by Shawn James
“Wow. No wonder Chris considers her a legend.”
“She was one of the best professors on the Spelman campus if not the best. She taught me everything she knew.”
“So she’s your mentor?”
If she only knew I was the one who advised her. “Her advice has allowed me to go places I never thought I could go.”
“Like the AFC Octagon.”
“She felt I should take a risk.”
“Are you here on her advice?”
“Yeah. I wanted to get right into the classroom, but she feels I need to take some time connect with the students before I start trying to teach them.”
“Doing odd jobs like working in the art studio?”
“Doc says sometimes the detours in life are where we learn the most about ourselves and the people around us. And after a day walking in your shoes, I can honestly say I learned some things about you that made me see you in a different light.”
“Like what?”
“I saw the video of the beating you got from Tabatha and her goons on YouTube last night.”
Marilyn smiles at me. “I wish I had a steel chair then.”
I wish she had one too. “It had to take every iota of courage you had to forgive her and all those Hollywood executives for what they did to you-”
“I admit I still feel anger about what happened. But I know God brought me too far to let bitterness keep me from moving forward-”
“That’s why I want to help you. You’ve come too far to let someone set you back. You’ve got to keep fighting.”
“Dude, I’m not going anywhere. I’m 84 credits away from a bachelor’s degree.”
And 40 more away from a Master’s after that. Nice to know her resolve still isn’t shaken. That makes me even more passionate about catching this loser.
“You promise to save me a ticket for graduation day?”
Marilyn takes my hand. “I’ll make sure you get one for the front row.”
Chapter 16
The 3 train closes its doors and pulls out of the 135th Street Station. Even though I’m traveling in one of the most dangerous parts of New York City and I’m being stalked by a psycho, I feel as safe as I were back in the backyard of the house I grew up in Burbank. Now I understand what God said about preparing a table in the presence of your enemies. He has to be watching over me and protecting me to send me a friend like Isis.
The more I talk to her the more I want to get to know her. She seems to have lived a fascinating life. With all her experiences I’d have to say she’s on her way to becoming just as legendary as Dr. Flowers. “So you want to be a Professor?” I inquire.
“With a doctorate in Black Studies all you can do is teach.” Isis sighs.
Wow. I never pegged her for an intellectual. With her cute smile and playful personality I see her working in any place but a classroom. “You know, you don’t look like a teacher.”
“That’s I feel will help me engage the students.” Isis continues. “They see learning from me as learning from one of their friends instead of some stuffy authority figure.”
“So you see yourself as a peer to your students?”
“I find when you learn from your friends, it make you care a bit more about what you learned.”
If she ever gets in someplace I definitely want to take her class. “So what did you learn about me last night besides that the fact I can take a beating?”
“That you’re a real life sweetheart. People on the comic book boards have nothing but good things to say about you-”
“I knew you Googled me-”
“Right before I went on YouTube and saw your horror double feature.”
I should have figured she’d check out my movie once she heard about it. I wonder what she thought of it. “Did you make it through to the end of Dark Ride?”
“I needed industrial strength brain bleach to erase that nightmare from my memory. I’m still trying to figure out where that ending came from.”
“The twisted imagination of a perverted screenwriter stuck in a state of perpetual adolescence.”
We share a laugh on the joke. “You’re a good actress. Why’d you star in such crap?”
“I was 22, young and dumb with absolutely no idea how Hollywood worked.” I answer. “I thought if I starred in the studio’s movie I’d get them to finance a script my friend wrote.”
“I take it you never got a chance to make that movie.”
“Apex Studios released me from my contract once they saw Dark Ride open in 26th Place.”
“Ouch.”
“Hey, that’s the business.”
“As kind as you are, you just didn’t seem like you fit in it.”
“Why?”
“Er...You have morals, compassion, integrity, and you care about people.”
“That’s probably why I wasn’t successful in Hollywood.”
“Seriously, I can’t understand why someone would hate you.”
“Hey, some people can’t separate fantasy from reality.” I say. “For them Nikki Desmond was as real as the people they interact with every day.”
“Don’t they understand it’s an act?”
“Unfortunately, they don’t. For them the celebrities they see on TV, in magazines and on the Internet are something to project their anger onto.”
“Do you think your stalker could be a student who’s a Tabatha fan mad at you destroying her career?”
“In spite of her meth habit, Tabatha is still a superstar who commands $10 million a picture-”
“But the notes point towards someone who wants to disfigure your face like it was before you came out here-”
“I don’t think whoever is doing this is connected to my old life in L.A. Whoever this is has to be someone who knows about my life in the city.”
“How do you figure that?”
“The last note clearly stated that I think I’m a star on campus. So whoever this is hates what I’m doing in the art studio.”
“That does narrow down the list of suspects from four or five thousand people to about thirty-six. I’m thinking the stalker is one of the students in one of the classes too.”
“Did anyone look suspicious to you last night?”
“Brody is definitely out.”
“What about everyone else?”
“There were some people who looked suspicious, but I can’t say the evidence points to anyone specific until I meet everyone in all your classes today. Then I can start compiling a list of suspects.”
Chapter 17
I’m talking to Marilyn about books I’ve read when the 3 train we’re riding on bolts into the 14th Street Station. Once the doors open, we hop out of our seats, get off the train, and hurry through the turnstiles. Warm summer air hits us in the face as we trek up the stairs of the entrance on Broadway and start marching up towards Fifth Avenue.
Marilyn gets the door for me when we stroll into the Fine Arts Building. After we flash our ID cards at the security desk, we rush down the hall into the Fine Arts Department office. The shy sandy haired kid who was wearing the Superman T-shirt in class yesterday is sitting at the reception desk in a Green Lantern one this morning. His eyes fall to the floor when Marilyn greets him with a friendly smile.
“Hey Kyle.” She greets.
So that’s the fanboy’s name. “Hey Marilyn. Missed you in class yesterday.” He mutters.
“I wasn’t feeling too well.” Marilyn replies taking the clipboard with the sign in sheet off the counter. “So Isis filled in for me.”
Kyle brings his head up forces himself to make eye contact with me. When his eyes meet mine he cracks an awkward smile. I have the feeling he’s imagining me without my clothes on right now. “Hey, I really liked your poses yesterday.” Kyle says.
“Thanks.” I say smiling back at him.
“But you’ve got nothing on Marilyn. She’s got muscles like Wonder Woman.”
Looks like he’s a fan of Marilyn’s figure. But I don’t know if he’s a fan of he
r. From the bashful way he acts I think I should keep him on my list of suspects.
While we’re signing in for the day, Kyle hops out of the seat at the reception desk, rushes over to a supply cabinet and opens it up. His face twists into a frown when he looks up at the top shelves. “Hey, what happened to all the soft Casteline?” he asks.
Marilyn walks over to the cabinet and scans it.” I thought we had some in there-”
“What’s Casteline?” I ask.
The boy’s eyes light up on my inquiry. “What’s Casteline?” Kyle replies. “Dude, it’s like the best sculpting wax in the world.”
Maybe I should have taken a moment or two to brush up on what’s going on in the art world while I was doing research on Marilyn. “You need it for class?”
“Yeah, I’m working on this figure for my sculpting class this morning and this stuff is a godsend. It’s a wax that models just like clay. So you don’t have to worry about it cracking or breaking when you cast it out in silicone molds.”
“Chris usually keeps some art supplies on hand for students when they’re low on cash.” Marilyn interjects. “Looks like someone beat you to it Kyle.”
“Guess I’ll have to work with medium.” Kyle pouts taking a ziploc bag off the shelf. “I hope you get better Marilyn.”
“Thanks.”
Kyle stuffs the bag of wax into his backpack and hurries out of the office. As I put the signup sheet back on the counter, Marilyn closes up the closet and smiles at me. I see what she did with Kyle. That was smart.
“You know you could have told him I was going to be the model for the classes today.”
“I didn’t want to tip our hand to the stalker.” Marilyn says. “As far as they still know I’m still on the schedule for today.”
“Does anyone else know I’m substituting for you?”
“Only Chris and the professors I have a studio session with. And he told them not to say anything to anyone.”
Great. That should allow me a chance to get the drop on whoever this is. I catch the time on the clock on the wall. I’ve got to get going; Professor Lewis’ class starts in less than twenty minutes.
“I’ll catch you later Marilyn. Gotta get to class.”
Chapter 18
I hurry out of the office of the Fine Arts Department and rush down the hall maneuvering through the crowds of students on the way to Studio C. By the time I turn the corner and enter the classroom, it’s 8:44. I have just enough time to talk with Professor Lewis about the poses she wants me to get into this morning before class starts.
On hearing my footsteps, Professor Lewis looks over the easel she’s setting up and smiles when she sees me. “Good Morning Isis.” She sings as she rushes over to me. “Are you ready for today?”
“Definitely.” I reply smiling back at her. “What kind of poses do you want me to get into?”
Professor Lewis hurries over to the door and closes it. Then she takes my hand and walks me over to her easel. “Before we talk about today’s session, I want to show you some of the drawings that the kids drew of you yesterday.”
Professor Lewis takes some pages off the easel and hands them to me. I light up on seeing the lines of my slender dancer’s body depicted in blue pencil. The elegant sketches capture an image of a soft slender woman with a playful smile and a head full of bouncy curls. I never knew I looked so dynamic on paper.
“Wow.” I gasp.
“That’s what I said when I saw them.” Professor Lewis continues. “It’s very inspired work. I’d have to say it’s even better than the work we get when Marilyn is in the studio.”
While I love the pictures the kids drew of me, this is still gonna be a temp job for me. “I’m glad I could inspire the kids.”
“After seeing the lines of your body and how it moves, I was wondering if you’d be ready to do some more complex poses today. Something where you show off your agility and flexibility.”
I have a feeling she was watching AFC War of the Gods as part of her homework last night. “I don’t know if I can hold a pose like that for forty minutes-”
“I was thinking you could do something for the fast sketches. Your body is very fluid and graceful in the way it moves. I really want to see it captured on paper.”
Since she puts it that way I think I can oblige her with a small display of my athletic prowess. “I think I can put together a routine.”
“Wonderful! After that I’d like you to pose like you’re walking and smiling.”
“Are we still working on body language?”
“This is part 2 for this class on movement.”
I catch the time on the clock on the wall. 8:49, I better start getting ready. I’m halfway towards the dressing room when Professor Lewis calls out to me. “Oh, Isis-”
My ballet flats turn on a dime as I hurry back over to her with a smile. “Do you want me to go over the moves for the fast sketches?”
“Er…I was wondering if you could sign my copy of AFC War of the Gods.”
Well, I can’t disappoint a fan. Especially one who’s been so nice to me. “Sure, how do you want me to make it out?” I inquire taking the DVD and the pen from her.
“You can make it out to Sharon. That’s my first name.”
I quickly write: To my #1 fan Sharon, Best wishes, Isis on the DVD case. Professor Lewis smiles giddily on reading the message signed on it after I hand it back to her and gives me a hug that surprises me. “Oh you’re so kind!” She gushes.
“People tell me I’m a real sweetheart Sharon.” I say breaking the embrace.
“I’d say so. Well, you better get ready for class.”
Sharon heads for the front door of the studio as I rush into the dressing room. When I close the door behind me, I hear the footsteps of chattering students filing into the classroom. 8:58, I don’t have that much time to get ready. If I factor in her lecture, I might have two minutes tops to check that exit door.
I drop my bag on the vanity table and take out my blue silk kimono robe. Then I kick off my ballet flats, step out of my cargo pants and my panties and pull my spaghetti strap tank top over my head. The clothes fall to the floor in a disorganized pile. I hate being so messy, but I’m pressed for time.
The clock reads 9:04 when I slip on my robe and hurry over to the exit door. While Sharon gives her lecture, I give the door another once-over and still don’t see anything out of the ordinary. I’m about to press the lever to open it when the green light signaling my cue flashes on. Crap, I can’t believe it’s Showtime already.
The balls of my bare feet turn on the dime on the cold tile floor and I hurry across the dressing room. I take a deep breath before I twist the knob and gracefully saunter into the studio. When I step on the X taped to the floor, I’m almost given a round of applause for my entrance.
With the kids inspired, I slip off my robe and place it on the top of the easel of a chubby kid wearing a polo shirt and shorts sitting behind me. Then I meet Sharon’s smiling eyes and wait for her cue. When the timer beeps, I start my performance with a handstand where my toes are pointed straight up in the air. They did a great job capturing my lines right side up yesterday, now let’s see how these kids translate them upside down.
I feel the creative energy radiating in the room while blue pencils scratch on paper; I’m glowing by the time the five minutes is up. When the timer beeps again, I lean back and point my toes out. On seeing me move, I hear gasps whispers from the students while they study and sketch the curved shape of my form.
“Wow! It’s like she’s doing a backflip in mid air!”a boy mutters to himself.
“Man, how does she do that?” a girl whispers.
“I don’t know how she holds poses like that.” Another boy says.
“You can’t see how she holds poses like that? I can’t see how she can smile while doing it!” A second girl says.”
If they only knew about my New Heliopolitan strength and stamina. I could stay like this for hours and not get tired. F
rom the rhythmic sounds of pencils melodiously scribbling on paper, I don’t think anyone is having a problem drawing me. Five minutes fly by; the timer beeps again and my body flows into the third pose as I bend my knees and point my toes to the floor. I hear more gasps on seeing my body appear like it’s moving even though it’s standing still.
I’m in my zone again when I see Professor Lewis’ ballet flats walking across the floor towards me. She squats down and meets my eyes with a concerned look. “Isis, are you okay?” she inquires.
“I’m great.” I reply smiling back at her.
“It’s just you’ve been posed very dynamically for at least fifteen minutes now. Why don’t you take a break?”
Break? I had another two poses planned for this routine. “Well, you wanted to see how my body moves.”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You can walk around the room to loosen up your muscles before you get into today’s pose.”
I can understand her concerns for my safety. If I were an ordinary human woman I’d probably be cramping up right now. My body falls gracefully as I shift my weight downwards and my feet land back on the X taped on the floor. When I stand up straight, Sharon gives me an awe-struck look. She’s probably never seen a body move like that before.
I grab my kimono off the chubby kid’s easel and flash a smile at him as I slip it back on and tie it up. Anticipation fills the room as I walk around the circle and look over the kids’ work. I smile proudly on seeing my body captured in blue pencil on paper. The graceful lines depicted in the sketches are alive and filled with energy. In some ways I think they capture my spirit in between the lines of their drawings.
I approach Sharon’s easel and get a look at her drawing of me. It’s the most inspired piece in the room. Her eye for detail is so great it almost looks like a photograph. I wonder how much she’d want for it.
On seeing me admiring her work, Sharon rushes over. “Do you like what you see?”
“I wish I brought my checkbook with me. I could easily see this on my wall.”
“I wouldn’t spend any money yet. Wait until you saw my work on the piece I’ll do when we resume the session.”
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
Sharon grabs her timer as I stroll back over to the center of the room, hang my robe on the back of the chubby kid’s easel again. After I turn on the dime, I pause my steps as my foot lands on the X and give the kids a friendly smile to sketch.
