His mother came back to the phone. “Son,” she said just before she burped loudly. “Son, tell my new daughter we love her dearly. Tell her we’re so happy she came into our lives!”
Chance was staring into Petra’s eyes when his mother said that. Petra was smiling widely. “I love you, too, Mom!” she said into the phone.
Chance heard his mother burst into tears.
“Son,” his father said, “I’m going to say goodbye. Your mother needs me.”
“Talk to you later, Dad,” Chance said, and hung up. He smiled at Petra. “I would say they’re happy.”
* * *
A few weeks later, Chance had moved in to Petra’s apartment and given up his place. He proposed buying property farther south, but she made an argument for living in Harlem. There were several brownstones available in the Sugar Hill neighborhood where his parents lived, and when the baby came, they would probably be grateful family was so close by.
Since he’d agreed with her, they were temporarily living in her apartment until they bought and renovated a brownstone in Sugar Hill, which Chance estimated would take them about six months, or more. Just in time to bring the baby home from the hospital.
In the meantime, they began planning a combined party to celebrate both their marriage and the arrival of their child. Three months after their baby’s birth, they would have a party in their Harlem brownstone, inviting family and friends. This, Petra believed would satisfy their families’ desire for a traditional wedding, plus welcome a new family member simultaneously.
It was early December and Petra, who was seeing a doctor on a regular basis now and learned that at the time she found out she was pregnant she was already three months along, was following her doctor’s advice and eating well, exercising moderately and finding her bliss.
Dr. Chrissie DuBois, an African American in her midthirties, was a yoga enthusiast and believed in meditation among other things. She told Petra a mother’s state of mind was as important as what she put into her body while carrying her child. Petra didn’t know if she believed in meditation, but she did believe in prayer and decided there wasn’t that much difference between the two practices. So she started adding a bit of meditation to her prayer in the mornings.
This helped keep her calm when she was obliged to go on television and promote the show on the major networks, not just Youngblood Media’s network. She did all the major morning shows in early December, and afterward, Youngblood Media’s publicist, Elaine Shaw, told her the interviews had gone viral on YouTube. “You made social consciousness look desirable,” she said over the phone one morning as Petra was getting ready to go to downtown Manhattan for a CBS Morning News interview. “Adults are saying you’re bringing back the Good Samaritan principle, where it says we should look out for our fellow man, and kids think the chimpanzees are cute and want to emulate you.”
“I just hope it moves them to action,” Petra told her. Chance had made Jon Berensen a coproducer on the show, and the conservancy’s 800 number would be displayed after each show, telling viewers if they wanted to help the chimpanzees, they could phone that number.
“We’ll know soon,” Elaine said. “The debut is next week.”
She didn’t need to remind Petra. She was terrified. The company had planned a red-carpet event at a theater on Broadway. They were pulling out all the stops. They’d invited key people in New York City who worked in television, film or on the stage.
She and Chance had not given any interviews about their marriage or the fact that they were expecting a baby. However, on the night of the gala, everyone would see them together as a couple. Also, she had a baby bump, so they would know she was expecting, too. It was all nerve-racking, but she tried to take it with a grain of salt. This was her life now, and she would rise to the occasion.
Chapter 14
“Wow,” Chance breathed, admiring Petra in her beautiful white Oscar de la Renta gown. It was an off-the-shoulder creation with a neckline just plunging enough to give him a glimpse of her magnificent breasts. Lately, they’d been even more magnificent, as far as he was concerned. She was wearing the Van Cleef & Arpels necklace he’d given her plus her engagement ring as her only jewelry. The hem of the gown fell just above her ankles, which was perfect for displaying those sexy sandals she was wearing.
“What do you think?” she asked him as they stood in the foyer of the Harlem apartment, preparing to go downstairs and get into the limousine waiting for them.
Her hair was combed back from her forehead in a smooth, straight ebony cascade down her back. Speaking of her back, he walked around her, admiring her in the dress from all angles. It fell like molten silk over her shapely bottom.
He stopped in front of her and said, “What do I think? I think I’m a hell of a lucky guy to be coming home with you tonight, that’s what I think.”
She laughed and reached up to straighten his red bow tie. He was wearing a Tom Ford black tuxedo, the jacket in crushed velvet with satin lapels. The wool slacks were flat-front, and his slip-on, highly shined black leather dress shoes were also by Tom Ford.
“Are you at all nervous?” she asked, peering into his eyes.
“Maybe a little,” he said with a roguish grin. “Nights like this come with the territory, but they’re the least enjoyable part of my job. I get a thrill out of creating something. What I’ve enjoyed most about the process of building a show around your life is getting to know you, Pet. And see you do your thing. That turns me on. That gives me satisfaction. You’ve done so well, from start to finish. Even when you doubted yourself, you gave it your best shot. I’m so proud of you.”
Her eyes were twinkling with delight. “And I’m proud of you,” she said. “I’m so blessed to call you my husband.”
Chance felt close to tears, so he sprang into action and ushered his beautiful wife out the door. “Look at the time! We should be going.”
Petra looked at him with those intelligent eyes of hers. He knew she had his number, but she was letting him slide this time. “Okay, okay,” she said, grabbing her clutch and pashmina off the foyer table.
Chance was pleased to see a sizable crowd at the theater, most of them snapping photos with their cell phones of the celebrities arriving. Some of the notables were even stopping to sign autographs.
As for the professional photographers, anyone getting out of their car to approach the theater was in danger of being blinded by the abundance of flashes coming from cameras.
On the red carpet, where sections had been roped off to provide an easy path into the theater for invited guests and to keep possibly dangerous fans at a safe distance, he and Petra were stopped every few feet by reporters wanting to ask questions.
For this occasion, Chance and Petra were prepared to answer any reasonable questions.
After Chance had already answered several, a female reporter stepped up to them and said, “Good evening, Mr. Youngblood, Ms. Gaines. Charlayne Williams here for Channel 13.”
“Good evening,” Chance said.
“What do you hope to accomplish with a show that focuses on African wildlife when our African American men are being shot down in the streets?” she asked.
Chance could have answered the question, but he chose to defer to Petra. He smiled at her. “Darling, would you care to field that question?”
“I’d love to,” Petra said with a warm smile directed at the reporter.
“Ms. Williams, the show isn’t just about African wildlife. It’s about chimpanzees who are, genetically speaking, as close to a match with us humans as any living thing on earth. These are intelligent creatures who are threatened with extinction. Creatures who do their part every day to help keep us alive by spreading seeds in the jungle that grow into trees, which provide oxygen for every human being on this planet. We hope to educate, elevate and inspire youths about the symbiotic relationship we have with every living or
ganism on this earth. If we step up and get involved, our young people will know that we care enough about them to offer alternatives to the streets. We hope the show will remind people that, on planet Earth, we’re all in this together.”
The reporter looked genuinely impressed. “Thank you, Ms. Gaines, and enjoy your night.”
“Thank you!” said Petra enthusiastically.
And Chance escorted his wife inside the theater, his chest puffed up with pride.
In the theater, seats had been reserved for special guests, which included his family, Petra’s family and close friends.
He and Petra sat down in the front row along with his parents and her parents. Behind them were all of Petra’s sisters and their husbands, Alia and Adam, and Brock with a date. Chance didn’t know his date because Brock hadn’t yet brought her to any family get-togethers. Jon Berensen was there as well. Next to him sat Susie with her boyfriend, Ian.
Soon after they were seated, the lights were doused and the film began on the big screen. The dramatic theme music rose to a crescendo and then lowered into the background so Petra’s voice, as the narrator, could be heard. “Welcome to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a country in Central Africa which has a population of over seventy-five million people and a total area of over nine hundred thousand square miles. It’s a country of contrasts. The Democratic Republic of the Congo has had political unrest since, well, forever. King Leopold the Second of Belgium, who ruled from 1865 to 1909, exploited the Congo for every natural resource within its borders, especially natural rubber. He basically used the Congolese as slave labor to cut down rubber trees on Belgian rubber plantations and process them, and if they didn’t cooperate he had his soldiers cut off their hands. But these were only some of the atrocities committed against the Congolese people.”
Chance was riveted. Not only was Petra a pleasure to watch, her sincerity made what she said have an urgent quality to it. He looked around him. The audience was captivated. He had a gut feeling the show was going to do very well in the ratings.
He observed Petra’s face in the glare of the light reflected off the screen. She had a pained expression on her face, as though she wasn’t quite certain she liked what she saw on the screen. He thought she judged herself much too harshly. He reached over and grasped her hand. She held on to him tightly.
After the film concluded, the audience rose as one and gave it a standing ovation. The lights came up and a podium was brought onto the stage. Several workers quickly set the stage for the question-and-answer session that was to follow shortly thereafter.
Sitting on the chairs onstage would be the director, videographer, writers and the theme song’s composer, as well as he and Petra.
During the question-and-answer session, he was happy the audience was fired up and genuinely interested in the show. That made the experience much more enjoyable.
The moderator was a host from one of the network’s game shows, Rick Walsh, a tall, handsome, thirty-something African American who was impeccably dressed and great at loosening up an audience.
At first the questions were specifically about the content of the show and its origins. The audience wanted to know who had thought of the show’s concept, and Chance was happy to tell them that he’d dreamed up the idea after meeting Petra at the offices of the Bitty Berensen Primate Conservancy. A woman stood up and said, “I remember Bitty Berensen. I used to love watching her TV specials back in the day.”
On a whim, Chance stood up and said, “Then you’re in luck, because we’re honored tonight by the presence of that great lady’s son, Jon Berensen. Jon, won’t you stand up!”
Jon, looking pleasantly surprised, rose from his seat and playfully saluted the woman who had mentioned his mother. He was handsome and debonair, and with that rugged look of an outdoorsman. The lady, who was middle-aged and quite attractive herself, blushed and joked, “Gee, you could be Tarzan’s stunt double!”
“I’ll take that compliment, madam, in the good intent it was given,” Jon said gallantly. “And thank you for remembering my mother so fondly.” Then both he and the woman sat down.
“Jon is a coproducer with the show,” Chance informed the audience. “Petra did research for the Bitty Berensen Primate Conservancy for years, and it was through them that we met.”
He saw no reason to bring up why he had been at the meeting that day: to help solve the conservancy’s financial problems. Jon had recently told him there had been a resurgence in donations and the conservancy was back on steady legs. He was happy for him.
Another woman stood, and Chance saw that it was the same reporter from Channel 13 whose question Petra had answered earlier that evening on the red carpet. “I noticed something interesting,” she said. “You and Ms. Gaines are wearing matching wedding bands—nice engagement ring, by the way—and you arrived together tonight. A while ago there was a rumor that you and she had eloped to Las Vegas. Is there any truth to that rumor, Mr. Youngblood?”
Chance and Petra had discussed the possibility that the subject of their marital status might come up tonight, and they’d agreed that if it did, they would come out of hiding to the world. Therefore, he turned and gestured to Petra to join him. She rose and they held hands as he announced, “Petra and I were indeed married in Las Vegas several weeks ago. But if any network is going to get the exclusive story, it’ll be ours!”
There was thunderous applause. Everyone, apparently, enjoyed a good love story. People stood up, and one woman down front started dancing in the aisle. It was Virginia Gaines, Petra’s mother. “I have a question for you,” she said after the applause had subsided. “When’s the wedding ceremony for the family and friends? Getting married in Vegas is good and fine, but what about tradition?”
Chance turned to Petra and said, “Sweetheart, you haven’t told your mother about our plan to have a big party for friends and family at the beginning of the year?”
Petra smiled at her mother. “The party’s in February, Mom.”
“All right, then,” said Virginia, satisfied. She went and sat down beside Alphonse in the front row.
Everyone in the theater, possibly surprised by the fact that the woman with the dance moves in the front row turned out to be Petra’s mother, responded with another round of raucous laughter, and Chance took that opportunity to bend and kiss his wife on the lips. The photographers in the audience couldn’t resist capturing the moment on film. The evening had been a resounding success!
* * *
A week later, the show debuted on the network on Sunday night. The next morning, Chance told Petra that they’d gotten the lion’s share of viewers in their time slot. Over seventeen million people had tuned in, which he said was a phenomenal number for a show of its kind. He told her that his hope was that the numbers would stay the same or increase with subsequent episodes. The network had ordered eight episodes for the first season, but if the show was a success, the network would bump that up to twelve.
All that television jargon kind of went over her head, but she could see by the excited glimmer in his eyes that he was pleased with the numbers.
They were sitting across from each other having breakfast in the kitchen. He was scheduled to go in to work later because they were going to check on the renovations on the brownstone this morning. Work on the four-bedroom, three-bath townhouse was supposed to last three months, tops. She thought that estimate a bit optimistic, but Chance was of the mind that if he kept an eye on the contractors they would get the work done in that time. Petra had suggested he let her handle the contractors since she was versed in their language. She reminded him that she and Susie had renovated Susie’s house with very little help from males. Also, she was currently not working on anything except the tie-in book for Primates of the Congo, and she was nearly finished writing it.
“You have enough to think about with work,” she said, looking at him with concern.
&n
bsp; “Are you sure it won’t stress you out?” he asked. “We don’t want the baby’s health to be compromised.”
“If it gets stressful, I’ll step back,” she promised.
He seemed to be turning it over in his mind and then, reluctantly she believed, said, “All right. But I hate putting that burden entirely on you.”
* * *
Three months later, the house was still not done. Petra approved of the quality of work; however, workers sometimes showed up late or not at all, and the contractor didn’t seem able to curtail their lackadaisical attitude. Finally, one day she got to the townhouse early enough to catch the contractor alone before the workmen started straggling in and confronted him.
By this time, she was six months pregnant and had quite the baby bump. “Jack,” she said to him the moment she came through the front door of the brownstone. He was measuring one of the big windows in the great room when she walked in. He turned around to face her.
Jack O’Hara was a big burly man in his late thirties with green eyes and thick dark brown hair. His eyes lit up when he saw her. Petra got the feeling he was partial to pregnant women because the bigger she got, the more solicitous he got. He didn’t want her on her feet too long, he worried if she didn’t wear a face mask when they were painting and so forth. She was careful also, so she appreciated his thoughtfulness.
But today, she meant business. “Jack, I’ve got to ask you a question and I hope you’ll be completely honest with me.”
Bushy eyebrows rose questioningly. “Sure, Petra, what is it?”
“I try not to be underfoot when you guys are working, but I’ve noticed that your people don’t seem to be on a tight schedule, and we’re behind here.” She put her hand on her belly. “This little guy will be coming soon, and we’d like to be moved in and prepared for him. You do understand my concern.”
Love in New York ; Cherish My Heart Page 30
