Still in awe of the luxurious courtyard, a massive guy appeared from a second set of doors that led to the main house. He greeted us with a welcome and ushered us in. Murphy and I stood frozen. What had appeared to be an average sized Hollywood hills home on the outside blew up to a massive mansion on the inside.
There were beautiful women everywhere. There were celebrities, entertainers and athletes. And it was likely that if the host was an entertainer and actor, some of these people were industry insiders. I thought that if you had any type of fame or Hollywood career you were at this party.
Just as we pulled it together and managed to look like we belonged, over walked one of the members of Bell Biv DeVoe. Giving Murphy’s friend a hug, he turned his attention toward us. “I remember you two. I think we had dinner together.”
With a joint hanging from his lips, he mumbled the words, “Let me show you around, but first let’s get you drinks!”
On our way to the bar, we just took it all in. Girls danced; countless celebrities held court telling stories to enthralled listeners; this party was sick. He showed the three of us around, periodically introducing us to various people he thought we might be interested in meeting.
In mid-conversation with a basketball player for the Clippers, he snapped his fingers and turned toward me. “That’s it, now I know who you remind me of. You resemble Naomi Campbell, you’re just lighter!”
“Yea, I get that a lot.”
I was always a bit uncomfortable when people remarked on my looks or my resemblance to Naomi, so I quickly turned the conversation back to completing the house tour.
We were headed downstairs to the pool when I noticed the host of the number one late-night show. The same host who embraced urban talent. It was the same host who was known for pointing his finger. He sat in the corner playing a handheld video game. Then it began to dawn on us whose home we were in, but before either one of us could ask, he told us that was not the host of the party. However, our host and the video gamer were good friends, and it all became suddenly clear.
Before we could say who we thought our party host was, we had made it downstairs to an indoor pool.
“Murphy, are you seeing what I’m seeing, or am I dreaming?”
Nothing could have prepared us for a pool filled with naked people. Murphy’s friend and our tour guide gave each other five and a chest bump in approval. The lights were low, and a DJ played this Mediterranean, Ibiza electronic music that complimented the smell of weed, and which obviously had everyone in a party mood.
To the left of the pool was a large dance floor completely covered in foam. Entangled naked bodies danced uninhibited on the dance floor. Puffs of foam clouds periodically floated up before bursting onto the ceiling, exposing beautifully sculptured naked torsos. Just to the right of the pool were cabanas with sheer curtains on the front of them. Each cabana had couples clearly having sex; some had several couples, others had groups in them. Whatever barrier or privacy the curtains were supposed to provide was nonexistent; you could see right through them. Some people did just that; they stood there taking in the entertainment each cabana provided in a gross display of voyeurism.
I didn’t know whether I was thrilled or appalled, but I went with the flow and didn’t express my any words or opinions. I was slightly intimidated. As wild as I thought I had been over the past few months, this was so over the top that I had to take a minute to wrap my head around it. So this was the Hollywood set.
Once again, our tour guide broke my trance. “Let me finish showing you around. Besides, the rule this evening is if you’re at the pool you must be naked.”
Like twins who are always on the same wavelength and have the same thoughts, Murphy and I chimed in, “Let’s see the rest of the party.”
We made our way back upstairs occasionally brushing remnants of foam from our attire. Astonished by what we’d just seen, we made it back to the second floor then went up to the third floor. And if we thought we saw beautiful women on the other two floors; this one was something to behold.
“That was the B team downstairs. The A-team is on a whole different level, physically, visually and mentally.”
The three of us were amazed: me, Murphy, and her friend. We could not believe the type of beauty around us. These people were exotic. They all looked like imported gods and goddesses. They all had perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect smiles and teeth, perfect eyes, perfect figures, and what appeared to be the most perfectly designed and executed clothes. I felt like I was on a movie set. Let us just say everything about every single one of the men and women on the third floor appeared perfect, almost to the point where they didn’t seem real. I have been called beautiful my entire life, and I’m constantly being told that I resemble Naomi Campbell. I had seen the reaction by many to Murphy’s Dominican-Nigerian beauty. But up here? Our beauty fell short by a mile. We were amateurs, kids playing at being exotic grownups, thinking we were all that because the men who complimented us had never seen what we were seeing now. I now considered myself only average pretty. And that was ok with me, but it sure was an eye-opener.
Perhaps this was what other women felt when they were around us. It was an insecurity based on society’s adoration of beauty, but we did not continue doubting our looks for long.
Our attention was drawn from the women to the sound of music coming from a room down the hall. Curiosity got the best of us, so we made our way to the room and peeked in. And low and behold there he was--the host. Mr. Saturday Night Live, the comedian-actor with the distinctive laugh. He sat on the floor of this room playing the guitar and singing into a mic. On the other side of the room was a wall of speakers. He acknowledged us with a small smile while he continued to sing and play. It was not long before he and our tour guide started singing together and the room began to fill with people eager to take in the impromptu performance.
The whole thing was surreal. No one is going to believe this. If everyone at college thought our party was something, just wait until they heard about this evening. As far as parties are concerned, ours was a tiny fish in the big sea.
After a few more drinks, dances and conversations with athletes running their charming pickup game on us, the sun began to rise. The time had come for us to call it a night.
The car service arrived at Cam’s parents’ home at the perfect time. We had just missed them; they had already left for early morning service. Murphy and I were more than happy to have avoided a morning lecture from them. I’m sure there would have been nothing we could have said to make our actions okay in their eyes. Unless they were impressed by celebrities, which I have a tiny feeling they might have been.
We had been up the entire night and the weed and alcohol made us feel more tired than we might have been, but we were eager to get going. We packed quickly and said goodbye to Cam before hitting the road to Murphy’s parents’ house.
Murphy’s parents were thrilled to see us when got to Fresno. Her mother had prepared more food than we could have ever eaten. In fact, the whole time we were there, all we did was eat. We already knew there would not be much to do there, so relaxing and preparing for the long drive back home was all we had on the agenda. We made sure to take full advantage of it.
California had been the perfect host; she had graciously given me the best Christmas break ever.
ROLLERBLADING IN BUCKHEAD
For as long as I can remember, I have felt like an anomaly. When I lived in a small town, I looked like all the other kids, but I felt like the odd man out. When I took part in dance and baton, I was easily singled out being the only black girl. Even when I was around my relatives, I was the anomaly because I was tall and light skinned. All the years I was in college, I felt like the anomaly for all those reasons. Sometimes being the anomaly makes you not care about much, it makes you keep your heart close, and you often act recklessly. Being the anomaly can really mess with your head.
____
Greyson and Kylie brought in a late lunch for me and t
he makeup team. The car service would be picking us up at seven o’clock, which was two and a half hours away. That was enough time for us to finish with hair and makeup, get dressed, and for me to finish sharing my story with Kylie and Greyson. I continued.
After Christmas break, school flew by for us. Before we knew it, it was Spring break. Murphy and I, along with a couple of our friends, spent time in Daytona Beach for Black Beach Week. Then we darted off to Miami and Key West.
School breaks were just as challenging for me as the holidays. Like I said earlier, I had a thing about spending lengthy periods of time alone; I always have. They always made me really miss my mother, which filled me with loneliness. Besides, I did not have any family members to visit, or should I say anyone who made me feel like family.
I called my godsister, Lynn, at Spellman to see what her plans were for the summer break. She told me that she was attending their family reunion. I could hear the excitement in her voice when she spoke. Lynn was so excited because this year’s reunion was being held in Washington, DC. After checking with her parents, I was all too thrilled to be on board with joining them.
Lynn’s parents had taken me in as their godchild after my mother’s death. I will never forget the day my mother passed. Lynn and her sister, Sonya, came to my house and spent the entire day with me; they consoled me during my hurt. They comforted me every day. I do not know what I would have done if not for them.
With plans for the summer, I now had life in me. The drive to Atlanta was peaceful. I had become a pro at taking long drives even if it meant doing it alone. Lynn and I had a few hours to catch up before her mother and Sonya were to arrive from Florida. We wanted to take advantage of it because once Sonya arrived, we knew she would take over the conversation and want to be in all our business. Sonya always wanted to hear about what was happening at college, and somehow, she knew just when to use whatever information she had gotten to blackmail Lynn and me. Even though I respected my godmother and she never chastised me for anything I was doing, I didn’t want her parenting me because of Sonya’s big mouth.
The morning of our drive to DC, we had breakfast at a diner before getting on the road. While having breakfast, I noticed this attractive white guy looking at me. Though I pretended to look away, his staring was persistent. It was not long before Sonya noticed; she didn’t miss anything.
“Damn Kennedy, he is all into you.” Her comment distracted me just as I locked eyes with him. He was extremely attractive: tall with black hair, blue eyes, red cherry lips, and from what I could tell, a well-muscled body. Without hesitation he came over and introduced himself as Jonathan in front of Lynn, Sonya, and my godmother. My heart dropped; it is one thing to meet a man when you are with your girls, but it’s just uncomfortable to meet one when you are with your godmother. I got up from the table, excused myself and had a quick conversation with Jonathan. I told him that it was bold of him to come over to a table of four black women, but it was very impressive.
“Opportunity isn’t always comfortable!” he stated, like he could read my mind. Did I look that uncomfortable?
I told him to give me his number and I would call him once our trip to DC ended. He was really cute, and I made a note to call him once I returned.
On the drive to DC, we had fun talking about old times. Lynn and her family had had the opportunity to meet my ex-boyfriend, Chase, before my mother passed. We reminisced on how he used to tell these incredible stories, going on double dates, and of course how the three of us used to go to all the parties together.
Sonya was older than Lynn and me, but I often found her to be intriguing and cool despite the fact that she was in the habit of taking advantage of us at almost any opportunity. Sonya was the person that was always thinking two steps ahead of everyone. She was always working an angle, and you usually did not know it until it was too late. And for that reason, we always tried to leave her out of some of our business. Sonya wanted to know everything about us. She would ask so many questions and then try to tell us how we should be doing things. She was extremely bossy; she was the typical older sibling who thought they knew everything. But Sonya had more hustle than anyone I knew; Sonya had game.
It was the first time I’d seen her since the incident in Orlando involving the promoter and the missing—or shall I say stolen--money. That was a total mess. I prepared myself for that story to come up, but to my surprise, she never mentioned it. I guess there were still some things she didn’t want her mother to know.
We had stopped to stretch our legs and to get some dinner at a fast-food restaurant when Lynn and I thought it would be a clever idea to smoke weed behind a tree at the back of the restaurant. We thought we had picked the perfect spot to not be noticed and, like all the times before, we did not want Sonya to know what we were up to. We agreed we would only take a few puffs, get in the car and fall asleep, leaving Sonya to drive. As soon as we got to the car, Sonya saw her opportunity, and she did not waste it. She rushed from the restaurant. “You two bitches have been smoking. I smell it.”
It was rare that we could get anything past her. We only had a few moments before my godmother was going to return to the car and the whole trip would be ruined.
“Fifty dollars, I want fifty dollars, or I’m telling Mommy everything.”
Lynn and I quickly reached into our purses and gave twenty-five dollars each. We knew Sonya was not playing and would have no problem giving us up, so we didn’t hesitate. There was no time for negotiation or pleading our case. Lynn pictured herself the good girl of the family. She was the one who went to college, and even though their parents did not show favoritism with them, Sonya wouldn’t miss the chance to remind them that Lynn wasn’t as good as they thought.
The family reunion was planned very well; they had thought of everything. The first day included a meet-and-greet in the penthouse of a very nice hotel. Every three years this large extended family came from all over the country to attend the event. During the day, we went on tours throughout the city, and at night we all went out to party together.
On the final night, there was a formal celebratory banquet during which college scholarships were handed out. Upon my inquiry, I was told that the adults from each individual family collected, saved and donated money, which was then pooled with the other families to create small scholarships for anyone who wanted to attend college and who had shown their commitment to getting good grades.
This was my first family reunion, so I did not know what to expect, but it turned out to be much more than I could have imagined a family event would be.
Once the reunion ended, we went to New Jersey and stayed there for a few days. Lynn’s and Sonya’s father still worked and lived in New Jersey. He was close to retiring and had begun the process of transitioning his family to Florida. He loved his girls, so the opportunity to have a few extra days with his family just could not be passed up. This was my first time visiting New Jersey, and I was thrilled at the opportunity to see where they grew up and to meet some of Lynn’s childhood friends.
Once we returned to Atlanta, I called Jonathan, and after a few phone conversations we agreed to a lunch date. With all the excitement from the reunion I had not thought much about him, but I didn’t have much going on for the rest of the summer so I thought he would be a handsome distraction.
Jonathan was a trust fund kid. With his parents’ approval, he had forgone his senior year at Georgia Tech and was interning and studying under a wealthy Atlanta businessman.
The way he saw it; he was learning more interning with this man than he would be learning in college. He was learning a specific skill for a career in market research for the Asian stock market, and he was learning from the best.
Every day, we would hang out in eclectic parts of Atlanta that I had never visited with my friends. We spent a lot of time at the mall shopping and dining at the best restaurants. Lynn could not believe all the money Jonathan was spending on me. If he did not have time for us to go out, we would hav
e fun rollerblading and pretending to play hockey in front of his cottage in Buckhead. I felt like I was living the life I should be living; it was the life I felt I deserved. I did not want to think about going back to college in the fall.
I knew if things continued at the pace they were going; Jonathan would not be pleased with me. I knew I did not want a boyfriend, and as nice as he had been, my heart wasn’t telling me he was the one. It did not matter how blue his eyes were or how broad his shoulders were or how much money he had. In fact, he was everything a woman would want in a man. Handsome, smart, attentive, caring, funny, and he had the means to provide…but without the one element that overcomes everything, none of that mattered.
Jonathan and I had come to an understanding of our friendship, which worked out well for me when he needed to travel to Asia. This freed up my final two weeks so I could spend them with Lynn without distractions. Lynn and I brought out the best in each other; we constantly encouraged and motivated each other. We pushed each other and did not pass judgment when one of us made mistakes. It was a true friendship.
During my visit, my car developed mechanical problems. I wasn’t too concerned at first; I simply contacted my attorney to receive an advance of my monthly income. I had requested advances before, so I didn’t give it much thought. However, the beginning of the fall semester was less than a week away. There were procedures to be followed in this sort of thing and I was a little concerned about getting it in time. I did get the money, however, but not from where I thought I’d get it.
All my enthusiasm and optimism changed when Murphy called to tell me she wasn’t returning to school; she was moving to San Francisco. She was the closest thing to family I had in Little Rock, and school would not be the same without her there.
Beautiful Otherness Page 18