It was Rayshawn. Looking crazier than Erika could have ever described. She had on a blinding-red pant suit that looked two sizes too big. Her wig was crooked, and her thin eyebrows were accentuated with thick, angry pencil lines.
Me and Erika stood there staring at her. She glared at Erika until she slipped behind her out the door.
“I asked you a question. Who do you think you are? Going over my head? Making all those decisions and getting things approved without my signature? I told you before, I run things around here. I told you to stay in your place. I turn my back for one second, and you stab me in it. You think you’re so great? So beautiful? So in control? Everybody likes you? I tell you what.” She marched over to my bookshelf and started pulling books onto the floor. “You need to get you a box and start packing. You’re out of here. Your services are no longer needed at BTV.”
“Rayshawn, what is your problem?” I didn’t get too close to her. I wasn’t sure how close to the edge she was, and I wasn’t taking any chances.
“My problem? You’re my problem. Or you were my problem. But my Michelle Bradford problems are about to end. Today.”
“What’s going on, guys?” Jason walked into my office. Either Erika sent him to rescue me, or he’d heard the commotion.
After seeing Rayshawn snatch a few books off my shelf, he looked at me with wide-open eyes. He walked over to me and put a hand on my arm.
I shrugged it off and shook my head. I knew Jason was a sore spot with Rayshawn and didn’t need him being touchy-feely in front of her while she was three shades of crazy.
Rayshawn smiled when she saw Jason. “Looks like your boyfriend is just in time to help you pack.” She looked him up and down. “You can get ready to move back to my suite when you’re finished.” She turned on her heel and left.
“What was that all about?” Jason started picking up books and placed them back on the shelves. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I had to admit I was a little shaken up. Unlike my last confrontation with her, I had no desire to give Rayshawn a beatdown. My grandma taught me you don’t fight crazy people. You can get killed like that.
Erika popped her head back in my office. “Ms. Carter wants to talk to you.” She saw the books on the floor and came over to help Jason with the mess. “You go ahead. We got this.”
I nodded and left. I rushed to Ms. Carter’s office to see what was going on. Did Rayshawn really have the power to fire me?
The look on Ms. Carter’s face when I walked in made me even more worried. She didn’t have her usual quiet confidence. “Have a seat, Michelle. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Rayshawn is back and is . . . somewhat upset.”
“Somewhat upset? She’s lost her mind. She just fired me.”
Ms. Carter’s smile was strained. “She mentioned that she was going get rid of you.”
I frowned. “Can she do that?”
Ms. Carter took a deep breath, and I felt a sick knot in the pit of my stomach. “She’s got the station owner against the wall. She’s threatened a sexual harassment case against him and says she has his wife’s number on speed dial if he crosses her in any way.” She gave a weak laugh. “Hell hath no fury . . .”
“Miss-es Car-ter,” I said slow and drawn-out. “Does Rayshawn have the authority to fire me?” I wasn’t in the mood for her double-speak or cloaked scriptures.
She let out another deep breath and folded her hands on her desk. “I’m afraid she might. She’s decided that she should be the VP of programming. I received a phone call this morning, and although it wasn’t said directly, I think I’m being moved over to the marketing department.”
“Marketing? What are you talking about? They’re going to turn this station over to Rayshawn? You know exactly what’ll happen. We’ll end up with shows about video hoochies, pimps and hoes, and who knows what else. You’re going to let that happen?”
Ms. Carter leaned forward, her lips drawn into a thin line. “What exactly do you expect me to do, Michelle?”
I could tell I had offended her. I didn’t care. “Do something about it. Fight back. You don’t want to be in marketing. You’re supposed to be the VP of programming.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You’re young and idealistic. You have no idea how this business works. I’ll be fine in marketing. And I’ll retire in five years.”
“You won’t have a job to retire from because this station will go completely downhill with Rayshawn at the helm. You know that. I can’t believe you’re going to let her roll over you like that.”
She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at me. I refused to be moved. If I was gonna be fired, I was going down fighting. And I knew just the strategy to use.
“What if God placed you here at this station to take it in the direction He wants it to go? What if you’re called for such a time as this?”
I could tell I got to her. She looked down at her desk. I could almost hear her thinking.
After a few moments of silence, she looked up at me. “What do you expect me to do?”
“Ask God what to do and go fight. If it’s His will for us to be here, He’ll fix all this. If not, then I don’t want to be here. Do you? Do you really want to market video hoochies?”
She shook her head and exhaled. “I don’t know. This could . . .”
I knew she was thinking that if she fought, she could end up with no job at all.
She stood up and gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you take a few days off until this all blows over?”
I stood. “You’re sending me home?”
She held up her hands. “Just for a few days until I can sort this out. I need to meet with the other VP’s and, hopefully, with the other two station owners.”
Was she saying that to appease me? Was she trying to get me out of her face so she could pack up her stuff and move over to the marketing department?
“I promise, Michelle. I’ll do everything I can. I’ll call you when I know the outcome.”
twenty-six
When I got down to the parking lot, I sat in my car, stunned. Did I just lose my job, God?
I pulled out my cell phone and tried to reach Nicole. She was in a meeting, and her secretary promised to have her call me back later. Vanessa was in with a client and couldn’t talk either. Lisa was in the middle of a shoot. Angela wasn’t in any position to hear about my problems.
I felt alone. I tried to pray, but didn’t even know what to say. I needed a hug and for someone to tell me it was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I had dialed Isaiah’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey. You miss me already, huh?”
I giggled. “Yeah, whatever.” I let out a deep breath. “You busy?”
“Not at all. What’s wrong?”
I spent the next few minutes spilling my guts to Isaiah about the whole Rayshawn situation.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Still at work. Sitting in the parking lot.”
“Meet me at the house in fifteen minutes.”
“Give me thirty. I want to go home and put on some comfortable clothes.”
“You mean I don’t get to see you looking all sexy in your work clothes?”
I giggled. “Don’t play with me. See you in a bit.”
It didn’t make sense how much better I felt all of a sudden.
I drove home and changed into some jeans and a T-shirt and quickly got back into the car to go see Isaiah.
When I pulled up at the house and rang the doorbell, Isaiah opened the door and pulled me into his arms. His hug seemed to take away all my anxiety, fears, and frustrations about what was about to happen next in my life.
I pulled away from him. I barely knew this guy and didn’t need to be letting him comfort me like that. “I can’t believe this happened. I don’t even—”
He held up a hand. “We’ll talk about that later. Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”
He led me to the garage and helped
me climb up into the Hummer.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To have some fun. Didn’t you hear me?” He pulled out of the garage and wheeled down the street.
“Where?”
He frowned. “Tell me you’re not one of those women who has to know everything all the time.”
I laughed. “I’m a producer. We’re control freaks.”
“I’ma need you to dig up your spontaneous side and relax.”
I decided to chill and give in to whatever Isaiah had on his mind to cheer me up. Before I knew it, he was pulling into a parking spot. I glanced at the sign on the door he had parked in front of and frowned. “An arcade? Why did you bring me here?”
“Because when I finish beating you at Pac-Man, you’ll forget all about your job troubles.”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t help but laugh. “You think so?” I looked him up and down. “Please. In your dreams.”
When we walked into the arcade, it took me a second to adjust to the flashing lights, loud music, and shooting, crashing, and beeping sounds.
The Pac-Man game was being held hostage by two belligerent-looking teenagers, but Ms. Pac-Man was free and clear. Isaiah had no idea what he was in for. It was my favorite game as a teenager. I beat him so bad, it was shameful.
Next, we played this interactive dance game, and he impressed everyone in the place with his fancy footwork. I had to let him get his ego back after the Ms. Pac-Man thing, so I let him beat me on the race car driving game. We finished up with a few games of pool.
Next, Isaiah took me out to a ranch his friends owned in Ellenwood, to ride horses. Who knew horseback riding was difficult? Either my horse didn’t like me, or there was some skill to it I couldn’t seem to master. I finally got on the horse with Isaiah, and we had a great time riding.
We went back to the house, and he told me to go home, shower, change and come back in an hour. He said he had one more place to take me.
When I got back, we got into the Hummer and set out for another adventure. We drove up to a huge mansion in Buckhead.
I began to wonder who Isaiah was. All day, he had great favor everywhere we went. At the arcade, he seemed to be best friends with the owner, and the guy gave him this funny coin-key thing and we played all the games for free. At the horseback riding place, we rode for hours, and the guy refused to let Isaiah give him any money.
And now we were sitting outside a mansion, in a Hummer.
When we walked in, once again, Isaiah got a warm reception. There were about eight people there, sitting in a large entertainment room. They all had the same artsy-fartsy look Isaiah had. Dreads and afros, T-shirts with slogans, worn jeans, hand-crafted jewelry. A few of the people sitting around had guitars.
One girl, wearing a long flowing skirt, a tie-dye top and large silver hoop earrings, was painting at an easel. Another guy, with long thick dreads, had a large African drum between his legs. A few people were scribbling in notebooks, and one was typing on a laptop.
The house was gorgeous with beautiful dark hardwood floors, high ceilings and large windows. It was decorated modern art deco with art, masks, and sculptures that looked like they came from all over the world.
“Guys, this is my friend, Michelle. Michelle, this is everyone.”
They all laughed. Everyone came up and introduced themselves to me one by one. They were a blur of names and faces. One girl had so many piercings, she looked like she hurt. A girl with a Mohawk afro eyed me up and down while shaking my hand. I wondered if she had a thing for Isaiah or whether they had dated in the past. It looked like it cost her everything to give me the strained, fake smile she plastered on her face. And when she lingered for a few minutes and looked like she was about to say something, Isaiah came over and struck up a conversation with her.
The painter girl must have witnessed the interaction and sauntered over to where I was. “Don’t mind Sanitha. She wants Isaiah, and he don’t want her. She’s harmless though.” She looked me up and down too, but more so with curiosity. She held out a hand. “I’m Naya. It’s good to meet you.”
I shook her hand. “Michelle. Good to meet you too.”
“You hungry? We got a spread in the kitchen. Everybody cooked.” She beckoned for me to follow as she sashayed into the kitchen. Her almost-bald, natural cut was perfect for her heart-shaped face and huge fawn eyes. She handed me a plate. “Mostly everything is vegetarian. There’s wine or juice if you want.”
She stood, watching me fix my plate. I felt like she wanted to ask me a question. I smiled at her. “What?”
She laughed. “Nothing. Isaiah’s never brought a girl before. In fact, I’ve never seen him with anyone. If he weren’t so into God, I would have started to wonder.” She picked up a carrot off a vegetable tray. “You must be something special. You a singer?”
I shook my head, heaping my plate with hummus and raw vegetables. “Television producer.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re the girl doing that independent artist show?”
I nodded, wondering what else Isaiah had said about me and what his relationship was with this girl.
“Don’t believe a word she says about me. It’s all lies.” Isaiah came in from the entertainment room, smiling. He hugged the girl. “Hey, baby sister. How are you?”
“I’m good.” She looked at me and back at him. “She’s beautiful—inside and out. Don’t mess up.” She gave Isaiah a kiss on the cheek and left the room.
He laughed. “You okay? I see you found the food.”
“Yeah, Naya took good care of me.”
He walked over and peeked into the entertainment room. “Hurry up and come back in. You don’t want to miss anything.”
I finished piling my plate with some fried plantains, black beans, and brown rice, grabbed a cup of juice and joined Isaiah in the other room.
He scooted over to share a seat with me on an ottoman. He pulled out his guitar and started strumming some chords. The guy on the keyboard joined in, as did the other guy on guitar. The guy with the African drum added a nice rhythm.
The impromptu jam session went on for hours. At times, people joined in to sing, making up lyrics as they went along. Other times, different people on the instruments soloed. They stopped between songs to laugh and talk. Naya danced her cute little self all over the room. I thought she would pass out. I could tell she had studied dance.
I kicked myself for not bringing a camera. This would have been a perfect addition to my Indie Artist show.
And then it hit me. I might not have an Indie Artist show. I might not even have a job. I let out a deep breath. Isaiah had done a good job of distracting me. I hadn’t thought about it all day.
He must have felt my sigh. He stopped playing guitar, leaned over and squeezed my leg. “You okay?”
I put on a smile and nodded. “Yeah, this is fun. I was thinking how great this would be for the show, but then I realized . . .”
He looked into my eyes. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise. You’ll have your show and many others after it. You’re gonna run that station one day. And if not that one, your own. God is going to make you the queen of black television because you have His heart.” He rubbed my back.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Isaiah.” I felt my heart tumbling. It scared me. I hadn’t felt that in a long time, and I knew it was too early to be feeling it.
Everyone gave me big hugs like I was part of the family when we were leaving. Nobody else seemed to be leaving, even though it was almost one in the morning.
“How long will they stay there playing and singing?” I asked Isaiah as he helped me up into the Hummer.
“They all live there. It’s sort of like an artist commune. The house belongs to Nigel—the guy on the keyboard. He used to be a big corporate America investment banker. He made a huge chunk of money and retired and came back to his first love—music. He loves to support young, starving artists. Anyone he selects can stay there as long as t
hey need to, as long as they’re producing art on a daily basis.”
“That’s a cool idea.” I let my window down to enjoy the brisk night air.
“Yeah. Nigel’s great.” Isaiah rubbed my arm. “You had a good day?”
I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. A great day. You made me forget. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
We drove back to the house listening to a Bob Marley CD. I fell asleep listening to Redemption Song.
I woke up as Isaiah pulled into the garage.
He walked me out to my car. “You gonna be okay getting home? I shouldn’t have kept you out so late. I would let you crash in the guest room, but I know you’re a church girl, so you’d say no.”
I smiled. The weird thing was, I didn’t want to leave. He made me feel so safe and peaceful, yet giddy inside. I thought of Angela talking about not wanting to be far away from Gary and understood. Of course, the next thing that popped into my mind was that she was pregnant.
“You’re absolutely right. I better go. Thanks again, Isaiah. I had a great day.”
He gave me one of those hugs. I buried my head in his chest and tried not to think about Rayshawn, BTV, and Ms. Carter. I let out a deep breath and relaxed further into his chest. I felt like I could stay there all night, but knew I had to let him go before I decided that sleeping in the guest room would be okay.
When I pulled away, he grabbed both my hands and bowed his head. “God, I thank you that Michelle is Your daughter and You’re a good Father who takes care of His children. I thank You that she has nothing to worry about because You’ve already got it worked out. I thank You that You show yourself mighty on her behalf and move swiftly to straighten this situation out.
“Cause your perfect will to prevail. I thank You that you’re removing everyone that stands against You and Your Kingdom purposes and that You elevate those that represent You and Your interests. Give Michelle the peace that surpasses understanding, so she won’t waste a moment in worry. Take her to a new place of faith and dependence on you through this situation and give her a divine revelation of Your love for her. In Jesus’ name.”
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