The next day Tamara was still getting things set up and ready. She had been practically living at the club. She had hardly seen the inside of her apartment.
“Hello, Tamara.”
“What’s up, Aaron?” She hoped he wasn’t calling her to lecture her again. She didn’t want to hear about how she wasn’t a good person and wasn’t acting like a decent woman. She wasn’t trying to hear it. “What can I do for you Aaron?”
“My deejay just called me, he said that you didn’t need him. What’s up with that?”
“Well, I didn’t know if I could depend on you. I have been calling you. And I didn’t know if you were going to call me back. And I was calling him and he wasn’t calling me back. So I hired somebody else.”
“Listen, what me and you have going on has nothing to do with business. I said I was going to get it done and I meant it.”
“Well, you didn’t answer your phone and I couldn’t take the chance.”
“Why would you think I would ruin that for you? I’m not petty.”
“You didn’t call back so I didn’t know what to think. So I didn’t have a choice. I had to hire someone else. Thanks but no thanks.”
“Well, you are going to have to come up with a solution or pay him, because he could have been somewhere else that night. I can’t believe you were being that unprofessional.”
“Me? Being unprofessional? Listen, I don’t wait for anyone. I get shit done. So the first time you don’t return my call, forget you.”
“That’s your problem, you’re impatient and feel like no one is allowed to help you. You think men are out to hurt you,” Aaron screamed in Tamara’s ear.
Tamara hung up on him.
Today was the big day, February 13, 2008, the day of the big grand opening. Tamara had barely gotten any sleep in days and her eyes looked like someone had drawn black circles under them. She was trying to get rest but couldn’t. She was nervous and scared. When she did manage to get a few minutes of sleep she kept having the same recurring dream: nobody was going to show up to the grand opening and she was going to have to go home to Atlanta on a Greyhound bus. So to ensure that didn’t happen she was in overdrive. Tamara had even resorted to handing out flyers outside other nightclubs at three o’clock in the morning. She listed the celebrity guests who were scheduled to attend. She posted the event on every party Web site in the New York City metro area with pictures of the club and announced the first two hundred people could get in free. She knew that there wasn’t going to be enough room for all the people she was hoping would show up, but that was the plan. The longer the line, and the more people who weren’t able to get in, the more exclusive the club’s reputation would be. And now, hours away from the opening, it looked like her plan was going to work. As petty as Aaron was acting, his radio station was coming through like a champ with the giveaways, and Shaunell had been doing her part blowing it up on the air. Celebrities whom she had been calling for weeks were now scrambling to get callbacks from her to make sure they could get in. Kyra was even bringing in her husband to help with miscellaneous things like security until the real security arrived.
Tamara was prepping to speak with the FOX Morning Show. The cameraperson and reporter were setting up inside and outside the club.
“Good morning, this is Tracey Daniels and I am reporting live from the Onyx Lounge in downtown with the owners the Harold brothers, Maurice and Kendall.”
“Good morning, Tracey,” Maurice said, smiling.
“So, tonight what can people expect?” Tracey asked.
“You can expect a great VIP atmosphere,” Kendall said, looking very excitedly into the camera.
“Tell me, who are some of your invited guests?”
“Tracey, everyone will be here this evening from Gabrielle Union to P. Diddy to Queen Latifah,” Kendall said proudly.
“And as you can see, it’s not just the invited guests that are making the Onyx Lounge New York’s premier nightspot, it’s also the club itself,” Maurice broke in. “We’ve spent almost a million dollars in renovations. And this is just the beginning. In a few weeks we will be opening the restaurant,” he said as he showed the cameras around the club.
After the interview was over, it was 10:00 a.m. Maurice and Kendall left and said that they would talk to Tamara later. All the important things were done. All she had to do was wait for everyone to show up. Tamara’s phone kept ringing nonstop.
“Yes, I was hoping I could get one of my other clients to walk the red carpet.”
“Hold on,” Tamara said with attitude. This was the third person that this particular PR woman was trying to add. “Who’s this person?”
“Um, he is a new up-and-coming singer. His brother plays for the Minnesota Timberwolves and his album is about to drop.”
He sounded like a nondescript nobody to Tamara.
“Um, I’ll have to get back to you. And for sure if somebody cancels I’ll give you a call,” she said with no intention whatever to call her back.
No sooner had she hung up than the phone started ringing again. She handed it to Kyra. “Tell whoever it is they cannot walk the red carpet and our guest list is closed.” A few weeks ago no one was returning her calls. Now she was telling people no. Tamara felt so powerful and was impressed by the way things were turning out. The time was now three o’clock.
Everything was moving along perfectly, so Tamara went home and put on her black suit. At first she was going to wear a black dress, but she knew every woman with half a decent body would have the same look. Tamara wanted to be different. Her suit pants were supertight and hugged her legs just right. Tamara’s jacket was short-waisted and was pleated in the back and she was wearing a chunky cluster diamond necklace and her makeup was flawless. She was dressed with time to spare and headed out to the club. But when she got there, she found that things had turned to chaos. And there was only three hours before the doors opened.
Tamara walked into the club and to her surprise everybody seemed like they were having a good old time doing nothing. Maurice’s club owner friend who had promised to come early to make sure everything was tight hadn’t shown up. The floor was still covered with dust. Kyra was on her cell phone with a frantic look on her face, and the press releases she had asked her to fax were still sitting on the table.
“I was trying to send the releases, but the fax machines aren’t working and I couldn’t e-mail them because the Internet server is down for some reason.”
“You should have taken matters into your own hands. Go fax them at Kinko’s if you have to. I don’t care! No excuses. Get it done!”
Tamara felt the bitch coming out of her. She was trying not to be that bitchy lady, but she had to. She didn’t care how she came off. She was about to be that bitch who makes employees suddenly start working extra hard.
“Excuse me, what’s your name? Can you come and mop and wax this floor?” Tamara said as she looked around the club in disgust.
“I’ll clean it right now. The lady told me to wait until she’s done.”
“She is done, now get started,” Tamara yelled at the worker. She looked down at her phone. It was Maurice.
“How’s everything going? Are you ready for this evening?”
“Yes, everything is fine,” she said confidently, walking away from the commotion.
“That’s good to hear. I’ll see you shortly,” Maurice said to Tamara.
Tamara was walking back into the middle of the club when she felt her legs going into different directions. The next thing she knew she was doing an unintentional split in the middle of the dance floor. She heard her pants rip open at the seam and she tried to get up, but she was sore. Kyra rushed to assist her. She knew everyone wanted to laugh. Tamara didn’t care, she just got up and took her suit jacket and tied it around her waist. That was a temporary solution for the bigger problem: what the hell was she going to wear? Her outfit was ruined. She had to go home and find something else. She looked down at her watch. It was four thirt
y. If she left now it would take at least an hour for her to get home and back with traffic. She could send Kyra to go get her something to wear, but that wouldn’t work, either. Tamara stormed into her office to pull out the guest list to give to the people on the door, only to realize she’d left all three copies of it on her kitchen counter. Shit! Now she had no other choice but to leave. They had to have that list.
She grabbed Kyra. “Listen, I have to run back uptown, so I need you to take care of everything until I get back. Okay?”
She ran out of the club and got into a taxi. She gave the driver her address and began writing herself mental notes.
“Sir, do you think you can wait for me?” she asked when the cab was about to pull up in front of her brownstone.
“No, sorry. This is my last fare. I have to take my son to basketball.”
Instead of wasting time arguing Tamara got her phone and dialed for another taxi. She was told the wait was less than ten minutes. That would give her enough time to go upstairs and change and come out. Tamara paid the driver and ran up to her door. Instantly it dawned on her that she had left her bag in the backseat of the taxi. She turned around to catch the driver, but he was already turning the corner.
She wanted to just sit down on the steps and cry. She had lost. She might as well give up. The club would be opening in less than three hours and not only didn’t she have a guest list, but she had split pants and was locked out of her apartment. It was all over; she had failed. She was wrong, she was no match for New York City.
She thought about what she could do next. Her options were limited. She could call Kyra and tell her to act like she had a list or take a cab back downtown with split pants and no guest list. She could maybe stay at the door and send Kyra to get her pants from a boutique. Tamara called Mrs. Graham as her mind still rambled about.
“Hi, Mrs. Graham. I am so sorry to bother you but I have left my bag in the cab and don’t have any keys to get into my apartment.”
“Did you, now? Well, how did you do that? I guess it’s none of my business how you managed to leave your handbag in a cab. None of my business at all. Okay, I can probably be there in about an hour.”
“An hour? You live two buildings down!” Tamara looked to see if Mrs. Graham was hanging out the window, but the shades were pulled down shut.
“I’m not home, dear. My daughter taught me how to do that call-forwarding thing and I have my calls forwarded to my cell phone. I’m at the supermarket. But I should be finished in about an hour.”
Tamara looked at her watch. It was almost five, and if she had to wait an hour for Margie it would be six, barely leaving her an hour to get back downtown in rush-hour traffic. There was no way she was going to be back by seven. She was fucked.
“Mrs. Graham—”
“Call me Margie, dear.”
“Margie, listen, I’m having a really bad day. I just left my bag in a cab and I have to get back to work or I’m going to lose my job. Maybe I can pay you extra to come now. Please. I really have to get back to work.”
“Come, now. Let me tell you something, money doesn’t move me. It may move you young people, but I can care less about money,” the woman said in a huffy voice.
“I’m not trying to buy you. I just need you to come now because, well, if you don’t I’m really going to get fired.”
“Well, I guess I can do my grocery shopping tomorrow, but I don’t appreciate you trying to buy me off like that. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But all this rushing isn’t any good. That’s probably why you left your handbag in the taxi. Not that it’s any of my business. Not my business at all,” Mrs. Graham said as she disconnected the call.
Tamara sat there for a moment trying to figure out what she could do to get out of this situation. She kept coming up with ridiculous ideas or nothing at all. She even thought of trying to climb up the window, but then she remembered the security gates that she had installed at the insistence of her mother, who was still having fits about her daughter moving to Harlem.
She called an emergency locksmith, but the soonest they could get there was two hours. Mrs. Graham would be there before then.
She wanted to cry but she just sucked the tears back up. As she sat she planned how she was going to tell her mother she was coming home and would have to move in with her for a few months until she was able to land another job. Just then, as if to add insult to injury, Jerome walked up to the stairs.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? It’s a little cold to be sitting on the steps.”
Damn, she didn’t have time or the patience to even deal with his stupidity. She looked up at him and just rolled her eyes and was about to say something smart when she suddenly heard “Jerome. What did I tell you about harassing my tenants?”
That shrill voice had never sounded more pleasant. She looked up to see Mrs. Graham coming up the street, cigarette in hand.
“Get off my property before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing,” the woman said, hitting Jerome on the back of his head as he scooted down the steps. “Got the nerve to be trying to talk to women and a grown-ass man like you still living with his mother. Move on outta here. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
It was a miracle. Tamara’s cranky old landlady had actually come through for her! “Mrs. Graham, thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”
“Hmph. Don’t thank me too fast. It’s going to cost you a hundred dollars. Don’t want to charge you but I have to so you will make sure never to do this again.”
“Okay, no problem. I just appreciate you coming. I can write you a check.”
“No, I want cash.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have cash, because I left my handbag in a cab. That’s why I don’t have any keys.”
“Oh, honey, please. I’m just kidding you. I’m not charging you no money just to let you in your own place. If you ask me you’re foolish to agree to pay for it. That’s none of my business, of course. Not my business at all. But if I need something from the grocery store this weekend you’d better believe I’m going to come knocking,” Mrs. Graham said as she opened her door. “You made me leave before I could even pay for my food. And I don’t plan on going hungry this weekend. And I’m almost out of cigarettes.”
Tamara shot past the woman into her apartment, then turned suddenly and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, you ain’t got to be doing all of that,” Mrs. Graham said sheepishly. “I’m just glad I could help.”
Tamara thanked her again and ran into her bedroom and pulled out a black dress, a big red belt, and silver accessories with red wedge shoes.
After she changed her clothes and grabbed the guest list she ran out the door. She would have to borrow some money from Kyra for her taxi ride. She exited her building and began to sprint toward Malcolm X Boulevard. She stepped off the curb to cross the street but was almost knocked down by a yellow cab.
“Miss! Miss! You left your bag,” the cabdriver yelled out the window.
“Oh my gosh,” she said to the man. “Thank you so very much. And listen, are you sure you can’t take me back downtown? I can give you—”
“Yeah, I can. Lucky for you my wife called and said she’s gonna take the kid to his game. Hop in.”
Okay, this is the second miracle this evening. I’m on a roll, Tamara thought as she got in the cab. She pulled out her telephone. “Kyra, I’m on my way. How is everything so far?”
“Okay, please hurry up and get here. Kendall keeps calling. Then Maurice calls right after him asking for updates.”
“Just try to stall them. Is the deejay there yet?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and a few people are starting to arrive.”
“Is everything set up?”
“Yes, and the photographers are here. But the black carpet looks a little purple.”
“What?” Tamara couldn’t believe her luck. This was just perfect, a purple carpet and a nightclub withou
t a deejay, she thought, but there was nothing she could do.
Tamara dialed the deejay but his voice mail kept picking up. “Yo, you have reached Deejay Khali. I’m not available. Leave a message and I’ll get back.”
“Khali, this is Tamara. You better get your ass to Onyx Lounge. I gave you your money up front and you are very late. I’m not having this shit. You are not going to ruin me.”
Right after she left a message for him, another call came through. It was Kyra.
“Tamara, Dalbert’s publicist wants to now if we have a side entrance.”
“No, tell them everybody must come through the front. We want every star to be seen.”
“Okay.”
Tamara hung up and clasped her hands together. “God, please throw just a couple more miracles my way.”
A half hour later the cab pulled up in front of the club. Her heart racing, she stepped onto the sidewalk preparing herself for the worst. She looked around and almost wanted to cry, but this time for joy. The carpet was purple, but it didn’t look bad. Photographers were lined on either side of the carpet snapping pictures. The food was set up, the place looked beautiful, the black and silver décor was sparkling, and Maurice’s club owner friend was in front barking orders and greeting the beautifully attired guests who had arrived early.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Tamara handed him the guest list, then asked one of the bartenders to pour her a glass of champagne. She took it down with one big gulp. The cigar girls were walking around the club in black lace stockings and short white skirts and black shirts with white pearls. They were all wearing black cat’s-eye masks. Shaunell looked awesome. She had on a black long dress with a train with diamonds coming up the side. She was a real diva.
The deejay was still setting up but nobody noticed because he was playing a mixed CD. Tamara was looking around. Everything was coming along, but she didn’t feel relieved yet. It was time for another glass of champagne.
By eight the music was loud, and the club was over capacity. Both Maurice and Kendall were walking around like they were the most important men in the world. Everybody was trying to get their attention. When Kendall caught her eye he winked at her. When Maurice caught her eye he blew her a kiss. It had all come together, thank God. Tamara was happy, but she still couldn’t wait until it was over.
Diamond Playgirls Page 13
