A Love of My Own (26 page)

27
__________________

My oversize bathtub had become my newest boyfriend, and I was thoroughly enjoying my new beau after an exhausting day. When I stepped into the warm, perfumed bath, my body collapsed like a paper house hit by a fierce wind. I had candles burning and I was listening to Glenn Lewis, a new rhythm-and-blues singer from Canada who sounded just like Stevie Wonder. The record company had sent me an advance copy with hopes that we would do a feature on the handsome young singer.

About an hour later, the washcloth on my face felt ice cold and I figured it was time to curl up in front of the television with a bowl of raspberry sorbet and the remote control.

I brushed my hair, put it in a ponytail and grabbed my favorite light blue terry-cloth robe and headed toward the kitchen. I pulled out the sorbet, and just as I reached in the cabinet for a bowl, I heard my doorbell ring.

I was a bit surprised when I looked through the peephole and saw Raymond standing at my door.

“Raymond, what a surprise,” I said after opening the door.

“Good evening, Zola. Is this a bad time?” Raymond asked.

“I was just getting ready to watch some television, but come in. Is everything all right?”

“Zola, I need to give you something and I decided it was important to do it in person,” Raymond said as he walked into my foyer and then followed me into my living room. There was a look of concern on his face, and I wondered if something had happened to someone at the office.

“Is everything okay at the office?”

“Zola, I need to give you this,” Raymond said as he handed me a manila envelope.

I opened the envelope and immediately noticed the letterhead from Davis's parent company, McClinton Enterprises. I began reading, and words like
terminated
and
effective immediately
felt like someone was throwing rocks at me. I read,
“Your contract prevents you from seeking employment in the industry for two years from the date of this letter
.
”
I looked up at Raymond and he was still as a statue.

“Raymond, what is this about?” I asked.

“Zola, I'm so sorry. I tried to convince Davis that we should proceed with caution,” Raymond said deliberately and gently. All I could think was I couldn't believe this was happening to me.

“Why is he doing this?” I asked.

“The magazine is being sued by Yancey B. and her record company. They believe the story you ran on her was written with a reckless disregard for the truth. Yancey and her people contend that almost eighty percent of the article is total fabrication. Davis feels that we must take a proactive stance, and he feels removing you from your position is the first step. Zola, you know how much I like you and I think you're doing a great job. Amazingly ad sales and circulation have gone up since 9/11, and I told Davis how the sexiest-man contest you're running is getting the magazine a lot of great publicity,” Raymond said.

I just looked at Raymond and shook my head in disbelief. There was a long, pained silence and then I said, “He can't do this to me. Davis knows I am
Bling Bling.
He's doing this because I refused to sleep with him.”

“What about the story? Did you fact-check?” Raymond asked.

“Of course I did. We always do. There is plenty of documentation. I have it in my office, and I can go down to the office right now and get the information that proves everything in the article is true,” I said.

“You can't do that,” Raymond said.

“Why not?”

“The locks on your office have been changed and security has removed your personal belongings from your office. You won't get past the security guards,” Raymond said.

“Oh, I see. After all the years I worked for him, this is the way Davis is going to treat me. I am not going to just walk away. I will get a lawyer and sue Davis McClinton for everything he's worth,” I said. My voice trembled with rage.

“Zola, you can certainly do that. I hope you understand the position I'm in. Are you going to be all right?” Raymond asked as he gently touched my shoulders.

“Oh, don't worry, Raymond, I'm a survivor and I'll be fine,” I said. I tried to sound calm and in control. I was concentrating on not breaking down into tears. Not in front of Raymond and not after he left. I had to hold it together. I had to devise a battle plan to fight both Davis and Yancey B.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you get the file I have backing up the story?” I asked.

“Where is it?”

“It's in my desk. At least it was,” I said.

“What do you want me to do with it? I still work for Davis and this might be a conflict of interest,” Raymond said.

“Don't worry about it. I am sure Kirsten still has her set,” I said.

“Is she the writer?”

“Yes.”

“I think that's what you should do. I'll find out what happened to it because we will need it in our defense,” Raymond said.

“Thanks, Raymond. I guess it's better to hear this from you than showing up and getting my face cracked when I tried to enter my office. I'm sure that's what Davis wanted,” I said. Raymond didn't answer, but his eyes told me I was right. I realized that this was hard for him and I didn't want to make it any more difficult. After a few moments of silence Raymond asked again if there was anything he could do.

“Get my job back,” I said with a fake laugh.

“Zola, I know this is tough, but you're going to be fine,” Raymond said.

“You got that right. I'll be more than fine. You might not know this about me, but my parents raised a fighter,” I said, trying hard to sound calm and in control, hoping that my stoic refusal to cry could hold on for a few more minutes.

“I know that,” Raymond said.

“Now, I just need to show Davis,” I said. Raymond nodded and offered a polite smile and was out the door just moments before my dam of tears broke.

I was exhausted, so I didn't get out of bed until a little after noon. I had tossed and turned so I couldn't even allow myself to think that last night was a bad dream. Besides, the letter and agreement Raymond and Davis wanted me to sign was on the edge of my bed. I had read it over ten times, hoping that it didn't say what I knew it said. I was out of a job and I couldn't look for one in the industry I loved.

I went into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and breathed deeply as I looked in the mirror and said to myself, “Wake up and live, girl! He can't do this to you.”

I pulled a robe from the back of the door and slipped it on as I headed to the kitchen to make myself some tea. I needed to make a few phone calls, so I put a cup of water in the microwave and zapped it and then dropped in a tea bag.

I walked into the room adjoining my bedroom, which housed my piano. I sat down at the piano and pounded out Beethoven's “Pathetique” like I was in Carnegie Hall. The sonata was beautiful and expressed the pain I was feeling. But it wasn't helping; I needed to get busy clearing my name.

After two o'clock, I picked up my Palm, located Kirsten's home number and quickly dialed even though I thought it might be too early. I needed to make sure she still had a set of her notes and documentation, because I knew I would need it to get my job and most likely my reputation back.

After about four rings a groggy-sounding Kirsten picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“Kirsten. I hate to bother you so early, but I need to talk to you,” I said.

“Who is this?”

“It's Zola.”

“Zola from
Bling
?”

“Yes, Kirsten. Look, do you still have that set of notes and documentation from the story you did on Yancey B.?”

“Yancey B.? I think so.”

“Kirsten, you can't think, honey. I need to know. I need a copy of those notes and the tapes,” I said.

“What happened to your set?”

“It's a long story,” I said.

“Yancey B. ain't trying to sue you, is she?”

“Have you heard something?”

“A couple of my girls told me they just heard Wendy Williams on WBLS talking about it on her show and there was some mention in the local rags today,” Kirsten said.

“What?” I asked.

“I don't know, Zola. I didn't actually hear it. But you don't have to worry. I verified all of my stories and it's all true. Miss Girl is probably trying to save herself. I bet that organization MAC, Mothers Against Crack, is going to want their Entertainer of the Year award back,” Kirsten said.

“Right now I'm not worried about Yancey B.'s award. She and her record company are saying our story is nothing but a bunch of lies,” I said.

“Then let them prove it in court.”

“When can you let me know if you have your information?”

“Let me get out of bed and get myself together. Do you want me to call you at the office?”

“No, call me at home. We should meet this afternoon and I can make another set. How does your day look?”

“I think it's pretty open. This is the day I reserve to work on my stories.”

“Great. Call me in a couple of hours and we can figure out where we can meet,” I said.

“Cool. Bye, Zola,” Kirsten said.

“I'll see you later. Sorry again about waking you up,” I said. Kirsten must have fallen back to sleep, because I didn't hear her say good-bye, only the dial tone.

I was feeling a little uneasy and I wanted to talk with someone who could reassure me that everything would be all right. I started to call Justine, who for so long had been a master at building up my confidence, but now I figured she would think that I was getting what I deserved for sleeping with a married man who was also my boss. I thought of my mother but didn't want her to worry. I was sure Hayden would cheer me up but knew he was in rehearsals for
The Lion King
.

After a few moments, I picked up the phone and dialed Kai's number. I needed to hear a friendly voice.

“Good afternoon, Zola,” Kai said.

“Girl, what did we ever do without caller ID?” I said with a fake laugh.

“Talked to a lot of people we didn't want to,” Kai said, laughing.

“What are you doing today?”

“I am working out with my trainer later, then depending on how I'm feeling I might take a yoga class or treat myself to a massage and facial,” Kai said.

“Do you know any good lawyers who are reasonably priced?”

“My divorce lawyer, but since you're not married, I don't think he could help you. I'm assuming it's for you.”

“It's for me, and I feel like I'm going through a divorce. Davis had Raymond fire me. Davis had him deliver some papers to me last night,” I said.

“What happened? I guess he didn't take you dropping him too kindly,” Kai said.

“I know that's what it's about, but Davis is saying he did it because we're being sued for a cover story I ran.”

“What? Don't tell me one of those fine men you been putting in the magazine is really a woman or some type of terrorist?”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes and said, “No, Kai. It's the Yancey B. story.”

“I wish I could help you out, Zola, but I don't know anyone right off the bat. I will ask around. Are you going to sue him?”

“Right now I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know I need to at least talk to an attorney.”

“Why don't you come to the gym with me? I know you must be stressed.”

“I wish I could, girl, but I got things to do. Maybe sometime later in the week. It looks like I'm going to have a little time on my hands,” I said.

“Okay, but let me know if there is anything I can do. I'm here for you,” Kai said.

“I appreciate that, Kai. It means more than you'll ever know.”

I spent my first day of unemployment updating my photo albums while listening to my favorite sista singers like Toni Braxton, Anita Baker and Faith Evans. Their voices and lyrics made me feel good about feeling so bad. When the songs became too much, I returned to the piano pretending I had chosen it as my career.