Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II (12 page)

I have always been an avid believer in self-confidence. My mother taught me at an early age that African-American women need a great deal of self-confidence to endure all the bullshit that will be thrown at us throughout our lives—bullshit from employers who think we are beneath them. Bullshit from men who think we need them to the point where we are willing to accept just about anything for the privilege of having a man. A shared man. A shared dick. Bullshit in general.

Self-confidence is a necessity, but arrogance is something different altogether. Larabee Blue is arrogant. Arrogant and fake. Unfortunately, she is also my boss. Larabee is an actress. A well-known actress. In fact, she gets highly insulted whenever someone calls her a “star.” She wants to be addressed as a “superstar” or not at all. Absolutely ridiculous!

I put up with Larabee for a few reasons. Being her assistant pays extremely well and it beats the hell out of waiting tables until my big break comes along. Then there are the fringe benefits: getting to cruise around in stretch limos day and night, getting to wear designer clothing, and getting to meet influential people. Hollywood is all about networking. Who you know is more important than what you know. I am convinced that one of these days I will come across someone who will recognize my special qualities and give me an opportunity to prove myself.

I have had a few roles. Nothing major. I played a barmaid in
Roughnecks,
one of those rapper-produced high-budget, low-level-of-intelligence flicks. I also played a drug addict who overdosed in the emergency room on
Central Hospital
. That was a great show until it bit the dust after the first season, like the majority of television dramas featuring African Americans in lead roles. The role that garnered me the most recognition was playing a bank robber on
True Crime Experiences.
While that show is strictly comprised of reenactments, people were staring at me on the streets for at least three months after the episode aired. One erratic, half-senile woman actually flagged down a squad car to turn me in. She just knew she was making a citizen’s arrest. It took me more than an hour to convince them that I had just been acting and did not have outstanding warrants looming over my head.

The sad part about all of this is that I know I can act. I was born to act. I realize a lot of people say that very thing, but I am for real. I came out of the womb acting and never stopped. Larabee, on the flip side, does not know the first thing about real acting. She has simply slept her way to the top. Even with all the horrid reviews her films get, the studio execs still hook her up with incredible roles just to see her turn them into sideshow performances. They do not care if she fucks up as long as she fucks them.

I know I should not be talking about her like this. After all, she does butter my toast. I cannot help it, though. She is rude, she is selfish, and she is self-centered. Case in point: Hewitt, her boyfriend. Larabee and Hewitt first started dating in high school, back when she was still Constance Sherman from Grand Rapids, Michigan. People called her Piggy in junior high and high school because she had a predilection for Krispy Kreme doughnuts and McDonald’s french fries. Even back then, in her pre Larabee Blue days, Hewitt fell in love with her when other boys would not give her the time of day. I have heard this story a hundred times from her. How he would take long walks with her and tell her that she was beautiful. How he would make her paper roses and rub her feet after she had practically passed out from walking around the school track in an effort to drop the weight. How he would call her on the phone late at night so he could listen to her breathe as he fell asleep.

With all of that being said, you would think that Larabee treats him like royalty. Not! She treats him like something off the bottom of her shoe. Damn shame, too, because he is such a sweetheart. Even to this day, he treats her like a princess. I guess that is why I fell in love with him.

There, I said it. I, Tanley Justine Meade, am hopelessly in love with Hewitt Michael Banks. Larabee does not deserve to drink his bathwater. Yet and still, I know that he loves her, he has always loved her, and he will always love her. I am not living in a fantasy world where I envision him leaving her for me. That will never happen, but I did spend one night in heaven. I did spend one night in his arms.

“Tanley, have you seen that red dress I bought on Rodeo Drive last week?”Larabee was running around her bedroom, which was larger than most people’s apartments, throwing things into a suitcase, when I came in. “I want to take it with me.”

“Don’t you think it will be too cold in the mountains for that?” I asked her, recalling the dress that covered up less than 20 percent of her body.

She stopped in her tracks and gave me a perplexed look. “The mountains?”

“Yes, the mountains. You’re packing for Denver, right?”

“Denver?”

“Yes, Denver,” I repeated. “You’re meeting Hewitt at the ski lodge in Denver to celebrate his birthday. Remember?”

Larabee plopped down on her bed and threw her hands dramatically in the air. Even that was sorry acting. “Oh, shit!”

My sentiments exactly. Her stupid ass had once again forgotten something important. That much was obvious.

“Tanley, why didn’t you remind me?” she stated accusingly.

I tried to hide my disdain, turned away from her, and walked over to one of the picture windows to gaze out over the ocean.

“Larabee, I wrote it down in your planner. I write everything down in your planner.”

“Well, whatever,” she lashed out in disgust. “You still could have mentioned it last night or even this morning.”

I could not believe she was trying to blame me for her forgetfulness. Then again, I should not have been the least bit surprised, since I get blamed for 99 percent of her mistakes.

I decided to try to be nice about it. “I apologize.”

Larabee sighed. “You should apologize. Apology accepted. Now help me find that red dress.”

She disappeared into her massive walk-in closet, and I followed her.

“Larabee, like I said, it will be too cold up there for that.”

She ignored me and kept sliding hangers from side to side, conducting a search for the dress. Finally, after noticing that I was not attempting to help, she glared at me. “Are you going to help me or not? This is what you get paid for?”

“You’re not going to Denver, are you?”

“No, I’m not going to Denver,” she replied mockingly. “I have other plans. Major plans. You better go pack, because you’re going with me.”

“I have this weekend off. Since you had plans for Hewitt’s birthday, I made plans of my own, and they can’t be canceled.”

I was lying. The only plans I had were to take in a movie alone and grab some takeout on my way home to watch
Oz
on HBO.

“Excuse me, Tanley, but you are going with me. I have to fly to New York to meet with Sheridan Rafte from that new studio, and you are not about to mess this up for me.”

“How could I possibly mess it up for you? Even if I went, you wouldn’t let me say two words in the meeting anyway.”

Larabee knew I was right. She is so intimidated by the possibility of someone becoming intrigued by me that she rarely lets me utter a word in her power meetings. She still did not appreciate my comments about it, though.

“I don’t know what’s up with you, Tanley, but your attitude is unacceptable.”

I was definitely being bitchy, but that was because I could not believe that she was going to kick Hewitt to the curb and go to New York instead. Even though biting my tongue would have been more appropriate, I decided to voice my opinion.

“Are you really going to let Hewitt sit up in Denver waiting on you? You promised him that you would spend his birthday with him. This is his big one, remember? He’s turning thirty.”

“I know how old he’s turning!” Larabee stormed at me. “He’s my man, and we’re the same damn age!”She glanced into her full-length dressing mirror and frowned, fingering the skin around her eyes like she was looking for wrinkles. “I can’t believe I’ll be thirty in three months.”

I can’t believe it either, I thought. She was acting more like a fifteen-year-old.

“You’re right.”

“Excuse me?” I asked in disbelief. I had never heard those words escape her lips.

“I said, you’re right. I can’t do that to Hewitt. Poor baby. He’ll be devastated if he ends up there all alone.”

I grinned with delight. “So you want me to start repacking your bag with some warmer clothes.”

“Actually, I want you to go pack your bag with warm clothes.”

“Come again?”

“I can’t miss out on the opportunity in New York. This could be it for me. My Oscar-winning role. The script is out of this world, and all the big names are competing for it. I have first dibs, the first audition, and I am not giving that up for anything.”

“Or anyone, apparently,” I stated sarcastically.

Larabee came so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face.

“I know you think I treat Hewitt badly, Tanley.”

She stood there like she was waiting for me to disagree with her. I did not say a single word. I just leered at her.

“I’m going to make this up to him. I swear I will, but I can’t go to Denver tonight. I just can’t.”

“I understand,” I lied.

“I need a favor.” She placed her hands on my shoulders, and it took every ounce of self-control for me not to push her off me. “Could you please go to Denver and give Hewitt my present?”

“Sure.”

I did not hesitate. The movie, takeout, and yes, even
Oz,
could wait. I would just have to catch the rerun.

Larabee released me and giggled. “I can always count on you.”

“That you can,” I agreed. “That you can. I better go pack.”

“Great! We can just have my ticket switched over to you.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” I was halfway out the closet door when I realized something. “So where is the gift for Hewitt?”

Larabee giggled again. She was getting on my damn nerves.

“I don’t have it yet. I need you to stop someplace on the way and pick him up something.”

I rolled my eyes. I did not care if she caught that move or not.

“What do you want me to get him?” I asked.

She got lost in thought for a few seconds. “I know! How about a bomb-ass watch? Men love watches. Especially ones that cost a grip.”

That was the lamest idea I had ever heard. Even I knew that Hewitt wears a watch that his grandfather bequeathed to him and would never trade it for the world. Damn shame that she did not think of that.

“I’ll take care of it, Larabee.”

“Great! Just put it on my credit at Saks or wherever.”

I could not take another second of her. When I got to my room down the hall, less than a quarter of the size of hers, I slammed the door. “Selfish bitch!”

My plane landed in Denver at eight. Hewitt had flown in that morning and checked in to the lodge. During the flight, it dawned on me that I did not have a room reservation, and the possibility existed that I would have to search for a place to stay or fly back that same night. After I dropped off his gift, my job would be complete.

The cabdriver practically drove me insane on the way to the lodge—a raunchy old white man that wanted to take a walk on the wild side and bed a sister. I wished him well in his pursuit of one who would lower her standards enough to go there with him, but assured him that I was not the one. He was still trying hard, so I went there. I told him that if my yeast infection was not causing me so much pain, we could make a run for it right there. He lost interest suddenly, cranked up his country music station, and clamped his mouth shut. Thank goodness!

When I asked for Hewitt Banks at the registration desk, the sister behind the counter lit up like a Christmas tree.

“He’s been expecting you!
Gurl,
you are lucky! That man is fine!”

I was about to explain to her that Hewitt was not my man, but then I decided that basking in her compliment felt kind of nice, so I said, “Thank you.”

Besides, she was speaking the truth and nothing but the truth. Hewitt is fine. He is about six-two, with a sprinter’s body and the smoothest sepia skin. I know at least half a dozen women personally who would kill for his eyelashes, and another three or four who would kill for his charcoal eyes.

Those eyes were the first thing that met me when he answered the door to Suite 518. The quick alteration in them from joy to disappointment spoke volumes.

“Tanley, what are you doing here?” Hewitt asked, feigning a smile. He took a step out into the hall and looked both ways. “Where’s Larabee? Is she on her way up?” Before I could answer, he rattled on. “Ah, she’s probably down in the lobby being bombarded by fans wanting autographs. The price of being a star.”

“Superstar,”I corrected him. “She prefers to be called a superstar.”

We both laughed.

“Can I come in, Hewitt?” I inquired, realizing that he was blocking the doorway.

“Sure, my mistake.” He moved aside and then followed me in, leaving the door ajar for a lover who was halfway across the country, more worried about getting a movie role.