Any Way the Wind Blows (19 page)

“Please tell me you’re kidding. That lying sonofabitch! I can’t believe this shit,” I said.

“Look, Basil, I really think you can beat this. It might not even make it to a judge, but that’s a chance you might have to take. I talked to his lawyer, and she sounds like she’s ready to deal. It might make sense just to make an offer and move on,” Raymond said.

“How much?”

“Did you check with your insurance company?”

“No, I don’t want anybody in my business. I could move some money around and pay him from my own funds. What do you think we should offer?”

“I might start with twenty-five thousand and be willing to go to low, and I do mean low, six figures,” Raymond said.

“Are you kidding? This is bullshit. All of this for a piece of ass,” I said.

“In this case, a very expensive piece of ass,” Raymond said.

“You ain’t never lied, but I need to get this situation taken care of. I’m worried about this stuff getting in the press or my partners finding out. So do your thang,” I said.

“I’ll call his lawyer this afternoon and make an offer. It might take a couple of days, because I’m sure she will make a counteroffer and we’ll go back and forth for a day or two.”

“Just keep me posted,” I said.

“Basil, can I ask you something?” Raymond said. His voice had switched from very businesslike to a sensitive and caring tone.

“Sure.”

“Is it worth this much just to avoid saying what’s true about your life?”

“It’s worth millions for me to protect my reputation and my family,” I said firmly.

“Then you better go sign some more number-one picks, because if you keep doing this stuff, your money is going to disappear quicker than
dot.com
stock,” Raymond said.

“Listen to me, Raymond. Do whatever it takes. Make this go away.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

I
had just gotten home from working a lunch shift when the phone rang. I was going to let the answering machine pick up the call and go ahead with my shower, when I saw “Plaza Hotel” flash on the caller I.D. I didn’t know anyone at the Plaza, so I was curious and picked up the phone before the answering machine took over.

“Hello.”

“May I speak with Bart Dunbar?” a sophisticated female voice asked.

“Who’s calling?” I asked.

“Is this Bart?”

“Like I said, who’s calling?” I repeated in an annoyed tone.

“Bart. You don’t know me, but we know someone in common,” she said.

“Look, I am too old to be playing high school games on the phone. State your business, or else I’m hanging up this phone.”

“I understand you’ve had a little run-in with one John
Basil Henderson. I have some information that might help your case,” she said. Now I was really curious—why would someone be calling me about Basil?

“And do you have a name?”

“I do. Are you interested in my information?”

“Only if I know to whom I’m speaking,” I said. She sounded so proper and full of herself I wanted to slam the phone down, but instead I decided to play it her way.

“My name is Ava Parker Middlebrooks, and I obtained your number from LaVonya Young. I first read about you on her Web site,
www.linesfromlavonya.com
, and it’s in the paper today. I know LaVonya from my New York days. I gave her a call and told her I wanted to help you out,” Ava said.

“I haven’t seen today’s paper. What does it say?”

“Let me read it to you,” Ava said. She cleared her throat and then started to read: “‘What former all-star football player is being sued by a male model for sexual harassment?’”

“So LaVonya came through. Now how can you help me out?”

“Well, not only do I have confidential information about Mr. Henderson, but I understand from LaVonya that you have a great lawyer who’s gonna make him pay. The trial will be the talk of the sports world. I think you’re going to be famous.”

“I hope so. But how is the information going to help me? If he makes an offer and I take it, then there won’t be a case,” I said.

“Oh no, Bart. There’s
got
to be a case. I mean, think of what this asshole did to you and so many others. Next thing
you know, he’ll be in the Pro Football Hall of Fame with some fake wife and the world will never know what kind of sick man he is,” Ava said.

“He musta fucked you over good, sister. I mean, I can feel the venom coming through the phone line. Tell me what happened,” I said.

“No, darling, he didn’t fuck me physically, but he tried to fuck me personally. And from what LaVonya tells me, you’re a young man who don’t take shit from anybody. Well, I am that kinda woman. I vowed I would get Basil Henderson back, so I was utterly delighted when I heard about your little escapade.”

Ava spent the next ten minutes telling me how Basil had left her younger sister at the altar after she had spent more than $200,000 for a big wedding. She went on to tell me how Basil had been seeing a shrink to cure his lust for men and how he was secretly in love with a man. This pissed me off, since he’d told me he didn’t date dudes. I guess that didn’t include falling in love.

“How does your sister feel about you sharing this information?” I asked.

“She doesn’t know. She was so depressed that I had to put her in a home,” Ava said.

“Still … I don’t understand how this is going to help my case,” I said.

“You want him to pay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You want him to be embarrassed, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you have to proceed with the case, even if you don’t win or the suit is dismissed. Think of the public relations nightmare it will be for Mister Big-Time Football Star and that company of his.”

“I hear ya, but my lawyer and I are suing for six figures. Now, I don’t know about you, but for a struggling model and waiter, six figures is still a lot of money,” I said.

“What if I matched whatever he offers? I know he’s going to try and settle out of court. He doesn’t want to face the possibility of a very public trial. Would you be willing to continue this fight, if not for yourself, then for a heartbroken sister?” she said. Her voice was cracking, and she sounded like she was about to start crying.

I looked at my phone like I couldn’t be hearing this woman correctly. Had she just offered me a hundred grand just to keep harassing Basil?

“You would do that?”

“Are you interested?”

“What are you going to do? Just write me a check? Naw, scratch that, I ain’t taking no check from somebody I don’t know. I don’t care if you live in Beverly Hills or Monte Carlo,” I said firmly.

“But I don’t expect you to take a check. What if I showed you I can be trusted?”

“How are you going to do that?”

“What’s your address?” Ava asked.

I gave her my address without even thinking what I was doing. What if she was a crazy stalker or, even worse, some kind of double agent working for Basil to set my ass up?
Maybe they were planning to kill me or something to keep my mouth shut. Maybe I was watching too much Court TV.

“So you live up in Harlem, huh?” Ava asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I heard the real estate market is going crazy. LaVonya said white folks are buying up everything. I might need to come up there and make a few investments myself,” Ava said in a casual voice, like two old friends talking.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“Please, just don’t do anything until you hear from me?”

“I’m not making any promises to a lady with a nice voice,” I argued.

“Bart, listen to me. Wait until tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re home around ten,” Ava instructed.

“That’s my gym time,” I protested.

“Honey, if you help me with my plans … you will have enough money to build your own gym.” Ava laughed.

“I like the sound of that,” I said, letting my guard down slightly.

“Then you’ll give me at least forty-eight hours?”

“You said tomorrow morning. Now you’re saying forty-eight hours. What kind of game are you trying to run?”

“No, listen to me. Tomorrow morning is when the partnership of Ava and Bart begins. I need forty-eight hours to be able to meet my new partner face-to-face,” Ava said.

“Show me you mean business and then we’ll talk,” I said. Suddenly realizing I had already said too much, I hung up the phone.

• • •

I
was enjoying a cup of coffee in my kitchen after a restless night’s sleep. I had spent the night thinking about the phone call from Ava and if she was serious or just talking smack. I got the answer a few minutes later when there was a knock at my door.

“Are you Bart Dunbar?” Aren’t all overnight delivery-men good-looking? I thought.

“Yep, I’m Bart Dunbar.”

“Sign here,” he instructed. I signed his clipboard and he handed me an envelope, which I ripped open while closing the door.

After I picked my face up off the floor, I raced to the phone and dialed Wylie’s office.

“Wylie Woolfolk’s office,” Mollie said in her perky white-girl voice.

“Hey, Mollie. Is he in?”

“Bart? Sure, let me see.” A few seconds later, Wylie picked up the phone.

“What’s up, diva?”

“Please tell me you don’t have plans this evening,” I pleaded.

“I don’t. What’s going on?”

“I want to take you to dinner. Your choice, and it can be the best restaurant in town. Jean Georges, Club 21, you name it,” I said proudly.

“Did you land some kind of Ralph Lauren campaign or something? I didn’t know you were up for major work. You keeping secrets?”

“No, it’s not a campaign. All my booker has been sending me on are video go-sees. But something wonderful
happened just a few minutes ago. I opened the door, and this FedEx man had an envelope for me. I opened it and out fell a hundred crisp hundred-dollar bills. Who said there were no more fairy godmothers?” I laughed.

“Where did the money come from?”

I told Wylie about the call from Ava and how she wanted to help me with my case against Basil.

“Did she say why this was important to her? Have you met her?”

“No, but I think I will.”

“Have you told your lawyer about this?”

“No! It ain’t her business if I’m getting a little cash on the side.”

“Baby, you better be careful. You don’t really know nothing about this lady and what she really wants you to do,” Wylie advised.

“I don’t care what she wants me to do if she’s got money to throw around like this. I mean, within reason I don’t care. I think she’s some woman he fucked and left high and dry. She said it was somebody else, but I don’t believe her.”

“How did she find you?”

“Who else? Miss LaVonya.”

“Did you call LaVonya and make sure she knows this lady?”

“Wylie, what part of ‘I don’t give a shit’ don’t you understand? I’ll worry about LaVonya later. Let’s celebrate. Let me treat
you
for a change,” I said.

“Sounds good. I will call you in a couple of hours when my taste buds tell me where I want to go. Maybe Mollie has heard of something good and trendy,” Wylie said.

“Okay. If I’m not here, leave me a message. I’m going to buy me a DVD player and some DVDs.”

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Don’t worry. But I do need to make sure this money is real. If you don’t hear from me this evening, start checking the jails,” I said, and laughed.

“I will, but I’ll give you a week or two to make some new friends,” Wylie teased before saying goodbye.

D
esmond, it’s just brilliant,” I said as I clapped my hands with a childlike glee. I had just finished watching for the third time the final cut of my “Any Way the Wind Blows” video.

“Yeah, we did good, didn’t we?” Desmond asked as he rubbed his chin.

“Come on. We have to celebrate,” I said as I took his hand and led him toward my dining room.

“Where are you taking me, Yancey?”

“We’re going to get some champagne. We can’t celebrate without champagne,” I said.

I took Desmond into the kitchen, and I pulled out a moderately priced bottle of champagne. I was saving the good stuff for my first platinum single or CD, whichever came first.

We then went into the bar area, where I kept my good crystal flutes. I poured two glasses of champagne, and Desmond offered a toast: “To a number-one record and
video. The first of many.” Desmond then sat on the bar stool.

“Cheers,” I said with a smile, still standing and trying to decide if I should move closer.

“So you’re really pleased?”

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am. I loved how you worked all my scenes and my wardrobe changes. I loved how you’d flash to the guys and then back to me! And how did you get that snow scene in? That was fabulous with the fur coat. I felt like Vanessa Williams in her ‘Save the Best for Last’ video,” I said.

“You know, almost anything can be done with computers now,” Desmond said as he took a sip of the champagne.

“I can’t wait to see it on BET, VH-1 and MTV!” I said.

“I think they’re going to start running it immediately. I mean, the song is burning up the charts. What number is it now?”

“Number seventeen with a bullet,” I said proudly.

“This video will help, but I think they should have done it a little sooner.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have had the chance of doing it here in New York and meeting—I mean working—with you,” I said. “Besides, I’m sure most record companies take their time with new artists.”

“It’s been on the real working with you. Yancey, you’re a talented and beautiful lady,” Desmond said.

“Thank you,” I said, blushing. I took another sip of my drink and gazed at Desmond, who was wearing a sweater the color of a faded blue summer sky and tan slacks. This was the first time we’d been alone, and it felt good.

“It really helps that you can act. A lot of these music divas can’t act or lip-synch, and it makes my job tough,” Desmond said.

“I am thankful for my Broadway training. I know how to show emotion, and I don’t have a problem singing live,” I said.

“I have a secret,” Desmond said as he leaned closer to me. There was something wonderfully sexy about the way Desmond smelled, like a wisp of cologne mixed with the clean fragrance of soap.