wife, have you?” I figured he was trying to lighten up a conference room that had suddenly become covered with tension.

  “No, I haven’t killed anyone.” Zurich smiled.

  “Then what do we need to know?” I asked.

  His voice cracked slightly as he began to speak. “About two months ago I agreed to talk to a reporter for a cover story in Sports Today. I think the story is going to be on the stands in a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s great. You think you can get in touch with the reporter and tell him you’re coming to work for the fastest-growing sports agency in the country?” Nico asked.

  Zurich turned toward Nico and gave him a polite smile and then said, “You might not want the agency’s name in this article.”

  “Why not?” I asked, without realizing I was getting ready to walk right into a sexual land mine.

  “The story is going to be about professional athletes who are gay or bisexual,” Zurich said. There was something raw in his voice. Brison, Nico, and I were completely silent, as if we hadn’t heard what Zurich said, but I heard him loud and clear.

  “An article on gay athletes. Why would they want to do some shit like that, and why are you in the story? Are some of the clients you’re bringing with you gay? Because if that’s the case, then we need to talk about this,” Nico said.

  “The reason I’m in the story is because I’m gay,” Zurich said firmly. I noticed Brison glance at Zurich, looking sympathetic and nodding his head. Nico’s face had a complete look of disgust, while I was feeling as if I wanted to bolt out of the conference room.

  Nico stood up and said, “We need to discuss this among ourselves.” He looked at me and then Brison, completely ignoring Zurich, who was seated at the end of the conference table.

  “I can understand that. If you think my coming out is going to cause the agency some problem, then I won’t pursue this opportunity any further,” Zurich said calmly.

  “Wait a minute,” Brison said to Zurich. “Let’s not make any rash decisions, but we do need to talk this over.” Still I remained silent. I was just looking at the artwork on the wall and wondering what I could say that wouldn’t sound sympathetic or overly harsh. After a few seconds I looked at Zurich and said, “I agree with Brison. Can we get back to you?”

  “Sure, no problem. Trust me when I say I understand. Doing the article was something I feel very strongly about, but I don’t expect everyone to understand why I did it.” Zurich stood up and grabbed his leather portfolio. “Why don’t I get a hotel room and hang around a couple of days in case you fellas want to bring me back to address your concerns.”

  I nodded as he walked toward me and shook my hand firmly and gave me a look like we shared a secret. I didn’t look at him while he shook hands with Brison and Nico. I heard Brison thank him for coming, but nothing from Nico. When the door closed, I heard Nico’s voice. It was booming.

  “Can you believe that shit? Man, we came this close to bringing a fag into the firm.” Nico held his fingers in a gesture that looked like he was measuring some type of condiment, like sugar or salt.

  “I still think he’s a great cand
idate,” Brison said.

  “Are you crazy? What kind of players you think we gonna sign with a fag as a partner? Maybe he won’t take a commission. Maybe all we have to do is to promise him an unlimited supply of dick, ’cause that’s gotta be what he wants. Is that the kind of reputation we want for our firm? I’ve worked too hard to let some dick-sucking fag come in here and ruin everything.”

  For the next thirty minutes Nico and Brison went back and forth over the pros and cons of having Zurich as a partner. Brison pointed out his connections and the clients he would bring. Nico said he wouldn’t feel comfortable with somebody who might be checking him out every time he went to take a piss or bent over to get some water from the fountain.

  Nico turned to me and said, “What do you think we should do, Basil? It’s obvious Brison is still in favor of bringing the fag in, and you know I want no part of this. Looks like you’re the deciding vote. What’s it gonna be?”

  I slammed my hand down on the table and stood up and said, “I feel you, Nico, on some of the points you bring up, man. And I agree with Brison that the clients Zurich would bring with him would be great for the firm.”

  “What if some of them players are sissy too? Do we want to be known as a firm that caters to fags? If that’s the case, we’re in the wrong business. We need to start representing models and dancers,” Nico said sarcastically.

  “I need to sleep on this,” I said. “Why don’t we take twenty-four hours and then reconvene? This is very important.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Brison said as he picked up his yellow legal pad and pen. Nico just looked at Brison and me, shook his head in disgust, and said, “I ain’t believing this shit.”

  I was feeling the same way.

  24

  AVA CALLED for the third time in one day. Since Yancey had agreed to let her mother plan the wedding, she had talked to her more often than Yancey could ever remember.

  “I’ve found a great place for the rehearsal dinner,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “It’s a wonderful place called Laura Belle’s. It’s on West Forty-third between Sixth and Seventh. It will be just perfect. Then for the wedding I found a European-style hotel with a wonderful ballroom that they can arrange to look like a chapel,” Ava said. “I’ve already reserved the honeymoon suite for the night. You kids can leave for your honeymoon the next morning.”

  “I know Laura Belle’s. That place is large. I’ve been to a couple of cast parties there,” Yancey said. “Don’t you think it’s too big?”

  “I figure we should invite about two hundred people to the rehearsal-slash-engagement party and then only about one hundred to the wedding. I had to pay triple the normal asking cost because they had some other event planned. Some child’s bar mitzvah. But I laid on the Southern charm and then promised to grease the reservation manager’s palm and the previously scheduled event was suddenly gone.” Ava laughed.

  “I don’t think I know two hundred people in New York,” Yancey said.

  “You will when I’m finished. I hired this young lady to do publicity. She assures me she will make sure you have a who’s-who guest list. People like Star Jones, Juanita Jordan, Linda Johnson Rice, Russell Simmons and his wife—you know, A-list people. And then I want to invite some of the people I know in Beverly Hills and Palm Springs. Plus, you know we will invite a few people from Jackson, like the society editor of that dreadful newspaper,” Ava said.

  “I don’t know if I want a big wedding,” Yancey said, then wondered, Where was Ava when I wanted to have a sweet sixteen party?

  “It’s not really that big. Besides, you need the publicity. Just leave it all to me. Brandi, the publicist, has already talked to Jamie Brown of Sister 2 Sister and George Wayne from Vanity Fair. She also mentioned talking to someone from Ebony and Essence.”

  “I have always wanted my picture in Ebony and Jet .” Yancey sighed.

  “And your mother is going to make it happen. I won’t settle for one of those little fourth-of-a-page pictures either. I’m going to get them to do a full feature like they would if it was Oprah Winfrey’s wedding.”

  “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

  “The most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Thanks, Ava.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, darling. I still got a lot of work to do,” Ava said and then hung up.

  25

  WHEN I got back home from the gym, I realized I wasn’t going to get any sleep until I talked with Zurich. So after I showered and drank a beer, I located his cell phone number and hoped he had his phone with him. Before I could stop to think about what I was getting myself into, I was standing at a light on Fifty-sixth Street and Seventh Avenue, two blocks away from Zurich’s hotel. I was more than a little nervous, so I allowed myself to be comforted by the coolness of the evening air. What was I going to say to this man I once pursued? Would he understand why I couldn’t vote to make him a partner in XJI?

  Zurich had answered his cell phone like he was waiting on my call. I told him I needed to speak with him about our afternoon meeting and suggested he come by my place. Zurich said he wanted to talk with me as well, but wasn’t that familiar with New York. He thought it would be better if I came to him.

  When I walked into his hotel, the lobby was busy with white businessmen and young black men who looked like rappers or professional B-boys. It was quite a contrast, like Wall Street meeting Beat Street. I picked up the hotel courtesy phone and asked to be connected to Zurich Robinson’s room. Again he picked up the phone quickly.

  “Hello.”

  “Zurich, I’m downstairs. Do you want to meet me in the bar for a drink?”

  “Man, that was quick. I don’t drink, and I just got out of the shower. Why don’t you come up to my room and then we can decide.”

  “What’s your room number?”

  “I’m in 3219.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  When I reached Zurich’s room I could feel tiny beads of sweat collecting on the back of my neck. I rang the doorbell. Zurich greeted me wearing a white hotel robe with a mile-wide smile.

  I walked into his room, which seemed crowded with its king-size bed, desk, and small love seat.

  “Have a seat,” Zurich said, pointing toward the love seat. I was wondering why he was still wearing his robe.

  “Let me get dressed,” Zurich said. I thought he was going to retreat to the bathroom, but ole boy just dropped his robe on the side of the bed. He did it so quickly that I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was wearing some white nylon underwear that revealed everything it was probably meant to cover. He pulled a burgundy pullover sweater over his head and then put on a pair of black jeans. I was trying to be cool, but the sweat was now spreading down the small of my back. Was dude trying to get me back on his team? I hoped not. But from my glance I could tell that dude was in shape, still ready for the NFL.

  After a few uncomfortable seconds, Zurich sat on the edge of the bed, slapped his palms down on his jeans, then quizzed, “So what do you want to talk about?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “Doing what?” Zurich asked.

  “The article. Why are you telling the world shit they don’t need to know?” I asked.

  “You mean, why now?”

  “Yeah, I mean, man, we were ready to sign you up. You’d be so amazing for our firm, but I think this is going to be a showstopper. Everybody’s not as cool as me.”

  “It’s sort of a long story. How much time you got?”

  I looked at my watch. It was 8:47. “I got a little time. Talk.”

  “You ever heard of a young man named Milo Bolden?”

  “Milo Bolden,” I said as I rubbed my chin, thinking the name sounded familiar. “Where have I heard of him?”

  “He was a ballplayer. A great player out of Chicago State.”

  “Was?” I asked.

  “Yeah, let me tell you the whole story. I met Milo at a football camp and the
n again later at church. We started a friendship because he was playing QB and was saved like myself. Milo was also a top student and was certain to be a top draft pick. We had talked about me representing him.”

  For the next hour Zurich told me the painful story of a young man destined for success who couldn’t deal with his sexuality. When Milo shared his feelings with Zurich, he had urged Milo to talk with his minister instead of telling Zurich he was gay. Milo turned to his minister, who told him to pray without ceasing and then get married immediately. Milo, a good, churchgoing young man, proposed to a young lady the minister suggested and things seemed to be back on track. The day of the wedding, with a churchful of guests, Milo put a gun to his mouth in the bathroom a few moments before he was expected to marry his bride. As Zurich told the story, I could picture the young man and for a brief moment felt the pain he was struggling with. I had been there. But it had never gotten to the point where I wanted to kill myself. If I could have talked to Milo I would have told him, “Roll with it, young brother . . . There is a way to have your cake and ice cream too.”

  “I let him down. I could have saved him,” Zurich said slowly. Each of his words was packed with emotion.

  I started to open my mouth to say what I was thinking but changed my mind because I didn’t have a clue as to what to say. I didn’t know how to comfort a man in distress. There was silence in the room and I could see tears pooling in Zurich’s eyes. Finally, I spoke. “Man, you didn’t put the gun in his mouth. You’re not to blame.”

  Zurich blinked back his tears, looked at me, then asked, “If I’m not, then who is? They did the same thing to me and I should have told Milo.”

  “Who did what to you?”

  “The church I attended for a little while. When I met you, when we were playing ball, I was dealing with questions about my sexuality. I met this guy who I cared a great deal about, but when we hooked up, it didn’t feel right to me. So I turned to the Lord, who I felt directed me to this ministry in West Chicago called Change the World. At first it was wonderful. I was spending so much time in church and playing ball that I didn’t have time to deal with my issues. When Minister Donald came up to me one day and told me the Lord had revealed to him the woman he wanted me to marry, I followed. It didn’t seem to matter to me that Rachel was the minister’s niece. I got married, and for a few months I was happy. But after a couple of more months, those feelings returned and I was miserable,” Zurich said sadly.