Any Way the Wind Blows (22 page)

Desmond and I both loved
Aïda
, even though I think he loved it more. He raved about the star, Heather Headley, and
couldn’t believe I thought she was just okay. “Trust me,” I said, “I would have worn that role out.”

When he kept talking about her elegance, I wanted to set him straight about one thing. I didn’t want him to think for one minute I was cutting my hair “boy short” to compete with that lanky beauty. Why should I, as a black woman, have to cut my hair when black men seem to be holding on to their hair for dear life with their cornrows, dreads and retro Afros?

For the most part, the evening was pleasant. Desmond looked handsome with his dreads pulled back in a ponytail exposing his face in full view. He was wearing jeans, but they were tight and he was wearing them well. I must admit that I was a little disappointed when Desmond ended the night with the gentle kiss of a new friend, and not someone hoping to become my new lover or a casual fling. I knew I would have to enjoy my rose petal bath alone.

• • •

A
fter I finished my bath, I was having some herbal tea when the phone rang. Who is calling me this late? Maybe it was Desmond or Windsor, so I picked up the phone without looking at the caller I.D.

“Hello.”

“Yancey, this is LaVonya. I need to confirm a little item I heard.”

“Please contact Motown and schedule an interview,” I suggested.

“Oh, this will only take a minute. When are you going to talk about your child?”

“Good night, LaVonya,” I said as I hung up the phone. So it was LaVonya who was trying to rattle me. Could she be getting her information from Ava? And if so, how could I stop her?

I picked the phone back up and dialed the Plaza Hotel. An operator came on the line and I asked for Ava Middle-brooks. After a few rings, she picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“Ava, this is Yancey,” I said.

“I know your voice,” she said calmly.

“You got to stop this mess,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop sending me the pictures of the little girls,” I demanded.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been busy trying to get my management business off the ground, and I don’t plan to represent little girls. Are you going crazy? Maybe you need me to do more than manage you,” Ava said.

“Someone has been sending me photos of little girls saying that one of the pictures is Madison, and tonight this columnist called and asked about her,” I said.

“Who is Madison?” Ava asked.

“Your granddaughter,” I said.

“I don’t have a granddaughter.”

“Cut the act, Ava. I know you’re behind this,” I said. I was so mad, I wanted to pull the phone out of the wall and hurl it through the window.

“Yancey, listen to me. First of all, I don’t want anyone to think I’m a grandmother. I still have some bookings in Europe this summer. And if I’ve told you this once, I’ve told
you a million times: Forget about that little girl and go on with your life. What would I have to gain by bringing her back into your life?” Ava asked.

“Then who could be doing this? How could the media know about this?”

“What about your manager, Basil the bisexual?”

“Basil wouldn’t do that. He loves kids and he knows how hurtful this would be for her,” I said.

“You have left plenty of crumbs behind for a lot of enemies to follow your trail,” Ava said.

“That’s not true.”

“You can fool yourself if you want, but you’re not the only diva out there who will do anything to get ahead. Of course, the others didn’t have all the advantage of having me as a partner. Now, what about me taking over? I’ll find out who’s trying to spook you.”

Maybe Ava wasn’t behind the Madison photos and calls. She was right about not wanting Madison in her life any more than she wanted Basil in mine. Still, I didn’t think I could trust her, and it made me sad because she was still my mother.

“I need to go. How long are you here?”

“Until I take care of my business,” Ava said.

“Goodbye, Ava,” I said as I hung up the phone.

• • •

I
was at home, a couple days after my evening with Desmond, watching
The View
, when Michel called with more good news. He told me my CD had jumped five spots on the R & B chart and six on the pop chart. I still didn’t understand why African American artists had to worry
about two charts instead of who was selling the most records. The video was in heavy rotation on all the music channels, and he thought it was time to shoot the new video for the second single so that it would help the CD go platinum in less than a month. Everybody was telling me that if the video had been released with the single, my song would be number one by now, or at the very least in the top five.

“This is so exciting,” I said.

“Yeah, it is. One more month before the second single drops, so we need to be one step ahead,” Michel said.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

“Just do what you do. Oh yeah, I think we might be able to get Billy Woodruff to direct number two. I’m not certain, but I’ve got a call in to his agent,” Michel said.

“What about using Desmond again?”

“You want to do that?”

“He did a great job, and he’s easy to work with. I say let’s stick with a winner,” I said. I was also thinking it would be nice to see Desmond and maybe find out why he hadn’t called the morning after our
Aïda
date.

“I’ll check with his agent. Also, I think we’re going to do this on location. Right now, I’m checking out some spots in South Beach. So it might take a couple of days. Where would you like to stay?”

“The Delano. And make sure you put Desmond there as well.”

“First I need to see if he can do it,” Michel warned.

“I think he’d do it for me. Why don’t you let me call him,” I suggested. Desmond would be happy to hear my voice, especially when I was bringing him work.

“You want to do that? I mean, I can get my assistant to take care of those details.”

“Let me do it. You handle the hotel and travel plans,” I said.

“What about casting? Do you want to sit in on it? We could save a lot of time if we cast in New York. I know Miami has several agencies, but most of the guys down there are biracial,” Michel said.

“You do it, even though it would be nice if we could find someone like Bart,” I said, recalling the nightmare the first casting had been but how Bart and Desmond had made the video fun to shoot.

“Okay. I’ll take care of that. I’ll talk with you later on this afternoon.”

“Fine. I love your calls with all this good news,” I said.

“And I love giving it to you,” Michel said.

P
laza Hotel. Where may I direct your call?”

“Ava Middlebrooks, please,” I said.

“Is she an employee or a guest?”

“A guest.”

After a few rings, Ava picked up the phone. “Ava speaking.”

“Ava, this is Bart. We’ve run into a little snag. I need to get another lawyer. Do you know anybody in New York who would take my case?” I asked.

“What happened?” Ava asked.

I told Ava that Gail had decided to drop me as a client when I wouldn’t take Basil’s offer. I also told her how she was upset with LaVonya’s blind items.

“What kinda lawyer wouldn’t appreciate a little free publicity for their client?” Ava demanded. “And you better believe that won’t be the last line in LaVonya’s column.”

“So what do you think I should do? Maybe I should take the money,” I said.

“Listen to me. You don’t want to let him off that easy. From what I know, fifty thousand dollars ain’t shit to him.
That’s like giving you ten dollars. If you settle, don’t you have to sign some kind of agreement which says you can’t speak about the case?”

“Yep, that’s part of the deal. Take the check and keep my damn mouth shut,” I said.

“And when your little lady lawyer gets her share, you won’t have nada. Are you going to let Basil do that to you?”

“My lawyer thinks she can get him to pay legal fees,” I said. For the first time, I was beginning to wonder if getting back at Basil was worth the trouble.

“What’s all that noise in the background?” Ava asked.

“I’m heading toward the subway. I just left a go-see.”

“Honey, you still riding the subway? That’s why you can’t give this thing up. You can make more money by writing a book.”

“You think I could sell a book?”

“Maybe I’ll even back your book. You know, I’ve been thinking about writing a book about my own career and life. I could call it something like
Diary of a Diva,”
Ava said, and laughed. She was going on and on about her life, and here I was not having a clue about what my next move should be.

“What about my lawyer?”

“Maybe we don’t need a lawyer. Maybe we can really do some damage to Basil, and I’ll take care of that little money he was offering you, plus some,” Ava said.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s time to get personal. It’s time to let his family, friends and some of his clients know what kinda freak Basil is,” Ava said.

“I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Ava said.

I clicked off my cell phone and headed down the stairs of the subway thinking about one of my favorite childhood films,
The Wizard of Oz
. I just might be dealing with the real Wicked Witch of the West.

• • •

I
stopped by Wylie’s after I had a late go-see for a fashion show at Gucci. I didn’t know why my agent had sent me on the call, since he knew I wasn’t white-boy Gucci thin, but I went on those calls sometimes just to see what I could see. This was a wasted call on both counts: I didn’t get the job and I didn’t get leads on any other work.

I walked into Wylie’s prewar midtown building. The doorman knew me and said he’d tell Wylie I was on my way up. On the elevator ride I was deciding if I should tell Wylie what Ava wanted me to do. I knew he would be judgmental, but I didn’t give a shit because he didn’t have my bills to pay. I pulled some lotion out of my bag and worked some into my hands just as the elevator stopped and opened into a large foyer. Just as I stepped out, I heard Wylie’s voice: “What a wonderful surprise. I’m just having my evening
cock
tail.”

“Now, that’s a surprise,” I said as I gave Wylie a kiss on the cheek and walked into his spacious living room. It was a casually decorated apartment with the appearance of money. It had thick Oriental rugs from Wylie’s trips to Asia, and built-in bookshelves packed with books. The room had two soft couches in pastel colors and a beautiful mahogany
bench that doubled as a coffee table until he replaced the glass-topped one some of his trade had broken. The end tables had lamps with Tiffany shades, and silver picture frames with photos of Wylie’s family.

I took my jacket off and threw it over a leather high-back chair that didn’t really fit the room’s decor, but Wylie said it was his throne. I sat on the sofa, and Wylie came out of the kitchen with a glass of wine and swirling ice in a cocktail glass.

“So how was your day?” he asked as he sat down next to me.

“Another day without making a dime,” I said as I took a sip of the wine. This was not the brand of wine I served or drank at my own place. It had a smooth buttery taste with a touch of fruit. I couldn’t remember the name of it, but I knew it was over eighty dollars in the restaurant where I used to work.

“Don’t worry, things will pick up,” Wylie said.

“How much is this wine per bottle?” I asked.

“Oh child, I don’t know. I usually buy it by the case,” Wylie said casually.

“One day very soon,” I said softly.

“Guess what?” Wylie asked with excitement in his voice. I knew this could only mean one of two things: a man or an exciting trip somewhere soon.

“I’ve got a date with that man I told you about,” Wylie said.

“What man?”

“David Carroll. Remember I told you about him? He’s from the Bahamas, and he wrote a workout book with the
best pictures in the world. He’s the one who was on the Bahamian gymnastics team.”

“I thought you didn’t date your clients,” I teased as I sat my wine down on the bench.

“I don’t date my
American-born
clients,” he said, and smiled.

“Oh, I see. It’s like that,” I said.

“I can’t wait. Where should I take him?”

“He’s the author, let him decide. But you’re a braver girl than me, ’cause I would never date a man who can do a split,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, I ain’t worried about him doing no splits. I just want to make sure those beautiful legs of his stay firmly on my bed and don’t go swinging in the air before I can get mine up there,” Wylie laughed. “What about yourself? Are you back in the dating game?”

“Naw, not just yet. I still got some unfinished business with Mr. Basil, and then I’ll see,” I said as I took a sip of the wine.

“Bart, come on, now. This is getting crazy. Move on and leave that child alone. I know he’ll think twice before he tries to mess over someone again, but I’m beginning to worry about you,” Wylie said.

I told Wylie I didn’t know what Ava had planned but I was going through with whatever it was as long as it didn’t include serious bodily harm.

“Bart, you can’t be serious? This woman sounds cruel. You could both end up under the jail,” Wylie said.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m getting back at Basil. Besides, where am I going to get the ten thousand dollars to pay Miss Ava back if I don’t do it? Shit, I need that and everything else she promised me.”

“Bart, you can go back to personal training. I mean, I hear some trainers are getting eighty and ninety dollars an hour now.”

“Then they’re doing something more than training, especially if they’re black,” I said.

“So when are you going to do this?”

“I’m going off to the Plaza tomorrow and follow Ms. Ava’s plans,” I said.

“Think about what you’re doing. You are ruining another man’s life,” Wylie said, his voice tight, and there was a coldness in his face, like he was either sad or disappointed.

“It’s easy for you to sit here and pass judgment on me ’cause it didn’t happen to you. None of this happens to you. You collect your fat paycheck and come home to your fabulous home, sit on your fat ass and drink all week, and then go to church on Sunday. You’re a trust-fund baby. When your parents die, you’ll be set for life. I don’t think you’re in any position to judge me,” I said firmly.