“I’m the only one teaching jazz and ballet and if I’m gone, then what’s gonna happen?”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Naw, not unless you got a job for me,” Desiree said.
“Can you wait until I open my own firm? Until then, well I can look around. You know, ask some people at the office. Do you have a game plan?”
“I have a list of temp agencies. I’m so glad I took ninth-grade typing and that Windows course last year. I guess I will be doing that while I look for something else. But you know maybe this is a good time to consider another career. Maybe go to grad school.”
“But you love dance. What would you study?”
“I still love dance, but I’ve got bills to pay. Maybe I’ll go get an MBA or something like that. Shit, who knows, I may follow my best friend’s step and go to law school. Then we could open up a firm together. I just don’t know. I don’t guess I’ll know until they tell me I no longer have a job. But you know what?”
“What?”
“Somehow I will survive. You know me, girl, I’m like roaches. You can get rid of me for a couple of days, but you know I will be back,” Desiree said. Tamela was glad to hear Desiree sound more positive and hopeful.
“And you know it, but please, honey, get your head examined before entering law school, trust me when I say that. And I know I don’t have to say this, but you’ve got a place to stay if you need it,” Tamela said.
“I know. Thanks for just listening, Tam.”
“I’m here for you,” Tamela said.
“I know. Well, let me go. Maybe now I need to get down on my knees and pray,” Desiree said.
“And so will I. So will I.”
Early Monday morning, Sean headed to Gina DeMarco’s office to discuss his assignment from Sports Today. He had almost overslept. He’d returned to his room at around 3 A.M., after spending the evening drinking brandy at a black gay cruise bar downtown. Located directly under the El tracks, the bar was affectionately called the Stop and Stab, because of its clientele. It had been a disaster for Sean. He had struck up a conversation with the one decent-looking guy, clean-cut-looking-for-trouble type, while sitting at the bar. Even though Sean was convinced they were both looking for the same type of man, he felt adventurous. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, he had met someone whom he could talk with after they made love. But the guy, Steven something, was a complete stuck-up jerk. When Sean asked him, “Steve, where did you go to college at?” he had replied in a very clipped, smart-ass faggot tone Sean despised, “I attended Dartmouth where they teach the correct use of prepositions.” Sean responded quickly, “Oh, excuse me. I intended to ask you where did you attend college, asshole?” He did not give Steve a chance to reply, as he left the bar horny and with a quiet rage. A rage that simmered every time he thought about how black gay men treated each other. He thought they spent too much time worrying about white gay folks and straight black folks and never talked honestly about something they could attempt to change.
At Gina’s office, Sean was greeted by a receptionist who seemed more interested in her colorful nails than in announcing visitors. From the way she was laughing on the phone, and saying “I heard that,” and “Girl, that’s deep, too deep,” every other sentence, Sean knew she couldn’t be talking business. After waiting about ten minutes Sean went over and stood directly in front of her.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m waiting to see Ms. DeMarco,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me buzz her,” she said.
But before she could figure out which button to press, Gina opened the huge maple door that shielded a suite of offices from the reception area.
“Sean, I was wondering what happened to you,” Gina said.
“I was here at nine on the nose, just as we agreed,” Sean said as he moved his eyes in the direction of the receptionist, whose attention had turned back to her nails and her phone call.
“Come on back to my office,” Gina said as she rolled her eyes at the receptionist.
“Thanks, I really appreciate your seeing me on such short notice,” Sean added.
“Oh, no problem. I’m just glad I had a little time in my schedule,” Gina said.
Once seated in her office, Gina asked Sean to excuse her for a second. She picked up her phone, hit a few buttons, and said, “Felicia, this is Gina DeMarco in the Jefferson Suite. Yeah, yeah, I’m doing fine but I’ve got a problem with Miss Thing out there in the waiting area. She has got to go,” Gina said. “Well, I’m not surprised, please add my name to the list of people who want her gone.” She paused before adding, “I thank you for your attention to this.”
While Gina was on the phone, Sean noticed all the pictures on her wall of Gina with different celebrities in the music industry; some of the people he could make out, some he couldn’t. Her office had an art deco flavor, and the suite was decorated with a pink leather chair and a green sofa. Everywhere Sean looked, he saw the Alpha Kappa Alpha insignia: on the card holder, the wastebasket, and even on a beautiful embroidered wall hanging with the AKA monogram.
Gina hung up the phone, shook her head, and said, “My peoples, sometimes we can be so wrong we’re right.”
She pulled out a compact and lipstick from her desk, pressed her lips together, and as she applied the rum raisin shade to her lips, started to quiz Sean on what his article was about and what he thought of her new client.
“You see this?” She held up a pile of pink message notes. “All these are requests for Zurich. Is he hot or what? Am I right or am I wrong?” she said while she closed her compact and put it in her top desk drawer.
But before Sean could answer, Gina laughed to herself and said, “You were in the dressing room yesterday, weren’t you?” She paused before asking, “Is Zurich Robinson the finest specimen of a man you have ever seen? Am I right or am I wrong? Shit … if I wasn’t married, I might have to give him some. But I wouldn’t leave Clarence, that’s my husband, to go to heaven. Am I right or am I wrong?” Gina laughed. Clarence must be some kinda man, Sean thought. But he liked Gina and thought Clarence might turn down a trip to heaven, too.
Gina DeMarco enjoyed hearing herself talk and hearing herself laugh. After a few more comments about Zurich, all ending with her “Am I right or am I wrong?” Sean finally got a question in.
“So, Gina, I guess you are an AKA?” Sean asked. He realized that was a dumb question. Of course she was, with the way her office was decorated.
“Honey, till the day I die! Are you greek?”
“No, the fraternities on my campus were crazy. It was in the day when hazing was part of the norm,” Sean said.
“Yes, it was that way when I pledged. So I guess that tells you I’m no spring chicken,” Gina laughed. Sean smiled back at Gina, and started to tell her that she couldn’t be that old, but decided he had better get on with the business at hand.
“So do you think it’s possible for me to see Zurich this afternoon? I’m only in Chicago for a week and I wanted to get started on the story and see if my editor wants me to expand Zurich’s part, since it looks like he’s going to be a big star.”
“You got that right, Sean,” Gina said. She pushed the intercom button on her phone and told her secretary to get Zurich on the phone and see what his schedule was. A few minutes later her phone buzzed and Sean could hear Gina talking with Zurich. She toyed with one of her large, gold clip-on earrings, looked at Sean, and asked, “Do you play racquetball?”
“I haven’t played in a while, but …”
“What time do you have the court reserved, Zurich?” Gina asked over the phone. She put her hands over the mouthpiece of the phone and said, “Can you meet Zurich at the Chicago Health Club at two-thirty? And be on time,” said Gina.
“No problem,” Sean said. He wondered if he still remembered the rules of racquetball and whether he’d brought tennis shoes.
“How much time do you need?” Gina asked Sean, this time placing
the phone against one of her ample breasts.
“About two hours,” Sean replied.
“He needs about four hours, Zurich,” Gina said as she smiled at Sean and winked. When she hung up the phone, she wrote down the address of the club, looked at Sean, and said, “I did that ’cause for some reason I like you. I don’t know why, but I do. You must remind me of somebody. I don’t know who, but don’t worry, I’ll think of it.”
“Thanks, Gina, I appreciate that. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why does a man only in his first year in the NFL need a publicist and manager? I mean, no offense to you, but when I first heard Zurich had a publicist, I was worried I might be dealing with a real prima donna,” Sean said.
“Good question, and to be honest, and just between you and me, he doesn’t need a publicist-manager yet. But you’re correct that he’s going to be a big star and the agent he has really doesn’t work for him. I have big plans for Zurich,” Gina said.
“Are you interested in becoming an agent?”
“I knew I liked you for some reason, maybe because you’re smart. Yes, I plan on becoming a major agent. I’ve spent a great deal of time researching what it takes to be a great one. A lot of these agents, mostly male and white guys, sign up these players right out of college, sign them with big money and then leave them alone. Nobody shows them that signing the big contracts is just the beginning. They need to know how to manage their money, and have the opportunity for commercial endorsements without being a Michael Jordan or Shaq. I want to make sure that my clients have careers after they’re through using their bodies,” Gina ended as she got up from her chair and sat on the edge of her desk facing Sean. She sounded as if she were doing the closing argument in a Perry Mason trial.
“Have you always wanted to be an agent?” Sean was intrigued.
“You sure do have a lot of questions. No, I started out as a manager and publicist for a well-known declining diva who shall remain nameless. It was great, being exposed to the high life. Fancy hotels, room service, first-class air travel, limos. Because of her, I was living large. But one day I realized that it was her life and her shit. I wanted my own shit and starting my own business was one way of getting it. My husband is really supportive and I never stop working and I never stop thinking.”
“As they say, Ms. Gina DeMarco, it’s all good,” Sean said smiling.
Gina smiled back, gave Sean a low five, and said, “Am I right or am I wrong?”
CHAPTER 10
ONLY HUMAN
Sean eased his badly bruised ego and aching body slowly into a seat next to Zurich, who sat sipping orange juice at the bar at the Chicago Health Club. Sean followed suit and ordered a tall glass for himself. Zurich had just beaten Sean unmercifully in five games of racquetball. Though he realized he was not in the same shape as he had been in college, he was not prepared for the whipping he took from Zurich or the complete exhaustion he felt after two hours of chasing a tiny rubber ball. Strongly built and just under six feet, Sean knew he was about ten pounds overweight. His body was so limp that instead of showering after the final game, he slumped to the floor of the locker room with his eyes closed and his back against the wall, while Zurich showered. He was, as they say down South, dog-tired. Sean thought even his hair was hurting.
“Is there anything you can’t do well?” Sean asked.
“Well, I can’t play golf that well,” Zurich said. He seemed completely serene.
“Then next time I’ll meet you on the golf course!” Sean said.
“Oh, you weren’t that bad. At least you made it competitive,” Zurich said. He didn’t want Sean to resent him, and on some level, he admired Sean’s style on the court, the way he never gave up, despite the beating Zurich handed him.
Sean reached into his black gym bag and pulled out a tape recorder and a black-and-white reporter’s notebook. He laid the recorder on the counter, looked at Zurich, and said, “So, you ready to get started?” Sean really wanted to go back to his hotel and crash, but he had to do this interview to get paid. The juice was helping him recover a little, but what he really wanted was a massage and a cold, cold beer.
“Okay, Blackman. Start quizzing,” Zurich said.
“Before we get started, I have a question, not related to the interview. How in the world did you meet Gina ‘Am I wrong or am I right?’ DeMarco,” Sean asked with a broad smile. Zurich smiled back and laughed as he tapped the bar.
“Gina, she’s my girl. She saves my life. When I first signed with the Cougars, and flew to Chicago, she met me at the airport. She was in a limo, dressed like a movie star. Came up to me, introduced herself, and then said, ‘Zurich Robinson, I think you’re going to be as big as Michael Jordan, Walter Payton, and Shaq combined. Am I right or am I wrong?’ ”
“What did you say?”
“What could I say? She was so confident and forceful. But not in a pushy way. I liked her style. So I said, ‘I think you’re right,’ ” Zurich said with a hearty laugh.
“What happened next?”
“Well, she had this presentation all prepared with companies she would contact on my behalf and how she would help me with people like yourself. The media. She has really been a blessing. And you know, I’m seriously thinking ’bout firing my agent and letting Gina handle all my personal affairs, including Cougar management,” Zurich said.
“You must really trust her,” Sean said.
“She makes it easy to trust her,” he smiled.
“I got that from her, too. She’s a firecracker with a touch of class,” Sean said as he prepared to turn on the tape recorder.
“That’s a great way to describe her,” Zurich said. “Say where did you get that Negro League baseball cap from?” Zurich asked as he admired the tan baseball cap with several of the teams’ emblems on the front.
“A friend of mine in Austin, Texas, has a store where she sells them. She knew I collected baseball caps, so she sent it to me. You want me to see if I can get you one?”
“Sure, I’d like that and I’ll get you one of the Cougars’ hats,” Zurich offered.
“Thanks a lot, I’d like that. Now, this is for the interview. I want to know if you consider yourself a role model?”
“For who?” Zurich asked.
“Well, for young kids,” Sean said.
“Maybe for my nieces and nephews. But not for other people’s children. I think children should find their role models where they live. People they see every day. People they can talk to and get some instant response to their problems. People like their parents and older siblings. Now I know a lot of us come from dysfunctional families. Where maybe the mother or the father isn’t a good role model, but there is usually somebody in the family, say a grandmother or uncle, that can provide support. I don’t think because I can throw and run with a football that I have a right to be a role model to somebody I don’t know,” Zurich said thoughtfully. Just as he finished talking and started to take a sip of his orange juice, one of the locker room attendants came over with a towel and asked Zurich to sign an autograph for his son, telling him how he was one of his son’s heroes. Zurich quickly agreed and exchanged a polite smile with the attendant as he signed the towel.
“So, I guess you’ve thought about this,” Sean commented.
“No offense to you, but athletes get asked that question a lot.”
“Point well taken. So let’s talk about the game against the Bears. Did you expect to play so well?”
“I had hoped I would play well, but it was one of my best games ever. Everything just fell into place. Also, my offensive line was on,” Zurich said.
“Do you think the Cougars can compete for the division title in their first year?”
“You want a PR answer or what I really think?”
“What you really think,” Sean replied.
“Now, you know, Mr. Expert, that’s next to impossible to predict. The team was well aware that the Bears used a lot of players t
hat are not even on their roster right now. We will be lucky just to stay competitive and make the games interesting,” Zurich said. “Like our racquetball game,” he smiled.
“Touché,” Sean said. He thought that maybe Zurich was becoming a little more relaxed.
Sean and Zurich talked about his time in the Canadian Football League and how difficult it was learning the rules of Canadian football after leaving SFT, where the running and passing were about half and half. Sean was impressed with how thoughtful and open Zurich was with his answers. After two hours of questions concerning football and Zurich’s future in the NFL, Sean’s questions became more personal. He wanted to know about Zurich Thurgood Robinson the man. He realized he had been given only a limited amount of time and he was pretty sure that his time was almost up.
“So, you’re from Florida?”
“Yeah, grew up in Tampa, but my brothers and I spent a lot of time in Mississippi, where my father grew up.”
“What part of Mississippi?”
“A little town near Jackson called Warm Springs. My brothers and I used to play football near Alcorn State University,” Zurich said.
“I read where you have four brothers, no sisters. Is that right?” Sean said.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Zurich said, dropping his gaze.
“Are you close to your brothers?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, now avoiding eye contact with Sean.
“Tell me about them,” Sean said.
“I thought this interview was about me,” Zurich said sharply. It became clear to Sean that he had stepped into dangerous territory.
“It is about you, but I want the story to reflect the complete Zurich Robinson, how he feels and how he became who he is. But if you don’t want to talk about your family, well, that’s cool,” Sean said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that my family didn’t choose to be in the public eye. So out of respect for them, I try not to discuss them. But don’t get me wrong. I love my family. Two of my brothers are married with wonderful children and live in the Miami area. And I have a little brother who attends Morehouse College, majoring in English, and he walked on the football team. He’s also a pretty good tennis and racquetball player,” Zurich said.
And This Too Shall Pass Page 12
