A Love of My Own

by E. Lynn Harris

  “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years since that show came to Broadway. It’s a wonderful show. Sure, I would love to go. Are any of the original stars going to be in it?” Raymond asked.

  “I don’t think so. Audra MacDonald, Lillias White, Heather Headley and Tamara Tunie are the headliners. One of my best friends is in the cast,” I said proudly.

  “I love all those ladies. Hey, we all need a show like Dreamgirls to cheer us up. Thanks for asking, Zola.” Raymond smiled.

  “There is a cast party afterward. You think you’ll be up for that? You would get a chance to meet my friend,” I said. I knew Hayden didn’t really like polished guys, but maybe he would make an exception for someone as handsome as Raymond.

  “Sure, I’m getting old, but I like to hang out every once in a while. Thanks again.”

  “Just glad you can make it,” I said as both Raymond and I walked into our respective offices.

  8

  __________________

  I went home a little early to get ready for the Dreamgirls big event.

  Zola and I reached the new Ford Theatre on Forty-second Street and joined a well-dressed crowd crackling with excitement. It seemed like New York City was slowly returning to life as I looked at a crowd of all different types of people who seemed excited to be out. Zola and I located our orchestra seats right before the opening cowbell, which signaled the start of the show, and I, along with a packed house, let out a roar that sounded more appropriate for a sporting event than a Broadway show.

  Zola looked beautiful in a royal blue strapless, short, sequined dress and her hair was up in a French roll instead of down like she normally wore it. I was glad I had worn my black tuxedo with an ivory shirt and matching tie, like I had seen Will Smith wear to some awards show. I used my hand to press down the back of my hair, hoping Zola and others looking at me wouldn’t notice that I needed a haircut.

  “Thanks again for inviting me,” I whispered as the curtain began to rise.

  “Glad you could make it,” Zola said as she leaned toward me and touched my hand gently.

  The performance of Dreamgirls was amazing. Audra, Heather, Lillias and Tamara turned it out. Performing one of the male leads was one of my favorite singers, Billy Porter, who had recorded one of my favorite songs, “Love Is on the Way,” a couple of years ago and wished the song were true. There was also a very handsome brown-skinned man playing the lead role of Curtis Taylor Jr., and he had an incredible voice. I was hoping I would have the chance to meet him at the after party.

  When Zola’s friend Hayden made his first appearance in the chorus, Zola started clapping and hollering his name. “That’s my friend Hayden, the third guy from the left. Isn’t he nice-looking?” she said to me.

  I nodded slightly and smiled.

  For me, hearing the songs took me back to the eighties, when I lived in New York right after law school. I thought about Nicole and how I loved seeing her play one of the female leads, Deena Jones, when we were dating. I thought of how simple and easy life had been dating women and wondered if I could enjoy dating again if I met the right woman, someone as beautiful and talented as the ladies gracing the stage. But as the image of a woman and me lingered in my mind, I realized that it was just a dream whose time had passed.

  After the show, Zola and I walked a few blocks to an after party at a restaurant that had been closed for the affair. When we got there, several photographers and fans were standing behind a police blockade, screaming as stars of the show entered the restaurant. When we got a few feet from the entrance, we noticed a beautiful young lady and handsome man standing on the red carpet as photographers snapped pictures and young girls and a few boys screamed at the top of their lungs.

  “Must be one of the boy bands,” I said.

  “I wish. That’s Yancey B.,” Zola said.

  “The singer?” I asked as I peered over the crowd to get a look at the woman who had broken Basil’s heart. She was stunningly beautiful and seemed to be enjoying her moment in the spotlight.

  “Let’s get in before she sees me,” Zola said as she grabbed my hand.

  “Do you know her?”

  “Let’s just say I know of her. I had to bump her off the cover of the magazine when Aaliyah died, and I don’t think she’s real happy with me now. Maybe tonight she’s in a good mood and I can clear up our little misunderstanding,” Zola said.

  I followed Zola into the swank restaurant and she gave her name to a gentleman guarding the entrance. Zola checked her jacket and I enjoyed the view of all the good-looking men and women walking into the party, everyone seemed to be in a festive mood.

  “Are you ready?” Zola asked, breaking the trance I had fallen into.

  “Ready when you are. Lead the way,” I said.

  Zola walked up a flight of stairs like she owned the place, smiling at several people and giving pecks on the cheeks before we went through a large double door and into a large dining room covered in a low, buttery light. There were several dining tables, chairs, booths and a large circular bar.

  “Let’s see if we can find a table in the back. I need to make sure I spot Hayden. I can’t wait for you two to meet,” Zola said.

  “You want me to get you something to drink?” I asked.

  “Sure, white wine,” Zola said as she surveyed the room.

  I walked over toward the middle of the bar and found a spot where I could fit. After I ordered the drinks I heard a deep voice, so I turned around and realized that I was standing next to the male lead of Dreamgirls, a handsome man with near-perfect teeth whose face lit up with a dazzling smile. I felt my legs buckle. It was time to get back into circulation, I thought, as I started to hum “Love Is on the Way” to myself.

  “How are you doing?” he asked as he shook my hand firmly.

  “I’m doing fine. I’m Raymond Tyler,” I said.

  “I’m Merv Lewis,” he said.

  “You were great tonight,” I said, trying not to sound like I was gushing.

  “Thank you, Raymond.”

  “Yeah, Raymond Tyler,” I repeated. Just as I was trying to think of what to say next, I heard a lady’s voice say, “I thought that was you, Raymond Tyler.” I turned in the direction of the voice and was greeted with a sudden kiss on both cheeks by a woman who had on a large black hat with a huge brim and sunglasses. She was wearing a lot of jewelry, including a duo of diamonds the size of popcorn kernels in the center of each earlobe, letting the world know she had money or a sugar daddy, since she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  “Yes, I’m Raymond Tyler. Do we know each other?”

  “We met at Nicole Springer’s wedding,” she said.

  “How do you know Nicole?” I asked.

  “We go way back.”

  “Oh,” I said as I looked around the room to see where Merv had disappeared to.

  “We have someone else in common too,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “John Basil Henderson,” she said with a bright smile.

  “How do you know Basil?” I asked. This lady didn’t look like Basil’s type, but with him you never knew.

  “My husband played pro football with him.”

  “Oh, yeah, who’s your husband?”

  “Well, he was husband number two. I try never to mention his name. Is that fine-ass Basil married?”

  “No, but he has the most beautiful little girl,” I said. I suddenly wondered why I was telling Basil’s business to a woman I didn’t know.

  “Say . . . what? Basil’s a daddy? How sweet. What’s his little girl’s name?”

  “Talley,” I said. I did it again, telling somebody else’s business.

  “Talley. What a beautiful name. I bet she’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah, she is. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I didn’t throw it.” She laughed as she playfully hit me on the shoulder.

  “My bad,” I said.

  “I’m kidding. My name is . . . oh, wait a minut
e. I think I see Yancey B. I need to get her autograph. Nice seeing you again, Raymond. Tell Basil and Nicole I said hello,” she said as she kissed me again and then dashed off into the crowd.

  I yelled, “Who should I tell them sends her regards?” But she had disappeared into the crowd. I grabbed my drinks and started looking for Zola and hoped to bump into Merv.

  I walked around the room and didn’t spot Merv, but I saw Zola in the corner booth with a man. My eyes met hers and she motioned for me to come over. I placed one of the drinks in front of Zola and took a seat next to her.

  “Raymond, thanks for the drink. This is my friend Hayden.”

  “Nice meeting you, Hayden,” I said.

  “Same here. Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Bet. Everything was tight and Dreamgirls is my favorite Broadway show. Tonight was just magical. How was it being in the show?”

  “It was off the chain. I know there was a lot of drama onstage, but there was much more backstage,” Hayden said.

  “What happened?” Zola asked after taking a small sip of her wine.

  “Oh, baby. Well, you know all the divas in town wanted to be a part of the show. I mean, do you know how many Deena Joneses, Effies and Lorrells there have been? It didn’t matter if they had gained weight or hadn’t been on a stage since the last time they did a bus-and-truck production of Dreamgirls,” Hayden said.

  “One of my good friends used to play Deena,” I said.

  “Who?” Hayden asked.

  “Nicole Springer.”

  “Oh, I know Nicole. She’s a smart and pretty girl. A great Deena. She might be one of the few who turned the producers down. I heard they offered her a chance at directing because she’s a smart cookie. She knows there are new young divas getting off the Greyhound bus every day trying to get where she’s been. I heard she moved back to Atlanta and is directing a lot of shows, and I am not just talking black shows,” Hayden said.

  “Yeah, Nicole and her family are back in ATL,” I said. I was thinking maybe that’s where I should have moved instead of New York, but I knew now was not the time to bail out of the city.

  “So what was the drama?” Zola asked.

  “Y’all heard of Yancey B., right? She had a hit song and album last year. Anyway, she played Deena in the last Broadway production of the show. Now, Miss Girl is big-time with records and movies and was all set to play one of the lead roles, but she had so many requirements, like special kinds of water, and chocolate-covered fruit, so the producers told her thanks but no thanks. Anyway, right when the stars of the show came from the stage door, who was there trying to upstage them but none other than Miss Yancey B., with her fine-ass boyfriend or whatever. The ladies from tonight were pure class, just smiling, waving and getting into their cars.”

  “Sounds salty,” Zola said.

  “Oh, it gets better. Miss Yancey must be riding in a spaceship, because not only did she stay at the theater for photo opportunities, she hightailed it over to the party and upstaged the girls again as they were getting ready to come into the party. I caught only a tiny glimpse of her, but it looked like girlfriend had changed her dress.” Hayden laughed.

  “Where is she? I need to see what Yancey B. is looking like tonight. My work is never done,” Zola said.

  “Over there somewhere,” Hayden said as he pointed into a crowded area of the room.

  “Excuse me, Raymond. Looks like duty calls. You and Hayden talk amongst yourselves,” Zola said as she scooted out of the booth and disappeared into the crowd.

  A few moments of silence passed as Hayden and I both looked around the room. I was still hoping to spot Merv, and Hayden seemed to be just people-watching. Suddenly we were both looking at each other and Hayden said, “Miss Zola thinks she’s slick. Talking about trying to get some information for her magazine. Those divas know she’s press, and if there’s anything going on, then they’ll either move it to over-the-top drama or close their mouths.”

  “So what is she doing?” I asked.

  “Trying to play matchmaker with us,” Hayden said in a nonchalant tone, like he wasn’t interested, and I guess the same thing could be said for me. He was attractive, but in the few minutes I was in his company I could tell Hayden wasn’t my type, a bit too theatrical, although I hadn’t ruled him out as a friend.

  “I guess you’re saying I’m not your type,” I said, deciding I was much too old to be playing games and letting ole boy know I felt the same way.

  “Now, don’t get me wrong. Zola was right. You are fine with those faded green-apple eyes. And for an older guy, it looks like you’re still holding it together,” Hayden said as he paused and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a package of cigarettes. Now he was definitely eliminated. I didn’t do guys who smoked.

  “I guess I should say thank you.”

  “I’m just speaking the truth. You look good, but I don’t really date guys who identify themselves as gay or bi,” Hayden said as he lit up a cigarette, took a puff and blew the smoke in the direction of some man’s back.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been out here on the prowl. What do you mean you don’t date men who are bi or gay?” I asked.

  “I just don’t. Give me a man with a girlfriend or a wife. I don’t want a full-fledged, card-carrying homosexual. I won’t even date an HS.”

  “What’s an HS?” I asked.

  “You know, a heterosexual sissy. A man who is really and truly straight but acts gay because he just can’t help himself,” Hayden said.

  “Oh, that’s the first time I’ve heard the term. So you’re looking for sex, not love?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell me you’re looking for both?” Hayden asked.

  “I’m not really looking for anything,” I lied. I took another glance around the room in search of Merv. Just as I decided this conversation with Hayden wasn’t going anywhere, I realized he probably knew Merv and could maybe arrange an introduction.

  “If you change your mind, then there is plenty of anything in here. Thank God the kids know to leave me alone,” Hayden said.

  “Do you know this guy Merv? The one who played Curtis?” I asked.

  “Oh, so that’s your style. I feel you. The boy is blessed in many ways, but I am sorry to tell you he’s strictly for the dames. Believe me when I say almost every sissy in that chorus has tried to change his religion,” Hayden said, laughing.

  “That’s cool,” I said, trying to make sure I didn’t sound disappointed.

  “I’m going to the bar and get me a drink, say some hellos and good-byes and then hope something is waiting at home for me,” Hayden said as he got up from the booth.

  “Nice meeting you,” I said.

  “Great meeting you as well. Maybe we can get together soon. I can take you to some places where they will have plenty of your type.”

  “Give me a call,” I said.

  “Will do.”

  I finished my drink and was going to look for Zola to tell her I was getting ready to leave, when the woman with no name suddenly reappeared.

  “Do you have a card?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. I wasn’t about to give my information to someone so cagey.

  “Then how am I going to invite you to my next big party?”

  “Just call the offices of Bling Bling. So, is the party going to be in New York?”

  “They’re not parties. I produce events that would make this little party seem like a kiddie’s birthday. As I look around here tonight, the only thing missing are the animals. Although there are plenty of heifers and cows in too-tight dresses and jackasses who don’t know what black tie means,” she said as she looked over the crowd with a mock disgust.

  “So, do you live in New York?”

  “No, darling, I’m a resident of the world,” she said as she once again disappeared into the crowd.

  9

  __________________

  Everything seemed to be slowly getting back to normal with my friends and
me. It was a cool fall evening with a full moon floating brightly in the sky. I had invited Justine, Hayden and Kai for a potluck supper, cards and conversation. I had fried some chicken legs and thighs and made potato salad with hard-boiled eggs garnishing the top. Justine brought over some collard greens and rice pilaf, while Kai brought the wine. Hayden contributed a deep-dish apple pie from the Little Pie Company, a bakery in the theater district, and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. The scents of the food blended in well with the raspberry- and clove-scented candles I had placed on several of the tables on the main floor of my brownstone. A wooden box of colorful roses sat on the center of the table. I had even pulled out the wedding-white linen tablecloth my mother had given me one Christmas. Everything felt and looked like an evening in celebration of life and friendship.

  We all exchanged hugs and kisses, and everybody seemed to be having a good time, especially Kai, who had gulped down two glasses of wine before anyone else had a chance to finish one. Justine wasn’t drinking and had brought her own concoction of cranberry and lemon juice. After I placed the food out on my dining room table, I clapped my hands and asked everyone to gather around the table, and I began to pass out the plates. I noticed that Kai was wearing her hair differently, letting it flow down her back in waves of curls. I couldn’t help but stare at the low-cut sheer blouse she was wearing and realized she had honey-brown freckles on her cleavage.

  “Everything looks great,” Hayden said.

  “It sure does. That chicken looks golden brown, like this man I fucked the other night,” Kai said. Justine clutched her chest in horror. We had seen her do this before in a playful manner, but tonight she looked dead serious.

  “Who was he, honey, and does he have a brother?” Hayden asked.

  “I don’t know, but you can have him, darling. There are many men out there, and I intend to get to as many of them as possible,” Kai said, laughing.

  “You guys need to chill,” I said as I pulled some wine goblets from the cabinet.

  “We need some music up in here,” Hayden said as he went to look through my CD collection.