Reno doubled over with laughter.
“Forget you, Reno. You ain’t gotta believe in me. That’s why I’m leaving your country tail. And you will be sick when you see me on CNN, or Entertainment Tonight or 60 Minutes!” His disbelief made me even more determined to fulfill my dream of becoming a nationally known news anchor.
“Yeah, right,” Reno said between laughs. “You call me country? Your behind still talking ’bout ‘Can I axe you a question?’ How you gon’ be Barbara Walters and you can’t even talk right?”
Reno eased his laughing and leaned in, running his hand across my face, which was on fire with fury. “Baby, face it. Sweet Poke is where you belong. You just a little ol’ country girl. Your people are here,” he stressed as he leaned in closer. “It’s where you were born, where you gon’ die. You can’t run from it. It’s in your blood.”
His words made me shiver. This couldn’t be my destiny. I’d get away from Sweet Poke or die trying.
“Lady, if you’re catching this bus, you best get moving.”
I hadn’t even noticed the driver get back on the bus. I shook myself out of the trance Reno’s words had put me in. “We’ll see who has the last laugh,” I said.
With that, I turned and boarded the bus, leaving Reno standing in the midst of the dust storm.
Within minutes, I was settling into a seat near the front of the bus. As the bus took off I leaned my head back and closed my eyes tightly. I refused to look out the window at Reno or Sweet Poke. All of that was my past. I was headed to my future.
Chapter 1
“You have five minutes!”
I cut my eyes at Simone, the production assistant who was bellowing at me from the doorway of the dressing room. Another wannabe. She was young and attractive. Her sandpaper complexion, sandy brown hair, and model features made her prime television news-anchor material. I’d even heard Richard, my news director, talking about giving her a shot at reporting through some new reporter-training program.
That was a bunch of bull. She needed to go to a small town and pay some dues like the rest of us. I had seen her audition tape, and granted, she did have a natural talent, but that didn’t mean she deserved to start out in a top market. Cities were ranked by what we in the news business called market size, with small towns ranked lower and big cities ranked higher. Houston was a major television market and you had to have your stuff together to work here. It had taken me seven years to get here. Seven years of toiling in small, pissant towns for little or no pay. I worked in Tyler two years, almost going crazy in that hick place. Then I went to be a reporter and anchor in Rochester, New York, then Phoenix, Arizona, before coming to Houston four years ago to work at KPCR, the NBC station. I’d been around the country. And here comes little Miss Thang who thinks her looks will get her a free ride straight to the big time.
I made a mental note to tell Stan she had to go. Stan was the general manager and Richard’s boss. We had a special relationship. He called me his Chocolate Star. Some people would call that racist, but I know Stan. He doesn’t have a racist bone in his body. Only one color matters to him and that’s green. And my new talk show had been bringing in the money. The Rae Rollins Show aired every day at ten in morning and was rated number one in the market. There were even talks to take the show into syndication. Watch out, Oprah! In addition to my talk show, I did special reports for Dateline and the Today show, and I anchored the six-o’clock news. It was a demanding schedule. My days could get pretty hectic, with me running from sunup to sundown, but I was one of the most popular local on-air personalities in the country. I had received job offers from ABC and CNN. But when I threatened to leave, NBC offered me the talk show. And since I just knew that would take off, I stayed in Houston. The move had paid off, so what I want definitely matters to Stan.
And I definitely wanted Simone gone.
Screw that mentality about reaching back and helping out. This was a cutthroat business and there was only room enough for one chocolate star at this station. And I was that woman. Had been for the last three years. I’d come a long way from my days in Sweet Poke. I’d achieved everything I’d set out to do when I left that backward town. I was living my dream and I wasn’t about to be replaced by some starry-eyed, do-anything-for-my-job college graduate who would work for a tenth of what I made.
“Rae, did you hear me? Five minutes to air,” Simone repeated.
“I know what time it is,” I snapped.
“Sorry,” Simone muttered. “I was just doing my job.”
“Well, go do it somewhere else.” I flicked her off and looked at the girl applying my makeup. “You think you can finish this today?”
“I’m done. I was just—”
I stood up, cutting her off, then peered into the mirror examining my makeup. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t like my lip liner that thick?”
The makeup girl, a permanent fill-in for whenever Sasha, the station’s make-up artist, was on vacation, cowered and started stammering. “I’m s…s…sorry. I can redo it.”
“Just forget it,” I said, frustrated. I fluffed up my copper-colored hair and made sure my eye shadow was accenting my light brown eyes. I noticed Simone’s reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t budged from the doorway. It was eerie, she looked like a much younger version of me. “I said I was coming! I know what time my show starts!”
Simone slithered away and the makeup girl looked at me like she wanted to cry. I know I can be brutal sometimes. But after all I’ve been through in my life, I think I’m entitled.
I will admit, though, that phone call today from Mama Tee had shaken me up. It had been three months since I’d talked to her, and she’d called me back then to tell me Auntie Mel had died. Mama Tee couldn’t understand why I didn’t come back for Auntie Mel’s funeral, but I’d told everyone when I left Sweet Poke, I wasn’t going back. There’s only been one exception, and that was four years ago when my baby brother, Justin, almost died from leukemia. I’d taken my then boyfriend with me and it had been a disaster. I left there more depressed than I’d ever been.
When Mama Tee had called earlier today to tell me Justin had taken a turn for the worse, I couldn’t imagine going back again. Justin had been battling leukemia his entire life. But since his near-death episode, he had been getting better, or so I thought. The news that he was relapsing had really shaken me up, especially because I knew I hadn’t been there for him like I should. Out of everyone in Sweet Poke, Justin was the only one I truly missed. While several of my relatives called me at the station whenever they wanted something, Justin and Mama Tee were the only ones I really talked to and even that was sporadic.
I raced toward the studio, trying to shake off my sad thoughts about Justin. I’d just have to send him some money to see a specialist or something, but I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t go back.
I grabbed my earpiece, stuck it in, and plopped down into my seat just as the director gave me the one-minute cue. He shot me an ugly look. I shot one back, letting him know I wasn’t the least bit fazed about him being upset.
I shook my head and quickly got into my TV mode. If there was one thing I was good at, it was that—shaking off everything and putting on my TV face. It’s what made me so good at this business. Today, I had to be better than normal because I was doing the show solo. My coanchor was out sick. But I knew running the show alone wouldn’t be a problem once I put thoughts of my family out of my mind.
An hour later, I was finished. I pushed back from the set and headed back to my office. The show had gone smoothly, despite all my worries about Justin.
I checked my messages. My sister Shondella had called two more times. She had coerced my private work number from Justin several years ago and didn’t hesitate to use it whenever she needed something. I deleted both messages without completely listening to them. There were several messages from fans and one from Myles. We were set for dinner tonight. He stood me up last night because he had to work late, so I’m sure he
had something special planned to make up for it. Myles was a city councilman and the love of my life. Just thinking about what lay in store tonight brought a smile to my face. That smile quickly faded when I listened to the last message.
“Uppity tramp. You ain’t all that!” The phone slammed down. I felt shivers run up my spine. That was the third call like that this week. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t make it out.
“It’s just an obsessed fan,” I muttered. One of the drawbacks to the job. Crazy people were always accosting me. Still, something about those calls had me uneasy. I jumped when the phone on my desk rang. I snatched it up.
“Channel Two. This is Rae Rollins.”
“So, you too good to call somebody back?”
I silently cursed before taking a deep breath and answering. “Yes, Shondella. May I help you?”
“May I help you?” she repeated mockingly. “You ain’t gotta put on no airs with me. I know your tail is country. And all anybody got to do is listen close enough and they can hear that Sweet Poke twang in your high-falutin voice. No matter how much you try and pretend, you still ain’t high society.” She laughed.
“Shondella, I’m busy. What do you want?” I was so not in the mood to deal with my older sister. We had never gotten along. I’ve always felt she was jealous of me. And that’s not just my confidence talking. We had different daddies. Hers was one of the darkest men in Sweet Poke and she had inherited his skin color. Personally, I thought her deep black-brown skin was beautiful, but she had always had issues with it. Between that and being about forty pounds overweight, she had some severe self-confidence problems. I was a smooth caramel color, a sexy size eight, and Shondella was forever making comments about my looks. Aside from the physical traits, we just didn’t like each other. Following in our mother’s footsteps, Shondella had four kids by three different men.
“Are you coming to see Justin?”
“I talked to Mama Tee. There’s nothing I can really do, and it’s not like my being there will help. Besides, I’m swamped here at work.” I eyed my desk, which bore no pictures of my life in Sweet Poke.
“Oh yeah. You and that high-falutin job of yours. All that money to sit in front of a camera and read,” Shondella taunted.
Okay, time to cut her off. Shondella never hesitated to belittle my job. Like ringing up packages of Marlboro 100s at Jr. Food Mart was top-of-the-line work.
“You know what,” I told her, “I’m hanging up.”
“Wait, wait!” Shondella yelled before I could hang up the phone. Something, I don’t know what, made me pause.
“Look here,” Shondella whined, “I ain’t mean to start no fight with you. I’m just upset because of Justin and all, and you act like you don’t even care.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. My family just didn’t understand me. Why couldn’t they let me live my life and I’d let them live theirs? Honestly, when I was in high school and Auntie Mel would embarrass me by coming up to the high school and picking up cans, I’d imagine that I had been switched at birth. My real mother would discover the mistake, come find me, and rescue me from my pitiful existence. Of course, it never happened. And when I shared my dream with Reno, he’d told me to stop watching so much Lifetime television.
“I do care,” I said, snapping back to my conversation. “I just don’t know what I can do for him, that’s all.” I should probably have made arrangements to go back for Justin, but I hated that part of my life and just wanted it to be over.
“Okay, I see your point.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. Shondella never saw my point about anything. “Shondella, what do you want?”
“Why I gotta want something?” she replied in the sincerest voice she could muster.
“Don’t act like we have a sweet sister relationship and you were just calling to chat.”
“You know what? I get so sick of your self-righteous behind!” she snapped. “I just wanted to see if you were coming home to see Justin.”
I inhaled deeply. I knew she really loved Justin. Everyone did. “All right. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Cool. Apology accepted.”
A silent pause hung between us. “Well, I really have to go,” I finally said. “Thank you for calling.”
“Hey…ummm…before you go, I was wondering…my lights are about to be cut off and, ummm…Lexus wants to go to this band camp…so I was wondering if you could spot me a little sumptin’ sumptin’.”
I felt my blood boiling. I should have known. The only time she called me was when she wanted something. I have loaned—no, let me correct that—I have given (because none of them have paid me back one damn dime) my relatives so much money, it is ridiculous.
“Shondella, I knew you wanted something.”
“Come on, Sis. It ain’t like I done asked you for nothing recently,” she pleaded.
“That’s a lie. I just sent you five hundred dollars.”
“That was four months ago. I ain’t asked you for nothing in the last month.”
“You didn’t pay me back that five hundred. Or the three hundred before. Or the thousand before that.”
“Dang, it ain’t like you need it! I’m gon’ give you all your funky money back when I settle this lawsuit.”
I shook my head. Shondella had been counting on money from a lawsuit since a Frito-Lay truck had hit her more than a year ago. She wasn’t even hurt, but she’d taken three months off from work, gone to therapy every day, and was sure she’d be able to get a hefty payoff.
“Whatever. I’m sick of this. I wish…I wish—”
“You wish what? That we’d just go away? I’m sorry, little sis, but we’re family. For life. You can run all you like, but there’s no escaping that.” Shondella laughed.
“Shondella, I just don’t have it.”
“Stop lying! You know you make all that money.”
I knew that bidding war the stations had gotten in to get me would come back to haunt me. It was all in the papers how NBC had shelled out nearly half a million dollars to have me join their team. Couple in signing bonuses and extra pay, I made close to $600,000 a year.
“You just gon’ let your nieces sit in the dark ’cause you got a beef with me?” Shondella asked after I didn’t say anything.
There she went again, playing on the only other thing besides Justin she knew I cared about in Sweet Poke. My nieces. I didn’t talk to them often, but I did love them. I felt sorry for them, not only because they had car names—for the life of me I couldn’t understand why Shondella would name her children Lexus, Mercedes, Camry, and Porsche—but because I believed they were doomed to repeat the cycle in Sweet Poke.
I finally concluded that the sooner I agreed to send her the money, the sooner I could get her off the phone.
“How much?”
“So you’ll loan me the money?” she asked excitedly.
“How much?”
“I need about eight hundred.”
“Fine.” I leaned forward and pulled my checkbook out of my purse. I wanted to write this check and get it in the mail today. Shondella would be calling me every day until it arrived.
“I meant nine hundred,” she said quickly.
“I will send eight hundred tomorrow.”
“Can you send it Western Union?”
“Shondella, you better be grateful I’m sending it at all, especially since you didn’t pay me back the last three times.”
“Okay, okay. Thank you. I’ll pay you back this time. I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bye.”
I didn’t even give her time to respond. I placed the phone back on the cradle, wondering what I had done in a former life to be sentenced to a family like mine.
Chapter 2
Every woman ought to have a man as fine as mine.
My eyes ran up and down Myles’s body—a body that seemed to be made of steel, chiseled at the hands of Michelangelo himself. There was not an ounce of fat on his
muscular physique. His hazel, seductive eyes, defined chin, and plump lips were just the icing on the cake.
Can I say it again? My man is fine.
Not just that, though. He’s a rising star. The youngest man ever elected to Houston’s city council, Myles Jacobs knew how to play the political game. He was charismatic, intelligent, and knew how to work a room. People were already pushing him to consider running for mayor. Some even said he had what it took to be the first black president, although I didn’t foresee that happening in this lifetime.
Even so, I’d look good as a first lady.
“Girl, you know you’re gon’ make me late, lying there looking all good and stuff.” Myles popped me on my behind. I was sprawled out across my king-size bed, the morning paper spread out in front of me.
“Boy, you’re silly,” I said as he leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head before our lips met. “And definitely in need of some Scope. Oh my goodness.” I fanned my face.
Myles playfully pounced on me, blowing his breath in my face. “There, take that.”
“Ughh,” I screamed, trying to wiggle from his grasp. “Quit playing.”
Myles laughed, pulled himself up and headed into the bathroom.
“Let me get in the shower before I really am late,” he said. “And I’ll make sure I take care of this halitosis you claim I have.”
I Know I've Been Changed Page 2
