It was early afternoon and I went out to check my mail. I was greeted with a copy of Architectural Digest with guess who on the cover? Davis and Veronica in a six-page Christmas article. I couldn’t drop the magazine in the trash fast enough. As I was walking back into my brownstone, I noticed a flicker of blue and quickly recognized it as one of my favorite things: a Tiffany’s bag. I picked it up even though with the kind of day I was having, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if it were a booby-trapped gift. Maybe from Davis, trying to work his way back into my life. But after what he did to me, there wasn’t enough jewelry or magazine positions in the world for that to happen.
When I walked back into the house the phone was ringing. The caller ID displayed the number at Bling Bling, and I wondered for a moment if it was Raymond calling me.
I was curious so I picked up the phone.
“Hello,” I said.
“Zola, is that you?” I heard a female voice whisper.
“Yeah, this is Zola. Who is this?”
“Don’t you recognize my voice? This is Cyndi.”
“Cyndi, why are you whispering?”
“My new boss, Master Bristol Barnes, is always popping out of his office surprising me.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. I had talked with Cyndi a couple of times since I’d been fired, but we usually talked in the evening. She’d call and let me know what was going on in the office and told me she was sure Bristol was going to get rid of her at the beginning of the year. Cyndi had encouraged me to go out and start my own magazine and was really heartbroken when I told her I couldn’t do that for a while.
“Kirsten is coming to the office to see Bristol this afternoon. I know you can’t come in, but there isn’t anything that says you can’t be in the neighborhood,” Cyndi said.
“Cyndi, you’re absolutely right. What time is she coming?”
“They are meeting at three,” Cyndi said.
I looked at the clock and saw that it was 1:40. I had plenty of time to make it to midtown and try to intercept Kirsten before she met with Bristol. Since Kirsten always ran late, I wouldn’t have any trouble running into her.
“Thanks, Cyndi. You don’t know how much this means to me,” I said.
“I’m glad to do it. I know Ms. Thang has been avoiding you,” Cyndi said.
“Did you ever find out what happened to the documents?” I asked.
“No, it’s like they just disappeared into thin air,” Cyndi said.
“I can’t worry about that. I want to know why Kirsten is tripping like she is. I’m going to make that heifer at least tell me to my face,” I said.
“Carry your cell phone in case I need to reach you,” Cyndi said.
“I will. Thanks, Cyndi,” I said as I started to take off my sweatpants and head to the shower. I wasn’t feeling my best, but I certainly knew I had to look my best.
I arrived in the Times Square area about 2:45 P.M. I looked and felt like one of Charlie’s Angels on a stakeout for Kirsten. I had on black leather boots and my deep-blue suede jacket, which was the color of the early-morning sky, over a cranberry cashmere sweater dress. I also wore a black floppy hat, a silk scarf and large dark glasses.
Waiting for Kirsten was frustrating, and almost every other second I scanned each corner, looking for her. I guess Kirsten was going to introduce Bristol to C.P. (colored people’s) time.
I checked my cell phone to make sure it was working and started to call Cyndi to make sure I hadn’t missed Kirsten, but decided to wait a few more minutes. I put my cell back into my purse and started to survey the corners again, when I heard someone call my name.
“Zola? Is that you?”
I turned. Raymond was standing a few inches from me.
“Raymond, how are you?” I asked as I kissed him on the cheek nervously.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for someone,” I said.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m doing just fine. I’m glad I ran into you. I have a question.”
“Sure. What’s your question?”
“Can I write a book? That damn contract I signed doesn’t prevent me from writing a book, does it?”
“What kind of book? I think I can tell you without reservation that you can’t write a book about Davis. That would break the confidentiality agreement.”
“I’m talking about a novel. I’ve always wanted to write one,” I said.
“I’m sure you could write a great novel, and I don’t see a problem with that,” Raymond said.
“Thanks, you saved me a call,” I said. I heard my cell phone ringing so I asked Raymond to excuse me for a second.
“Hello. This is Zola,” I said.
“Zola, this is Cyndi. Bad news. Kirsten canceled her appointment with Bristol. She just called a few minutes ago.”
“Damn,” I said. Raymond looked at me with concern.
“I’m sorry. If she reschedules it, I’ll let you know,” Cyndi said.
“Thanks for your help, Cyndi.”
I clicked my phone off, and Raymond again asked me if I was okay. I wanted to break down and cry, but I had to remain strong and focused.
“I’m doing just fine, Raymond, but it looks like I’m going to have to find a damn good attorney,” I said.
“Zola, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. The lawsuit is the responsibility of Bling, and I’m pretty certain Davis is going to settle this thing out of court,” Raymond said.
“I guess you haven’t heard,” I said.
“Heard what?”
“Yancey B. is suing me personally.”
Raymond was silent, but he looked at me with the tenderness of a big brother. Then he started shaking his head and touched me on my shoulder.
“Zola, I’m sorry,” Raymond said.
“It’s not your fault. Yancey B. thinks that all I have to do with my life is to try and ruin hers,” I said.
“Do you have anybody in mind for an attorney?” Raymond asked.
“No. If I knew any good lawyers, I certainly would have had them review the contract I signed with Davis,” I said.
Raymond pulled a small leather notebook case out of his jacket pocket, tore out a piece of paper, and wrote something down. He handed me the paper and said, “Here’s the name of a good attorney. Call this guy and tell him I referred you. I don’t know if his firm handles your type of case, but he’ll have some recommendations.”
“Thanks, Raymond. I really appreciate this,” I said.
“Zola, I looked over some of the notes from the case. Have you tried to get in touch with Yancey B.’s mother?”
“Why?”
“It seems she was the source of some of the information. I know I shouldn’t be doing this since I work for Davis, but if I were your lawyer, I would certainly want to talk with Yancey’s mother,” Raymond said.
“Do you remember her last name?” I asked.
“I’m not certain, but I think it’s Middlebrooks,” Raymond said.
“That sounds familiar. Look, Raymond, I have to go. Thanks a million. I didn’t connect with the person I wanted to see, but maybe you were the person I was supposed to meet,” I said. Raymond looked at me with a puzzled look on his face, and I added, “I’ll explain later.” Then I leaned toward him and gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed toward the subway station.
When I got home I pulled out the piece of paper Raymond had given me and looked at the name Chris Thomas—Partner and a phone number, fax number and e-mail address. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Chris Thomas’s office,” a female voice said.
“Is he in?”
“No. May I take a message?”
“This is Zora Norwood. Would you have him give me a call as soon as possible?”
“Can I tell him what this is regarding?”
“Just tell him Raymond Tyler suggested I call,” I said.
“I will. Thank you.”
“Th
ank you,” I said as I hung up the phone. I went into my bedroom, sat on my bed and took off my boots. I was feeling optimistic, but I knew I still had to depend on Ava Middlebrooks sticking by her story. I was headed toward the kitchen for a glass of wine, when the phone rang. It was Hayden. How did we ever live without caller ID? I thought as I smiled to myself and picked up the phone.
“I need to hear a cheerful voice,” I said.
“What’s going on, Zola Mae?”
“Just trying to live my life, sweetheart,” I said, laughing.
“What are you doing this evening?” Hayden asked.
“I’m going to take a long bath and have a couple of glasses of wine,” I said.
“Sounds like you got some good news,” Hayden said.
I told him about my conversation with Raymond and his suggestion that I contact Yancey B.’s mother. Hayden told me that everybody in his cast was talking about the case and that I was like a celebrity to some of them and he wanted to invite me to the show.
He also told me that some of his castmates had been in Dreamgirls with Yancey B. and that people were still talking about her All About Eve tactics and that her mother had once been in show business. He also said he heard that there was no love lost between mother and daughter.
“I need to talk to her, but I don’t know how I can get her number,” I said.
“Maybe I can help you,” Hayden said.
“How are you going to do that?” I asked as I lifted my dress and pulled down my pantyhose.
“If Mother has a cell phone, I can get the number for a couple of hundred dollars,” Hayden said.
“How?”
Hayden told me he was dating a guy who did consulting for a lot of the major cell phone companies and had access to all kinds of information, including unlisted numbers.
“Do you know where she lives?” Hayden asked.
“I think in California,” I said.
“That’s a big help and a start. Let me make a couple of calls and I’ll get back to you. When all this stuff is finished, you’ve got to come to the theater and sign autographs,” Hayden said.
“Hayden, baby boy, if you help me with this then I’ll put on one of those beautiful costumes and sing and dance with you,” I said, laughing.
“A simple autograph and photo will do.”
“You saying I can’t sing?”
“Don’t make me use up a lie now so I can get this number for you later,” Hayden said.
“Bye-bye, Hayden. I’m going to get my glass of wine.”
6
__________________
I was getting ready to grab my gym bag and briefcase, when I heard a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I said.
Sebastian walked in with a smile and a masculine bounce I was getting used to.
“Yo, Raymond, are you ready to work out?” he asked.
“What are you doing here, dude? I thought I was going to meet you at the gym,” I said.
“Yeah, I know, but I was in the neighborhood. I have a client over at MTV who I train in her office. We need to look at getting a setup for you like that. Since you got a shower and all, we could just get some weights and do our thang here. It’s something to think about when winter gets here,” Sebastian said.
“I’ll look into that. It would sure save me some time,” I said.
“So, you ready?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be ready in a few. Was there someone sitting out in the reception area?”
“Naw, that’s why I knocked on the door.”
I looked at the clock and it was fifteen minutes past five. I had told Jolie that I needed her to stay until at least six every day. I shook my head and went back and sat at my desk to make a note to talk with Personnel again about getting a qualified assistant. Just as I was finishing the note, Davis walked into my office.
“Raymond, I’m glad you’re still here. I’ve got an exciting project I want you to get started on. Bristol has the magazine under control, and I want to make some moves with my radio business before Kathy Hughes buys up every station in the country,” Davis said.
“Sure. When do you want to talk about it?”
“How does your schedule look tomorrow?” Davis asked.
I was looking at my calendar when I heard Sebastian clear his throat. I realized that both Davis and I were ignoring Sebastian.
“Davis, this is my personal trainer and a good friend of my younger brother,” I said.
Davis looked toward Sebastian and then back at me without speaking or acknowledging Sebastian’s presence. I had seen Davis be rude, but I didn’t understand this.
“Check your calendar and get back with me first thing in the morning. This project will take your mind off Bling Bling and Zola,” Davis said as he started walking toward the door.
When he was a few feet from the door, Sebastian yelled at the top of his lungs, “Yo, li’l short mutherfucker. You think you so bad you can just ignore a brotha? Man, I don’t give a shit how much money you got. You need to show some respect to another black man in your company.”
I looked at Sebastian like he was having an emotional meltdown in real time, but he didn’t look my way. Davis turned around. His face was cold and angry, and he said, “Are you talking to me?”
“You the only rude mutherfucker in this office, so I gots to be talkin’ to you, shorty,” Sebastian said. His chest was sticking out like he was about to drop Davis to floor.
“Sebastian, I think you should head to the gym. I’ll meet you there,” I said.
“Naw, I came here to walk with you, and I’m not leaving until this asshole apologizes to me.”
“Raymond, call Security,” Davis ordered.
“Davis and Sebastian, come on, guys. Let’s work this out,” I said.
“If you don’t call them, then I will,” Davis said as he walked toward the end of my desk, where my phone sat.
“Sebastian, leave,” I said firmly.
“Don’t worry, Raymond. I’ll take care of this young punk,” Davis said.
“Like you took care of Scooter?” Sebastian asked.
Davis had picked up the phone, but he turned and faced Sebastian. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Do you ever think about Scooter?”
“Who are you?” Davis asked as his eyes widened.
“You don’t need to know who I am. I know who you are, and it ain’t no Davis McClinton. I’m ashamed you’re a McClinton, but you’re one in name only,” Sebastian said. His voice was scornful and impatient, and there was an eerie sound of embarrassment hanging in the air as Sebastian and Davis stared at each other as if they were professional fighters.
“Who are you?” Davis repeated as he moved closer to Sebastian. He was looking into Sebastian’s eyes to see where his anger was coming from.
“Don’t pull up on me, ’cause I will drop you,” Sebastian said.
“How do you know about Scooter?”
“He’s my uncle, and because of you I never knew him,” Sebastian said.
“Who sent you here?”
“Ain’t nobody sent me here. I came here on my own. I’m my own man. I just wanted to look into the eyes of a man who’s frontin’ to the world like he’s all that and you ain’t shit. Any man who would desert his family ain’t nothing but a lying piece of shit. I’m glad you changed your fuckin’ name. And for the record, Grandma and Papa know it’s you that’s been sending money to the house, but they don’t want it. When you stopped sending those checks and started sending cash, they would just take it down to the church,” Sebastian said as he continued with his one-sided conversation.
Davis looked like he was cornered, and I didn’t know what to do, so I tilted my chair toward Sebastian and said, “Sebastian, I know you’re upset, but I think we need to take this somewhere else.”
“I done said my piece. I said it for Scooter, Grandma, Papa, Clinton, Adriana, Brenda, and my mother, Gail. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Davis, I don’t know what either one of you is talking about,” I said.
“Get him out of here and make sure he doesn’t set foot in the building again, or else I will have him arrested. Do you understand me?”
“I do. Sebastian, let’s go,” I said as I grabbed my jacket and briefcase. I left my gym bag because I had a feeling that after this Sebastian wasn’t going to be in the mood to work out.
Davis headed toward the door and then turned back toward me. Sebastian was standing so close to me I could feel the heat from his body, and I swear I could hear his heartbeat.
“Raymond, I think we should talk about your future employment with McClinton Enterprises. I can’t believe you have brought this kind of backwoods trash into my environment.”
“If I’m backwoods trash, then I’m proud of it, but I’ll make sure the whole world—” Davis stormed out of the office as Sebastian’s voice became louder. “The whole world will know about fake-ass Davis McClinton. The whole fucking world,” Sebastian shouted as he pointed his two fingers toward Davis.
Sebastian and I walked through the maze of New York City, block after block, in silence. The evening wind was cool, blowing leaves and particles of trash in circles. I didn’t know what Sebastian was thinking or what he was going to reveal about the chinks in Davis McClinton’s powerful armor.
When we reached my apartment, the sun had dipped down and drenched the neighborhood in an apricot light. We walked through the lobby and onto the elevator in a silence that felt insulated by snowdrifts.
Once inside my apartment, Sebastian took off his jacket and plopped onto my sofa with a disgusted look on his face.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.
“You got any brew?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m pretty sure I do,” I said as I went into the kitchen. The quiet was starting to bother me, and I thought about turning on the CD player or the television. But I wanted to be ready in case Sebastian decided to talk.
I took the beer and set it on the table in front of Sebastian. He drank almost half of it with one swallow. I sat next to Sebastian with a glass of wine, and just when I was getting ready to ask him if he wanted to talk, he posed a question.
A Love of My Own Page 27
