by Skyy
Sahara let out a loud moan. “I wanted you to come because I really wanted you to meet Bobby Dee.”
“Oh, so that nigga is gonna be there.”
“Along with my agent and publicist.” Sahara sat in the chair. She couldn’t look at Cooley’s face. “See, after seeing the way Bobby was acting toward me, his people and my people thought it would be a good idea for us to be photographed in public together.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Cooley, some pictures came out.” Sahara grabbed Cooley’s hand before she could walk past her.
Cooley turned around. Sahara’s eyes were filling with tears.
“They hit MediaTakeOut today. Some pics of me back in the day with some women.” Sahara lowered her head. Cooley leaned against her desk. “At first Tommy wanted me to just ignore it, use the excuse of me being a stripper and it coming with the job. But when he saw the way Bobby was flirting with me and the way the audience responded, well, he figured the best thing is—”
“To make it look like you two are an item.” Cooley ran her hand through her head. She knew of other celebrities doing the same thing. “Bobby was cool with that?”
“Yeah, he and his people thought it was a great idea, since, you know, all male R&B singers are hit with the gay rumor at some point in their careers. Not to mention, it would make for a great P.R. story. The hot new R&B singers meet and fall for each other on 106 & Park.”
“So, you wanted me to come for what reason? Seems like the decision has already been made.”
Sahara stood up. “I wanted you to at least meet him and be cool with him. I figured it would make things easier.”
“So you told him you are gay?” Cooley looked at Sahara, who quickly turned her head. Cooley huffed. “So, this fool has no idea that he’s never gonna get it.”
“He knows it’s for business purposes.”
“He’s a man, Sahara. You think in the back of his mind he isn’t hoping to fuck?”
“That would never happen.”
“He doesn’t know that.” Cooley threw her hand up.
Sahara pulled Cooley’s arm. “But I do! Cooley, I’m a fucking lesbian. I don’t want that man’s dick!”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Cooley responded under her breath. Misha entered her mind. She could feel her wall building up. Sahara looked disgusted. Cooley shifted her eyes. She couldn’t look at Sahara.
Sahara nodded her head. “You know, until you learn that you can trust me and that I’m not that bitch you were with before, we are never going to make it.” Sahara picked her purse back up and walked out the room.
A piece of Cooley wanted to follow her, but her pride wouldn’t let her.
41
Denise pressed Farih’s lips against hers. Farih sat in her lap with her arms around Denise. Farih’s soft lips felt like silk against Denise’s. Her hands roamed up and down Farih’s backside.
“Get a damn room,” Melanie said as she walked into the room. Her cornrows and oversize jogging suit made her look more like a thug than a top fashion designer.
They both laughed.
Farih turned around in Denise’s lap. “I’m sorry, Mel. I just can’t control myself sometimes.” Farih blushed.
Melanie smiled. “It’s fine. I love it.” Melanie poured a glass of wine. “I knew you two would be perfect for each other, and the publicity. My God, you two are everywhere.”
“Yeah, I’ve been asked to be the model correspondent at the Swagger Style Show during Fashion Frenzy.” Farih and Melanie gently tapped their wine glasses against each other.
Melanie glanced at Denise. “I heard you are doing the show as well.”
Denise frowned. “Yeah.”
Farih put her hand on the side of Denise’s face. “Aww ... my baby is afraid of doing runway.”
“You will be fine.” Melanie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.
“Yeah, right. They said I would be walking in tennis shoes. I better, ’cause the last thing they want is for me to bust my ass in front of the world.”
They all laughed.
“Denise? Have you heard back about the role yet?” Melanie questioned while taking a sip of her wine.
Denise’s face dropped. “Not yet.” She looked at Melanie.
“I’m sure you will hear something soon.”
“I’m sure she will too. Bobby would be a fool to not use you. She’s perfect for the role,” Farih chimed in.
“I must say that I am proud of both of you.” Melanie pressed her lips together. “And I am happy that I was able to bring you together. You make a lovely couple.”
Denise nodded her head. She looked into Melanie’s eyes. She looked worried about something. Denise didn’t want to press the issue. She just sat and smiled as Melanie and Farih went on about dresses for her to take to Atlanta.
“So tell me, you two are hot in person, are you hot in the bedroom?”
“Mel, I can’t believe you just asked that,” Farih squealed.
Denise lowered her head. She didn’t know what to say. They slept together every night, but never had sex.
“Well, is it?” Melanie laughed. “I bet Denise is an undercover freak.”
“I plead the fifth.” Farih tilted her head up.
“OK, well, be like that then.” Melanie finished the wine with a big gulp.
Farih stood up. “I have to go to the little ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
Denise watched as Farih walked away, her ass switching in her short denim skirt. Denise could feel Melanie’s eyes on her. She turned her head to find Melanie staring with a mischievous grin on her face.
“What?”
“I must say, Denise, I really like what I am seeing in you.” Melanie poured another half glass of wine.
“Melanie, can I ask you a question?” Denise shifted her body around.
Melanie nodded for her to ask.
“Why did you really seek me out? I know you sent Farih to check me out at the go-see. What I don’t get is why? It can’t be just because I’m gay. There’s a million gay models out here.”
“I told you I saw something special in you.”
Denise’s lip curled. She knew she was lying.
Melanie laughed.
“Come on, Mel, please. I really want to know what is so special about me.”
Melanie stared at Denise. She uncrossed her legs and stood up. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Follow me.”
The two walked down Melanie’s long corridor. Melanie opened the door to her bedroom. Denise walked in behind her.
Melanie’s bedroom was nothing like Denise expected. The walls were covered white with a white floral imprint in them. A collection of antique dolls sat in a display case. Her California King bed had an all-white sheet and comforter set on it with tons of white pillows at the head.
“Do you know where I come from, Denise?” Melanie asked. She got on her knees and pulled a box out from under her bed.
“California, right?”
“Not exactly.” Melanie opened the box. She pulled out a green photo album. “I’m actually from Memphis.”
“Are you serious?” Denise was shocked.
Melanie began to flip through the pages of the book. She stopped at a page. She looked at Denise as she pushed the book across the bed to Denise.
Denise picked up the book. A group of photos of two girls were collaged together. Denise’s body froze. She looked at Melanie as a teenager, standing next to her mother, Tammy. Denise looked up at Melanie.
Melanie pressed her lips together and nodded. “She was my bestfriend.”
Denise studied the photographs. Her mother looked more like her. Her hair was longer than Denise’s. Her body wasn’t the frail, crack-filled body she was used to seeing, her mother was thick. Her short shorts showed off her thick thighs and nice frame. Both women looked like they could be models.
“Tammy and I grew up on the same street. I spent so much time at
Mema’s house and vice versa.”
“You knew my grandmother too.” Denise looked up.
“Like she was my own.” Melanie smiled. “Me and your mother were thick as thieves. You didn’t see one without the other.”
“How is it that I don’t know any of this?” Denise said, staring at the book.
“Well, because it was before your time. When we got into high school we started partying a little too hard.” Melanie sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes glistening with water. “We both got out of control. The only difference was that my mother had a sister in California. They shipped me off to go stay with her.”
“So, you didn’t stay in touch.”
“No, I couldn’t. When I got to Cali, I was a mess. I didn’t want to do anything but drugs. I missed your mother so much; she was all I lived for. I was so miserable that one day I tried to kill myself.”
Denise’s face dropped.
Tears began to flow down Melanie’s face. She couldn’t look at Denise.
Denise couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I went to rehab. That’s where I found out the real reason I was so depressed. I was in love. I was deeply in love with your mom.” Melanie’s eyes met Denise’s. “By the time I got out, it was too late. Your mother had run off, broken my heart again and your grandmother’s.”
Denise felt her knees getting weak. She closed the book and sat on the edge of the bed.
Melanie looked at Denise. “I never got over your mother. When I graduated I came back to Memphis to visit my parents. I came to your grandmother’s house, and that’s when I saw you. You were just a baby, but you were the spitting image of your mother.”
“I tried to find her, but I couldn’t. I ended up coming back to California and starting college, but I never stopped caring about Tammy.”
A single tear fell from Denise’s eye. She wiped her face. Denise looked down at the book; her eyes lost focus, causing two books to appear.
Melanie stood up. “When I saw that Jocku ad, I thought I’d seen a ghost. I knew immediately that you had to be Tammy’s daughter. I called your agency and found out your last name. I knew then who you were. I didn’t know how you would feel about all of this, so I hid it. But I just wanted to watch after you and help you in the way I wish I could have helped your mom.”
Denise’s brain was on overload. She could hear the words coming from Melanie, but they sounded so unreal. She closed her eyes, trying to clear some of the thoughts racing through her head
“So my mother is the guilt you felt. So all this you’ve been doing for me is to try to help you get over your guilty conscience!” Anger set in. Denise felt used.
“No, Denise, it’s not like that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Denise looked up at Melanie. “Why didn’t you just tell me in the beginning that you knew my mother? Why hide this?”
“How could I tell you that it’s my fault your mother got on drugs?” Melanie stood up. “Denise, your mom was as good at basketball as you were. She never wanted to party like I did. I would drag her to the parties with me. She tried weed and blow because of me.”
Denise felt the room spinning around her. Her eyes shifted back to the book. She noticed Melanie’s name on a picture. Melanie Yvette Moore.
“Yvette. Your middle name is Yvette.” Denise shook her head in disbelief. Things were making sense; she knew why Melanie looked like she saw a ghost. “My mom named me after you.”
Tears rolled down Melanie’s face. “It broke my heart when you said that.”
Denise’s body was shaking. “I knew it. I knew this shit was too good to be true. You didn’t do all this to help out a new lesbian. You did it for yourself.” Denise knocked the book off of the bed.
Melanie stood in silence.
“Thank you. Now I know the truth. People aren’t as good as they appear.” Denise stormed out of the room.
Farih stood up when Denise entered the room. Her smile quickly changed when she saw Denise’s face. “Bae—”
“Did you know?” Denise stormed up to Farih. “Were you in on this shit too?”
“What are you talking about?” Farih put her hand on Denise’s arm, but Denise jerked away.
“Man, fuck this shit! I’m out of here.”
Farih’s mouth dropped. “Denise!” Denise slammed the door behind her.
Denise looked up and down the empty street. There wasn’t a cab in sight.
She took off running down the avenue. She didn’t care about anything; she just had to get away from the scene. She ran until she came to a small neighborhood park.
Denise sat on an empty bench. All of the hurt, and pain she had bottled up surfaced. She began to sob.
Denise heard a faint voice in the back of her head. She couldn’t make it out. She stared into the darkness of the park. The voice grew.
“Go back.”
Denise looked around; there was no one in sight.
The voice grew louder. “Go back, Neecie.”
Denise’s body froze as her grandmother’s voice took over her mind.
“Go back, Neecie.”
“I can’t” Denise said out loud. “I can’t. I just wanna go home.”
“Home is where your heart is,” Mema’s sweet voice echoed. “Go back.”
“Denise!” Farih yelled. “Denise!”
Denise looked up to see Farih walking into the park. She stood up. Farih’s face was covered in tears. Denise’s heart was heavy; Farih had run after her in five-inch stiletto heels. Farih paused when she saw Denise. They walked toward each other.
“I’m sorry, Denise, I didn’t know,” Farih cried.
Denise walked back to the bench. She sat back down. Farih joined her, sitting next to her. Denise knew Farih was innocent, she wasn’t involved.
“This whole time, everything has been a lie.” Denise squeezed Farih’s hand. It felt good to have her next to her. “I’m sorry. I just need a little time to myself.”
“I don’t want to leave you here.”
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a little time.”
Farih reluctantly left Denise and headed back to the house.
Denise’s mind was racing. She thought about Melanie’s face. All the times that she looked at Denise like she had seen a ghost, the whole time was because of her love for her mother.
“Put yourself in her shoes.” Mema’s voice entered Denise’s head again.
Denise thought about Melanie’s situation. She thought about Lena, the simple guilt she felt for hurting Lena’s feelings. She couldn’t fathom the guilt that Melanie had lived with for all of those years.
Denise wondered if her mother knew. She wondered if her mother loved Melanie the way Melanie loved her. Denise knew she had to care about her to give her Melanie’s middle name. Her mother obviously didn’t hate Melanie, or else she wouldn’t have given her that middle name.
“You can’t hate her, Neecie. She cares about you.” Mema’s voice replied. “Go back.”
Denise felt calmness come over her body. Melanie had done so much to help her. Now she had the chance to do something for her.
Denise walked into the house. Farih stood up. Denise wrapped her arms around her beautiful girlfriend. She kissed her on her forehead. “Where is Melanie?”
“Bedroom,” Farih whispered.
“I’ll be back.” Denise headed to the bedroom.
Melanie was laying on her bed sobbing. Denise had never seen the strong Melanie Moore look so frail. Melanie turned over and sat up when she saw Denise standing in the doorway.
“It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for it.”
“I should have never let them take me away. I should have kept in touch with her. She would have never got on crack if I was around. We always said we wouldn’t try that shit. If I would have just been there ...”
“It’s not your fault.” Denise walked closer to Melanie. “You couldn’t help the fact that your parents sent you away. I’m sure my mot
her knew that.” The anger Denise felt had faded. She looked at Melanie. She could see the pain in her eyes.
“Don’t blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault. My mother never blamed you. She took full responsibility for the things that she did.”
“Do you hate me?” Melanie stood up. She sounded like a child afraid of hurting its parents.
“No, I don’t hate you.” Denise hugged Melanie. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve been doing for me. I really appreciate it, and I know my mother would appreciate it too.”
Denise turned to walk out of the room. Melanie called her name, causing her to turn back around.
“When your mother died, was she better?” Melanie’s eyes were red and puffy.
Denise smiled. “She was much better, she was clean and living in Mema’s house.”
Melanie’s face lifted. Denise could feel the weight of guilt coming off of her. She had lied to Melanie. Her mother died of AIDS. She knew that the best thing she could give Melanie was peace of mind.
“Thank you for showing me that. I never had any pictures of my mother when she was younger. They were all destroyed over the years.”
“You know, you look so much like her, it’s hard for me to look at you sometimes.” Melanie smiled. “Your mother would have made an amazing model.”
They both laughed.
“Go get your girl before she busts in here. I need some time. I’ll see you two before you go to Atlanta.”
Denise nodded her head and walked out the door. Farih was waiting in the living room, sipping on some wine. She put the glass down and smiled.
“Are you all right?” Farih’s eyes slanted with curiosity.
“I am now.”
Melanie’s words played over and over in Denise’s head. Her entire life, she had blamed her mother for doing drugs, not thinking that it could have been something more that pushed her over the edge. She thought about Melanie. Her love for her mother was real. She wished her mother had known.
Denise glanced over to Farih concentrating on the busy street. She wanted to let go, but something was holding her back. She was crazy about Farih, but fear wouldn’t let her completely let give her heart to her.