Ms. Carter nodded, as did some of the other producers around the table.
Rayshawn was, of course, the first to speak. “I don’t know. It’s . . . it’s kinda . . . .” She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “It’s cliché.”
Like video hoochies weren’t.
She went on, “I mean, it’s a sweet little idea and all, good bleeding-heart stuff, but I’m not sure it would be strong enough to grab and hold people. They might watch it once and think it’s cute, but it may not draw them enough to want to watch it every week.”
Mark spoke up. “I disagree, Rayshawn. It could be gripping. Show some kid whose mom is on crack and father is in prison but he has this dream to sing or be a producer. A young girl who wants to dance, but instead of wanting to be a video girl, she wants to do ballet or dance on Broadway. I think it could work. I would watch it.”
I wanted to hug Mark. Not only was he supporting my idea, he was also agreeing with my dislike for Rayshawn’s video girl show. In a subtle way, but clear nonetheless. Other nods around the table assented as well.
Ms. Carter nodded. “Michelle, your second idea?”
I squared my shoulders, more confident since my first idea had done fairly well. “When I first moved to Atlanta, one of my favorite things to do was go out to listen to live music in some of the jazz and neo-soul clubs here. There are a lot of independent artists who are extremely talented—better than some nationally released artists—but who haven’t gotten that big deal to put them in the national limelight. I’d love to do a show called Indie Artist to highlight independent artists. We’d have them perform live before an audience then do brief interview segments—what made them choose music, their struggles with making it and whatever else makes their story unique. We could start with artists here in Atlanta, but I’m sure they have underground enclaves in Philly and DC and other metropolitan cities, as well. The show would have a real artistic, eclectic vibe to it.”
This time, I got nods from almost everyone at the table. Even Rayshawn looked interested, in spite of herself.
“I like it,” Ms. Carter said. First opinion she’d expressed all day.
Thanks, God. I tried not to smile too big.
There were a few other producers to present after me. A couple of them had cool ideas. The other sounded like a Rayshawn disciple. Stick with what’s already selling in the market and promote negative black stereotypes.
When we all finished, Ms. Carter spoke, “I like some of what’s been presented here, and I’m confident that we’ll have more than enough good ideas for our fall lineup. I do want to say that I’m not necessarily looking to duplicate what’s already out there. I’m looking for fresh ideas that will give our station a brand different from the status quo. I’m also not looking to propagate already existing stereotypes of what black television is. I think we should be cutting edge. This is the vision of our CEO—to do something different. Know that some things will be changing around here.”
My ears got hot. Was she saying what I thought she was saying? I looked up to see Rayshawn glaring at me. Apparently, she’d heard the same thing I did. I looked up at God. What had I done? I was not trying to be enemy #1 of the station’s top producer.
But then again, if I got a chance to represent God and change Black television, maybe I was.
Jason and Erika were waiting for me in my office when I got back. I closed the door, sat down and took a few deep breaths.
“How did it go?” Erika put a cup of chamomile tea on my desk.
I inhaled the sweet, tangy steam. I could tell she had put the perfect amount of lemon and honey in it. “I think okay.” I picked up the mug and blew on the tea.
“You think okay? What happened? What did they say? Did they like your ideas? What did Rayshawn pitch?” Erika seemed exasperated at having to pull the information out of me.
“Give her a sec, Erika. I’m sure it was a tough meeting.” Jason sat in the chair across from my desk. I could tell he was as anxious to hear about the meeting as Erika was, but knew I needed a minute to calm down.
I gave him an appreciative smile and then ran down the details of the meeting, discussing the different show ideas and people’s responses. “Ms. Carter collected everyone’s treatments and will get back to us in a few weeks.”
Erika sat on the edge of my desk. “That Rayshawn is such a skeez. Video hoochies? She looks like she may have taken a dance on a pole in her early days. And no telling how many people she slept with to get to where she is now.”
“Erika . . .” I gave her a disapproving look.
She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “What? Girl, I’m just saying what you know. I know you a Christian and can’t say bad stuff about people, but think about it. How did she get to be top producer around here?”
I knew she was referring to the rumors that Rayshawn was sleeping with one of the station’s owners.
I frowned. “She’s a good producer. She may have a nasty attitude, but she’s good at what she does.”
“Please. She ain’t that good. She hoards the best assistants and editors and terrorizes them into doing their best work. The people around her make her look good.” Erika folded her arms. “Tell her, Jason.”
Jason had worked with Rayshawn before switching over to promos. Seemed like a step backward to me, but he had requested it. Jason said, “I wouldn’t say that exactly. I would agree that the people around her work hard and it reflects well on her. And I agree she’s not the easiest person to work with.”
I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “Is that why you switched over to promos?” I realized I had never asked before.
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation was obviously making him uncomfortable. “Sort of.”
Erika put her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you tell the whole truth?”
Jason sat quietly.
Erika glared at him and turned to me. “Let’s just say that in their late-night edit sessions, Rayshawn wanted to get busy at more than editing.”
Jason winced and stared out the window.
“What do you mean? She hit on you?” I asked. “Weren’t you married at the time?”
“So.” Erika sucked her teeth. “That don’t mean nothing to man-eating Rayshawn. And she’s used to getting what she wants around here.”
We both looked at Jason. He finally let out a deep breath. “She was . . . flirty at first.” Jason looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “And then I guess because I ignored it, she got . . . bolder.” He grimaced. “I told her over and over I was married and not interested, but that didn’t mean anything to her. So, I went through all the proper channels, but for some reason, everyone wanted to look the other way and didn’t take me seriously. So I decided to switch departments. It’s in the past now, and I’d like to keep it there.”
Erika smirked like Jason had proved her point about Rayshawn and the station owner.
We all sat silent for a few minutes until Jason finally said, “I’m glad they liked your ideas. I’d like to see some changes around here, and you’re the perfect person to bring it. I’m sure God is gonna hook you up with a senior producer spot. Don’t forget about us little people when you move up in the world.”
“I have every intention of taking you guys with me. If I get to do a show, I’ll still need a production assistant and an editor.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you get to pick. You’re not Rayshawn,” Erika said.
“We’ll see.” I patted Erika’s arm and glanced over at Jason. “I can’t imagine working in this place without you guys, so God’s gonna have to work it out.”
After the two of them left my office, I flipped through the pages of my treatments and thought about the meeting. God, please let them choose one of my ideas. I know it’s Your will for me to get this promotion. Isn’t it?
seven
Me, Angela, Nicole took our shoes off as we entered Lisa’s house for girls’ night. Vanessa couldn’t make it because M
ike Jr. had a game.
Lisa’s house reminded me of a high-priced art gallery. Dark hardwood floors, large windows, neo-modern furniture, abstract sculptures and artsy photographs everywhere. Models in high fashion, still life photos of gripping scenes, and an amazing Gordon Parks collection.
Lisa dressed in themes, depending on her mood. Tonight, she must have been in what she called her peaceful Zen mood, because she had on a pale green, silk kimono with her long hair held up with those plastic stick things. She led us down her long hall filled with pictures of a recent photo shoot of herself and a set of her own amateur photographs she took with her latest new camera.
When we got to the kitchen, she gestured toward a stack of paper plates, cups and plastic forks on the counter. “Tonight we have to talk about where we’re going to be found by our husbands.” Lisa removed aluminum foil covering trays of food on her stove.
“This should be fun.” Nicole’s sarcasm cut through the air.
Lisa ignored her. “If we only go to work, church and then hang out with each other, we’ll never get married. We have to strategically place ourselves in situations where we can be found.”
“Such as?” I was starving.
Lisa had one of the restaurants she used for her photo shoots send over dinner. There were grilled chicken breasts with some sweet-smelling orange sauce, pasta with vegetables, fresh salad, fluffy rolls, and huge brownies.
Angela hovered as if she was as hungry as I was.
“The question is, where do saved single men go?” Lisa indicated for us to go ahead and fix our plates.
Me and Angela grabbed our plates, and I stabbed a chicken breast like I thought it could get away. Angela raked a heaping dose of pasta onto her plate and then attacked the salad. Nicole stood back from our feeding frenzy, acting like she was afraid to get in harm’s way.
“The same place everybody else goes. You act like they’re some precious endangered species with special habits. They go grocery shopping, to the movies, out to eat . . .” Nicole picked up a plate and inched toward the counter, checking to see if me and Angela were done fixing our plates.
Angela sat down at the kitchen table. “My friend, Tonya, says there are three great places to pick up men. The grocery store, later at night. The married men are home with their families, so if you see a guy after eight, he’s probably fair game. She also says Lowe’s or Home Depot. These guys are homeowners and care about working on their house. She says to go there after work while you’re still dressed in your business clothes, looking sexy and successful. And then she said coffee shops, especially ones in bookstores. Men there are either readers or they’re meeting someone for business. Whichever the case, they’re probably intelligent.”
I looked at Angela with newfound respect and sat in the seat next to her. “Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”
Angela nodded, cut off a huge chunk of chicken, and stuffed it into her mouth.
Lisa joined us at the table. “So, have you tried it?”
Angela frowned and shook her head, still chewing her chicken. She strained to swallow, and for a second, I was afraid she would choke.
“Why not?” Nicole sat in the empty chair next to Angela.
Angela shrugged and finally swallowed. “I’m not like that. I’d never go up to a guy or introduce myself, and I’m not the kind of girl who guys notice and introduce themselves to. I tried it once—at the Starbucks in the Barnes and Noble—for hours. I saw a lot of cute guys. And a couple of them actually talked to other women while I was there. But nobody approached me.”
I could hear the pain in her voice. I sensed that Angela was worried she’d never meet anyone. I wish I knew someone perfect I could introduce her to.
“A lot of married people I know were introduced by someone,” Nicole said. “They said to tell everyone you trust that you’re looking and to think about someone they know that you might hit it off with.”
Angela cut another huge bite of chicken. “It’s still hard for me when I first meet someone. You guys know I’m shy. I scare guys off because I don’t know what to say.”
“Then what I have planned for tonight is perfect.” Lisa got up from the table and disappeared down the hall. She returned with her laptop in hand and sat back down.
Angela, Nicole, and I frowned.
“Online dating.” Lisa turned on her laptop. “You guys brought your computers, right?”
Nicole sucked her teeth. “Please. You could have saved me the trouble. There is no way—”
Lisa waved a hand at her. “We know you’re not going to do it.” She looked at me and Angela. “I’m talking to them. You guys up for trying it?”
I shook my head. “No way in the world. I ain’t no desperate girl who has to go plastering my face all over cyberspace to find a man. That doesn’t even seem godly.”
“Why not?” Lisa challenged. “Think about Angela here, who’s too shy to meet a guy in person. It’s a perfect chance for her to get to know someone ahead of time, share some conversation in a non-threatening way, and meet someone she may have never met. What’s so ungodly about that?”
“And what’s up with you and Nicole calling me desperate all the time?” Angela’s lower lip trembled.
“We never called you desperate.” Nicole leaned closer to Angela and slipped an arm around her.
“You said I belonged to the desperate and lonely club at church, and Michelle just said I was desperate for trying online dating.”
Lisa’s eyes flew open. “You’ve tried it?”
“Yes, I have.” Angela sat up in her chair. “For a couple of months now. Can’t say that I’ve met anyone magical, and I haven’t gone on any dates from it, but I’ve gotten a little more comfortable with the whole dating thing. Guys see my profile and tell me I’m beautiful and that they want to get to know me better. Granted, some of them are twenty years older or can’t spell worth a darn and obviously missed grade school grammar, but at least I’m out there trying.”
Angela shrugged off Nicole’s arm and pulled out her laptop. “I’ll show you my profile.”
I sat there amazed. Angela dating online? Who knew? Nicole bit her tongue. I could tell she was afraid to say anything for fear of hurting Angela’s feelings.
“What?” Angela saw right through her. We could all tell when Nicole was itching to say something, but decided not to. It was rare, but it did happen—usually for Angela’s sake.
“I don’t care what you guys think.” Angela cut her eyes at Nicole. “I’d rather be in the desperate and lonely club than the old, bitter, and lonely club.”
Ouch. I winced.
Lisa chimed in, probably to defuse the situation. “I’ve been wanting to try it and actually created a profile on different sites, but haven’t responded to anybody yet. Angela, you’ve inspired me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It seems weird. What kind of guy has to find a woman online? I can’t imagine anyone I’d fall in love with having to find a woman that way.”
“Why do you say that? It’s the computer age. We do everything else on the internet—buy clothes, books, cars, you name it. Why not date?” Angela’s voice had more courage and defiance in it. “Especially for busy women like us. It’s much more time efficient than hanging out at Lowe’s or in coffee shops for hours.”
“Seems like something’s wrong with them if they have to do it that way.” I pushed my plate away and rubbed my stomach.
“Is there something wrong with me?” Angela put a hand on her hip.
“No. You’re shy—like you said.” I tried to think of a time we had seen Angela this fiery. This was definitely the most I had ever seen her talk.
“Are you powered up? Let’s see your profile.” Lisa peered over Angela’s shoulder. “Which service did you try?”
“Match.com, Christianpartners.net, Blacksingles.com, and Yahoo personals. Oh, and eHarmony.”
Nicole whistled. “Dang, Angela. You’re a regular cyberho.”
Angela gig
gled and elbowed Nicole. Obviously, she was forgiven. Angela said, “The Bible says to cast your bread upon many waters.”
Lisa said, “I’m trying eHarmony. I figured if I went high budget, there’d be a better caliber of guys on there. Plus, I like the fact that they match you on your personality.”
Angela nodded while typing on her computer. “Took me forever to make it through all the questions. It’s intense.”
“Exactly,” Lisa said. “Makes me all the more confident that the guy I might meet could be the right one.”
“Yeah, but what if you answer one question the wrong way and end up getting paired up with the wrong guy?” I asked, still not convinced it was anything I wanted to try. I couldn’t imagine plastering my picture and personal information on cyberspace for all the world to see.
Desperate and lonely girl seeks any man willing to have her.
What if someone I knew saw me on there? How embarrassing. It didn’t seem like trusting God. A Christian woman posting an ad to sell herself on the internet? Nah. I couldn’t do it.
Angela turned her computer around for us to see. Lisa sat next to me, and we both leaned forward to look at the screen. There was a fuzzy picture of Angela, in a white coat, working in her lab.
Lisa used the touch mouse to scroll down, shaking her head the entire time. “This is all wrong, Angela.”
“What?” Angela’s eyes widened.
“First of all, you’ve got this terrible picture on here. No one can tell how pretty you are, and you look like a nerd in the lab.” Lisa held up a hand to ward off Angela’s protest. “I know you are a nerd in a lab, but that’s not the first impression we want to give. We’re gonna have to take some better pictures of you to post.”
Lisa stared at the screen for a few seconds more. “And you shouldn’t put your PhD or your income on here. It invites predators and scares off men intimidated by a woman who makes more money than them. Put you’d rather not say.”
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