Not a Day Goes By

by E. Lynn Harris

  “But she’s not dead! And what if somebody finds out about her and leaks it to the press? It could ruin my career if I turn my back on her.”

  “You’ve already turned your back on her, and nobody’s told the press yet. Derrick’s not threatening you, is he?” Ava removed her sunglasses as if she could make Yancey see her point more clearly as she glared into the phone.

  “No.”

  “Then why do you want to tell anybody? Especially the man you’re going to marry?”

  “So he can make sure he still wants to marry me,” Yancey cried.

  “First thing is, you don’t want to give a black man options or multiple choice,” Ava said in an emotionless voice.

  “What if Derrick wants to marry me?”

  “Yancey!” Ava screamed. “Listen to me. Derrick had his chance and he fucked it up. You have a wonderful life. You have to forget about that child. It’s over. Let it go. Move on!”

  “But I’ve thought about that day every day since it happened! I’ve tried to block it out, but I can’t. Until I talked to Derrick, I didn’t even know if I had given birth to a boy or a girl. Ava, I have a daughter.”

  “You don’t have a daughter, Derrick does. Do I need to come out to Las Vegas and slap some sense into you? Forget about that child. We’ve got a wedding to plan. And you need to keep this shit to yourself and make sure Derrick does the same. What does he want? We can come up with some money to keep that mouth of his shut.”

  “Derrick doesn’t want any money. He said he just wanted a mother for his daughter.”

  “Children grow up without mothers every day,” Ava said coldly.

  Her words cut through Yancey’s heart, and the pain was so sharp that all Yancey could do was to hang up the phone. “Damn straight a child can get along without a mother. I did!” she said out loud as she looked at her puffy eyes in the mirror. Yancey picked a few pieces of ice out of the bucket located near the bar and placed them in a linen napkin. The cold pack would get rid of the puffiness. Yancey had to pull herself together quickly. She had a show to do.

  32

  LOOKS LIKE I’m off the hook for a minute. When I got back from Las Vegas I stopped by the office to review my mail. I was on my way out the door and I bumped into Nico, who was smoking a cigar and had a big smile on his face. I asked him why he was so happy and Nico told me, “The fruit decided he didn’t want to mix it up with us.”

  “Are you talking about Zurich?” I asked.

  “Yeah, who else?” Nico asked as he blew a smoke circle opposite my direction.

  “When did this happen?”

  “He called Brison about noon today and said he decided to strike out on his own. I wonder how that shit is going to turn out,” Nico joked.

  “So, I guess we’ll start looking for another partner.”

  “I guess so. But since Brison wants to be so liberal toward fags, we should go for a dyke,” Nico said. He walked toward his office still puffing his cigar.

  I went to the gym to work out some of the stress I was feeling. It didn’t help. While running on the treadmill my thoughts went from Yancey to Zurich. Was she playin’ me? Did he have a pull on me? Why was I worried about my future with Yancey, or if I was going to hear from Zurich anytime soon? Yancey had tried hard to reassure me when I asked her if she still had any feelings for Derrick. When we got to her suite I tried to see if there were any signs that Derrick had done more than check out Yancey’s performance on stage. I counted the condoms she kept in a small brass container. There was still one packet of three. The toilet seat was down, and I lifted it up to make sure there was no yellow ring of piss from someone standing up, but that would have been hard to tell since I could tell the maid had been there to leave fresh towels and soaps lining the bathtub. When I asked Yancey where Derrick was staying, she very quickly replied she didn’t know. Her voice sounded shaky. Once we got in bed, Yancey’s hands went straight for the jimmie. Normally I like it when she’s aggressive like that, but that night I kept thinking about the look on her face when I walked into her dressing room. Yancey asked me if everything was alright and I told her I was just tired from the time change and all. The next morning when I woke up we made love, but without my normal passion. Yancey didn’t seem to notice. It seemed as though she had something on her mind as well.

  Right before I went to bed the phone rang. It was Zurich. After we exchanged our whassups he asked, “Have you spoken with Brison?”

  “No, I went to Vegas to check on my fiancée and when I got back to the office he was gone,” I said.

  “Then you haven’t heard?”

  I told Zurich Nico had relayed the information.

  “I don’t think that dude feels me,” Zurich said.

  “What makes you say that? Nico is cool.”

  “I just get that feeling. But that’s not why I called.”

  “So you’re going to give it a try on your own. Maybe I’ll see you out there in the trenches.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’m looking forward to being on my own, and I think there is enough business out there for everybody.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  We talked for a few more minutes and Zurich suggested we keep in contact and I told him that was cool, even though I knew we weren’t going to be tight.

  “So when is the big day?”

  “Right now we’re looking at the last Sunday in December.”

  “That’s soon. Are you ready?”

  “What do you mean? Damn skippy I’m ready.” There was a brief silence and then Zurich hit me with a low blow. “You know, marrying a woman doesn’t change who you are. You know that, don’t you?”

  What in the fuck did he mean by that? I could feel my neck starting to burn like a hot iron and I was thinking it was a good thing we weren’t standing face to face ’cause I would have busted him upside his head, but instead I said, “No, marrying a woman didn’t change you.” And then I hung up without a fuckin’ goodnight.

  33

  DARLA WAS mildly surprised when Yancey invited her for a late supper after the Thursday night performance. But she really didn’t know what to think when Yancey suggested one of Las Vegas’s top restaurants, Très Jazz, located in the Paris Casino Resort.

  After the two of them were seated, a waiter approached them to ask if they wanted anything to drink.

  “Oh yes, let me have a cosmopolitan,” Darla said.

  “I’ll just have a chardonnay,” Yancey said.

  Before leaving, the waiter told them about the specials of the restaurant, which was known for its New World Caribbean cuisine and continental fare.

  “Let’s have an order of the jerk chicken wings for an appetizer,” Darla said. She looked quickly at Yancey, then asked, “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, knock yourself out.”

  The two ladies admired the beautifully decorated space, with its collage of arresting colors that created a warm and inviting eatery. The overhead lighting cast a buttery glow over art deco furnishings and the oil paintings of musicians adorning the walls.

  “This place is beautiful,” Darla said as her eyes scanned the room. “Didn’t I read somewhere the chef is a black woman?”

  “I think so. I know it’s black-owned, which is kind of surprising in this town. I’m so sick of seeing and hearing the sounds of slot machines. Not to mention all these fashion-challenged tourists with their wash and wear pants suits and floral shirts,” Yancey said.

  The waiter returned with their drinks and took their order. After Darla had taken a sip of her drink, she told Yancey how surprised she was by her dinner invitation.

  “Why is that?” Yancey asked.

  “Well, you know, I did a couple of shows in New York and almost every tour. And you know how the kids talk,” Darla said.

  Yancey raised her eyebrows and asked, “What does that have to do with two new friends having dinner?”

  “I just heard you weren’t that social when it came to chorus members.
”

  “It’s not that. I just think that if you associate yourself with the chorus, then that’s all you’ll ever be. It’s not that I have any problems with individuals; it’s that I’m a leading lady and so that’s all I see.” Yancey picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

  “Then why this dinner?” Darla asked a little impatiently before she added, “Do you think I’m a leading lady type?”

  Yancey wanted to say, “Honey, are you kidding?” but she needed something from Darla, so she decided to use a little diplomacy.

  “You’re my understudy, which means the producers see you as a person with potential.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course. Why else would they choose you?” Yancey knew enough to fudge a little on what she actually thought of Darla’s talent if she wanted some honest answers.

  “I guess I should be thanking you.”

  “Thanking me for what?”

  “You’re a trailblazer. I mean, taking over a role most people would consider a part only for a white actress. I’m so happy when I see women like you, Vanessa L. Williams, Stephanie Pope, and Diahann Carroll doing roles created for white females,” Darla said.

  “I guess you’re right. I’ve always wanted to do the great roles and to create new ones. I plan to do that with film as well. Do you like old movies?”

  “Oh yes. I love Claudine, The Wiz, and Lady Sings the Blues.”

  “I’m not talking about those movies. Those aren’t old movies. I mean the classics like All About Eve, Mildred Pierce, and The Women,” Yancey said.

  The waiter placed grilled lamb chops in front of Yancey and marinated grouper before Darla, who bowed her head and said a silent prayer. Yancey thought, Is everybodyI meet into the Jesus thing?

  Yancey took a small bite of the lamb chops and placed the fork and knife on the side of the plate. “Darla, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Darla said as she took another bite of the grouper.

  “Why did you have a child? I mean, didn’t you think it would get in the way of your career?”

  Darla took the fork out of her mouth as a wave of shock crept over her face.

  “I had a child because I was in love, and I never thought about my career or what having a child would mean.”

  “You didn’t? I mean, isn’t it hard?”

  “Yancey . . . news flash: Life is hard. You deal with it. I was very much in love with Mollie’s father, and I knew it was the right thing to do. Although things didn’t work out with him, I got Mollie, and it’s a decision I’ve never regretted.”

  “But how do you manage? It looks like you do a lot of road shows, so I’m assuming you’re not in one place for a long time.”

  “My mother helps out a lot, and Mollie spends half of the year with her father, Vincent. We decided not to get married, but we’re still good friends.”

  “And you feel that being a mother doesn’t get in the way of your career?”

  Darla suppressed a smile and said, “Oh, I see what this is about. You’re pregnant.”

  “What? I’m not pregnant!” Yancey insisted. “And lower your voice! That’s how rumors get started.”

  “Okay. But this all makes sense. The wonderful proposal from your honey and now this.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever have children,” Yancey admitted. “Was Mollie unplanned?”

  “In a way, but I haven’t regretted it one second. I considered marrying Vincent, and he wanted to, but I just didn’t think I loved him as much as I should. Now since I love him dearly as a friend we’ve created a wonderful, loving environment for our child.”

  “Do you plan to try and go back to Broadway?”

  “Sure. I plan to audition for whatever’s available when my contract is up here. It’s a little easier for me in New York because I have family in the Bronx, and I have several friends in the business who’ve known Mollie since she was just a thought. That child has more godparents than one child should ever have,” Darla said with a smile.

  The two ladies savored the rest of their meal in silence. Then suddenly Windsor’s refusal to lose weight popped into Yancey’s mind.

  “I got something else to ask you,” Yancey whispered, leaning into the table, as if they were best buddies now.

  “Sure, but can I get another drink?”

  “Of course.”

  Darla motioned the waiter and ordered another cosmopolitan. Yancey shook her head “no” at the waiter.

  “Would you like to be in my wedding?”

  Darla’s eyes snapped wide open, as though they were going to pop out of their sockets.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  Darla just stared at Yancey for a few seconds, then said, “Yancey, trust me, I am really honored that you would ask me to be a part of such a special day. But we don’t know each other that well. Don’t you have friends in New York that would love to be in your wedding?”

  “Yeah, I do. But I thought this might be a way for you to be viewed as a leading lady. I mean, Basil is a big former football star, and with me having done almost every show on Broadway, my wedding is going to be a big media event. It couldn’t hurt your career.”

  “You might be right,” Darla said, then took a sip of her drink.

  “Think about it. Just let me know in a couple of days,” Yancey said as she placed her credit card on the table. The waiter immediately picked it up.

  “Weren’t you close friends with Nicole Springer?”

  Yancey was startled at the unwelcome memory of the woman she had sabotaged while serving as her understudy.

  “You know Nicole?”

  “Yeah, I was in the Dottie workshop with her. She’s really beautiful, and boy, can she sing,” Darla said.

  “What ever happened to that workshop?”

  “They ran out of money, but I heard it might be getting started again, with Nicole. You know she just had twins, don’t you?”

  “Twins? No, I didn’t know,” Yancey said as she looked around for the waiter. Darla’s news on Nicole had brought back her thirst.

  “Yeah, she had two little boys.”

  Yancey got the waiter’s attention and ordered another white wine.

  “Sure, I can get that, but your credit card was declined. Do you have another card you can use?” the waiter asked.

  Yancey looked at the waiter with a stunned look on her face. “No! Forget the wine. I’ll just pay cash,” she said. She jerked her bag open and pulled out three twenty-dollar bills and laid them on the table.

  “Yancey, I can split this with you,” Darla offered.

  “Honey, put your money back. I guess the mail moves slow between here and New York,” Yancey said, referring to the credit card payment she hadn’t sent. Darla opened her purse and pulled out a tin of mints to offer Yancey one. Yancey politely refused. She was still fuming from the credit card rejection.

  “You know, Yancey, this has really been a treat. You are so full of surprises.”

  “Honey, you have no idea.”

  34

  YANCEY HAS decided on a wedding party of four, which means I’ve got to come up with a best man and three groomsmen. I’ve decided on my dad for best man. Even though he f’d up big time with my mother, I have no doubt that he loves me. I’m going to ask Campbell to let Cade be my pint-size groomsman. He’s like me and will appreciate an opportunity to dress up and be around a bunch of pretty ladies. Brison will probably make the cut, because I just think he’s not only a smart business-man, but an all-around cool dude. It’s the fourth spot I’m having a problem with. It’s made me realize I don’t have time for knuckleheads. Gay or straight. There is an argument for Nico, simply ’cause if I ask Brison I don’t want Nico to feel left out. Dude is so incorrect when it comes to shit like weddings. I can see him at the bachelor party, carrying on like he doesn’t have any sense and talkin’ shit. Besides, I know Nico doesn’t give a shit about the institution of marriage. He would be like the li
ght-skinned dude in one of my favorite movies, The Best Man, talkin’ loud and saying nothing.

  There is one person that just keeps coming into my mind. A niggah I want close by when I pledge my love to Yancey. For some reason I want to be able to look at him out of the corner of my eye when I say “I do.” My dude, Raymond Winston Tyler. There is only one problem: I’m more nervous about asking Raymond to be in my wedding than I was asking Yancey to marry me. Now, ain’t that some shit?

  A week had passed since Derrick’s big surprise, and Yancey was doing everything in her power to block out Derrick and Madison and concentrate on finishing the Vegas run in a flourish. On stage she stood out like a burst of red in a black-and-white photo. But when the curtain dropped, Yancey would become seriously depressed and couldn’t wait to close her eyes and let sleep claim her.

  Yancey was on her way to the theater when her cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Ava asked.

  “Waiting for the elevator.”

  “I’m glad I caught you. I got some great news!”

  “What?”

  “First, I talked to my lawyer and you don’t have any responsibility when it comes to Derrick and that child. If you signed away your rights before you gave birth, then that’s the—”

  “Ava, is that why you’re calling me? I told you I don’t want to talk about this anymore until I make my decision,” Yancey said as she stepped onto the elevator.

  “You already made your decision when you signed those papers.”

  “I can’t hear you. I’m losing you,” Yancey said. She pushed the red “end” button on her phone and dropped it into her leather bag.

  35

  I HAD JUST finished my second glass of merlot, considered getting another, then decided not to. I pulled out my Eric Benet CD, placed it in the carousel, and pushed the play button. I had a telephone call to make and I didn’t need to be high. I located my leather organizer and turned to the Ts. My eyes scanned down a couple of names and then came to Raymond Tyler.