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Authors: Cheris Hodges

BOOK: Too Hot for TV
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Raymond shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “I'm in no hurry to settle down because when I get married, I plan to do it once.”
“You know what they say about the best laid plans,” Keith said, then drained his drink. “That was pretty good. Call your girl over so I can get another one. Being that I don't rate on her radar.”
Raymond caught the bartender's eye and waved her over. “Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“He needs a refill and I need to know your name,” Raymond said. He could tell by the wide grin on her face that he would get that invitation Keith had alluded to.
“Namina,” she replied as she picked up a cocktail napkin and scribbled her number on it. “I'm off in three hours.” Before he could reply, another customer called her away.
Keith punched Raymond on the arm. “And you claim you're looking for the one,” he said.
Raymond turned around and grinned at his friend. “I didn't say I was looking for her right this minute.”
Before Keith could reply, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled the phone out and saw it was Celeste, he excused himself from the bar.
Namina walked over to Raymond with a smile on her plump lips. “So, you know my name. What's yours?” she asked.
“Raymond.”
“Are you going to use that number tonight?”
“We'll see,” he replied, returning her smile. “But it's looking that way.”
She leaned in closer to him and stared into his emerald eyes. “You have beautiful eyes, but I'm sure you've heard that before.”
“Yes, but it sounds great coming from a beautiful woman like you.”
“What is it that you do?”
“I'm a doctor at a free clinic,” he said.
Namina cocked her head to the side. “That doesn't sound really profitable.”
Great,
he thought,
she's another one of those.
His attraction to the bartender was waning. While he thought about telling her that he made more than a bartender, he just took another sip of his drink. He wouldn't be using that number after all. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Keith making his way through the crowd.
“You know what,” he said to her. “I'm going to have to take off. My friend has to get home to his wife.”
“Umm,” she said, obviously showing that she'd lost interest in him because his job didn't reach her expectations. Raymond rose from the bar stool and met Keith.
“What's up, man?” Keith asked. “I figured you and the bartender would be sucking face by now.”
“Funny. Is everything all right with Celeste?”
“Yes. She was just wondering what time I'm coming home tonight, so I'm going to make it an early evening. She's been watching the Food Network again and wants to feed me,” Keith said, then glanced over at the bar. “What's up with you and Hot Lips, the bartender?”
“She's not interested in a doctor who works at a free clinic. As if we were building a relationship tonight,” Raymond said as he shook his head.
“Maybe you'll meet your wife on the show and she'll bake cookies and bring them by the clinic,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Yeah right. I know Celeste has you watching those reality shows. It's probably going to be another crop of women like Namina. Looking for the big bucks instead of a quality relationship. Let's break,” he said.
“At least you're heading to paradise tomorrow and we can keep the clinic open for another month when you get your check from the studio. You still have nothing to complain about. I have to go home and pretend dinner's good.”
Raymond laughed and nodded. “You're right. I'm going to go home and eat something I know will be good—a slice from John's.”
“You really make me sick right now,” Keith said as he and Raymond headed for the subway.
 
 
Imani tugged at her hair, deciding that she hated her relaxer. She was going out of her mind sitting in her house doing nothing.
Hard to go out when you're broke,
she thought as she pulled her hair down again. Since her cable had been disconnected, she was stuck with three channels and she'd grown tired of the reality shows that every network seemed to be showing. There was a cooking reality show, a reality show where people ate rats, and then there were all of the relationship shows. Reaching for her phone, Imani decided to call Dana and see if her friend wanted to do anything that would get her body out of her house and her mind off her upcoming trip to Hawaii. Of course that trip would've been amazing if she was going to film a real movie or a real series. But no, she was going to be on a reality show.
“Yes, Imani?” Dana said when she answered the phone.
“What are you doing? Don't you want to get out of the house this evening?”
“Who's the director that we're chasing tonight?” Dana asked with a laugh.
“No one,” Imani said. “But I want to go to Broadway.”
“Not another Imani pity fest,” she groaned. “That, I'm not interested in.”
“Come on. I'm going to be away from my city for at least ten weeks. I need to soak up some Manhattan, eat some street meat or maybe a slice from somewhere. You know the kind that is just oozing with cheese.”
“And how are you paying for this?”
“Another reason why I called you,” Imani said with a laugh. “As long as I owe you, you will never go broke.”
“All right, Imani, I'll meet you at the station,” Dana said. “But the moment you start lamenting about why your name isn't in the lights on Broadway, I'm gone.”
“Oh, you're such a good friend,” Imani quipped.
“Wear sensible shoes,” Dana said, then hung up.
Imani glanced at the four-inch-heeled Steve Madden booties she'd pulled out of her closet. They were sensible enough, she thought as she slipped the shoes on. After all, she'd been sitting down all day. And Imani always had a dream of being discovered on the streets of New York. That's why she never walked outside without looking camera-ready. She knew Dana was going to laugh at her when she saw her slinky Napa leather dress and booties, but she'd also have to admit that Imani looked damned good.
Grabbing her purse, which only held three dollars and her identification, but matched her outfit perfectly, Imani dashed out the door. As she walked to the subway station, she ignored the catcalls from the brothers hanging out on the stoops she passed. But she did put an extra twist in her hips as she strolled to show those men what they would never have a chance at enjoying, touching, or seeing live and in living color—unless they bought a ticket to her Broadway show.
When Imani arrived at the station, Dana shook her head and laughed when she looked at Imani's outfit and shoes. “Always camera-ready. Hollywood is going to love you when you make it,” she said. “The paps, not so much, because it's going to be hard to get a bad picture of you.”
Imani twirled around. “I know. I'm guessing leather isn't going to go over well in Hawaii, so I had to wear this dress tonight.”
“Tell me something,” Dana asked as the train approached. “What's sensible about those shoes?”
“They make my legs look good.”
“All of this to eat a hot dog? You're a trip.”
Imani shrugged her shoulders and smiled as they stepped on the train to Manhattan. A group of men sitting next to the doors stood up and gladly gave Imani and Dana their seats. She smiled sweetly at them and turned to Dana. “Gentlemen still exist,” she said, then crossed her legs at the ankle. One of the men tapped the other one on the side.
“We don't even get a damned peek,” he said in a loud whisper.
“Real princes,” Dana replied.
Imani shook her head and told Dana that they should get off at the next stop. “We can get a hot dog from anywhere,” Imani said as she tugged at the tail of her dress, which did little to cover her thighs.
“What about the Broadway stroll?”
“We can skip it. Hopefully when I get back from Hawaii, I will be on my way to being a star.”
“From your mouth to God's ear,” Dana said as the women rose from their seats and waited for the train to come to a complete stop.
Chapter 4
Raymond polished off his last slice of cheese pizza and leaned back in the chair, still wondering if going on this show was a serious mistake. Sure, the money would help save the clinic, but was it smart to put his face on national TV pretending that he wanted a wife?
On the other hand, he surmised, it was a free trip to Hawaii. And that was a far cry from New York. Yes, he loved his city, but he needed a break from all of the noise, the relentless pace. Too bad he had to pretend he wanted to get married to do it.
“Sir,” the waitress asked when she walked over to Raymond, “can I get you another slice?”
Looking at the crusts of the three slices he'd already eaten, he decided that he'd had enough. “I'm ready for the check,” he said. “It was great.”
She winked at him. “Well, if I can get you anything off the menu, let me know.”
Raymond nodded, but wasn't interested. Though the waitress was just as attractive as the bartender who'd shot him down earlier, a one-night stand was not the send-off he wanted before going to Hawaii. As he waited for the check, Raymond wondered what happened to the days when men actually had to work for a woman and not have sex offered to the highest bidder.
Everybody's a call girl these days,
he thought as the waitress handed him his check and a napkin with her phone number written on it. Raymond thought about wrapping his tip in the napkin, but deciding that he liked the pizza here too much to piss off the staff, he left the money for the bill and the tip on the table and stuffed the napkin in his pocket. He could toss it out later, he decided, as he waved at the waitress and headed for the door.
When he made it out into the street, he ran into a woman he'd never wanted to see again—his ex, Mena Harrison. He wasn't surprised to see that she was draped in diamonds and had her arms wrapped around a well-dressed man who looked as if he had enough money to keep her happy—for a while at least.
“Raymond,” she said, squeezing her mate's bicep tighter. “
Quelle
surprise. I learned that when Harrod and I went to Paris last year. How've you been? Still trying to save the sick?”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “Some of us do care about other people.”
Harrod cleared his throat as if he was waiting for an introduction. Mena flung her expensive extensions back and said, “Raymond, this is Harrod Wagner, Wall Street broker with the firm Smith Barney, and my fiancé.” She elbowed him in his side, prompting Harrod to extend his hand to Raymond.
As the men shook hands, Raymond said, “I hope you know what you're getting into and that you're recession proof.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Harrod asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Thought you should know, she's a gold digger. You guys have a good night,” he said, walking away from the couple. They stood motionless on the sidewalk with their mouths wide open.
As he headed to the subway, Raymond thought about his relationship with Mena, how they'd met at a bachelor auction and how impressed he'd been with the caramel-skinned beauty with auburn hair and a slight English accent. She'd been impressed—at first, anyway—because Raymond had MD behind his name. Their first date, some four years ago, had been dinner at Maroons, because she'd seen it profiled on G. Garvin's cooking show. He should've known after that first encounter that she wasn't the one for him. All Mena talked about was the people she knew, the Broadway shows she'd attended, and how she was hoping to make a lot of money through her marketing company. Had she not been dressed in a tight low-cut dress that showed off her fantastic cleavage and toned thighs, he would've left her sitting at the table alone. But as she smiled at him and placed her hand on top of his, all he'd been able to think was how he could talk her out of that tiny dress.
The night had ended just as he'd hoped, in her bed in the Village. She had been a minx in bed and that's why they'd wasted two years together. No matter how he'd tried to explain why he wanted to run a free clinic and not get into a private practice, she didn't get it.
She didn't understand his dedication to helping people with his medical knowledge rather than making money. That rift in their relationship never healed and they drifted apart. When they broke up, he didn't even care that the relationship was over. Raymond wanted a relationship, but it wasn't his main focus. He needed a woman in his life who could understand his commitment to his community. But it seemed that the women he met in New York were only about the almighty dollar. He didn't want to paint all women with the same broad brush. He was sure there had to be women out there who wanted something more than money.
Raymond didn't mind that he was going home alone tonight. But he hoped with all his heart that his cynical side could be proven wrong.
 
 
Imani took a big bite of her hot dog as she and Dana headed down Broadway. “I can't believe Papaya still has fifty-cent hot dogs.”
“You're lucky that they do,” Dana replied as she wiped relish from her hand with a napkin. “Who would've thought that this is how we'd spend a Friday night in New York.”
Imani swallowed her food and raised her eyebrow at her friend. “It's hard to have fun when you're broke.”
“That's not what I'm talking about. I love you, Mani, but I'm tired of spending my weekends with you. I need to do something different, experience the New York that I dreamed about when I was in Savannah.”
Imani tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Bright lights, big city.”
“Excitement and romance.”
“I never came to New York for romance,” Imani said, then took another bite of her hot dog.
“Yes, fame is your lover,” Dana said. “But with all the men in this city, why are we still single?”
“I don't know about you, but I'm single because once a man figures out that I'm not going to hop into his bed, he loses interest. And you won't believe how many men tell me that I'm wasting my time with acting and if I had a real job, I could find a man. What happened to men who supported your dreams and encouraged you?” Imani asked as she kicked off her left shoe.
Dana rolled her eyes and tossed her half-eaten hot dog in the trash. “They died, got married, or never existed anyway.”
“That's horrible,” Imani said as she picked up her shoe and slipped it back on her foot. “I really thought by now I'd be wearing Jimmy Choos.”
Dana shook her head. “Well, if you win the million dollars on the show, you will not only have the money to buy Jimmy Choos, but you'll have that supportive husband that America wants you to have.”
“Please,” Imani said with a finger snap. “I am not trying to win on this show. But I will show off my phenomenal acting skills. If the man they team me up with falls in love, I feel sorry for him.”
“That's the Imani I know and love—career first and everything else be damned,” Dana said as she looked down at her watch. “We'd better get moving.”
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight. Who knows what Hawaii is going to be like, or these other contestants?” Imani said as she pulled the bread from around her hot dog and dropped it in the trash can. “Hopefully, I'll be able to work out and drop those ten pounds the camera adds. Then, I will be able to get another superhero role.”
“And that's why I'm behind the camera. Imani, your figure is fine, and if you lose any more weight, you're going to be unrecognizable. Kind of like Lindsay Lohan when she went blond and lost all the curves that made her a star.”
“Please don't compare my career to hers. She's a train wreck, in and out of rehab. Didn't
Law and Order
do a ripped-from-the-headlines story based on her life? Ugh, I was so hoping that I'd get a cameo on that show and then NBC ups and moves it to Los Angeles.”
“Why haven't you moved to LA?” Dana asked as she and her friend started walking toward the station.
“Please, I can't afford New York. Imagine me in LA without you? Who would buy me hot dogs there?”
“I'm keeping a running tab of what you owe me,” Dana joked. “You're either going to pay me back when you get your first big paying gig or thank me when you win your first Oscar.”
“You got it. And I promise you—you're going to shoot my first magazine layout. Eat your heart out, Annie Leibovitz,” Imani shouted as the train pulled into the station and the two hopped on.
“How are you getting to the airport in the morning?” Dana asked as they took a seat on the nearly empty train.
“I would say I'm taking a cab, but—”
“What time does your flight leave?”
“Seven.”
“And we stayed out this late because?”
Imani shrugged. “Because we live in the city that never sleeps!”
“If this acting thing doesn't work out for you, you should really look into working for the tourism board,” Dana joked.
“Ha, ha. Hell, if this show doesn't do everything that Edward says it's going to do for my career, I might have to see if they are hiring,” Imani said as she chewed on her bottom lip. “I don't want to give up my dream.”
“Don't. But be realistic. If you have to get a real job, don't let pride stop you.”
“I'm hoping that doesn't happen,” Imani said. “That's why I'm going to make this reality show one long audition tape.”
“Only you would say that,” Dana said with a laugh. “I like that, though. When you become the next Meryl Streep, I'm putting that in the biography that I write about you.”
“As long as you include pictures that capture my best side,” she said. Imani crossed her legs and leaned back on the seat. She wanted to close her eyes and imagine Dana snapping photos of her for a spread in
Elle
magazine after she won the best actress award for a movie that starred Denzel Washington and Idris Elba. Double fine and her ultimate dream. But the way the man seated a few feet over on the bench had been inching closer and closer to her, closing her eyes and dreaming about her future was not a good idea.
“Your eyes are glossing over,” Dana said as she glanced at her friend. “Denzel or Idris?”
Imani turned to her friend, gave her a camera-ready smile, then said, “Both.”
“You're crazy and I hope if that movie ever happens, you get cast in it.”
“Yes, because I was ready to get some kind of role in
American Gangster.
Unfortunately, when most casting directors look at me, they see
Fearless Diva
and “Flop” with a capital F written all over my face.”
“I thought I knew you,” the old man said, hopping into Imani and Dana's conversation. “That movie sucked.”
“Excuse me,” Imani snapped. “I guess you feel the same way about soap and water.”
The man folded his arms across his chest. “Your movie stunk worse than my ass ever will.” He rose from his seat and headed to the other end of the train.
Imani closed her eyes and shook her head while Dana fought with her laughter and lost.
“That movie wasn't that bad,” Imani said weakly. “But who is he to say—”
“Give it up, Imani. That movie was the biggest mistake of your career.”
“Do you think this is another one?”
Dana shrugged. “Have you seen how reality shows are making nobodies stars these days? Imani, you're talented, there is no doubt about that. But people have to get past that movie. This show could be a step in that direction.”
Imani nodded. “One more question,” she asked.
“Umm. What?”
“Do you really think I have what it takes to be a star or should I listen to my parents and give it up and get a real job?”
“Absolutely not. Imani, you're good at what you do, your material for your movie wasn't great, but you can't allow other people to tell you what to dream and how big to dream,” she said. “If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be doing my thing now. So, I'm going to support you, until you are on Broadway or on the big screen in a movie that doesn't suck.”
“See, Dana, that's why I love you,” Imani said.
“Umm, I think you love me because I have a car and unlimited patience with you,” Dana replied as the train reached their stop.
“You'd better be nice to me or I won't bring you a lei,” Imani said.
“How about you better be nice to me or you won't make it to the airport?”
“Good point,” she said as she and Dana broke into a fit of laughter.
As they walked to Dana's car, Imani took a deep breath of the New York air. Tomorrow, she'd embark on that journey to fame and fortune.
When the women arrived at Imani's, they were both tired, but as Imani walked inside, retrieved a blanket, sheet, and pillow for Dana, she didn't dare think about going to sleep. Her excitement about heading to Hawaii was overwhelming her need for rest. Of course, she wasn't fully packed.

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