“Great. I went bungie jumping.”
“No shit. How was it?”
“Oh it was too wild. Just too much fun. You have to come with me sometime,” Gilliam said. “How was the Chocolate City?”
“It was all right. I’m glad to be back in Atlanta.”
“How’s your schedule in the evening?”
“In the evening?” I questioned.
“Yes. Let me tell you why I asked. A real good friend of mine called me this weekend inquiring about your interest and availability for teaching a class over at AU center.”
“The AU center? I didn’t realize they had a law school.”
“First class enters this fall. I think it will be great for the community.”
“What class would I be teaching?”
“Sports and Entertainment Law. You and I could share the load.”
“Hey, this sounds like a great opportunity for the firm and me,” I said excitedly.
“Yeah, it would be. Should be an excellent experience,” Gilliam said.
“When do you need to know?”
“The middle of June.”
“Okay—let me make sure I don’t have any commitments I can’t get out of.”
“Okay. How were the prospects?”
“Prospects?”
“Yes. Didn’t you see some players in D.C.?”
“Oh yeah. Don’t think we should put a lot of energy there. The prospects don’t look good that either one of them will be drafted. Smart kids though.”
“Okay. You know I trust your judgment.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes—unless you have something.”
As I started out of the office Gilliam called out, “Ray, what are you doing next Sunday?”
“No big plans.”
“Well, I want to invite you to my church. Would you be interested?”
“Church?”
“Yeah, we just moved into a new building. I was on the building fund and I’m really quite proud of our new church.”
“What church do you attend?”
“First Birth. It’s in Decatur.”
“Sure, Gilliam. Thanks for asking. I’m embarrassed to tell you that I haven’t been to church since I moved to Atlanta.”
“You really shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’m just sorry I didn’t ask you earlier.”
When I got back into my office I thought about Gilliam’s invitation. I wondered if this was a date and if so if it was a wise decision to date the boss. I guess I’d forgotten that Gilliam wasn’t married and I’d never seen her with a man, not that we socialized a lot outside the office. I mean Gilliam was beautiful, smart, and rich. Why didn’t she have a man?
Four
I was almost out the door on my way to Newark Airport when the phone rang. I paused as the answering machine clicked on. It was Samantha, my agent. I quickly dropped my luggage and grabbed the phone as Samantha started a panic-stricken message.
“Hold on, Sam, I’m here,” I said.
“Nicole, I’m glad I caught you before you left for the airport. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“What?”
“Just got a call from the producers of the sitcom. They’ve already cast the role. They’re still interested in you for a one-shot guest appearance, though,” Sam said.
“Dang, Sam, I really wanted that role,” I sighed.
“Yes, I know it would have been a great opportunity. Are you interested in the guest spot?”
“Do you know who got the job? Please don’t say Halle Berry or Jasmine Guy,” I pleaded.
“I’m not certain but I think the Ralph girl.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better. Let me get back to you, Sam, on the guest spot. I need to digest this first.”
“Okay, but don’t wait too long. A lot of actresses will be lined up for this shot,” Sam suggested.
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know this afternoon. Bye, Sam.”
“I’ll talk to you, Nicole. I know this is a bad way to start your day.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. This is one of the hazards of the business, right?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
I stood in the middle of my living room with my luggage at my side and contemplated what to do. A part of me wanted to cry but a part of me was relieved. I mean I wasn’t completely sold on moving to the West Coast even for the four to six months’ shooting a series would require. But the part would have been a big break. A role on a television series would finally let the people in Sweet Home know that I had made it. It was funny how, despite the fact that I had three Broadway shows under my belt, most of my townspeople and even my mother kept asking me when was I going to be on a television show or have a song on the radio and if I wasn’t on television soon then why didn’t I move back home and start a family? They thought of Broadway as a type of high school play thing, and didn’t consider me a “real” actress like Diahann Carroll or Whoopi Goldberg. I think they were more excited when I was chosen for Up with People than when I secured the lead in a Broadway show. They could relate to that. Broadway theater, like New York City, was as foreign as China. They didn’t quite understand that Broadway was a long way from Up with People.
I was happy that my daddy got the chance to see me on the Broadway stage before he died. I don’t think that he or my mother understood how important opening night was, but I knew they were both proud and that’s what really counted. This wasn’t the first time my parents had shown support for something they didn’t quite understand. They’d never understood why I’d kept entering beauty pageants and why I was usually the only black girl. My mother’s pride seemed to be even greater if another black girl was in the pageant and she happened to be light-skinned and I finished higher than she did. It didn’t matter to her that a white girl usually beat the both of us. In the South as a dark-skinned black girl I’d had to compete not only against white women but with women of my own race with lighter-hued skin. At least in my mother’s eyes.
When I finished as third runner-up and then first runner-up for Miss Arkansas in consecutive years my mother suggested I try Miss Black Arkansas or give up pageants altogether. The one year I represented Spelman College in the Miss Georgia Pageant my daddy made the trip alone. I tried to explain to them that the scholarships were better in the Miss America program and what a great stepping-stone it would be for my career in show business. Despite their misgivings, I don’t think anyone yelled any louder when I finally won on my fourth try at a trip to Atlantic City.
My parents usually offered one voice when it came to dealing with Michael, my brother, and me, but this changed when it came to my current beau, Dr. Pierce Gessler. My daddy was okay about it. I’m sure he wanted me to marry a black man, but he also wanted me to be happy. He was his usual compassionate self when he met Pierce in New York. My mother was icy cold toward him and when Daddy died she was adamant about my not bringing Pierce anywhere near Arkansas and my daddy’s funeral. I didn’t press the issue and returned home alone. I didn’t know if my mother would ever accept my relationship with Pierce. I don’t think that my mother was prejudiced. Well, maybe she was just a little bit, but she had grown up in the Old South and I knew that there were certain things that she found hard to forget or accept. But she never talked with me about those things and Daddy would always say, “That’s your mother. God bless her. She’s been through a lot.”
When I would question my mother on why she felt this way about white people she simply replied, “If you’re lucky enough to live as long as I have, you will learn how they are.”
Her comment had a familiar ring. White people often expressed the same sentiment—about blacks.
Since my travel plans had been changed I now had a free day and evening and I decided to take Pierce to lunch and meet Kyle and Delaney that evening. My busy schedule allowed little time to do things with my friends outside the theater and for Pierce. Pierce was constantly surprising me with gifts and sma
ll acts of kindness and I wanted to show him that his kindness didn’t go unnoticed. When he couldn’t pick me up at the theater he would send a car for me because he didn’t want me on the subway late at night. He insisted that I carry a can of mace with me at all times and that I never, ever, catch a gypsy cab. Not a day passed without his telling me how much he loved me and how special I was. There were times when I felt a bit smothered with all his attention and I didn’t always welcome feeling like a prized possession. During the times I felt this way I could just hear my mother admonishing me to be careful what you pray for.
I’d met Pierce during my audition for my last Broadway show. He was one of the primary financial backers for the show and when the director had kept me late one night going over lyrics Pierce had offered me a ride home when he saw me outside the theater hailing a taxi. At first we were just friends. I was still grieving over Candance’s death and the end of my relationship with Raymond, and Pierce was going through a messy divorce. My therapy helped a great deal but Dr. Huntley was not available twenty-four seven. I thought of Candance and how much I missed her every day. I guess three years was not a long time to grieve for someone so important to you. As far as I was concerned there would never be enough time.
Pierce and I would console each other on bad days and I think we were enjoying learning about our differences. I was very interested in the Jewish religion and Pierce was interested in my Southern upbringing. There was not a single Jewish person in Sweet Home. Although I did have Jewish classmates in my large Little Rock high school, I couldn’t detect any differences between them and my other white classmates. My daddy told me stories of how Jewish people had helped during the civil rights movement and how they were different from regular white folks. I wanted to learn more about those differences. After a few years of living in New York I became pretty good at spotting Jewish people without asking dumb questions. They had a certain pride about their heritage that was sadly missing from a lot of the African-Americans I came in contact with.
Pierce was a native New Yorker, and had taken over his father’s successful East Side obstetrical/gynecological practice. His love for the theater had led him to investing in Broadway shows. I didn’t know how wealthy he was but it was plain as day that he never wanted for anything.
Pierce was tall and straight and he was pronouncedly pigeon-toed. He had a bony handsome look about him marred only by his slightly large nose and thin lips. His onyx rich black hair brought attention to his olive complexion and brown-green eyes. Those eyes, big eyes, lively and intelligent with nary a trace of pretense. I was a sucker for a man’s eyes; Raymond had beautiful sleepy green eyes. Bedroom eyes. When I looked into Pierce’s eyes it was like looking deep into his soul and sometimes I remembered Raymond Tyler.
Pierce understood my reluctance about sex when I shared my relationship with Raymond and what happened with Candance. He offered to take an HIV test when I felt I was ready to pursue a physical relationship. He gave me valuable insight on why Candance had died so quickly from AIDS, explaining how women were often wrongly diagnosed because the diseases affecting women were different from those men experienced.
I hadn’t determined if I was going to take my relationship with Pierce to the next level—a sexual relationship. There were times when I felt I loved him but I couldn’t distinguish if it was friendship love or romantic love. I admitted I had not felt a spasm of sexual attraction toward him, but this could be because of my focus on celibacy or the fact I had never slept with a white man, Jewish or otherwise.
Pierce was already at the restaurant on Eighty-sixth and Broadway when I arrived a few minutes late. Well, it was more like a half-hour late but as usual Pierce seemed happy to see me. He looked at his watch and let out a big grin.
“Sorry I’m running a little bit late,” I said as I kissed him on his clean-shaven face and he pulled back my chair.
“No, you’re not, but I’ve been keeping myself busy,” Pierce said as he closed up his black portable phone and took the seat to my immediate left instead of the one facing me.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Chardonnay. Is that what you want?”
“No, I think I’ll just have iced tea.”
“So how are you doing?” Pierce asked.
“I’m doing okay. How about you?”
“I’m doing great now!”
Pierce caught the attention of our waiter, who was standing at the door leading to the outdoor café looking bored.
“I need an iced tea for this beautiful lady,” Pierce shouted.
“What do you suggest?” I inquired as I looked over the colorful and busy menu.
“All the food is great here. Especially the seafood.”
“Why don’t you order for me,” I said.
Pierce ordered blackened catfish with baked potatoes for the both of us and we decided to share a basket of chili cheese fries before our entrées were served.
I told Pierce about the sitcom disappointment. He was very understanding and supportive, telling me my day was going to come soon.
“I called you late last night. Where were you?” Pierce asked. His supportive tone had changed.
“What time?”
“It was way past midnight. You should have been home from the theater. Wasn’t the car on time?”
“Yes, it was on time but you know I turn my phone and answering machine off when I go to sleep,” I said.
“Maybe I should get you a beeper,” Pierce said in a slightly annoyed tone.
“A beeper! You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I’m serious.”
This was one of the things about Pierce that didn’t sit too well with me. What did he think? That I was out with someone else?
“We’ll talk about this later,” Pierce said.
“Suit yourself,” I said, shaking my head in dismay.
The waiter appeared and served our fish and potatoes. The food was substantial but tasteless; maybe I had eaten too many chili cheese fries. As I toyed with my fish, Pierce’s voice suddenly became very animated.
“Well, I’ve got some news that will brighten your day,” Pierce said as he moved the glass of wine from his lips and placed it next to his half-full plate.
“Oh yeah,” I said dryly, still annoyed about the beeper suggestion.
“One of my good friends called me a couple weeks ago with an opportunity to invest in another Broadway show. It’s bound to be a hit because the Shuberts are the primary investors,” he said in a cool voice.
“Oh, that’s great. What’s the show?” I asked, knowing full well that it had to be a white show. Why else wouldn’t I have heard about it?
“You’ll never guess,” Pierce laughed with his boyish giggle.
“What—Jerome Robbins Two?” I said sarcastically.
“No, a musical about the Anita Hill-Clarence Thomas debacle,” Pierce explained.
“You’re kidding,” I responded, dropping my fork. “They’re going to make a musical about that mess?”
“Calm down, Nicole,” Pierce said as he backed away from me and the checkered-cloth-covered table.
“Pierce, that hearing was an embarrassment for this nation. Especially black people and women.”
“Wait until you see the script before you pass judgment,” Pierce said.
“See the script?”
“Yes. It could be a great role for you. I think you should look at it.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, at least go to an audition.”
“Well, maybe you’re right. I am tired of just sitting behind stage every night. I wonder if Sam is setting up an audition.”
“Don’t worry about Samantha.”
Smiling at me, Pierce reached for his portable phone and dialed a number. While he was punching the buttons I changed my attitude about the musical. This could be a great opportunity for me. Moments later I heard him say, “I was right, she is interested,” and then he gently closed up the phone.
“It’s all set. Be at Astoria rehearsal hall Friday at four,” Pierce instructed.
“You’re kidding … right? I have to tell my agent.”
“No, that’s also set. Have a ballad and an up-tempo number, sing like I know you can sing, and I think we’ll have our Anita.”
“Oh, Pierce, this is wonderful, you’re wonderful,” I said with excitement as I reached over and kissed him on his dry lips. I looked into his eyes and saw the surprise in them and the reflection of my own eyes that mirrored Pierce’s dazed look. The warm light in his eyes made something intimate out of the moment.
I wanted to stay and enjoy the good news with Pierce, but there was so much work to do. I needed to pick out a couple of songs and decide what to wear, plus I couldn’t wait to tell Kyle and Delaney. Pierce said he understood as he gave me another kiss and hailed a cab for me.
Kyle and Delaney seemed even more excited about my prospects for the new Broadway show than I was. We met later that evening at my apartment opting for pizza delivery so that they could help me get ready for my audition on Friday.
Kyle was going through my closet laying different outfits for me to wear on the bed. Delaney was going through Billboard magazine for song suggestions and I was going through my sheet music collection of old standards.
“Why don’t you sing ‘Save the Best for Last’?” Delaney suggested.
“The Vanessa Williams song. Oh, I love that song,” I said.
“Yeah, sing that,” Kyle yelled from my bedroom. “You know, next to you two, Miss Vanessa is my girl.”
Kyle walked into the living room carrying my tight black spandex dress. He had a broad smile on his face.
“Here it is, Miss Honey. This is the dress,” he boasted.
“Yes! Yes! You better work, girl,” Delaney chirped in agreement.
“You think so?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, Nicole. Even I think about changing my religion when I see you in this dress. It will wear the kids out,” Kyle said.
“I think he’s right, Nic. Go and try it on.”
While I changed into the dress I heard Vanessa Williams’s voice floating in the air of my apartment. Someone was switching the CD tracks until the player arrived on “Save the Best for Last.” Yes this was the dress and that was the ballad, I thought. Now all I needed was an up-tempo number and an easy hairstyle. Maybe I would wear it down or maybe up in a tight chignon. I’d ask Delaney and see if she could come and help me. I brushed out my hair, put on my diamond studs, and prepared to walk back into my living room. Kyle and Delaney’s reaction would tell me if this was right.
Just As I Am Page 5