Any Way the Wind Blows

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Several small things happened. He never read any contracts I gave him, and he was always getting Kendra to fill out applications for him. Whenever we went out to eat, no matter where, he would just say, ‘Order me a hamburger or chicken,’ without reading the menu. Eventually I just figured it out. I did trick him into confessing, and I think he’s embarrassed.”

  “He’s going to be more than embarrassed when he signs with one of the big boys and they take him for everything he’s worth,” Nico said.

  “That’s sad, and I hate to lose him, but we got to move on,” Brison said as he moved from behind his desk.

  “Daschle is going to be a number-one draft choice. We can’t just let him walk out. Didn’t he sign a contract?” Nico asked, raising his voice even more.

  “Yeah, he did. But our policy has always been to not force clients to stay if they didn’t want to be here,” I said as I looked over at Nico, who was looking at me with narrowed, distrustful eyes. I felt awkward, like I was on trial.

  “I think there’s more to this than his just not being able to read. We need to make him honor his fucking contract, and we need to just confront him face-to-face, and see why he really wants to leave,” Nico said as he looked at Brison and then cut his eyes at me.

  “Let’s take the night and think about this and decide what to do in the morning,” Brison said in a guarded voice.

  “Cool,” I said as I turned and headed toward my office as I felt the walls of my life of lies and denials closing in on me.

  Bart’s Escape from New York

  I was wiped out after a grueling session at the gym. In preparation for my trip to Santo Domingo, I had hired a trainer for a few sessions just to make sure my body was in peak form for the boys and the beach.

  I dropped my gym bag on the new leather sofa I had purchased and checked my answering machine. There was a message from Wylie thanking me again for the gift and saying a proper thank-you note was on the way. There was also a message from Yancey B, asking me to call her immediately. I couldn’t believe I had the voice of one of the hottest singers on my answering machine. She even left her number. I needed to tell her that a true diva left only her assistant’s number. A girl had to be prepared for anti-diva terrorists lurking around, and there were a lot of diva-haters in New York.

  I wrote the number down on a pad and then saved the message. I knew it was a message I would never erase, along with the two messages I had gotten from Basil when we first met. There was still something about that sexy voice of his.

  I dialed Yancey’s number, and after a few rings, a female voice picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Is Yancey B in?” I asked.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “This is Bart Dunbar returning her call.”

  “Oh, Bart. This is Yancey. Thanks for calling me back so soon,” Yancey said.

  “No problem. How’s it going?”

  “Everything is fine. You know, my record is in the top three, number one on the dance charts, and we’re getting ready to drop the second single,” Yancey said.

  “I’ve been keeping up with you on the radio and Billboard magazine,” I said.

  “I’m so excited. I think the album might go platinum soon, thanks to the songs and video. Have you seen it?”

  “Yep, I have, and it does look great.”

  “It sure does. That’s why I’m calling. The guy we had scheduled to do the next video got sick, and we need to find a replacement fast,” Yancey said.

  “So how are things going with you two?” I asked.

  “Slow but steady. Anywho, I called your agency, and they said you’re not working for the next couple of weeks,” Yancey said.

  “Yeah, I’m going on a little vacation.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “In a couple of days.”

  “I need to ask you a big favor. Will you come and do the shoot with me? We need somebody with a stunning body, and that’s you,” Yancey said with the charm of a morning talk show hostess.

  “You want to use me again?” I asked. I was always shocked when an unsolicited and unexpected job just fell into my lap, but I guess Evanston being an asshole had worked to my advantage. During the first break when we were shooting Yancey B’s first video, he acted like he was the star. I was through with him when I asked him what part of town he lived in, and he looked at me and said, “You don’t need to know that. I’m in a stable relationship, and I don’t date black men. Too much confusion, if you get where I’m coming from.” I wanted to tell that dumb snow queen he was the one who was confused.

  “Yeah, there was a little concern since you were in my first video. Don’t want the public to think you’re my boy toy.” Yancey laughed. “But it’s a location shot, and I hope you won’t be offended, but we won’t see your face. Just your backside.”

  “Where are you shooting it?”

  “In South Beach, and we leave tomorrow afternoon. We would need you for two days.”

  “South Beach. I haven’t been there in a while, and I could just leave from there and go to Santo Domingo.”

  “So will you do it? We’re traveling first class,” Yancey chimed.

  “Of course. For you I will do anything,” I said.

  “You’re a sweetheart, Bart. Start packing! Someone will give you a call later with your travel plans.”

  “Cool, I’ll look forward to seeing you. Thanks for thinking of me.”

  “No, Bart, thank you for saving the shoot.”

  When the Worm Turns

  It felt good to be in a city like South Beach, with warm weather and even warmer bodies. I was enjoying a faded blue sky, the sun gushing through dancing clouds, while eating lunch with Bart. We had been up since 6 A.M. so Desmond could get the exact lighting for my video. I had hoped to share lunch or something better with Desmond, but he was busy editing, so Bart volunteered to join me when he heard me say I was going to order room service and I didn’t want to eat alone.

  We found a cute sidewalk café in the carnival-like Lincoln Road area, a few blocks from our hotel. Bart quickly turned the conversation to my skyrocketing career. Of course, I didn’t have a problem with that.

  “How does it feel to be you, Yancey?” he asked after we had ordered and the waiter and Bart had exchanged flirtatious smiles.

  “Wonderful. Now that my music career is off and running, I’m getting ready to do my Janet Jackson move and turn my attention to my movie career,” I said as I took a sip of water.

  “You got anything lined up? I hear it’s tough out in Hollywood.”

  “I got my eyes on a couple of things. There’s going to be a remake of Sparkle, and even though I swore I wouldn’t do television, HBO is doing a film version of Jelly’s Last Jam. I heard Vanessa Williams turned them down for the female lead, so it’s time for me to swoop in, even though I hate taking someone’s leftovers,” I said.

  “I saw Jelly’s, and you’d be the one-one in that! You’d play the hell out of the role of Sister as well,” Bart said with a sweet and sincere smile.

  “Think I’d make them forget Lonette McKee?”

  “Lonette and Miss Irene ‘I’m gonna live forever’ Cara.” Bart laughed.

  “I can’t thank you enough for filling in at the last minute,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? I get to be with the number-one pop diva and spend a couple of nights in a fabu hotel. I should be on my knees thanking you. Plus, I can learn a thing or two being around someone like you. I hope just a little bit of your success rubs off on me,” Bart said.

  The waiter brought out our drinks, and I began to notice the good-looking men walking up and down the open-air mall area holding hands with each other. It was like being in the Village in New York on a Saturday night. I decided this was a fine time to ask some questions about gay men, since it looked like I would never be able to keep them out of my life completely.

  “Have you hung out since we’ve been here?”

  “I went out last ni
ght, and the men are just okay,” Bart said as he sipped his iced tea through a straw.

  “Just okay? These men are gorgeous. Look at him,” I said as I pointed to an attractive golden-brown man wearing white shorts and nothing else. He looked like he was Puerto Rican or maybe Brazilian.

  “You see men like that all the time in New York. I’ve dated white men, and Hispanic men too, but for me there is nothing like a black man. I love the way they look and smell,” Bart said with a broad smile.

  “Are you dating anyone now?”

  “No, I broke up with someone a couple of weeks ago, and it left a pretty bad taste in my mouth. Please pardon the pun,” Bart said, and giggled.

  “Why do you think so many men are gay? Or, more importantly, bisexual?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you what I think if you answer a question for me,” Bart said.

  “What?”

  “Have you ever dated someone who was gay or bisexual, and if the answer is yes, is that where your song came from?”

  “You promise not to tell anyone?”

  “I promise on the gay boy pledge of silence,” Bart said as he playfully raised his hand in the air like he was taking an oath.

  “Yes,” I replied quickly.

  The waiter interrupted Bart’s next question when he placed two fried-oyster salads in front of us. I had not received the kind of service Bart and I were receiving in a long time. Every minute the waiter was standing over us and checking to see if everything was fine. I told Bart he should just go ahead and give the guy his number so that we could eat in peace. When it seemed the waiter was finally giving some service to his other tables, Bart had a question.

  “Was he someone famous?”

  “Who?”

  “The man you dated?”

  “Sorta.”

  “This is getting good,” Bart said as he took his fork, picked up an oyster and dipped it in the tartar sauce.

  “But that’s all I’m saying about my past,” I warned Bart.

  “That’s fine. Baby, your song is making the kids cry out. I mean, everybody is talking about the song and the video and wondering who you’re singing about. And the club version of ‘Any Way the Wind Blows,’ is just over the rainbow and back again,” Bart said as he snapped his hand quickly in the air.

  “Do you think someone could really be bi? I mean, if a guy loves women, then what can a man do for him?” I asked.

  “Bisexual men are just selfish jerks. They want everything. I think you women are partly responsible,” Bart said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think sometimes men try it because the first time they see a woman roll her eyes back and shrink with pleasure while she’s being drilled, he thinks, I want some of that,” Bart explained confidently. Now, that was something I had never thought of, but the thought of two men making love still caused a certain degree of disgust within me. Maybe it was because every time I imagined two men together, one of them was always Basil.

  I was a bit surprised when Bart called me out, so to speak, by telling me that I was the kind of woman who thought gay sex was nasty.

  “Why do you say that? I believe in letting people live their lives. And I couldn’t be homophobic and be in show business,” I said.

  “I’m not saying you’re homophobic, but you strike me as the kind of woman who thinks dicks don’t belong anywhere but between the legs of females. And I feel just the opposite. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. I just get sick and tired of people talking about what is wrong and what’s right about sex. What God had planned, and so on and so on. I want to tell them if God thought gay sex was so nasty, then why did he create a body part that brings me so much pleasure?” Bart said. His voice was quiet and steady.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I said softly. I was getting ready to ask another question when Bart’s cell phone rang.

  “Excuse me for a second,” Bart said as he popped open his silver cell phone. I was thinking about how I was going to get Desmond to spend some downtime with me. I was so happy to get away for a couple of days from cold-ass New York.

  I turned around to ask the waiter for more iced tea when I heard Bart’s voice change suddenly. He started yelling, and several people turned around to stare at our table.

  “What do you mean I’m overdrawn? I just deposited a check for two hundred thousand dollars about five days ago. Yes, I think you better check your records,” Bart said as his eyes blinked in a very nervous fashion. I pulled out my cell phone and called Windsor, but I kept one ear on Bart’s conversation. Windsor’s line rang a few times, and I was expecting Windsor to answer, but instead it was her aunt.

  “Toukie, here. Can I help you?”

  “Ms. Toukie? This is Yancey. How is Windsor?” I asked.

  “Call me Aunt Toukie, baby. We just like family seeing how I done slept in your house. You want to talk with Windsor?”

  “Yes, can I?”

  “Naw … she’s asleep. Not feeling well today. But she’s trying to keep that baby in her stomach for a few more weeks at least, and then her doctor says we might be okay. I’m kinda worried how it’s gonna look. But all we can do is pray. She and Wardell found a good doctor down here. How is New York? You made any more of those minimovies?”

  “I’m in Florida, finishing up a video, and it’s going fine,” I said as I looked over at Bart, whose face was so contorted he looked like he was in pain. He had lowered his voice, but I could tell he was in a conversation that was not making him happy. Just as I was getting ready to tell Ms. Toukie goodbye, I heard Bart shouting and his voice trembling with anger: “What do you mean the bitch stopped payment on my check?”

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, Bart and I were walking back to the hotel, and he seemed to be in a stunned silence. Every few minutes he would pop open his cell phone and dial a number and then mutter, “Damn.”

  “Is everything all right, Bart?” I knew it was a dumb question, but I wanted to know what had happened to change his personality in a matter of minutes.

  “Somebody’s trying to run a game on me, and I ain’t having it. This bitch don’t know who she’s fucking with,” Bart said as he looked straight ahead, like he was traveling in his own private bubble.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I’m thinking. First, I got to contact this bitch, but she’s not answering her phone,” Bart said.

  “Who is she?”

  “Some wanna-be diva who I did some work for,” Bart said. I was wondering what kind of work could net $100,000. I needed to meet her. I wondered if it had anything to do with drugs or sex, but I decided to let Bart spill the details when he was ready.

  When we reached the hotel, I suggested we go and sit by the pool so he could calm down.

  “I’ll meet you in ten minutes. I got to make sure my credit cards are still working. I’m leaving the country when we’re done here. At least I think I am,” Bart said. Now he looked sad instead of angry.

  • • •

  About thirty minutes later, Bart came down to the pool area, and I could tell from the look on his face that he was still in some type of trouble.

  “Any luck?” I asked.

  “No, she’s still not answering the phone. I thought if I came back to the hotel and called from here, she might not know it was me and pick up. The only numbers I had were a hotel number and a cell phone and she already checked out of the hotel,” Bart said as he sat down next to me in front of a hypnotic pool with pure turquoise water. The pool was surrounded by overly tan white people, mostly women, and mostly topless. I figured they were European and didn’t hesitate to remove their tops on the beach or near a pool.

  “You want to use my cell phone? She wouldn’t know my number,” I said.

  “I might do that later. Right now, I just got to figure out how I’m gonna deal with my bank. This check I deposited and got some funds against was returned with a ‘stop payment.’ Now the ban
k’s threatening to bring in some investigators,” Bart said.

  “Bart, do you mind me asking what you did for this lady?” I asked.

  He was silent for a moment, and the only thing I heard was foreign chatter and faint sounds of water splashing until Bart began talking. “I don’t want you to think badly of me. I like you, Yancey, and I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done lately.”

  “Trust me, I understand. I like you too, and I’m trying to figure out how I might help.”

  Bart told me how he had helped some rich lady get back at some man they had both dated. The man sounded horrible, sleeping with them both at the same time. The man was a powerful businessman, and Bart said the lady had cracked the guy’s computer system and then contacted several of his clients and told them about his double life. For a brief instant I became lost in my own thoughts with some of the schemes I’d done with Ava. Thankfully, I didn’t miss those days.

  “Have you heard from this guy?”

  Bart rolled his eyes and took a deep breath and said, “No.”

  “Then why would the lady want to double-cross you?”

  “I don’t know. I did what she asked me to do, including something I didn’t want to do,” Bart said softly.

  “What was that?”

  “I called the man’s father and told him his son was a homo and a child molester.”

  “Was he?”

  “I don’t know. The guy certainly liked what I was serving up. I don’t know if he’s a child molester, probably not. Ava thought it would really do him in, even if it was a lie.”

  “Ava? Did you say Ava?” I felt a sudden chill in the air and pulled my towel over my shoulders.

  “Yeah, Ava,” Bart said. I started to ask for a last name, but I thought I’d see if I could get more information first.

  “Is Ava from New York? I knew an Ava once,” I said as I turned toward Bart to see if he was trying to play me.

  “No! I think she’s from California. Which part I don’t know.”

  “Is she a middle-aged lady?”

  “I would say so, but she wouldn’t. No, that goddamned Ava doesn’t know her days of being a girl are over,” Bart said.