The List (23 page)

W
hen I got down to the parking lot, I sat in my car, stunned.
Did I just lose my job, God?

I pulled out my cell phone and tried to reach Nicole. She was in a meeting, and her secretary promised to have her call me back later. Vanessa was in with a client and couldn't talk either. Lisa was in the middle of a shoot. Angela wasn't in any position to hear about my problems.

I felt alone. I tried to pray, but didn't even know what to say. I needed a hug and for someone to tell me it was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I had dialed Isaiah's number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey. You miss me already, huh?”

I giggled. “Yeah, whatever.” I let out a deep breath. “You busy?”

“Not at all. What's wrong?”

I spent the next few minutes spilling my guts to Isaiah about the whole Rayshawn situation.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Still at work. Sitting in the parking lot.”

“Meet me at the house in fifteen minutes.”

“Give me thirty. I want to go home and put on some comfortable clothes.”

“You mean I don't get to see you looking all sexy in your work clothes?”

I giggled. “Don't play with me. See you in a bit.”

It didn't make sense how much better I felt all of a sudden.

I drove home and changed into some jeans and a T-shirt and quickly got back into the car to go see Isaiah.

When I pulled up at the house and rang the doorbell, Isaiah opened the door and pulled me into his arms. His hug seemed to take away all my anxiety, fears, and frustrations about what was about to happen next in my life.

I pulled away from him. I barely knew this guy and didn't need to be letting him comfort me like that. “I can't believe this happened. I don't even—”

He held up a hand. “We'll talk about that later. Come on. Let's go have some fun.”

He led me to the garage and helped me climb up into the Hummer.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To have some fun. Didn't you hear me?” He pulled out of the garage and wheeled down the street.

“Where?”

He frowned. “Tell me you're not one of those women who has to know everything all the time.”

I laughed. “I'm a producer. We're control freaks.”

“I'ma need you to dig up your spontaneous side and relax.”

I decided to chill and give in to whatever Isaiah had on his mind to cheer me up. Before I knew it, he was pulling into a parking spot. I glanced at the sign on the door he had parked in front of and frowned. “An arcade? Why did you bring me here?”

“Because when I finish beating you at Pac-Man, you'll forget all about your job troubles.”

My mouth fell open. I couldn't help but laugh. “You think so?” I looked him up and down. “Please. In your dreams.”

When we walked into the arcade, it took me a second to adjust to the flashing lights, loud music, and shooting, crashing, and beeping sounds.

The Pac-Man game was being held hostage by two belligerent-looking teenagers, but Ms. Pac-Man was free and clear. Isaiah had no idea what he was in for. It was my favorite game as a teenager. I beat him so bad, it was shameful.

Next, we played this interactive dance game, and he impressed everyone in the place with his fancy footwork. I had to let him get his ego back after the Ms. Pac-Man thing, so I let him beat me on the race car driving game. We finished up with a few games of pool.

Next, Isaiah took me out to a ranch his friends owned in Ellenwood, to ride horses. Who knew horseback riding was difficult? Either my horse didn't like me, or there was some skill to it I couldn't seem to master. I finally got on the horse with Isaiah, and we had a great time riding.

We went back to the house, and he told me to go home, shower, change and come back in an hour. He said he had one more place to take me.

When I got back, we got into the Hummer and set out for another adventure. We drove up to a huge mansion in Buckhead.

I began to wonder who Isaiah was. All day, he had great favor everywhere we went. At the arcade, he seemed to be best friends with the owner, and the guy gave him this funny coin-key thing and we played all the games for free. At the horseback riding place, we rode for hours, and the guy refused to let Isaiah give him any money.

And now we were sitting outside a mansion, in a Hummer.

When we walked in, once again, Isaiah got a warm reception. There were about eight people there, sitting in a large entertainment room. They all had the same artsy-fartsy look Isaiah had. Dreads and afros, T-shirts with slogans, worn jeans, hand-crafted jewelry. A few of the people sitting around had guitars.

One girl, wearing a long flowing skirt, a tie-dye top and large silver hoop earrings, was painting at an easel. Another guy, with long thick dreads, had a large African drum between his legs. A few people were scribbling in notebooks, and one was typing on a laptop.

The house was gorgeous with beautiful dark hardwood floors, high ceilings and large windows. It was decorated modern art deco with art, masks, and sculptures that looked like they came from all over the world.

“Guys, this is my friend, Michelle. Michelle, this is everyone.”

They all laughed. Everyone came up and introduced themselves to me one by one. They were a blur of names and faces. One girl had so many piercings, she looked like she hurt. A girl with a Mohawk afro eyed me up and down while shaking my hand. I wondered if she had a thing for Isaiah or whether they had dated in the past. It looked like it cost her everything to give me the strained, fake smile she plastered on her face. And when she lingered for a few minutes and looked like she was about to say something, Isaiah came over and struck up a conversation with her.

The painter girl must have witnessed the interaction and sauntered over to where I was. “Don't mind Sanitha. She wants Isaiah, and he don't want her. She's harmless though.” She looked me up and down too, but more so with curiosity. She held out a hand. “I'm Naya. It's good to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “Michelle. Good to meet you too.”

“You hungry? We got a spread in the kitchen. Everybody cooked.” She beckoned for me to follow as she sashayed into the kitchen. Her almost-bald, natural cut was perfect for her heart-shaped face and huge fawn eyes. She handed me a plate. “Mostly everything is vegetarian. There's wine or juice if you want.”

She stood, watching me fix my plate. I felt like she wanted to ask me a question. I smiled at her. “What?”

She laughed. “Nothing. Isaiah's never brought a girl before. In fact, I've never seen him with anyone. If he weren't so into God, I would have started to wonder.” She picked up a carrot off a vegetable tray. “You must be something special. You a singer?”

I shook my head, heaping my plate with hummus and raw vegetables. “Television producer.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you're the girl doing that independent artist show?”

I nodded, wondering what else Isaiah had said about me and what his relationship was with this girl.

“Don't believe a word she says about me. It's all lies.” Isaiah came in from the entertainment room, smiling. He hugged the girl. “Hey, baby sister. How are you?”

“I'm good.” She looked at me and back at him. “She's beautiful—inside and out. Don't mess up.” She gave Isaiah a kiss on the cheek and left the room.

He laughed. “You okay? I see you found the food.”

“Yeah, Naya took good care of me.”

He walked over and peeked into the entertainment room. “Hurry up and come back in. You don't want to miss anything.”

I finished piling my plate with some fried plantains, black beans, and brown rice, grabbed a cup of juice and joined Isaiah in the other room.

He scooted over to share a seat with me on an ottoman. He pulled out his guitar and started strumming some chords. The guy on the keyboard joined in, as did the other guy on guitar. The guy with the African drum added a nice rhythm.

The impromptu jam session went on for hours. At times, people joined in to sing, making up lyrics as they went along. Other times, different people on the instruments soloed. They stopped between songs to laugh and talk. Naya danced her cute little self all over the room. I thought she would pass out. I could tell she had studied dance.

I kicked myself for not bringing a camera. This would have been a perfect addition to my
Indie Artist
show.

And then it hit me. I might not have an
Indie Artist
show. I might not even have a job. I let out a deep breath. Isaiah had done a good job of distracting me. I hadn't thought about it all day.

He must have felt my sigh. He stopped playing guitar, leaned over and squeezed my leg. “You okay?”

I put on a smile and nodded. “Yeah, this is fun. I was thinking how great this would be for the show, but then I realized . . .”

He looked into my eyes. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise. You'll have your show and many others after it. You're gonna run that station one day. And if not that one, your own. God is going to make you the queen of black television because you have His heart.” He rubbed my back.

I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Isaiah.” I felt my heart tumbling. It scared me. I hadn't felt that in a long time, and I knew it was too early to be feeling it.

Everyone gave me big hugs like I was part of the family when we were leaving. Nobody else seemed to be leaving, even though it was almost one in the morning.

“How long will they stay there playing and singing?” I asked Isaiah as he helped me up into the Hummer.

“They all live there. It's sort of like an artist commune. The house belongs to Nigel—the guy on the keyboard. He used to be a big corporate America investment banker. He made a huge chunk of money and retired and came back to his first love—music. He loves to support young, starving artists. Anyone he selects can stay there as long as they need to, as long as they're producing art on a daily basis.”

“That's a cool idea.” I let my window down to enjoy the brisk night air.

“Yeah. Nigel's great.” Isaiah rubbed my arm. “You had a good day?”

I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. A great day. You made me forget. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

We drove back to the house listening to a Bob Marley CD. I fell asleep listening to
Redemption Song
.

I woke up as Isaiah pulled into the garage.

He walked me out to my car. “You gonna be okay getting home? I shouldn't have kept you out so late. I would let you crash in the guest room, but I know you're a church girl, so you'd say no.”

I smiled. The weird thing was, I didn't want to leave. He made me feel so safe and peaceful, yet giddy inside. I thought of Angela talking about not wanting to be far away from Gary and understood. Of course, the next thing that popped into my mind was that she was pregnant.

“You're absolutely right. I better go. Thanks again, Isaiah. I had a great day.”

He gave me one of those hugs. I buried my head in his chest and tried not to think about Rayshawn, BTV, and Ms. Carter. I let out a deep breath and relaxed further into his chest. I felt like I could stay there all night, but knew I had to let him go before I decided that sleeping in the guest room would be okay.

When I pulled away, he grabbed both my hands and bowed his head. “God, I thank you that Michelle is Your daughter and You're a good Father who takes care of His children. I thank You that she has nothing to worry about because You've already got it worked out. I thank You that You show yourself mighty on her behalf and move swiftly to straighten this situation out.

“Cause your perfect will to prevail. I thank You that you're removing everyone that stands against You and Your Kingdom purposes and that You elevate those that represent You and Your interests. Give Michelle the peace that surpasses understanding, so she won't waste a moment in worry. Take her to a new place of faith and dependence on you through this situation and give her a divine revelation of Your love for her. In Jesus' name.”

He kissed me on my forehead. And then my right cheek. And then my left cheek. And then a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. And then he pulled me into another hug.

I kissed his cheek and leaned my head against his shoulder. We both sighed at the same time and then laughed.

“I better go.” I pulled away from him and opened the car door.

“Yeah, you better.” He stood back as I got into the car, then closed the door behind me.

Before I left, he said, “God is going to work this out quickly. Don't even bother to look for another job. You're going back to BTV with a promotion. Until you get the phone call, relax and have fun, okay? No worries.”

I eyed him to see whether he was being encouraging, but he had such a conviction in his eyes, I took it as a word from God. I nodded. “Okay. No worries.”

He grinned. “I'm making myself available to show you the time of your life until you go back to work. Call me when you wake up.”

I smiled and started up the car. “Good night, Isaiah. Thanks again.”

O
f course, I called Isaiah as soon as I woke up. And, of course, we hung out again. In fact, for the next few days, we were almost inseparable.

On Tuesday night, we went to the jam session at Sugar Hill, then stayed out until about four in the morning at IHOP, talking. I slept most of Wednesday. Then he cooked dinner for me at his house, and we went to the jam session at Apache and stayed out until about three in the morning.

On Thursday, I caught up on sleep until early evening, and then we went back to Nigel's house for another jam session. Everywhere we went, Isaiah was well-loved and knew everybody. We got in free everywhere, and the bartenders wouldn't even let him pay for our sodas. He performed each night, and I felt myself falling further and further.

On Friday afternoon, after recovering from another late night out, I sat in the middle of my bed, trying to sort out my feelings. It seemed too easy for Isaiah to stroll into my life, just like that, and be the one. I needed to talk to God about it. We hadn't talked much over the past few days. I realized spending so much time with Isaiah had me spending less time with God.

“So, God, what do you think of Isaiah?”

After I said it, it seemed like a dumb question. I could imagine God saying, “He's my son. I love him. What do you think?”

I rephrased my question. “What do you think of Isaiah for me?” I thought of the prayer Lisa said her friend had prayed. “God, I really like him a lot. But you know him, and you know me. I ask that if he's not Your best for me, that You reveal it. Bring this thing to a screeching halt. Expose whatever it is I need to know about him to realize he's not the one. If he is the one, make us grow closer and closer. In Jesus' name.” I thought about Angela and added one last thought. “And if he is the one, please show me how to keep it holy. My relationship with You is more important than anything, and as much as I want to get married and have babies, it's not worth losing You.”

I lay back on the bed. He didn't say anything. Of course, with me feeling so giddy and mushy, yet scared and confused inside, it would be difficult for me to hear anything if He did talk. I had to trust that the circumstances would work out.

I tried to pray about my job, but it was another one of those times where God didn't answer but I felt His peace. Isaiah's words flooded my spirit. It wouldn't be long before I had my job back with a promotion. “I hope that's true, God. I hope I haven't been foolishly falling in love when I should have been looking for a new job.”

A week wouldn't hurt though. After the financial devastation of my divorce, I had lived poor for a while so I could save money. I planned never to be desperate and broke again. I could live for a good six months without working.

I awoke about an hour later to my cell phone ringing. It was Erika's office line. I answered it quickly. “Yeah, girl. What's up?”

“You lazy bum. You sound like you were 'sleep. Get up, get dressed and get here. Ms. Carter wants to talk to you.”

 

In less than an hour, I walked into Ms. Carter's office. Quite unlike her character, she greeted me with a hug. Her confident smile was back. She gestured for me to take a seat.

“Michelle, I have to say thank you. You challenged me to do the right thing, and I really got to see God in action. Like you said, He worked everything out for our good and for the good of the station. I will continue as VP of programming, and everything will go forward as planned with the fall lineup. I won't go into the particulars, but know that Rayshawn is no longer a part of BTV.”

My eyes widened.

Ms. Carter nodded. “I trust you had a good little vacation, because it's time to get back to work. I hope you're up for the added responsibility, because I'm going to have you finish your shows as senior producer. Mark will answer any questions if you need him to, but for the most part, you're on your own. Think you can handle it?”

“Yes . . . yes, ma'am . . .” I couldn't believe it. Exactly what Isaiah said was unfolding before me. “I can handle it.”

“Good. Well then, get to work. You're four days behind schedule.” She smiled and stood to shake my hand. “Michelle, thanks again. I learned a lot from you challenging me to seek God's will. I know He's got a great future planned for you. Who knows, you may be the one to take my spot when I retire in five years. Imagine how big the station will be by that time. Like you said, for such a time as this . . .”

I smiled. “Thanks, Ms. Carter. I appreciate Him giving me such a great mentor to learn from.” She gave me another hug, and I left her office.

When I got to my office, Jason was there waiting for me. He gave me a big hug. “Welcome back. It was weird being here without you.”

What was it with everyone and the hugging today? “Thanks, Jason. Glad to be back.”

“Congrats. I heard the news. I told you it wouldn't be long.”

Erika came rushing in. “Hey, girl. Or should I say
senior producer
?” She gave me a hug. “Girl, we missed you. You must have been doing some serious praying. I'm glad God listens to you. Maybe I need to give you a list of things to pray about for me.”

I laughed.

Jason's cell phone rang. He frowned. “It's my daughters' school. I'll be right back.” He answered the phone on the way out of my office.

Erika sat down in my office chair. “Okay, I know you hate gossip, but this is good gossip. Did you hear what happened?”

“Ms. Carter told me that everything is as it should be. She'll continue on as VP, I'm being promoted to senior producer, and Rayshawn is no longer here.”

Erika shook her head and rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed by my lack of information. “Girl, Let me give you the whole scoop. Ms. Carter and the other VP's got together and decided they needed to get rid of Rayshawn to keep the station from going straight to hell. They scheduled a meeting with the board and the other station owners and told them what was going on. They decided that Rayshawn's relationship with the station owner was jeopardizing everything we've all worked hard for. They met with the station owner and convinced him that his lack of judgment was a risk to everything they had planned the station to be. They strongly recommended that he sell his interest in the station and move on to avoid legal proceedings.”

Erika leaned forward in the chair like she did when the gossip got good to her. “And he agreed. He's usually an arrogant, stubborn man who doesn't like to be told what to do, but he signed the papers without putting up a fight.”

All I could do was nod.

“So, yesterday, Ms. Carter called Rayshawn in and told her she was no longer needed at BTV. Girl, she lost the last little piece of mind she had left. Security had to drag her out kicking and screaming. The only reason she didn't get arrested was Ms. Carter told them not to.”

My mouth fell open.

“Yeah, girl. It was crazy.” Erika was obviously pleased that her gossip was getting a good response. “Here's the real kicker. Do you know what made Ms. Carter set up all the meetings in the first place?”

For some reason, I felt the need to prove to Erika that I knew something about something. “I talked to her before I left and told her to fight the changes Rayshawn was trying to bring.”

“That might have been part of it, but there was more.” Erika popped her head out the door, looked right and left and then shut my door and sat down. “Like I said, this is good gossip. After you got sent home, Jason got upset—mad really. He went to Rayshawn's office and got into it with her real bad. I've never seen him like that. Can you imagine Jason yelling? Anyway, she ended up grabbing him and trying to kiss him or some madness like that.”

My eyes widened.

“Yeah, girl. Completely crazy. Jason marched to Ms. Carter's office and told her about it and all the times Rayshawn tried to sex him up in the past. He said that if something wasn't done about her, he'd be filing sexual harassment charges against her. Then he got together with some of the editors and producers, and they all decided that if Rayshawn took over, everybody would walk out all at once. There was no way we could have shows ready by fall, and the station would go down. You should have seen him.”

I was floored. Jason had risked his job to save mine? Knowing he had two daughters to feed and debt from his ex-wife hanging over his head? It was more than saving my job, though. It was about saving the station.

“Erika, how do you know all this stuff? Do you have every office in this place bugged?”

“Girl, don't ask me about my sources. If I tell you, I have to kill you.”

We both laughed.

“Well, girl, we better get back to work. We got some days to make up,” I said.

“Yes, ma'am. I's getting to it. Congratulations, Michelle. And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being a good example. Watching the way God works things out for you makes me wonder if I should try to do better. You know, be a Christian and pray and go to church and all that stuff. If it works for you, it might just work for me. God knows I can use some changes in my life.”

I hugged her. “He's got you, Erika. More than you know. And you're welcome to come to church with me anytime. Let me know.”

“I will,” Erika said as she turned and left my office.

Jason came back in. “Sorry about that. Cameron's teacher called. She got sick and threw up all over the place. I hate to cut out now, but I need to go pick her up.”

“Sure, Jason. No problem. And thanks. Erika told me what you did. I think you're crazy, risking your job like that, but I'm grateful that you did.”

“Yeah, I guess all your talk about changing black television has gotten to me. I couldn't let it go down like that. No telling what kinda stuff we would have been producing with Rayshawn in charge. And I didn't like the thought of working here without you. We need you.”

I felt my face turning red. “Thanks, Jason. I hope Cameron is okay. Call me if you need anything.” Not that I would know what to do with a sick child.

“I will. Thanks.”

After he left, I sat at my desk for a few minutes.
God, You never cease to amaze me. Thanks. I promise I'll make You proud.

I picked up the phone to call Isaiah.

When he answered, he said, “I see you're calling me from your office phone. I take that to mean God did exactly what He promised.”

“Yep. It happened just like you said. You're speaking to the newest senior producer at BTV.” I explained how everything went down. Without thinking, I told him about Jason's part in it.

“I told you he liked you.”

I couldn't tell whether he was amused or annoyed. “It wasn't about him liking me, Isaiah. It was about the station. He didn't want to work for Rayshawn and watch the station go downhill.”

“Okay. If that's the way you see it. Anyway, congratulations. I'm proud of you and happy for you. I knew God would work it out. I'm glad I got some time in with you when I could. You'll be working overtime now, huh?”

“Yeah, things are about to get pretty busy. I'd still like to spend time with you, though. Maybe late tomorrow afternoon?”

“Can't tomorrow. I'm moving.”

“Moving?” I got up to close my door then sat back down at my desk. “You sold your house?”

“My house?” He laughed. “That's not my house. You thought that was my house? No way.”

“No way? What do you . . . it's not . . .”

He laughed again. “I guess I should have explained. It's my sister's house. I was house-sitting for her while she and her family are in Nigeria visiting my parents. They've been gone for a month and didn't want to leave their house empty. They have enough room for me to stay there when they get back, but me and her husband don't get along. He thinks I'm a bum that doesn't want to work and support myself. He's always making some cracks about me living off people.”

My head was spinning. “So that's her house? And her Hummer?” I winced as I realized I sounded like a gold-digger.

“Yeah. I can't believe you thought they were mine. I told you I wasn't a materialistic person attached to stuff like that. Why would I say that if I owned that big house and that obnoxious car?”

“I wondered that myself. It didn't seem to fit.” As a sinking feeling settled into my stomach, I remembered my prayer that morning. “So, where are you moving to?”

“Nigel's place. The house I took you to in Buckhead. He's been trying to get me to move there for months, but I wouldn't because Sanitha was staying there—the girl with the Mohawk you met. She's leaving for New York and is moving out this weekend. So God worked things out for me perfectly because my sister and her family will be back Sunday evening.”

I sat there silent, processing everything.

“Michelle?”

“Yeah, I'm here. I'm . . . just thinking . . .”

“That's why I told you about my lifestyle on our first date. You seemed okay with it. Is this a problem?” He sounded worried.

“It's not a problem. It's . . . not what I expected.”

“I see. You thought I was some rich musician with a huge house and fancy car. Does this change things between us? I'd still like to see you. I'm enjoying getting to know you.”

“I'm enjoying getting to know you too, Isaiah.” Erika buzzed my other phone line. “I need to take this call. I promise I'll call soon. Or you call me when you're finished moving, and we can get together.”