“I guess you’re right. Let me see. I’ll start with Dena Jones, my character. Dena has stars in her eyes. She knows what she wants and that’s a successful career in show business, kinda like a Diana Ross or Diahann Carroll. But she also knows she’s working with a limited amount of talent. I mean she can’t sing like Effie, doesn’t really have Lorrell’s rhythm of life. But I think she’ll do whatever it takes to make it,” Nicole said.
Yancey listened attentively, not wanting to interrupt Nicole’s flow, but after she paused to take a sip of her juice, Yancey asked, “Is that why she falls in love with Curtis?”
“I don’t think Dena is in love with Curtis. I think she admires his strength and how he, like her, goes for what he wants,” Nicole said.
“What about Effie?”
“Effie most definitely is the one with the voice. She is a major talent. And like most people with talent, it is no big deal to her. And Effie is truly in love with Curtis, but I think she treasures her friendship with Dena and Lorrell more.”
“So you think the friendship isn’t important to Dena?”
“Oh yeah, I think it is. But it isn’t the most important thing and she’s like a lot of ladies in our business, career first, friends and family later.”
“What about my character, Michelle? You’ve played her, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I did. I don’t think Michelle is really into show business. I think that’s why she falls for C.C. so easily. In some ways she’s like Dena: beautiful, but working with a limited amount of talent.”
“I’m so excited to be in this show and headed to Broadway. It has been my lifelong dream,” Yancey gushed. “I know people who had the same dream and didn’t even get close,” she added softly.
“Well, you’re in a great position,” Nicole said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re young, beautiful, and talented. There are no young black divas on Broadway, with the exception of someone like Vanessa L. Williams or Audra McDonald. Most of the young ladies your age, well, they’re all doing videos and going straight to Hollywood, doing pilots that never sell and an independent film every now and then,” Nicole said.
“Don’t you have any interest in Hollywood?”
Nicole pondered Yancey’s question for a moment and said, “I’m happy right where I am. If Hollywood is for me, it will come,” she said confidently.
22
Seattle’s golden days of August became sobering, and Raymond was looking forward to autumn. Fall had always been Raymond’s favorite season, but there had been some magical winters as well. Was it because of the upcoming football season when his father’s attention would turn full force toward Kirby? Or simply because fall always promised hope to him, and he needed something to hope for? This fall he took note of the fact that Trent loved the summer and spring. Up until now this difference had not been a big problem.
A small blessing occurred when Trent got his dream assignment in South Africa to help build schools. Raymond thought of Trent’s excitement about his business trip to South Africa, where it would still seem like summer. “I can still wear my short shorts,” he marveled while packing. Their good-bye had been simple and sweet. A modest kiss before dawn when the car arrived to carry Trent to the airport. Trent still had no idea of what Raymond had discovered, and he attributed Raymond’s aloof behavior to the confirmation process. Trent dreamed of returning home to a lover whose eyes danced when he walked into a room.
Raymond, on the other hand, was happy to have time alone, to figure out what to do about Trent, to attend more of his brother’s football games. In Kirby’s first year, Raymond had attended only four games, whereas his retired parents attended every single game. It didn’t matter that Kirby played sparingly. They wanted to celebrate their youngest’s achievement even if it meant watching him roam the sidelines.
During the five-hour flight to Chicago, Raymond was not looking forward to the questions his father might have about his confirmation process. At times it seemed that it was his father who was going through the process rather than Raymond.
Raymond arrived in Chicago early Saturday morning, the last one of August. Unlike Seattle, Chicago was beautiful in the throes of summer. It wasn’t exactly football weather, but Northwestern was playing the University of Oklahoma at the Chicago Bears’ Soldier Field in the Kick-Off Classic, the annual first game of the college football season. Raymond’s parents had arrived on Thursday, only to find a big surprise.
Kirby was not only starting in his first collegiate game but was also in love. That wasn’t a big surprise. During his first semester at Northwestern Kirby had broken up with Traci Davis, his high school sweetheart. Traci had received a full scholarship to Stanford, and neither one of them had wanted a long-distance romance. Kirby told Raymond this was his opportunity to become a bona fide playa. From their conversations, Raymond knew something was up because Kirby had said he had someone he wanted Raymond to meet when he came to Evanston. When Raymond had asked how his training was going, Kirby had joked he was doing more than lifting weights during the summer. Raymond assumed Kirby Tyler, playa-playa, was about to turn in his membership card for a new girlfriend.
Before the game, Raymond met his parents for brunch at the downtown Chicago Hilton. That’s when he found out why Kirby had been so secretive about his new girlfriends. Right after his father had explained to the waitress twice that he wanted his eggs scrambled soft, with onions and cheese, the conversation turned to the Kirby absence.
“I can’t believe he couldn’t find a good-looking black girl like he dated in high school,” Raymond Sr. said.
“Is she white?” Raymond asked.
“No, but she might as well be,” his father said.
“Raymond Tyler, stop talking like that. Do you know how you sound?” Marlee, Raymond’s mother, said.
“You need to mind your own business, woman, and I don’t care how it sounds. You know how I feel about this interracial stuff. I want all-black grandkids,” he said firmly.
“If they are Kirby’s kids, then they will be black,” Marlee said.
“Kids? Who said anything about kids?” Raymond asked as he took a small sip of apple juice. Neither one of his parents answered.
“And don’t you think for one minute her parents ain’t saying the same thing,” Raymond Sr. said.
“So, if she’s not white, then what is she?” Raymond asked again.
“She’s Asian,” Raymond Sr. said as the waitress placed his order in front of him.
“Aw,” Raymond said as he stuck a fork in his cheese omelette to make sure the cook had included both Swiss and cheddar cheese.
“That’s not totally true,” Marlee said.
“What do you mean? Why are you guys talking in some type of code?”
“She’s Asian and black. Her parents met in the service. I think she’s very pretty and seems nice. We had dinner with them the other night.”
“When do I get to meet her?” Raymond asked.
“You’ll see her at the game,” Raymond Sr. said.
“Is she sitting with us?”
“Naw, she’s a cheerleader. So you’ll get a glimpse of her before you have to meet her,” Raymond Sr. said.
“I don’t care what she’s mixed with. Dawn, that’s her name, seems to make Kirby happy and that’s all I care about,” Marlee said while pouring honey over her pecan pancakes.
“He’s still a kid. What does he know about who can make him happy?”
“Did you know about this, Raymond?” his mother asked.
“Kinda. I didn’t know she wasn’t black, but I knew he had met somebody,” Raymond said.
“Told me he was up here getting ready for the season and then we get up here and find out he’s shacking up with some half-breed,” his father said in a gruff voice. “I should take that car I bought him back home,” he added.
“You ain’t taking nothing back,” his wife said firmly.
“Then his grades better not
drop one point,” Raymond Sr. countered.
Raymond was pleased that Kirby had once again taken the attention away from him. Not once did his father bring up the confirmation hearings. When he asked Raymond why he was going to New York, he explained Peaches’s dilemma.
“Yeah, go up there and show them who’s boss. I read something in the New York Times about how white folks are buying up all the property in Harlem and running us out,” Raymond Sr. said.
“Did they say white folks?” Marlee asked.
“Didn’t have to! Who else you think got the money to go up and buy a entire block and then tear it down?”
“I don’t know, Pops. From what I remember about New York, brothers and sisters up there are pretty much in the mix,” Raymond said.
“Yeah, but them brothers and sisters don’t want no parts of Harlem. They would rather live downtown with white folks.”
“I think it’s time for us to leave for the game. I don’t want to miss a single bit of my baby’s big day,” Marlee said.
“Neither do I, Mama. Let’s rock and roll,” Raymond said.
“I know ya’ll just trying to shut me up. But you know that ain’t gonna work. We need to have a family meeting about Kirby’s girlfriend mess.” In the Tyler household, a family meeting meant Raymond Sr. would tell the family how to react in a given situation. Like the time he went out and bought four burial plots without consulting anyone, including his wife.
“Sure, Pops. We’ll do it in the locker room after the game,” Raymond teased.
Northwestern beat the highly touted Oklahoma 27–0. Kirby Tyler caught seven passes for sixty-three yards, including a fourth-down twenty-one-yard pass in the first quarter that led to the first Northwestern touchdown. The Tylers were jumping up so high and hugging so much that people sitting next to them teased them every time Kirby ran onto the field.
Raymond spent a great deal of the game eyeing Kirby’s new girlfriend, who was cheering him on from the sideline. Since there were two cheerleaders who looked Asian, Raymond picked the one with the deep olive complexion. While surveying the Northwestern cheerleaders, Raymond noticed an attractive coffee-colored one, and was once again reminded that he was indeed his father’s son. He, too, wondered why Kirby had not chosen the pretty black girl instead of the Asian combo. But unlike his father’s, Raymond’s main concern was his little brother, and if Dawn made Kirby happy, then that’s what mattered most.
Right after the game, the Tylers rushed to the locker room door. Raymond realized his hunch had been right when Dawn Liu came over and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She looked more Asian than African-American, with thin lips and a small nose, but her voice had an urban flair. Her eyes were brown and almond-shaped, and her pageboy hair was straight and eggplant-black. Raymond Sr. rudely turned away and acted as though he was studying the football program book from the game. Raymond had seen this show before, especially when his father first met Trent. Raymond Sr. had a way of letting a person know he wasn’t interested in anything they had to say. Long ago, Raymond and his mother had both agreed there was no way of changing Raymond Sr. The older he got, his ways set in like cement, but they still loved him.
“I knew you were Kirby’s brother from the picture of you he keeps in his room,” Dawn said with her cheerleader’s enthusiasm.
“It’s nice meeting you, Dawn,” Raymond said.
“Same here. Wasn’t the game great? I got a feeling we’re going back to the Rose Bowl.”
“Were you going to school here then?” Raymond asked. Northwestern’s trip to the Rose Bowl two years earlier had been one of the reasons Kirby had selected the Wildcats during his senior year in high school.
“Yeah, it was my first year as a cheerleader. I’m a senior,” Dawn said.
“Oh, you are?” Raymond asked. So Kirby was dating an older woman, Raymond thought.
“Yes, I graduate this year with my engineering degree but I’m thinking about going for my M.B.A. at Kellogg,” Dawn said.
“So you’re going to stay at Northwestern?” Raymond asked.
“If they will have me. You know how some schools don’t like to take their own into their professional schools.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure you won’t have any problems.”
“I hope you’re right. Excuse me, I’m going over there to talk with your parents. Nice meeting you,” Dawn said as she clasped his hand warmly. No matter what Raymond said, Dawn appeared genuinely interested in it. Raymond had known plenty of these girls in college, sweet as candied apples, but most of them were African-American.
“Nice meeting you as well,” Raymond said. He started to tell Dawn his father would change, but Dawn struck him as the type of girl who didn’t worry about what other people thought. As she walked away, Raymond noticed Dawn’s graceful, almost gliding way of walking, like a trained dancer.
Raymond was watching some of the players emerge from the locker room when he felt someone walking up behind him.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Raymond recognized the deep, sensual voice immediately, and he slowly turned to face John Basil Henderson. He was wearing a cranberry-red knit shirt that accented his nipples, which looked as hard as cherry pits, and some tight black pants that looked like jodhpurs, embracing every muscle in his lower body. It had been a year since Raymond had seen Basil in the flesh, but the effect was, as usual, heart-stopping.
“Basil, what are you doing here?” Raymond asked. This is the last person I need to run into, Raymond thought.
“I wanted to see you,” Basil said in a lustful tone. There was something soft and welcoming in the incredible grayness of his eyes. Each stare felt like a sexual encounter. Basil had a way of doing that to both men and women. For Basil, seduction was an art and a pleasure. The way he carried himself, the way he walked, and the features of his handsome face were the signs of a man who had been told more times than the law should allow how fine he was.
Raymond blushed. “Yeah, right.”
“So where is little bro? He had a great game,” Basil said.
“Yeah, he did. We’re all very proud of him.”
“Should I be calling you Judge Tyler, or is it still just Raymond?” Basil was standing so close that Raymond could smell the spearmint Certs Basil had popped in his mouth before greeting him.
“Still just plain Raymond,” he said as he nervously stepped back slightly.
“What’s up with that?”
“The confirmation process just takes a little time,” Raymond explained.
“Right … right. Let me know if I need to git my boys on them,” Basil joked as he reached out and patted Raymond on the shoulder.
Raymond gave him a half-smile and then looked at Dawn talking with his parents, or at least, with his mother. Raymond Sr. was still not looking in her direction. His father looked pitiful, like a puppy waiting for his master to return. Raymond knew he needed to rescue his father and save him from himself.
“Let me introduce you to my pops,” Raymond said to Basil.
“Cool,” Basil smiled. The two of them walked slowly through the throng of well-wishers waiting for the victorious Wildcats.
“Pops.”
Raymond’s father turned to face his son with a relieved look on his face.
“Yeah, Raymond,” he said.
“I got somebody I want you to meet. This is Basil Henderson, who used to play for the New Jersey Warriors,” Raymond said.
“Of course! You signed a football for me. It’s a pleasure meeting you,” Raymond Sr. said as he grabbed Basil’s hand and shook it in a double clasp.
“It’s nice meeting you, sir. Looks like you got a future NFL star of your own,” Basil said.
“You think so?” Raymond Sr. asked. His dour face was suddenly full of excitement like he was meeting the president or Justice Thurgood Marshall.
“If he keeps playing like he did today,” Basil said.
“You aren’t still playing, are you?”
“No, sir. I’m working for ESPN,” Basil said.
“So you here covering the game?”
“You could say that,” Basil said as he looked at Raymond from the corner of his eye. Raymond Jr. started walking closer to the locker room door.
Basil and Raymond Sr. continued to talk about football for a few minutes while Raymond went over to check on his mother and Dawn. Raymond suddenly heard a loud burst of cheers and applause and looked up to see a smiling Kirby surfacing from the locker room door. Kirby was wearing a tight gray T-shirt and jeans, with a purple and white gym bag hanging over his shoulders. His close-shaven head was covered by a purple N.U. baseball cap, and a single diamond stud gleamed from his left ear. Raymond rushed over to hug his younger brother and whispered, “Great game, little bro, great game.”
“Word … word. We kicked some Sooner butt today,” Kirby said proudly.
“I mean,” Raymond said as he smiled at his brother. Kirby Tyler was an imposing young man, brawny and tall with big whiskey-colored eyes.
“Did you meet Dawn?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“So what do you think?”
“She seems real nice,” Raymond said.
“Yeah, man, she’s da bomb. Where are Mom and Pops?”
“Over there,” Raymond said as he pointed toward his mother.
“Where’s Pops?” Kirby asked Raymond as he looked at his mother and girlfriend chatting like old friends.
“Aw, he’s over there with Basil Henderson.”
“Basil Henderson is here? Was he covering the game?” Kirby asked quickly. Kirby took off his hat and ran his large hands over his head. He put the hat back on and tucked his T-shirt into his jeans like he was about to be interviewed for a television sports show.
“Naw, I don’t think so. But I think he still works for ESPN,” Raymond said.
“Let me go over there and pay a playa his respects,” Kirby said.
“Go on, we will talk later.”
“Are you going to stay here a couple days extra so we can hang out?” Kirby asked.
“Don’t you have school?”
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