“So all I have to do is go in there and tell the truth,” Zola said.
“It’s as simple as that.”
“Have you met Yancey B. yet?”
“No, and I must say I’m looking forward to it,” I said.
“Why? She’s not all that. Pretty, but not Halle Berry/Vanessa Williams beautiful,” Zola said.
“That’s not why. You know she was engaged to my friend Basil,” I said.
“So, was he the football player who left her at the altar?”
“Something like that,” I said as I took a sip of the cognac I had ordered.
“Where is Mr. Sexy Basil these days?”
“He’s living in Atlanta. I think he’s going to stay. His little girl lives down there with her mother.”
“So he really is the devoted daddy?”
“Yeah, he is. A good thing for me, because I might be staying in a place like this,” I said as I looked around the dimly lit bar.
“Oh, I didn’t even think of that. You were staying in one of Davis’s corporate apartments. I did that when I first moved here. Have you heard from Davis?”
“I got a call and a hand-delivered letter reminding me of my confidentiality agreement and giving me two weeks’ notice to vacate the apartment. That’s where Basil comes in. He’s letting me crash at his pad, and it’s really nice. I could get used to it,” I said.
“So you haven’t made up your mind about staying?”
“Not really. I dig the hell out of Chris, but I just don’t know if I want to practice law,” I said.
“I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do since I can’t do something I love. I’ve been thinking about going back home and trying to get a teaching job at Tennessee State or Fisk and just chill.”
“You’d be a great teacher.”
“You think so?”
“Zola, you strike me as a woman who can do anything you set your mind to,” I said.
Zola smiled at me and touched my wrist. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out. I mean, finding out all of that information to back my case. You’ve been such a blessing for me, and I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Zola. I’m doing what I think is right.”
“You’re not worried about the wrath of Davis McClinton?”
“He’s not as tough as he wants people to think,” I said.
“I agree. I know he doesn’t like people to know that.”
“When is the last time you talked to him?”
“Not since you showed up at my place with the bad news. But he’s still trying to stay up in my mix,” Zola said.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been sending me all these gifts. I get something almost every other day,” Zola said.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was. I guess he thinks if he keeps sending me gifts that I’ll come crawling back into his life. Sometimes I can’t believe what I was thinking when I hooked up with Davis,” Zola said, sighing.
“I guess I could say the same thing. We all make mistakes,” I said as I looked at my watch. It was almost seven, and I still had to meet with Gussie Armstrong.
“Is it time for your next meeting?” Zola asked when she noticed me looking at my watch.
“Yeah, it is,” I said.
“Then I’m outta here. Give me a kiss,” Zola said as she stood and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Sleep tight. Hopefully this will soon be over,” I said.
“That would be the best Christmas present I’ve ever received,” Zola said as she put on her full-length brown leather coat.
“I’ve never played Santa Claus, but let me see what I can do,” I said as I stood and watched Zola walk toward the lobby of the busy hotel.
I got to Basil’s apartment, had a glass of wine and decided to take a bath and think about the deposition the next day. As I sat in the oversized marble whirlpool bath, I enjoyed the sound of water in the large bathroom swimming in golden light.
The next day I would meet the woman who had really gotten to Basil. I knew from our conversations that Basil really loved Yancey and most likely would have given up men entirely to please her.
As I continued to soak in the tub, I thought about how I would smile at Yancey and thank her for agreeing to do the deposition before the holidays and how I realized how important time was to such a major artist. Off the record, I might tell her how she was even more beautiful in person. No, I shouldn’t do that.
I would start by asking Yancey why she had dropped her suit against Bling Bling and had chosen to sue Zola personally. Before she answered the question, I would remind her that she was under oath and that the conference room was just like a court of law. I was certain Davis and his money were behind her dropping the suit.
I hoped she would be truthful, because I hadn’t figured out how I would let Zola and Yancey know that I was aware of the check Yancey had received from Davis. Depending on Yancey B.’s answer, I would start to inquire about her whereabouts during the time in question. I also needed to find out what her relationship with Kirsten Dawson was, and why she was not suing Kirsten.
Then I would make sure Gussie and Ava made their appearances and I would closely watch Yancey’s reaction when the women entered. That would be key. I felt like I was the director of a play and I was the only one who had a script. The actors would have to rely on the truth or think fast on their feet.
When I got tired of turning on the hot water to keep the water warm, I got out of the tub and rubbed baby oil over my body, dried off and then spread cocoa butter over some of my uneven blemishes.
Basil’s bathroom was mirrored from floor to ceiling, which didn’t surprise me at all, and I couldn’t help but notice my own body. I was in great shape for a forty-year-old man, so working out with Sebastian had been a wise move. I put on a loose-fitting navy blue T-shirt and light brown pajama bottoms and searched for the remote in the bedroom. I located it under a couple of down pillows and clicked the on button.
I turned to Biography on A&E and then walked into the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine. As I sipped the wine and savored the silence of Basil’s living area, I found myself picking up and gazing at the pictures of Basil and Talley. They both looked so incredibly happy. I wondered if children were the only ones who could provide adults unconditional love.
I replaced the pictures and was preparing to pick out a suit and tie for tomorrow, when the phone rang. Even though I was a little uncomfortable answering his phone, Basil had insisted that I make myself at home.
“Basil Henderson’s residence,” I said.
“Yo, Raymond, you sound like a butler or something. My peeps are going to think I really have gone big-time,” Basil said.
“Basil, you are big-time. How are you doing? I was just thinking about you,” I said.
“That doesn’t surprise me. I bet you think of me more than you’d ever admit,” Basil said in a playful tone.
“You think so? You’d be the one who’d be surprised,” I said confidently.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do for Christmas?”
“I’m going to visit my parents. It looks like Kirby’s season will be over and he’s going to try and make it as well. I’m really looking forward to it,” I said.
“Tell Kirby he needs me as an agent. I’d get him on a winning team,” Basil said.
“So what’s going on with your business? Are you going to be able to do your part from Atlanta?”
“Yeah, Brison has been great. We already have an office here and I’ll just make it bigger. There are a lot of big football schools down south. It’s actually a lot easier travelwise.”
Basil and I talked for a few more minutes about sports and all the gifts he’d bought for Talley. He told me he’d even bought two camcorders to make sure he recorded every minute of Talley’s first Christmas. He concluded by saying the greatest gift he was giving Talley she
wouldn’t be able to appreciate for several years and possibly not until she was an adult.
“Basil, please tell me you didn’t buy her a car?”
“Nope.”
“A horse?”
“Naw.”
“Tell me what this great gift is,” I said.
Basil was silent for a few moments, and then he said, “I’m going to marry Talley’s mother. I’ve decided to ask Rosa to marry me on Christmas Eve.”
“You’re doing what?”
“I’m going to ask Rosa to marry me. I want to do it before the New Year.”
Now I was speechless for a few moments.
“Ray, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. When did you decide to do that?” I asked as I placed the wine I was drinking on the coffee table. I didn’t want the effects of the alcohol to lead me to some wine-soaked confession of my feelings about Basil and his marrying Rosa.
“So aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
“Are you in love?”
“As much as I can hope for,” Basil said.
“What does that mean?”
“Come on, Ray. Don’t go deep. You know me better than anyone and I care deeply for Rosa. She’s the mother of my child. I can offer her and Talley a wonderful life. Love is just a word for romantics. I’m being practical,” Basil said.
My silence returned and I found myself thinking about the intimate times I had spent with Basil. Some of the moments involved just sitting or lying in bed talking and gazing into each other’s eyes. I remembered how we had made love in a pool under perfect moonlight in Atlanta many years ago. But it wasn’t lust I was thinking about. I thought of how the heart recalled magic moments better than the head and how much I really loved Basil. I also realized I would never have Basil the way I wanted, and twinges of loneliness returned.
“Raymond, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Basil. I’m happy for Talley, Rosa and you.”
“Will you be there for me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, praying that he wasn’t going to ask me to be in his wedding.
“Just what I asked. Be there. I don’t mean physically, because I want a private ceremony, but will you have my back even when we’re not in the same room?”
“Like in spirit?”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Basil said.
“Cool, I can do that. I got your back,” I said quietly.
Basil and I talked a few minutes and promised to talk again on Christmas morning and then said good night. I lay out on the sofa, thinking about Basil, and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.
13
__________________
I walked into my lawyer’s building under a tender blue sky with a banner of white clouds that made me feel hopeful about the day. When I reached the thirty-fifth floor, the receptionist told me Raymond, Chris and Gussie were waiting for me in Conference Room A.
The conference room was close to the reception area. When I opened the door, I noticed it was larger and nicer than the one in which I had met Raymond and Chris before. I noticed Raymond and Chris and a lady at the end of the room standing over a table loaded with bagels, smoked salmon, muffins, fresh fruit, juices and two large coffeepots.
“Good morning, everybody,” I said as I walked toward the end of the conference room.
“Zola. Good morning,” Chris said with a very gentle smile.
“Hey, Zola, are you ready?” Raymond asked. He looked very professional dressed in a proper navy suit with a white shirt and a silver and light blue tie.
“As ready as I can be,” I said.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” Raymond said.
“Hello, I’m Zola Norwood,” I said as I extended my hand to a short white woman with dirty-brown hair styled in what looked like a pageboy.
“Hi, Zola, I’m Gussie Armstrong. So nice to meet you,” she said.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to help,” I said as I shook her hand.
“Glad to do it,” Gussie said.
“Zola, can I speak with you for a moment?” Raymond said.
“Sure,” I said as I placed my briefcase on one of the reddish-brown leather chairs.
Raymond and I moved into the middle of the conference room and I noticed concern in his eyes.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
Raymond explained to me that he was trying to serve Kirsten with a subpoena but had been unsuccessful.
“It seems like she’s just dropped out of sight,” Raymond said.
“Do we really need her?”
“If this goes to trial, most definitely. She’s the one who wrote the story,” Raymond said.
“Yeah,” I said. I thought, Why on earth didn’t I hire Veronica Chambers to write the story? No way would I be in this mess now.
“Well, let’s not worry about it right now. We have Gussie and Ava. Why don’t you get yourself something to eat while I speak with Gussie again? I think Gussie is a little nervous. I don’t know if it’s New York or the process,” Raymond said.
“Okay, I didn’t have a chance to get anything to eat,” I said.
I had a little plate of salmon, a bagel with cream cheese and a few strawberries. I poured myself a cup of coffee and added three sugars and milk instead of cream. I was enjoying my breakfast, when a tall black woman with long hair three different colors walked in. She looked too young to be Yancey B.’s mother, unless Madame Ava had found the fountain of youth and the world’s best plastic surgeon.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Hello. I’m Victoria Mills, the court reporter, but you can call me Vicki,” she said.
“Nice meeting you. I’m Zola Norwood,” I said as I picked up a napkin and wiped my mouth.
“Are you the plaintiff or the defendant?” Vicki asked.
“I think I’m the defendant,” I said.
“So you’re the one who’s the editor of Bling Bling?” Vicki asked.
“I used to be,” I said.
“I love that magazine. Who do you think is going to win the Sexiest Brothaman Alive contest?”
“I don’t have a clue,” I said as I took a sip of my coffee.
Vicki went over to the buffet, poured herself some apple juice, sat down and started to pull out something that looked like a computer.
A few minutes later, Raymond, Chris and Gussie walked back into the room. Raymond looked at his watch nervously and said he was ready to get this show on the road.
There was a knock on the door, and when Chris said to come in, the receptionist stuck her head in and announced that Yancey Braxton and her attorneys were here.
“Send them in,” Chris instructed.
A few minutes later Yancey B. and three white men entered the conference room. The men followed Yancey B. like she was dropping priceless diamonds in her wake. Her face was beat and her long auburn hair was layered perfectly, looking very much like the diva/victim. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a mink coat, and she was carrying a small leather clutch bag.
The way she strolled in, I was waiting for a band or at the very least a string quartet to provide her theme music. She nodded briefly in our direction, lowered her head and then stood as one of her attorneys pulled out a chair and removed her mink coat as though he were her personal man-in-waiting. Yancey B. was wearing an ankle-length peach pastel wraparound dress that looked like cashmere. She had on diamond drop earrings that must have cost a small fortune.
Raymond and Chris went over and greeted them, and I heard Raymond say he’d been looking forward to meeting her. Yancey B. asked him to repeat his name, and when he did, she put her finger on her lips and asked, “Where have I heard that name before?”
Gussie was looking at the group with confusion. She came over to me and asked, “Who is that beautiful woman?”
“Don’t you know her?”
“No.”
“That’s Yancey B., the recording star and the one who was
at the clinic,” I said.
“That’s not the woman at the clinic where I worked,” Gussie said.
“Oh, shit. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, the woman who said she was Yancey B. was kind of attractive and grand, but she wasn’t that young or beautiful,” Gussie said.
“Raymond,” I said as I stood. Raymond looked toward me. I know my voice sounded loud and panic-stricken.
He walked away from Yancey’s court and toward Gussie and me and asked, “What’s the matter?”
I looked at Gussie and said, “Tell him.”
Gussie coughed nervously and then whispered, “That’s not the Yancey B. I know.”
“What?”
“That’s not her,” Gussie repeated.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never seen that woman in my life.”
“Gussie, did you call a writer representing Bling Bling telling them about Yancey B. being at your clinic?” I asked.
She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and said, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’ve never heard of Bling anything. The woman who said she was a famous recording star talked about how she needed some publicity to revive her career. She was on the phone all the time. She gave me a few dollars to allow her to use my cell phone when they took her phone privileges away for breaking the phone rule.”
Raymond looked at Gussie and then turned and called Chris’s name. When Chris walked over, Raymond told him what Gussie had said and Chris suggested we go to his office and talk.
Just as we were headed out of the room, the door opened and in walked a breathtaking burst of red worn by a middle-aged woman whose made-up face was pure Betty Davis drama. She slithered in with a sweet-smelling cloud of sophistication. She was dressed in red from head to three-inch trick-me, fuck-me pumps. Skintight sheath dress. Red. Embroidered jacket. Red. Stockings. Red. The oversized leather purse? Red. She was wearing a wide-brimmed crimson hat with a single feather tilted over one eye.
A Love of My Own Page 30
