“Yes, Omar, thankfully I’m remaining gainfully employed.” Stacy laughed, as they had rehearsed. She provided details of the movie experience and production details.
“What you’ve accomplished can only be called impressive. You are truly a role model.”
Stacy hesitated, trying to remember how she was supposed to respond with the proper opening. One look at the camera lens, and her mind went blank. Frankly the thought of telling thousands of viewers about very personal things froze the connection between her brain and her mouth.
“A childhood friend has been threatening you about very personal things,” Omar prompted.
“Oh, yes. I must clarify that someone who used to be a friend has decided to make money by telling lies about my childhood.”
“Has this person done so already?”
“He has threatened me and sent me an advance copy of what he will sell to the tabloids and other media.”
“Why not ignore it?”
Stacy stared into the camera. That much she remembered to do. “Because it is important to the fans that they hear the truth from me.” She wasn’t lying. And she meant every word that she would say in this interview.
“Then here’s your platform, Stacy. Have your say.” Omar reached over and squeezed her hand. Now that wasn’t planned. But she welcomed his touch; it added some warmth to her cold fingers, clutching and unclutching her long skirt.
“People have made the wrong presumption that my background is a mystery. Far from it, my childhood has been a mixture of highs and lows, mostly lows. I choose to keep a forward focus. And now I feel someone is punishing me for that philosophy.”
Omar leaned forward, looking into her eyes. “You have thousands of fans out there who believe in you. You are their inspiration. Some have probably chosen the entertainment field because of you. And sometimes, having a difficult childhood makes you more empathetic, a better survivor and no one’s doormat.”
“You flatter me.” Stacy tried to read Omar for sincerity. Only yesterday, they had rehearsed. Yet there seemed to be more feeling in his delivery. “Let’s see. Where to begin?”
“Where were you born?”
“Jacksonville, Florida.”
“Family?”
“Lots of aunts, uncles and cousins.” Stacy fought to keep her tone upbeat. “After my mother left the household, I lived with various family members.” She cleared her throat, trying to diminish the lump that lodged there as tears threatened to surface. “I also lived in a couple of foster homes.”
“Sounds like you had a tough life.”
“In a manner of speaking. It was tough, but it prepared me for my life today. Not everyone has my best interests at heart.”
“Did some of your experiences include incidences with the law?”
Stacy shook her head. “I wasn’t necessarily one who only crossed the road when the Walk sign was lit. I did just enough to keep the girl gangs from kicking my butt on a daily basis, the boy gangs from making me a notch in their belts, the beat cops from harassing me in their street sweeps.”
“When did you leave Florida and why?”
“I knew that I would leave Florida. Despite my life, I couldn’t stop dreaming big. I worked odd jobs, lots of waitress jobs, then I entered a couple of high-profile contests and Brenda, my manager, spotted me.”
“So Brenda was lucky enough to be in the right place to meet you. I’m sure that any manager would have made a mad dash to sign you.”
Stacy heard the dig behind Omar’s words. She imagined that Brenda was probably gnashing her teeth at his obvious dissing of her. “You might be right, but I don’t believe that you can be matched with just anyone. Brenda came into my life at the right time. She helped me become a strong woman. I respect her for that.” She had to make him understand that she wouldn’t pick sides in their war.
“I concede your point.” Omar raised his hand in mock acceptance. A crooked smile played across his face. “Your life doesn’t sound so dark and mysterious. What was this person going to say about you?”
“Antonio Perez has been in trouble with the law at various times of his life. We grew up in the same neighborhood. In the beginning, he protected me, but then he took that protection to mean that he owned me. Once he made that decision to be in the business, I cut my ties. It was another reason for me to leave Florida and get my act together. Another reason why Brenda means so much to me.”
“Did he come after you?”
Stacy nodded. Her throat felt dry. She licked her lips, wishing that she had a glass of water to drink before continuing down this rocky slope. Omar was deviating from the script. The grim set of his face didn’t hide his anger. She didn’t need him to get emotional about Antonio. He was old news. What she had gone through was old news.
“Did he hurt you?”
Stacy shook her head. From the glint in Omar’s eye, he looked as if he would like to rip Antonio’s head off. He had to hold it together, just as she did.
“I guess not until now, with his current plan of action.”
“You could say that.” Stacy tried to get Omar to refocus. “And I have you to thank for giving me this opportunity to connect with my fans before they are thrown ugly lies.”
“Well, this Antonio person had better watch out because not only do you have thousands of fans supporting you, but I’m squarely in your corner.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.
The camera swung from her on to Omar, who grinned with boyish enthusiasm.
Stacy could only stare. Omar had just shot off into orbit with that declaration. He’d gone solo on their plan. And once these cameras were off, she’d rip off his head, then hand him over to Brenda.
There wasn’t supposed to be an announcement about him. He was simply going to be at her side at public functions. He didn’t need to place his lips on any part of her body. She certainly didn’t need to giggle and blush like a silly schoolgirl. Being around Omar made her think of the gravity-defying roller-coaster rides. She’d fasten her seat belt if she had one.
Chapter 3
Stacy turned her head away from Omar. She smiled sweetly into the camera and blew a kiss to the lens. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”
Once the cameraman signaled that film had stopped rolling, she shot off the chair. Brenda was racing in from one of the corners. All their cell phones were ringing or buzzing. There would be a lot to answer for.
Brenda pointed toward Omar. “I warned you about this wannabe cowboy. Now he’s ruined everything. There wasn’t supposed to be an announcement. You were simply going to escort her to a couple functions, have the paparazzi take some photos of you together, get in the magazines showing Stacy as moving on with her life. Now you made it into your deal.” Brenda stepped in between Omar and Stacy. “You’d better believe that you are not dumping Stacy.”
“Didn’t plan to.” Omar remained seated with a stupid grin, as if completely removed from the situation.
“Miss Watts, you’re needed on the set in thirty minutes. Makeup is ready for you.”
Stacy turned gratefully toward the production assistant and followed her out of the set. Any place but on that soundstage suited her. Omar had made this an even bigger mess. She hated to think that he’d planned to do this all along. Was that the only reason that he’d taken the assignment? Although he didn’t know about Antonio, was this a publicity stunt?
“I’m right behind you because I need to talk,” Brenda demanded.
“I won’t be able to answer you while I’m getting made up.”
“I don’t need your response. You need to listen to me.”
They all crammed into the tiny makeup trailer. The interior had two chairs and lots of counter space. Various makeup containers, hairpieces and other accessories littered all the empty spaces. Stacy didn’t care for the tight, windowless quarters.
Under the attentive hands of the makeup artist, Stacy surrendered to the application of heavy, thick foundation. With eyes closed, she tune
d in to Brenda’s speech; she hadn’t paused since she’d begun voicing her displeasure.
“Stacy, are you listening? This is important.”
Stacy gave her a slight nod.
“Send this guy back to wherever he came from. You’re on your way up. We don’t need any ripples in our journey. Antonio is a problem, but I’m not too concerned that we can’t muzzle him. But this guy, Omar, is more of a threat.”
“Why?” Stacy asked, wanting to hear Brenda’s reasoning.
“How can you ask that when you were lip-locked with him?”
Stacy flinched, more than a little embarrassed at Brenda’s remark in front of the makeup artist.
“Ma’am, can you relax your eyelids?” the makeup artist requested.
“Sorry,” Stacy mumbled, forcing herself to comply, while Brenda continued.
“Honey, could you give us five minutes?”
Stacy opened her eyes, surprised to see the makeup woman heading out the door with Brenda giving her an apologetic smile.
“Five minutes,” the makeup artist reminded her.
Brenda’s reply was to close the door. Then she turned and faced Stacy.
“Brenda, you’re exaggerating. And I don’t have time for a long discussion about something that we all agreed to do.”
“I didn’t agree to anything. I caved to your pleading. But as usual, I’m here to clean up the mess.”
“As usual? I have never been a problem to you. You have taught me well, Brenda. I don’t take your advice lightly. You have to admit that we didn’t have too much to work with, especially when we only have a short time to head off Antonio. Don’t worry about Omar. I’ve got him figured out. Okay, I shouldn’t have kissed him, but maybe that was more out of curiosity. It’s not like I’ve dated since I signed on with you.”
“And is that a priority? Men will always be there. No need to get distracted. Good grief, Stacy, think. Be strong. You’re about to make a big wave with the upcoming album and this movie role. I’m expecting more scripts to come, but you’ve got to keep your image clean. Clear your mind of this high school nonsense.”
Brenda had a point. Maybe she had used her impulsive nature to nab Omar for this inconvenient episode. But obviously she couldn’t maintain control after things got rolling. This man whom she considered a sort of friend now had levered a wedge between Brenda and her.
“Brenda,” Stacy called. “We always said that you can’t turn back the clock. My past is a part of me that continues to haunt me. I know that the past haunts you, too. I’m sorry for being a constant reminder of your loss.”
“Child, stop that nonsense.” Despite Brenda’s protestations, her voice cracked. “What happened with my daughter has nothing to do with you. As much as I miss her, I have to learn to live without her. But in you, I see so much promise. Maybe I see you as my second chance. But I’m also a good manager and I know how to protect you in this unforgiving profession. There will be time for flirting and courtship, all of that young-people stuff.”
“We’re a team.” Stacy hugged Brenda tightly. There wouldn’t be time to talk once the makeup woman returned.
“Ma’am, I have to get back to Miss Watts,” the makeup artist said tentatively to Brenda.
Brenda exited the trailer, and Stacy could begin to mentally prepare for her role. Unfortunately, her movie part imitated life. The same memories and experiences she’d rather not deal with now had a function; she had to use the pain as a source from which to tap.
When the production assistant yelled her name, she scrambled to put on her costume as a homeless woman. With her makeup on and looking ten years older, she was on set thirty seconds before her scene started. Taking her place on a park bench, she let the rejection, abuse and self-loathing she had experienced wash over her. As the emotions sprang forth, her body posture changed, hunched over, her expression drawn downward. When the director screamed, “Action!” she uttered her dialogue in street dialect.
With the interview over, Omar extended his stay for the next two days. He’d convinced his boss that he had some things to wrap up. Now he wasn’t sure what he should do. His adrenaline had returned to normal, and logic had its own voice. He couldn’t believe what he’d done on live television. An apology didn’t seem sufficient for the amount of damage that he might have caused.
He waited on the set, hoping to speak to Stacy. No outside persons were allowed into the soundstage. The only available place was the conference room, and, frankly, the thought of sitting there, on Brenda’s territory, didn’t appeal to him. From his out-of-the-way spot, he gathered his paperwork and equipment. Maybe he’d head to his hotel and call Stacy for a chance to explain himself. The time could help him sort out his feelings and provide a coherent explanation for his behavior.
“Don’t think you’re going to run off just like that.”
Brenda’s words doused him like a bucket of frigid water. His hands stilled in their task of gathering his note cards.
“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” Omar started to explain.
“Let me explain something to you that I’m sure Stacy would not have told you.”
Omar retook his seat. This time, she sat in his interview chair and he sat where Stacy had been as she answered his questions.
“Don’t bother interrupting,” Brenda ordered.
He nodded, puzzled that Brenda no longer seemed angry. She looked sad. Frankly the change in her demeanor unsettled him more than if she had simply called him names.
Brenda turned away from him. “I have been in this business for over twenty years, working in every position imaginable. In that time, I married twice, both ending in divorce. I decided not to go for a third time, figuring that it was a divine sign that I’m meant to be alone. From my second marriage, I had a daughter. Her name was Valerie. I’d call her Val. She was my light. I spoiled her rotten, but I wanted to be both mother and father for her. I didn’t want her to be in need of anything or have to go beyond our family unit for anything.
“As she grew older, I stopped being her hero. I no longer impressed her with my hip knowledge and the latest dance moves. I became the dense, unappealing mother who kept her away from a normal life with friends. In her mind, her father had left to get away from me. Her hanging with the wrong crowd turned out to be the least of my worries, as she grew bolder with her disobedience. Then her options grew more dangerous. She ran away from home whenever I got tough with her.”
Brenda pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her nose. She allowed the tears to stream. “One night, she left and never came back. The cops looked, but she was a habitual runaway and now seventeen years old. But I didn’t give up. She was my baby. I tracked down every lead, learned what these young girls go through on the streets and cried every night as I thought about what she might be facing. One of the things that we’d fight about was my management company. She wanted to get into the hip-hop business. She had a voice and probably could have turned into something worth listening to with studio work, but the odds were against her. I wanted her to get an education and live a fairly normal life, then maybe consider the business.
“A private investigator told me that she was in Miami. I started going to talent shows and contests in that city. Instead of catching up with her, I had the chance to see Stacy battling with another rapper. She was so good that she put her opponent to shame and won the competition easily. I was impressed, but not enough to stop looking for Valerie. Plus I figured if Stacy was that good, she would appear at other contests.
“Everyone in that community talked about Stacy. She looked good, sounded great and had earned her props on the street. I found myself seeking her appearances and seeing the rough gem, waiting for the right touch. This meant that I had to go up against her then-manager, Antonio. Boy, he wasn’t happy to see me, but I wasn’t intimidated. He was a punk who took advantage of people. I knew that Stacy would blossom under my care.
“Once in a while, I ache for my daughter’s return. Bu
t I have learned to move on with my life. I know that there is a reason that Stacy entered my life when she did. She is more than my client. Stacy is like a daughter.”
There was a lengthy pause. Omar waited, half expecting to hear a threat against him if he ever hurt Stacy. It was the usual threat a big brother or father felt compelled to give when he showed up to take out his latest date.
“I lost one daughter. I won’t lose another.” Brenda picked up her pocketbook and stood. She brushed her cheeks and looked down at her wet hands. “I’ll be seeing you, I suppose.” She walked toward the door, and just before exiting turned to face him solemnly. “Take heed of what I say. I won’t lose another.”
Omar couldn’t leave after Brenda had unloaded her bombshell. Instead, he sat outside the soundstage waiting for Stacy to appear. He had no idea when filming would be done. His stomach growled, announcing its displeasure that he’d skipped dinner. The thing he did know was that after all that information, he wanted to be with Stacy.
“Yo, my man, when are things going to wrap up in there?” Omar got the attention of a young man hurrying from the building. The man’s arms were laden with a large prop that he couldn’t identify.
“They just did the final take.” His voice strained under the burden.
Omar waved his gratitude, not wanting to hold up the young man any further. His mood lightened now that Stacy could emerge soon. Leaning against a nearby trailer, he whistled a nameless tune into the cool night air.
Finally the doors opened. Actors and staff noisily poured out into the parking lot. Apparently, the production was supported by a large number of people. In the semilit area, positively identifying anyone, specifically Stacy, proved to be somewhat difficult.
“Stacy!” Omar pushed away from his temporary waiting area and headed toward the familiar figure.
“Omar?” Stacy finished up a conversation with two other women before turning her attention to him. “What are you doing here so late?”
Omar pulled a bouquet of wilted flowers from behind his back and offered his biggest grin. “A peace offering.”
Straight to the Heart Page 4