“Great. Again, thanks a million,” I said as I kissed Gilliam on the cheek.
As I drove down Highway 20 I toyed with the idea of stopping by Jared’s. It being Sunday meant he was probably at his mother’s house greasing down. Going without seeing Jared two days in a row with both of us being in town was a rare occurrence. A situation that I had the strangest feeling was going to become more frequent.
Ten
My favorite day arrived. It started off as one of those rare Sundays when I didn’t go to early morning church service. I’d made up my mind to go to afternoon service when Delaney and Kyle phoned on a three-way call and convinced me to meet them at the Shark Bar on Amsterdam Avenue for brunch. When I explained to them I’d promised to meet Sheila, they kindly offered to include her provided she didn’t try to save them over brunch.
They told me to make sure I wore my new engagement ring, but to wear gloves or keep it in my purse if I took the subway. I got up from bed and went to the small market located in my building and bought a copy of the New York Times and a buttered pumpernickel bagel. I climbed back into my bed the moment I reached my apartment and went straight to the Arts and Leisure section. As I skimmed the advertising for Broadway shows, I pictured a full-page ad with my name above the title in a new musical, but what was the name of this musical and whose name would be right beside mine playing Clarence Thomas?
I spent a great deal of the morning daydreaming about the possibilities for leading men when it entered my mind that just days before I had accepted a proposal from a man I was not so certain I loved the way I should. The realization led me to get on my knees beside my bed and pray for direction on what to do. Praying usually helped, but it was on days like this that I really missed Candance and my daddy. While alone in my apartment I would pretend they were both here with me and we would discuss what I should do. I wondered what Dr. Huntley would think of this?
My daddy would just want to be sure that Pierce treated me with love and respect and never lifted a heavy hand toward me, while Candance would speculate on what our children would look like. She would remind me that they would be mixed race and Pierce and I would have to decide what religion to bring them up in. She would also joke that they would probably have good hair and pretty eyes.
Pierce and I had talked around religion. I took him to church with me once and he twitched every time the minister said Jesus, and then fell asleep. He never invited me to temple.
The phone interrupted my thoughts. It was Pierce. He wanted to get together for brunch, but I told him of my plans and promised to call him when I got back. He mentioned that his mother wanted to give us an engagement party at their home in Connecticut as soon as we set the date or location for the wedding.
Well, of course, it would be in Little Rock. I had always dreamed of getting married at the Old State House. It was a beautiful Civil War mansion set on the Arkansas River and was available to dignitaries for weddings and receptions. Being a former Miss Arkansas made me a dignitary. I smiled at the thought that winning a beauty pageant put me on the level of government officials and real important people. Beauty pageant winners were still held in high regard in the South. My pending nuptials were still pretty much hush-hush since I had shared them only with Delaney, Kyle, and Sheila. I’d talked with my mother the previous evening but failed to mention it. It was not a conversation I was looking forward to. I just hoped she wouldn’t decide to boycott the ceremony and me too for that matter!
Kyle and Delaney were already finishing up their first cup of coffee when I arrived at the Shark Bar, the current Upper West Side quintessential buppie restaurant-bar. Before I could sit down Kyle grabbed my hand and said, “Let me see it, Miss Girl.”
“Hold on a second, Kyle,” I protested.
“Come on, Nicole,” Delaney encouraged.
I pulled the ring from my purse, still in its tiny black box.
“Oh, it’s so big!” Kyle said.
“How many carats is it?” Delaney asked.
“Looks like ten to me,” Kyle answered.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter to me,” I said.
“You better work, bitch,” Kyle said. “This is fabulous. When do you want me to start on the gown?” he asked.
“Wait a minute, we haven’t set a date yet. I’ve got to see how everything is going to turn out.”
“How what is going to turn out?” Delaney asked.
“Well, this took me completely off guard. Pierce and I still have some things to work out.”
“But you’ve already taken the ring,” Kyle said.
“Yes, I have. You know I’m not getting any younger and this could be my first and last proposal.”
“So that’s reason to take it? Chile, you need to get a grip,” Delaney chided.
“So tell me about the show,” Kyle said.
“What show?”
“The new one.”
“I’m having my doubts about that too.”
“Doubts about what?” Delaney asked.
“You know. Suppose it’s controversial. You know it’s only been lately I even decided Anita was telling the truth,” I said.
“Oh, I knew she was telling the truth,” Kyle said as he motioned for the waiter.
“How do you know that?” Delaney asked.
Kyle laughed. “Miss Girl, please, you can look at Clarence and tell he’s blessed down there. Trust me, I know these things,” he said confidently.
“I’m so glad you got that out before Sheila gets here,” I said, reminding them of our expected guest.
“Where is Miss Jesus?” Delaney asked.
“Delaney, y’all please be nice,” I pleaded.
“I’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t start laying hands on me,” Delaney declared.
“You’ve got that right,” Kyle added.
We ordered appetizers and munched on strawberry muffins while we talked and waited for Sheila’s arrival. Kyle seemed really excited about the goings-on in my life. He turned to Delaney and asked, “So what’s happening in your miserable little life, darling?” Delaney informed us she’d gotten the lead in a major rap video that she was really excited about.
“Have you fucked Pierce yet?” Kyle asked right out of the blue. The waiter had a shocked look on his face as he refilled our water glasses. He was shaking his head as he walked away.
“Kyle, please,” I laughed.
“Chirl, you better test it out before you marry,” he advised.
Delaney was laughing so hard that she had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep the piece of muffin she had just bitten off from falling out. She put the cloth napkin over her lips and playfully hit Kyle on the shoulders with a balled fist.
“We should order,” I said, trying to change the subject. “It looks like Sheila is going to be late.” While we were waiting for our food, I noticed an attractive black couple at the table directly in front of us. They had two children who looked around five or six years old. They seemed so happy. The man and woman both observed me staring and smiled politely. The little boy noticed us and walked over to our table and handed me a portion of his roll. He was so adorable.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Tyler,” he said proudly.
“Tyler, what a nice name for such a handsome young man,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said shyly. “You so pretty,” he smiled.
“He’s starting early,” Kyle said.
“Tyler, these are my friends Kyle and Delaney,” I said.
“Hi,” he said with a half wave in their direction.
“Tyler, let the nice people enjoy their meal,” the man said in a deep baritone voice.
“Oh, he’s not bothering us,” I offered.
Tyler jumped up on the empty seat next to me and began to finish the rest of his roll. He was such a handsome little boy, golden toast-brown skin and beautiful brown eyes, warm and bright as candles. Tyler looked at my ring, touched it softly, and then pulled his hands back
playfully, like it was hurting him.
When Sheila arrived Tyler’s mother came to the table to get him and thanked us for being so nice to him.
“No problem,” I said. “I only wish he was about twenty-five years older,” I joked.
Tyler’s mother introduced herself to the four of us and motioned to her husband and daughter to come over and meet us too. Tyler’s little sister was named Tori, and she was pretty but a little bit shy. As they prepared to leave I gave Tyler a kiss and became sad that my new little friend was leaving. So sad that tears formed in my eyes and I could feel my makeup beginning to run.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kyle asked, noticing my tears.
“Oh nothing,” I said, grabbing my purse. “I’ll be right back.”
My tears surprised and confused me. I guess I realized that I didn’t really know how I felt about Pierce’s proposal.
In the ladies’ room I pulled myself together, freshened my makeup, and went back upstairs to rejoin my friends. Kyle, Delaney, and Sheila seemed to be enjoying each other’s company and that made me smile.
My waffles and sausage were now cold and the waiter offered to reheat them for me. I agreed because Sheila had just ordered and Delaney and Kyle were preparing to head to Lincoln Center for a violin concert.
The two of them told Sheila it was nice seeing her and promised to call me later that evening. I told them I had plans with Pierce. Sheila exchanged pleasantries with them and promised to pray for them.
“Yeah, you do that, chirl,” Kyle said as he gave me a sour look.
Kyle and Delaney gave me a kiss on the cheek and darted out of the restaurant. When they were out of sight Sheila turned to me with a very serious look on her face and asked, “Nicole, what is a chirl?”
I started laughing at Sheila’s serious tone. “Oh, it’s nothing bad, girl. It’s just a combination of chile and girl. Chirl.”
“Oh,” Sheila responded as she poured sugar on her teaspoon and dipped it into her coffee cup.
Eleven
He was the last man in the world I expected to see in my conference room or any place this side of the Mason-Dixon line. I arrived at my office early Monday morning, skipping my workout session with Jared to meet with my new client. He was facing the picture window that overlooked Peachtree Street, hands in his pants pockets revealing a backside that I would never forget. As I closed the large door to our conference room, Basil Henderson turned around to meet me. For just a moment we stared at each other, mutually surprised but playing it very cool. It hadn’t registered with me when I saw the file marked Mr. John B. Henderson.
“John Henderson?” I said with a startled voice.
“Raymond Tyler, long time no see. What up?” Basil smirked.
“About four years, Basil. I had no idea your name was John,” I said.
“Never use it, unless I’m in trouble,” he said.
“Like now,” I said, trying not to look into his beautiful steel-gray eyes.
Basil Henderson, star wide receiver for the NFL New Jersey Warriors, was one of those people you would never forget. Maybe it was because he was so damn good-looking or maybe it was his abrasive and cocky personality. Whatever the reason, he was unforgettable. He had not lost his ability to exude sex under any circumstance. John Basil Henderson was without a doubt a legitimate example of the male body in its most polished perfection.
Basil and I had met when I lived in New York. He had been a client—a sexual client—of my best friend Kyle when he was working for an exclusive male escort service in New York. This was during a difficult period in Kyle’s life when he’d been trying to support a drug habit and not let anyone know the financial problems he was facing. Basil had told me he used the service because of his high-profile career as a professional football player and because he really didn’t consider himself gay or bisexual; he just kicked it occasionally, as he so aptly put it. So I guess he and Kyle helped each other out.
Basil and I had never engaged in any type of sex, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to and to be honest it wasn’t because I didn’t either. I mean there was no denying Basil’s body or attractiveness. If you did, Basil was the type who would let you know, quickly. But I’d been in serious relationships with both a man and a woman at the time I met Basil.
“I didn’t know you lived in Atlanta. I didn’t think anything about it when the guy outside said Mr. Tyler would be my attorney,” Basil said.
“Well, it’s a small world,” I said. “Here, why don’t you take this seat,” I instructed as I pulled out one of the leather chairs.
“Don’t we shake hands or something?” Basil questioned.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I extended a damp palm into Basil’s powerful grip.
“When did you move to Atlanta?”
“About two years ago.”
“Oh.”
I admired Basil, immaculately dressed in a navy blue suit, white cotton shirt, and red and blue striped silk tie. His doughnut-brown face appeared relaxed, almost friendly, and when he smiled, his teeth were sparkling white and his eyes flickered like a sequined jacket in the night.
“So tell me what happened?” I inquired, breaking an awkward silence.
“Some faggot stared me down in the club,” Basil said, lifting his voice as if to defend his honor.
“What’s the matter, Basil, too much testosterone?” I said. “You really shouldn’t use that word and didn’t we have this conversation before?”
“What word?” he asked incredulously.
“Faggot.”
“Well, faggot, punk, whatever, that’s what he was,” he said.
Basil went on to explain that he and a football player friend of his had been at a local nightspot owned by one of Atlanta’s top sports heroes, as his guests. All night long a guy at the opposite end of the bar stared at Basil. When his friend left to use the men’s room, the patron sent Basil a drink, which Basil accepted. When his friend returned and Basil told him what happened, his friend started to tease him, saying the guy must be a faggot and was sweet on Basil. At first Basil said he tried to ignore the admirer, but it seemed the more the man drank the closer he moved down to the end of the bar where Basil was standing. When Basil’s friend left for the night, the gentleman, according to Basil, introduced himself as a friend of one of Basil’s former acquaintances and then promptly asked Basil if it was true that he had a big dick.
Basil’s response was two quick punches that sent the unwanted admirer to the emergency room at Crawford Long Hospital and Basil to the city jail for an overnight stay.
“Had you ever seen the guy?” I asked.
“Fuck no,” Basil responded quickly.
“Why did you accept the drink?”
“Fans always send me drinks when I’m out. I didn’t think anything about it.”
“Well, I hope you have insurance to cover this or a bank account that will. The first thing we’ve got to do is to get this guy to drop the criminal charges, and if he won’t, then we’ll have to go to the prosecuting attorney.”
“So you’ll take my case? Don’t worry about the money,” Basil stated.
“Well, I think Gilliam is doing this as a favor for your regular attorney,” I said.
“I hear Gilliam’s some kinda female. That she’s dope.” Basil smirked.
“Look, Basil, the first thing we need to be clear about is that we operate in a professional manner around here. I’ll ask that you keep comments of a personal nature to yourself.”
“Does that mean I can’t say how good you look?” Basil asked in a soft boyish tone.
“I’ll have my secretary call you later in the week to set up a meeting after I’ve talked with the plaintiff’s attorney,” I said, purposely ignoring Basil’s comment but wanting to smile.
“Can I ask you something?” Basil said.
“If it has to do with your case,” I said.
“Think we can keep this out of the papers?”
“I’ll see what
I can do. It wasn’t in the papers today, so it will probably go unnoticed. Believe it or not Basil, Atlanta has a lot more problems than your homophobia.”
“Great. I don’t want the Warriors to find out about this.”
When Basil stood up, he slowly picked up the blue suit coat from the table. His chest, silhouetted by his white cotton shirt appeared bigger than it had been years before but I tried not to notice. He folded the jacket, laid it over his huge left biceps, and gave me a cocky smile. Silently he mouthed, “See ya, handsome,” and walked from the conference room leaving his strong scent lingering like a sexual mist. The man had it going on.
Twelve
An early summer had quickened the pulse of the city. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. I mean the last thing New York City needed in the summer was a faster pace. The subways were packed and sweltering. Monday afternoon the principals of To Tell the Truth, A Musical met for the first time at a rehearsal hall in midtown Manhattan. The make-up of the cast surprised me, it was 70 percent white. I don’t know why but I hadn’t stopped to think in detail about the real Thomas-Hill hearing. I had watched the hearing but remembered only Clarence and Anita.
Several veteran Broadway actors had been cast as members of the Senate Judiciary Committee and Megan Gordon, a well-known movie actress, was to play Virginia Thomas, Judge Thomas’s wife. The only blacks in the cast were myself and two actors whom I didn’t recognize when I walked into the rehearsal hall. They both smiled when I came in and we migrated toward each other at the first break. This was the first Broadway show for both of them. We searched for a soda machine and a place to sit and learn more about each other.
The guy playing Judge Thomas was a tall, medium-built guy with skin the rich color of bittersweet chocolate and large facial features. Devere Mabry was from Greenwood, Mississippi, and had recently finished filming Spike Lee’s Malcolm X. He was a Shakespearean-trained actor with a booming baritone voice, one with a deep resonance that forced you to listen.
Timothy Britton was the type of guy I now avoided like visits to the dentist. He was tall and great-looking with green eyes just like Raymond Tyler’s. He was playing John Doggett, the arrogant lawyer who’d claimed that Anita secretly pined for him. His yellow skin glowed under the dark black beard that covered his face. Timothy had graduated from Yale Drama School. He’d understudied all the roles in Five Guys Named Moe and had been the first black actor cast in Phantom of the Opera, also as an understudy. He’d never performed in either show.
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