by Deidre Berry
Yes, Mama Dorsey, and please tell us how you were able to do that, especially in light of your child’s current set of circumstances.
Also, according to Vance, Annette refused to pony up any money toward Donovan’s bond, which is the reason she had given me for liquidating his assets in the first place. Annette’s reasoning was that Donovan will be headed to prison anyway, whether she forked over that much cash or not, which was true, but still. What a ruthless bitch. Annette Dorsey was truly about saving her own ass, even at the expense of her own child, who was the reason she had been able to live so well in the first place.
Full Circle
“I’ll tell you one thing: whoever says money can’t buy happiness is not shopping at the right stores!”
That’s how I used to feel about money, but since I’ve been on this rags-to-riches roller coaster, I have definitely changed my mind. Money doesn’t buy happiness per se, but what it does do is give you freedom, peace of mind, and more control over your life and circumstances.
I knew that I could do a lot of good with the money that Donovan had stashed away, but the problem was, it wasn’t my money.
It was a couple of weeks after my discovery of all that loot, and while I had kept my mouth shut all that time, I was bursting at the seams and needed some advice on how to proceed.
I called my two most trusted advisors, Tameka and Kyle, to meet me for lunch and a powwow at Cornelia Street Cafe in the West Village.
“Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if you had access to millions of dollars,” I asked. “Would you keep it, or turn it in?”
Kyle and Tameka sat across the table from me, looking at me as if I were growing a second head right in front of their eyes.
“Well . . .” Tameka said slowly, giving it some serious thought, “I would break off everyone I love with a high six figures, and definitely pay off all my debts and financial obligations.”
Hint, hint . . .
“And is that before or after they cart your ass off to jail?” Kyle asked. “Because make no mistake about it, you will be watched, and you will be caught.” Kyle looked me directly in my eyes when he said that, and his point was taken as well.
“Hypothetically speaking, of course,” I said.
“Oh, but of course!” said Tameka.
“No doubt, no doubt,” Kyle said, “but please elaborate on this situation with Mr. Murphy.”
“Yeah!” Tameka said. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Hey, like Pebbles and Babyface told you way back in the day, ‘Love Makes Things Happen,’ ” I said, hitting my glass of iced tea against each of theirs. Neither of them drank to that. Haters!
“Yes, but is it really love, or is it just daddy hunger rearing its ugly head again?”
“There you go with that bullshit again,” I snapped. “Look, the fact that I prefer older men doesn’t have anything to do with my father not being around, all right? Over and out!”
“Ooh . . . careful now, she gon’ cut you!” Tameka said to Kyle under her breath.
“Okay, sweetheart, don’t go taking your extreme bitch disorder out on me,” Kyle said. “If you love it, I live for it!”
“Okay, good,” I said, “so we’re in agreement, right?”
“Mmm-hmm . . .” said Kyle, exchanging the side-eye with Tameka.
“You know, I can’t stand it when people think they know more about my business than I do,” I said. “Vance is my new man, and that’s that. No couple starts a relationship being head over heels in love right off the bat. You build, and work up to that.
“And as far as my so-called daddy hunger, everyone is entitled to their preferences, and when it comes to men, mine just so happen to be men who are mature, stable, and already are what they want to be when they grow up.”
“Now that is something I’ll toast to!” Tameka said, hitting her glass against mine. “But back to your original question, what would you do? Keep it, or turn it over?”
“If I were in that situation,” I said, “it would be hard as hell, but I would do the right thing and turn the money over.”
“Yay!” Kyle applauded me. “ ’Cause it sure wouldn’t be cute if I had to come see my Boo-Boo up in the big house. I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course!”
I wondered what Tameka and Kyle would say if they knew that the oversized hobo bag I was carrying was bulging because it contained three plastic Pathmark bags filled with a quarter of a million dollars. Considering that I could get mugged, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but seeing as how I had no other alternative, it was the safest.
Before we parted ways outside of the cafe, I slipped an envelope into Tameka’s tote bag, which contained twenty thousand dollars. I wasn’t as smooth about it as I wanted to be, so it did not go unnoticed.
“Eva, what is this?” Tameka asked, and then peeked inside the envelope. “Say word!”
“Word!”
Tameka grinned and gave me an appreciative hug. “Wait, this isn’t part of what you were talking about earlier, is it?”
“Well, yes and no,” I said, “but trust me, it’s all good. And if I do go down because of it, then it was well worth it just to see that smile on your face.”
How I Got Over
So, there it was. I had made the decision to turn over the safe deposit key, and Donovan’s note over to the authorities. Well, the note minus the part about the $250K in cash. I took a pair of scissors and snipped that little bit of information right on off the bottom of the letter.
Why?
Because, well, this was not some feel-good episode of Good Times. This was real life—my life. And besides, that two hundred and fifty thousand dollars wasn’t just going toward my benefit. It was for my grandmother’s well-being, for Tameka and her kids, as well as for Belle, who had lost every penny of her late husband’s insurance policy to Donovan’s scheme. Of course, I didn’t have enough cash to replace all that she had lost, but I thought that Belle would be thrilled to have some money back in her hands, even if it was just a measly two hundred thousand in comparison to the one million that had been stolen from her.
“Welcome to Belle’s, how can I help you?” Belle beamed from behind the counter, her usual radiant self.
The place was packed, something that I had never seen out of all the times I had been in there and passed by.
“Hello, Belle,” I said, “how are you today?”
“I’m doing just fine,” she said, while staring at me and trying to remember where she knew me from. “Oh, hey, baby!” she said after a few seconds. “Eva, right?”
“Yes, ma’am . . .”
“Oh, yeah! I couldn’t place you at first ’cause you look so much happier—almost like a brand-new person. You must have gotten that thing worked out that had you so upset.”
“Not completely, but things are much better than they were the last time I saw you.”
“Praise God! I was praying for you, so it just goes to show that God answers prayer.”
“And I thank you for that, because Lord knows I needed all the prayer I could get!” I said. “I see you have a pretty nice crowd today.”
“And that’s just another reason to praise God,” Belle said. “I finally took my son Steve’s advice, and added a couple more items to the menu, and business has picked up ever since.”
Belle handed me a to-go menu, which now included chicken and turkey panini and a soup of the day.
“Corn chowder? Yum! I’m gonna have to get some of that to go,” I said. “But since it’s close to Mardi Gras, maybe you should consider adding gumbo to the menu, just for that week leading up to Fat Tuesday.”
“Chile, what’chu know about Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday?”
“Everything there is to know,” I said. “My family is from Chicago, by way of Shreveport, so I’ve been celebrating Mardi Gras and making gumbo since I was ye’ high.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, my people are from down South too, but instead of gumbo, King Ca
ke is my specialty,” Belle said. “Chile, you know something? That’s a good idea. You think I should do a whole Mardi Gras menu and theme this year?”
“Sure, why not? I’m sure your customers would really appreciate it since people love to celebrate, no matter what the occasion is,” I said, “and you definitely can’t get a good bowl of gumbo anywhere within a twenty-mile radius of here.”
“You’re sure right about that. . . .” said Belle. “Only thing is, my gumbo is not the best. Do you have a good recipe?”
“Oh, yeah! I have a recipe that’s been in my family for I don’t know how many generations, and it’s all up here,” I said, tapping my temple.
Belle’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, this is exciting!” she said. “I’ll tell you what: you whip up a pot of that gumbo when you get a chance, bring it by, and we’ll take it from there, okay?”
“Good deal! Now can I get a turkey panini on rye and a bowl of that corn chowder to go, please?”
“Coming right up!”
I had stopped by Belle’s to give her one of the Pathmark bags filled with two hundred thousand dollars, but after talking to her, I realized there was no way I could give her all that money without a lengthy explanation. She didn’t know that I was Donovan’s ex-girlfriend and I wanted to keep it that way.
A gift-wrapped box via messenger would be best.
Before I left, I gave Belle a hug and the number to my pay-as-you-go cell phone.
At that moment I realized that I could have bought myself a new and improved, superdeluxe and superexpensive cell phone with some of the money I had hustled up, not to mention all the cash that I had found in Flossie, but I was so consumed in making sure that everyone else was taken care of that splurging on things for myself hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Considering how spoiled and self-centered I was just a few months before, that was real growth, and I have say, it felt real good.
Smoke & Mirrors
I decided to break the news to Vance in the same indirect manner that I had told Tameka and Kyle.
Later that evening we were in our bedroom getting undressed after a dinner party, when I started the conversation off with hypothetically . . .
“Forget all the ‘hypothetical’ stuff. Talk to me straight, Eva, what’s up?”
I showed Vance Donovan’s note, and after he finished reading it, he chuckled. “I figured as much. Ever since I’ve known the dude, Donovan always had a trick or two up his sleeve.”
“So what should I do?”
“Absolutely nothing! Do you know how damaging this information would be to Donovan’s case? At this point, it would be the equivalent of handing his head over on a silver platter.”
“Okay, fine,” I said, “I won’t tell the feds about the accounts and hidden money until after Donavan has been tried and sentenced.”
“No, you won’t tell them about it ever!” Vance shouted, his eyes bulging. “I’m Donovan’s lawyer, so you let me handle this aspect of things, okay? As a matter of fact, where’s the key to the safe deposit box?” Vance had had several drinks during the evening, but I didn’t think he’d had enough to alter his personality so drastically.
“Oh! I wondered when we would have our first fight, and what it would be about, and here it is,” I said. “First of all, talking to me like that is a no-no, bruh! Let’s just get that straight right now, and as for the key, it’s in a safe place.” And that was right on my key ring, in my hobo bag, along with twenty-five thousand dollars, which was all that was left of the money.
“Look, this is serious business. Do you know how it would look for you if you turned that letter over? I mean, let’s be real here. You’re not exactly in the clear yet yourself, Eva.”
“I know you’re the legal expert here, but to me, that letter says it all.”
Vance ripped Donovan’s letter to shreds and threw the pieces up in the air like confetti. “What proof do you have to take to the feds now?” Vance asked, looking more and more sinister by the minute. I was determined not to show it, but he was scaring the hell out of me.
“Look, why don’t you just go take a shower, lay down for the night, and we’ll talk about this in the morn—” I said calmly.
“Listen to me real carefully,” Vance said quietly, grabbing me roughly by the arm, “you and I need to get on the same page on this, all right? Now, Donovan spelled it all out in his letter. All we have to do is lay low until all of the hoopla dies down, then we’re set for life.”
I yanked my arm away from him. “Oh, no, I’m not down with that,” I said. “True, that type of dough would change anyone’s life, but I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
Vance gave me a hard, disappointed look, as if I were an incorrigible child who was getting on his last fucking nerve.
“Okay, how about this,” he said, pulling at the hairs in his goatee. “Since you’re all about the Benjamins, I will give you one hundred thousand dollars to give me that key and forget what you know.”
That disturbed my spirit and drove home the fact that I didn’t really know this man at all.
The last couple of months flashed before my eyes, starting with the day I returned from Switzerland, and walked into Vance’s office. Standing there in that moment with him begging me for the key that would essentially unlock a whole new life for him, it was as if the pieces to a huge puzzle suddenly arranged themselves and formed a complete, vivid picture.
“The only reason you took me in and stuck by me was because you figured that somehow, some way, I would eventually lead you to the money,” I said. “Hell, even coming to Chicago was just your way of keeping me close and luring me back here to New York.”
Vance clapped slowly, and sarcastically. “Finally!” He put my face between his hands and kissed me. “You’re starting to use that head of yours for more than just a hat rack,” he said, “although I have to tell you that I initially thought that you knew more than you actually did.”
“Fine,” I said, “since that’s all you wanted from the very beginning, give me the money and I’ll give you the key.”
“Aww, why that sad face, Eva?” he pouted, mimicking me. “Look, I care for you, I really do, but this is New York City, baby. Nobody does anything for free unless there is something in it for them somewhere down the line.”
“Oh, I know the mentality quite well: ‘If I can’t use you in some way, then I have no use for you.’ I had forgotten that for a moment, but fuck it, let’s do this.”
While Vance went into the closet where he kept a small safe, I removed the post office box key from my key ring.
I dropped the key in the palm of Vance’s hand. He placed the stacks in my hand, but quickly snatched them back.
“C’mon, hand over the money, Vance. The sooner I can get out of here, the better.”
“You know, you really don’t have to go,” Vance said. “I really would like for us to share in this newfound fortune together.”
“Naw, I’m good. Can I have the money, please?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said with mock sadness.
I’d had enough. Cool, and calm, I whipped a can of pepper spray out of my pocket and blasted Vance dead in the eyes.
He freaked out and started clawing at his eyes, and screaming like a little girl. “Ah, you bitch! It burns. . . . Aaah!”
For good measure, I went into a martial arts stance and hit him with a rapid combination of kicks, punches, and well-placed karate chops that I had learned in a self-defense class.
I was both surprised and relieved when Vance dropped to the ground, out cold.
The Pursuit of Happiness
Which brings us to today.
A year after the real Vance Murphy revealed himself, I am back in Chicago where I couldn’t be happier. It is one of the best moves I’ve ever made, actually, because I am back working in print media, and back to doing what I love.
Larry Nichols became editor-in-chief of Hue Magazine and hired me
on the spot as a features writer when I went in and inquired about a job. And believe me, Larry hadn’t made the decision because we’d had dinner together once and he thought I was cute, but because I had walked in there armed to the teeth with excellent writing samples and a portfolio that even Rupert Murdoch himself couldn’t front on.
Today, I had one of those days at the office that proves as long as you’re doing what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.
I’d had an interview with none other than the legendary homegirl herself, Ms. Chaka Khan. I was nervous at first because of her notorious aversion to journalists and the media in general, but I spent half of the day with her and found her to be a sweetheart who was very approachable, honest, and funny as all get-out.
“Great job! You put her at ease, and got her to really open up,” Larry said after reading a rough draft of the interview. “Ms. Khan rarely does interviews, so this edition with her on the cover is gonna be a home run!”
I left work feeling like I could fly.
Spending quality time with a music icon had been wonderful and inspiring, but news had come from New York earlier that day that I couldn’t wait to share with the rest of the family.
It had been a couple of months since I’d last been to the Big Apple, and at the time it was for Kyle’s commitment ceremony to Alvin, a wonderful guy who came and swept Kyle off his feet after he got rid of Irwin’s lying, cheating ass. Due in part to my testimony to a federal grand jury, Vance Murphy lost his license to practice law in the state of New York due to misconduct and ethics violations.
The last I’d heard through the grapevine was that Vance had relocated to the Atlanta area where he was working for peanuts as a paralegal and trying to get a law license in the state of Georgia.
Since Vance was abruptly removed from Donovan’s case, Donovan’s new team of attorneys suggested he do the opposite of what Vance had suggested and to go ahead and plead guilty in exchange for reduced jail time. Donovan is now serving a thirty-year sentence at Butner Federal Prison in Durham, North Carolina, which I hear is the equivalent of “Camp Cupcake” where Martha Stewart served her sentence for stock fraud.
