Any Way the Wind Blows (24 page)

“This is what I would do,” Ava said. “I would just call—say, for example, this new client of his, Daschle Thompson. I would say, ‘Do you know that your agent is a faggot?’ Don’t say ‘bisexual,’ because those dumb-ass jocks might not know what you’re saying. You need to use terms like ‘dick-suckers’ and ‘butt-fuckers.’ Don’t mention women, ’cause
that might turn their sick asses on. Same thing with his father. He’s from the old school and won’t know what words like ‘bisexual’ and ‘gay’ mean. You have to talk on their level and use terms like ‘sissy’ or ‘punk,’” Ava continued. She was drinking, and I continued drinking, and all of a sudden Ava’s plan sounded like a lot of fun. I took another gulp of my brandy, and with glassy eyes and slurred speech I looked at Ava and said, “Give me the numbers and pass the phone.”

• • •

I
woke up with a throbbing hangover, but I couldn’t let that stop me. Bart, old boy, you got some serious shopping to do. I took a quick shower and put on my leather pants and off-white turtleneck sweater. I called Wylie and left him a message asking if he could meet me at my apartment later that evening. I had some apologizing to do.

I walked down to Sylvia’s soul food restaurant even though the winter wind was blowing without mercy and I had left my skullcap at home. I reached Sylvia’s and was warmed by the packed restaurant and the rich scents coming from the open kitchen. I ordered chicken livers, scrambled eggs, grits and toast. I drank two cups of black coffee and then reached for my wallet and pulled out my little gift from Ava. A check for one hundred thousand dollars made out to Bartholomew Dunbar. I felt a little bad about what I had done to Basil, but I also felt I had earned every penny Ava had given.

I whipped out a little notebook and wrote down a “to do” list. I wrote down:
Go to bank and deposit check; shop; pay rent for two months in advance; shop; go to gym and get haircut;
shop some more
. Just as I finished my list, the waitress placed a piping-hot plate of food in front of me and I began to chow down.

When I finished eating, I pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill and gave it to my waitress and told her to keep the change. My kindness caused an unexpected reaction. She started crying and said, “I’ve just got to hug you. I need some extra money so I can get my son some Jordans for his birthday. Thank you … thank you,” she said as she hugged me tight.

“Glad to do it. I’m a waiter too, and I know how hard you work,” I said.

“You wait tables somewhere up here in Harlem?” she asked.

“Naw, I worked downtown. But I don’t have to wait tables anymore,” I said cheerfully.

“What happened? Did you hit the lottery?”

“I guess you could say that.” I grinned as I put my jacket on and walked out of the bustling restaurant.

I stopped at the bank and deposited my check. When Mr. Bell, the banking officer, confirmed the funds’ availability, he approved a personal check for ten thousand dollars. I left the bank with one hundred crisp hundred-dollar bills bulging in my wallet, and stuffed it in my backpack. I then hopped on the number 6 train down to Fifty-third, transferred to the E and got off on Fifth Avenue.

I walked to Fiftieth and stopped in at Saks Fifth Avenue, where I quickly spent over three hundred dollars on new scents and various facial products I had only dreamed of being able to use. I left Saks and stopped at Versace, where I
didn’t buy anything because even the doorman acted snobby. I moved over to Banana Republic, where I dropped seven hundred dollars in fifteen minutes on sweaters and slacks.

I had the most fun at my last two stops. First, I picked up a beautiful pen and silver cardholder for Wylie from Tiffany’s. My last purchase was three pairs of nylon mesh underwear from Gucci. Never before had my ass been caressed by underwear that cost one hundred and ten dollars, but my ass had earned them.

Before catching a cab uptown, I stopped in an American Express travel office and bought a first-class ticket to Santo Domingo for the following week. I had a feeling I might need to be on the DL when Basil figured out who was responsible for his outing. I saw no reason why I shouldn’t surround myself with gorgeous men while figuring out my next move.

K
endra buzzed me on the intercom and told me my sister, Campbell, was on the phone.

“Put her through,” I said. I moved the forms I had been studying to the right of the desk and leaned back in my chair, then pressed the speaker button.

“What’s the good word, baby sister?”

“How you doing?”

“Great. What about yourself? How is Austin and my little man Cade?” I asked.

“Everybody is doing good. We miss you, and I must say, we even miss Brooklyn. But I’m getting used to Pittsburgh. I mean, the real estate market out here is really good, and there aren’t a lot of women of color selling high-end real estate,” Campbell said.

“You know you can come back to New York anytime you want to,” I said.

“I plan to visit sometime this summer. Are you sure everything is okay?” Campbell asked with some concern in her voice.

“Yeah, everything is cool. Business is great. Social life is okay. I have no complaints. Why do you ask?” I wondered if Campbell had heard Yancey’s song.

“I was just asking because I got a strange call last night,” Campbell said.

“What kind of call?”

“Some woman, or it could have been a man pretending to be a woman, called and asked if I was your sister. When I asked who was calling, this person just repeated the question. So I hung up the phone. A few minutes later, the same person called back and said, ‘I have some information about Basil Henderson you need to know, especially since you have a young son.’ When I asked again who I was speaking to, they got smart and told me to shut up and just listen. So I hung up again,” Campbell said.

“Did they call back?”

“No, but it was really eerie. When was the last time you spoke with Yancey?”

“Not that long ago. Did it sound like Yancey?”

“Not really. I was just wondering who had a reason to be mad at you, and Yancey was the first person that came to mind,” Campbell said.

“Yancey is too busy with her career to worry about me. I wouldn’t call us friends, but I think we’ve both moved on,” I said.

“That’s good. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Last night made me wish I had caller I.D. or something so I could find out who’s playing games with me and my family,” Campbell said.

“Yeah, you need to step into the new century, sis,” I said.
Before Campbell could respond, Kendra used the intercom to tell me Daschle was on the phone with an urgent call. I was hoping he had finally agreed to meet with the tutor I’d found.

“I know you’re right. Give Cade a call when you get a chance. He asked about you this morning,” Campbell said.

“I’ll do that this evening. Hey, gotta go, sis. I need to take this call,” I said.

“Okay. I’ve got to get out and make some money. I love you,” Campbell said. Every time I heard her and Cade say those words it made my heart a little softer, and I had to keep myself from becoming some emotional punk.

“You know, it’s all love. I’ll talk to you later,” I said as I punched line two on my phone.

“D. Whatsup? You got some good news for me?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Have you thought about the tutor?” I asked.

“Not really,” Daschle said.

“Then what’s going on?”

“I’m signing with PMK,” he said coldly.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to represent me anymore.”

“Why not?” I asked. I couldn’t believe my trying to help this mofo better himself was going to cost me a client.

“Let’s just say I got some information that don’t sit right with me.”

“What kind of information?”

“I don’t want to go into that right now. I’m with my girl,” Daschle said.

“Is she the reason?” I asked, remembering how I had suggested Daschle wait until he got his signing bonus before he started buying fleets of cars for his girl and family. He had agreed, and he didn’t seem to me like a man who was whipped when it came to the females in his life.

“Naw, I make my own decisions. And if this information I heard gits out, I think some of your other people gonna jump ship too,” Daschle said with an ominous tone. What information was the dude talking about? I wondered.

“D, dude, I thought we were tight. Tell me what happened. If I’ve done something to offend you or your crew, just tell me. I’m trying to make sure you get the best not only with the league, but with your life as well,” I said.

“Looks like to me you need to get your own life straight. Later,” Daschle said, without even saying goodbye.

• • •

I
was approaching Brison’s office to tell him about Daschle’s defection when I heard Nico talking loud. This was not usual for Nico, but as I got closer, I heard him say my name, so I stood right outside the door to hear what he was saying.

“Brison, I’m telling you, if this shit is true, then we need to cut our losses and buy Basil out. Not only will he hurt the client base we got right now, but it will hurt any chances we have to sell the firm down the line,” Nico said.

“Don’t bring up that ‘let’s sell’ shit. Tell me what Jamal said.”

“He said that somebody called him and told him B was a fucking faggot. Has been for a long time. Now that I think
about it, he was never really against that faggot you tried to bring in the firm last year. What was his name?”

“You talking about Zurich Robinson?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“How does Jamal know this? I mean, it could just be gossip. Basil is our partner. We can’t try to buy him out based on a rumor. Every famous person around has been accused of being gay at some point. And what if he is gay? He still brings in clients. He’s a good partner,” Brison said.

I was proud that he was defending me, but what in the fuck was Nico talking about? And what was Jamal Hay-wood, one of our top baseball clients, doing spreading rumors about me? I felt like some little bitch eavesdropping, and for a moment I started to just bust in the office and confront Nico. Instead I cleared my throat and knocked on Brison’s door. There was a sudden hush, and then I heard Brison ask, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Brison,” I said as I walked into his office. Nico nodded and then looked away.

“What’s going on?”

“Looks like we got a little problem,” I said. Nico turned around and just looked at me like I was the lowest of the low. I wanted to punch his punk ass out, but I resisted.

“Problem?” Brison quizzed.

“Daschle is leaving the company,” I said.

“What? When did that happen? And why?” Brison asked.

“Yeah, tell us why, Basil,” Nico said. His voice sounded so businesslike and official and not like the man I regularly called buddy.

“I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with me confronting him about not being able to read,” I said.

“Daschle can’t read?” Brison asked.

“No, he can’t, and I called him on it and tried to get him some help,” I said.

“What’s so surprising ’bout that? A lot of our mutherfucking clients can’t read or add two plus two,” Nico said. “None of them have left the firm ’cause they’re dumb as dirt.”

“Are you sure he can’t read? How’d you find out?” Brison asked.

“Several small things happened. He never read any contracts I gave him, and he was always getting Kendra to fill out applications for him. Whenever we went out to eat, no matter where, he would just say, ‘Order me a hamburger or chicken,’ without reading the menu. Eventually I just figured it out. I did trick him into confessing, and I think he’s embarrassed.”

“He’s going to be more than embarrassed when he signs with one of the big boys and they take him for everything he’s worth,” Nico said.

“That’s sad, and I hate to lose him, but we got to move on,” Brison said as he moved from behind his desk.

“Daschle is going to be a number-one draft choice. We can’t just let him walk out. Didn’t he sign a contract?” Nico asked, raising his voice even more.

“Yeah, he did. But our policy has always been to not force clients to stay if they didn’t want to be here,” I said as I looked over at Nico, who was looking at me with narrowed, distrustful eyes. I felt awkward, like I was on trial.

“I think there’s more to this than his just not being able to read. We need to make him honor his fucking contract, and we need to just confront him face-to-face, and see why he
really
wants to leave,” Nico said as he looked at Brison and then cut his eyes at me.

“Let’s take the night and think about this and decide what to do in the morning,” Brison said in a guarded voice.

“Cool,” I said as I turned and headed toward my office as I felt the walls of my life of lies and denials closing in on me.

I
was wiped out after a grueling session at the gym. In preparation for my trip to Santo Domingo, I had hired a trainer for a few sessions just to make sure my body was in peak form for the boys and the beach.

I dropped my gym bag on the new leather sofa I had purchased and checked my answering machine. There was a message from Wylie thanking me again for the gift and saying a proper thank-you note was on the way. There was also a message from Yancey B, asking me to call her immediately. I couldn’t believe I had the voice of one of the hottest singers on my answering machine. She even left her number. I needed to tell her that a true diva left only her assistant’s number. A girl had to be prepared for anti-diva terrorists lurking around, and there were a lot of diva-haters in New York.

I wrote the number down on a pad and then saved the message. I knew it was a message I would never erase, along with the two messages I had gotten from Basil when we first met. There was still something about that sexy voice of his.

I dialed Yancey’s number, and after a few rings, a female voice picked up.

“Hello.”

“Is Yancey B in?” I asked.

“Who’s calling?”

“This is Bart Dunbar returning her call.”

“Oh, Bart. This is Yancey. Thanks for calling me back so soon,” Yancey said.