Too Close for Comfort

by La Jill Hunt

  “Hey, I’m coming in. I brought somebody with me.”

  “Who? Who’s with you?” the woman screeched. “You know I don’t want to see anybody! Get out. Get out now!”

  Yaya stopped in her tracks and turned to leave, but she felt Fitz’s hand hold hers. A spark of electricity went up her arm, and her fingers clasped around his. She began breathing harder, and her heart began beating faster. Her mind was thinking of a hundred different things at once. Why am I here? Who is this woman? What are they about to do to me? What does he want from me?

  Yaya became scared. Not only because she didn’t know the answer to any of those questions, but also because she knew that when Fitz’s hand touched hers, it sparked something inside of her. Something she had never felt before.

  “I’m about to turn the lights on,” Fitz said. “We’re not leaving.”

  “Don’t turn them on, Fitzgerald,” the woman pleaded. “I’m asking you not to.”

  “It’s okay. She’s here to help you, that’s all,” he said, softly. He released Yaya’s hand and she saw him walk over to the bed.

  The woman turned her back to him. Yaya could hear her crying. She could see the silhouette of Fitz putting his arm around her and comforting her.

  Yaya gently put her bags down and walked over to the dimmer switch near the doorway. She slowly turned the lights up just enough so she could see better. She noticed the woman had on a loose-fitting robe and was trembling. Her eyes fell on the nightstand and saw bottles of medication and a book on healing. She closed her eyes and asked God for direction, something she hadn’t done in a long time.

  Feeling confident, she finally spoke. “Hi, I’m Qianna.” She walked closer to the bed.

  “Please, go away,” the woman told her.

  “Nope,” Yaya told her.

  The woman’s head turned toward her. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘Nope.’ I’m not going away. Fitz will tell you—I don’t like being told what to do.”

  “That’s true; she’s just as stubborn as you are, believe me, if not worse.” Fitz laughed. “Yaya, this is my aunt, Natalie.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Yaya walked over and was now facing both of them.

  The woman hesitated and looked up.

  Yaya saw that her face was swollen from what looked like months of crying, and her head was completely bald.

  “Yaya, would you believe today is her sixtieth birthday, and she doesn’t want to see anyone? We planned a celebration dinner and everything, and she’s refusing to even attend.”

  “I don’t want people to see me like this, Fitzgerald, and I’m not in the mood for celebrating. Qianna, if you had gone through everything I’ve been through these past six months, I guarantee you wouldn’t feel like celebrating either.”

  “That’s not true. Fitz, can you get me some towels?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.” He quickly left the room.

  “I’ve been through more surgeries and chemotherapy than a little bit. I’ve been fighting breast cancer for over thirteen years, and I’m tired. What do I have to celebrate?”

  Yaya walked over to the windows and began pulling the shades open. Sunshine began flooding into the room.

  “What do you have to celebrate?—Life!” Yaya smiled as she grabbed one of her bags. She put her After Effex cape over her clothes and set up the materials she knew she would be working with.

  She heard the doorbell ring in the distance. Yaya pulled out her iPod and speakers, finding a nearby plug.

  “What is all this? What are you about to do?” Natalie asked.

  “Hey,” Camille’s voice came out of nowhere.

  Yaya frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  Camille held out Yaya’s cell phone. “You left this at the shop. I knew you were going out of town, so I brought it to you.”

  Surprised by the girl’s thoughtfulness, she said, “Thanks. But how did you know where I was?”

  “You left the directions on a piece of paper on the counter. I told Monya I would bring it to you.”

  “Wow! I appreciate that Camille,” Yaya told her. “Oh, Natalie, this is Camille.”

  “Hi,” Natalie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Hello.” Camille smiled at her. “You need anything else?” she asked Yaya.

  Yaya thought for a moment. “No, that’s it. I wish I had found my brushes, though.”

  “I have some in my truck you can use.”

  “No. I use M•A•C brushes. Thanks, anyway.”

  “I know, those are the only ones I use.” Camille laughed. “I don’t have all of them, but I have a nice set. I’ll be right back.”

  Yaya was shocked when Camille returned, make-up bag on her shoulder. She watched as she reached inside and pulled out a black zippered bag and passed it to her.

  Just as Camille told her—they were the exact brushes she needed.

  “These are yours?—these are expensive.” Yaya looked at the brushes, each of which cost no less than thirty dollars.

  “Yeah, they’re mine, and I know how much they cost.” Camille laughed. “I’ve been buying like one or two a week this summer. Like Taryn said—you have to sacrifice to be a master at your craft; I look at it as an investment.”

  Yaya smiled. “That’s the right way of looking at it.”

  “You can take them with you to D.C. Just be sure to bring them back,” Camille told her.

  “Really? Thanks a lot. I really appreciate that, Camille. And don’t worry, I’ll take great care of them.”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Ms. Natalie. Yaya, have a good trip.”

  “She’s nice. Who was that again?” Natalie asked, when Camille was gone.

  “She’s my new employee,” Yaya told her.

  “Everything all right in here?” Fitz asked, passing Yaya the towels.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” Yaya answered. She clicked her iPod on and found the playlist labeled ‘Gifted and Talented.’

  As Chaka Khan began singing “I’m Every Woman,” she began swaying.

  “Fitz, you can be excused. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

  Yaya worked tirelessly on Natalie’s face as what she called her “I-am-woman, hear-me-roar” songs cheered her on.

  She began by giving her an herbal facial.

  By the time she finished applying her make-up, Natalie looked like a brand-new woman and was singing along with Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”

  “Well . . . all done.” Yaya stood back and admired her work.

  “Oh, my! I’m scared to look,” Natalie said.

  “Why? Didn’t we just get finished singing that you were beautiful, no matter what they say?” Yaya laughed. “You were beautiful before I even put the make-up on; this is just an enhancement, like rims on a car.”

  “Uh, I wouldn’t call it that.”

  “I couldn’t think of any other analogy. Let me get my mirror for you so you can see.”

  “Wait,” Natalie said, as Yaya passed her the mirror.

  “You look fine, trust me. No one would ever know you’re turning sixty today.”

  Natalie began laughing heartily.

  Yaya placed the mirror in her hand, and she looked into it.

  The laughter stopped, and she touched her face. Tears began to form. Gone was the ashen skin and sunken look of her face. She now looked years younger; her eyes were brighter, and she was glowing.

  “What . . . you don’t like it?” Yaya began to get nervous. “I can change it.”

  “No, it’s-it’s-I . . .”

  “What? I’m sorry, Ms. Natalie. Is it too much?” Yaya went and sat beside her and put her arms around her.

  “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen myself like this. No one has ever done this for me before, not even at the television studio,” she whispered.

  “‘Television studio’?” Yaya repeated. Then it dawned on her exactly who this woman was. “Oh my God, you’re Natalie Frazier!”

/>   “No, I was Natalie Frazier, now I’m Natalie Doles.”

  “I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.”

  Yaya recalled how, as a child, she grew up watching this beautiful black woman on the news every evening. Natalie Frazier was her idol.

  “I wanted to be you when I grew up!”

  “Honey, what you are now, what you just did is better than anything I could have ever done—you have a gift.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Uh, it’s after five, Yaya, and you said your plane leaves at six-thirty.”

  “Thanks, Fitz. You can come in now.” Yaya began packing her things quickly.

  Fitzgerald walked in. They could hear him take a breath when he saw Natalie. “Oh my God, you look beautiful.”

  “No, she was beautiful before I got here; now she’s stunning.”

  “Yeah, like some stunning rims on a car,” Natalie added.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. It’s a woman thing, you wouldn’t understand. Well, Ms. Natalie, I have a plane to catch. It has certainly been a pleasure this afternoon. And I hope to see you really soon. As a matter of fact, call and set up an appointment for next week because we really need to start doing a facial on you regularly, clear those toxins out of your skin.”

  Yaya gave her a business card and a hug.

  Natalie continued to primp in the mirror. “Shoot! Fitz, we may need to stop and get me a wig on the way to the restaurant.”

  “I think you’ve created a monster.” He laughed as he carried her bags to the car.

  “Good. I’ve been needing some company in the monster department anyway.”

  “Thank you so much. Wow! I can’t believe what you did to her. She’s like a new woman. She’s been acting like a zombie since she was released from the hospital last week. Wouldn’t get out of bed or anything. How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.” Yaya smiled and opened the trunk so he could put the bags in.

  “‘Nothing’?—Didn’t I tell you earlier about insulting me and my pockets?”

  The way he was looking at her made her feel self-conscious. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I wasn’t trying to insult your pockets. You just don’t owe me anything, that’s all. I gotta get outta here or I’m gonna miss my flight.”

  “Have a safe trip.”

  They both stood looking at each other for a few moments.

  “Oh, wait, I almost forgot!” Yaya reached into the car and grabbed her camera. “I gotta take a picture.” She ran back inside.

  “She’s not gonna let you do that.”

  Within seconds, she returned, showing him the screen, his aunt posing with the biggest smile he had ever seen.

  Chapter 24

  “Now, what is this I hear about your not coming to your mother’s house?”

  “Nothing, Daddy,” Paige told her father as he walked through the door. She knew something had to be going on for him to drive all the way over here on a Friday night, rather than hang out and play cards with his buddies.

  “Well, it’s gotta be something—that’s your mama.”

  She sat down on the sofa, and he sat beside her.

  “Daddy, she’s letting Aunt Gayle and Celeste stay with her. You know I don’t like them, and they don’t like me. How could she even let them stay with her?”

  “Paige, you know you sound ridiculous. That’s her sister, and she’s sick. You know your mama is gonna do everything in her power to help out. Now, if that means taking them in for a while, then so be it.”

  “Then, I won’t be going over there until they leave, so be it.” Paige laughed.

  “So now you want your mother to be caught in the middle? You know your mama don’t call me for nothing unless it’s bothering her.”

  “I don’t want that at all.” Paige began picking at a thread on the arm of the sofa.

  Her father was right. He and her mother separated when she was months old, and he still provided for her. After all this time, her mother never asked for anything, but he continued to pay all her bills, saying she was still his wife and he would always take care of her. They had the strangest relationship Paige had ever witnessed, but they were her parents and she loved them. She also knew that they loved each other too. She knew her mother was disappointed when she told her she had nothing to say to her once she found out she had taken in Aunt Gayle and Celeste. Now, knowing that she called her father, Paige knew her mother had been even more upset than she’d thought.

  “Well, that’s how she feels, and she’s felt that way for a long time now. This thing with Celeste and Gayle has gotten out of hand. You all are coming to blows, now? Come on, I thought I raised you better than that.”

  “You did, it’s Celeste that was half-raised. I think you and Mama did a fine job myself; I’m not the crazy one. Think about it, Daddy—they could’ve gone and stayed with Aunt Connie, or look at that big house Meeko lives in. She would’ve gladly taken Aunt Gayle and Celeste in and hired a private nurse. I know for a fact she offered to do that and they declined. They moved in with Mama to cause dissension between me and her.”

  “If that’s the case, then their plan worked, because you and your mother are at odds. You told her not to bother coming to Myla’s soccer game? Now that wasn’t right.”

  “Okay, I was wrong for that, and I’ll call and apologize.” Paige nodded. “But I’m not going over there until they’re gone for good.”

  “Don’t be like that, Paige.” He sighed. “I understand how you’re feeling. There have always been some underlying issues with Gayle and Celeste.”

  “I don’t understand why, though, Daddy.”

  “Well, I may be the cause of some of it.”

  Paige looked over at her father. “Why? What did you do?”

  “Well, back when we were younger, Gayle had a thing for me and I knew it. But I was interested in Jackie, so I became friends with Gayle to get in good with your mama.”

  “Daddy, you used Aunt Gayle to get with Mama? That ain’t right.” Paige shook her head.

  “I didn’t say it was something I was proud of. Well, to keep the peace, your mother and I kinda kept things under wraps for a while, but when Gayle found out, it wasn’t pretty at all. She did everything in her power to make our lives miserable. And to this day, Gayle is still guilt-tripping your mother about it. She always says your mother took away her one chance at happiness.”

  The story sounded so familiar, Paige felt like she was living it. In actuality, it was the same situation she found herself in, regarding Quincy and Celeste.

  “Then Mama should understand what I’m going through,” Paige said. “Besides, Aunt Gayle married Celeste’s dad.”

  “And before she could give birth, he committed suicide, leaving a note saying he wasn’t ready to be a father or a husband.”

  “Wow! That’s crazy. I never knew Celeste’s dad did that.”

  “Those two have been sad and depressed all their lives,” her father told her. “They want everyone else to be sad and depressed too. Don’t let them get their satisfaction by seeing it happen—talk to your mother.”

  “I’ll talk to her, Daddy, but I’m not going over there.”

  “Well, that’s at least a start. What time is Ms. Myla coming home?”

  “Camille took her and Jade down to the beach after they finished soccer practice.”

  “Well, tell her I can’t wait until her big game.” He stood up and gave her a big hug. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  Chapter 25

  “Oh my God! I think I’m in love! You have got to be the most beautiful woman in the world!”

  Yaya cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “You said the same thing to Sophia twenty minutes ago, Diesel, not to mention, you say it every time you see me.”

  “And I mean it each time I say it, baby. I asked you to marry me a long time ago, and you turned me down.” He grabbed her hand, pulled her to him, and kissed her neck. />
  “You also asked Taryn that same night, along with three other dancers at the party.” Yaya tried to push him away.

  “But I was only serious about you,” he said, looking into her eyes.

  If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was being honest, but she had learned a lot about Diesel over the years. She knew that there was no truth to what he was saying. She had fallen for his game twice and wasn’t about to fall for it again.

  The name Diesel suited him perfectly. He stood six feet, five, and he was big, but sexy. His caramel complexion, dark eyes, long lashes, and inviting smile were enough to have women at his beck and call. And his personality was an added bonus; seduction came naturally to him. People loved to be around Diesel, and Diesel loved people.

  “So what are we doing tonight?” she asked.

  “Well, I’ve already made arrangements for each of you to receive a full body massage in your suite once we’ve finished down here, for starters. I want all of you to be completely relaxed for tonight’s festivities,” he told them, as they sat in the restaurant of the Marriott, eating brunch.

  “And just what will we be doing tonight? And who will be attending?” Yaya asked. “I’m telling you, Diesel—you know I ain’t down for any and everything.”

  “Well, I am,” Gabrielle said, sexily.

  Yaya ignored her. “I’m serious.”

  “Calm down. You know I wouldn’t even do you like that; you’re my girl. Have I ever asked you to do anything out of the ordinary?”

  Yaya gave him a knowing look.

  “Okay, maybe I didn’t phrase that right—Have I ever asked you to do anything to disrespect you and your body?”

  She continued to stare. The look on her face didn’t change.

  “Damn, Yaya! You know what I mean. It ain’t that type of party.”

  Yaya asked again, “So what will we be doing?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be doing the one thing I know you’re the best at, baby.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’ll be making art.”

  “Wow! I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” Sophia said as they walked into the building where they were told to be.

  The white walls of the corridors seemed to go on forever, and the ceiling was painted pitch-black, with white lights. Bright, bold, eclectic paintings hung on the walls. Techno music pumped loudly, and they could feel the bass through the floor.