And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Baby, that’s why I’m callin’ you. When my legs start to bother me then I know it’s something going bad with my children. I called your father and Trey before they saw you in Atlanta. They doing fine. Talked to your other brothers. They doing fine, too. Haven’t been out to the garden near the cemetery yet, but I just got that feeling that something is wrong with you in Chicago. Now tell MamaCee what’s troublin’ you, baby,” she said.

  “Trust me, MamaCee, everything is fine. I’ll call you later,” Zurich lied.

  “Now don’t you be tellin’ your grandma no story, all right?” MamaCee warned.

  “I’m not. I promise to call you back later,” Zurich said as he clicked back to the other line.

  “I’m sorry, Gina. That was my grandma,” Zurich said.

  “That’s okay. Now tell me what’s wrong. Come on now, Zurich, you’ve got me worried,” Gina said.

  Zurich told Gina about his dinner with Mia before he left for Atlanta and the scene at his apartment afterward.

  “So, that sounds all right to me. I thought that woman had a boyfriend. What’s the problem? She mad ’cause you didn’t want none of her kitty-kat?” Gina laughed.

  Zurich then told Gina about the conversation he had with Mia’s friend earlier. “Now do you understand why I’m worried,” he said.

  “I thought they were paying that heifer good money over at that station,” Gina said.

  “What does this have to do with money, Gina?” Zurich asked.

  “Everything. That woman wants some money from you for turning her down. I can tell a mile away what this is about. I bet you anything she wasn’t even raped. This is some kinda scam. But I must admit, I’m a little shocked with her being in the media. What would she have to gain by doing something like this? To be honest it would make more sense if it were one of those Cougar cheerleaders or some shake dancer girl you football players love so much. Are you sure you’re telling me the whole story? Nothing else happened when she went up to your apartment?”

  “Nothing but what I’ve told you, Gina. That’s it. True,” Zurich said.

  “Well, let me check this out. I know someone over at that station who might know what’s going on. In the meantime, I’m going to talk with a lawyer friend of mine, just in case this woman comes for us. I was talking to him just the other day about your doing some charity work with his organization, the BMU,” Gina said.

  “You really think I’m going to need a lawyer?”

  “I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll just have him on stand by. You know, just in case. But listen to me, don’t call her again. Just go on to practice and don’t mention this to anyone. Not even your coaches or friends on the team. And please, pretty please with whipped cream on top, don’t talk to any reporters. Tell them you’re concentrating on your game. The last thing we need after the Atlanta game is some type of negative press,” Gina said.

  “Okay. I’m going to take my shower and head to practice,” Zurich said.

  “Yeah, do that and I will talk to you later on this evening. But don’t worry, Gina DeMarco will take care of Miss Mia Miller. Am I right or am I wrong?”

  “I hope you’re right, Gina. This time I hope you’re right.”

  CHAPTER 14

  PROMISES, PROMISES

  “Who is this guy?” Tamela asked.

  “All I know from what Gina DeMarco told me is that he’s a football player,” Tim said.

  “Who is Gina DeMarco?”

  “She runs this PR firm. A real brassy-type woman. She had called me the other day about having some of the Cougars and Bears do a fund-raiser for the BMU scholarship fund. I understand she used to work with a lot of entertainment types, but now she’s venturing off into professional athletes,” Tim said.

  “So I guess this guy is a pro football player?”

  “Yeah, she said he played for the Cougars.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “How am I supposed to know that? Gina said her client, Zurich I think his name was, went out with this young lady before he left for an out-of-town game. When he came back, he called her and some friend of hers accused him of raping this young lady. Later Monday afternoon, the policemen came by Zurich’s apartment to question him, without counsel, and found panties in his dirty clothes hamper,” Tim said.

  “That doesn’t sound too good for him, unless he’s into wearing women’s underwear,” Tamela laughed.

  “Now come on, Tamela, get serious. You said you wanted the next big case and this looks like it’s going to be very big. The DA’s office has become very aggressive in prosecuting cases of abuse against women. Sometimes I don’t know about my black brothers, seems like they have to take everything these days. Giving us hardworking ones a bad name,” Tim said.

  Tamela thought, Was this fool talking about us and when was the last time he had a conversation with one of his black brothers? “Have they arrested him?”

  “No, not yet, but the police left a message for him to come down to the station after football practice. Gina and I both agree he shouldn’t go down there alone,” Tim said.

  Tamela leaned forward and began to tap her temples in a nervous manner. Was this case something she wanted to be involved in? A rape?

  “Is the victim black or white?” she asked.

  “What difference does that make?” Tim asked in an annoyed tone.

  Please, God, don’t let me have to read this fool. “Tim, wasn’t it just a minute ago when you were talking about all your black brothers? I just wanted to know what type of man and woman we’re dealing with,” Tamela replied. She thought he ought to know the victim’s color would make a hell of a difference.

  “Now look, Tamela, I don’t know a lot about either one of them. All I know is here I am trying to give you a possibly high-profile criminal case and you seem to have reservations. I can get someone else. But you can’t say that I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. I keep my promises.”

  “No, don’t do that. I can handle this,” Tamela said, getting to her feet. This was the chance she had been waiting for, and she was not about to let it slip away.

  Tim gave Tamela a piece of yellow legal paper with the name of Zurich Robinson and those of the police officers handling the case.

  “Well, I guess I should thank you, Tim,” Tamela said, trying to appear gracious, even as she was beginning to question having to represent a possible rapist in a case that could bring unwanted attention toward her.

  Tamela returned to her office, picked up the receiver of her phone, and held it, staring into space. She was thinking about Caliph. They had enjoyed a wonderful date on Sunday. Caliph and Tamela met after church and enjoyed buttered grits, eggs, and ham at Gladys’s restaurant and then went to see Jason’s Lyric. They ended the early evening walking by Lake Michigan talking about the movie. Tamela loved it, and Caliph thought it was okay, that the violence in the film spoiled, as he said, “What could have been a very romantic movie about a sensitive brother.” They had talked briefly every day and Tamela was trying to figure out whose turn it was to call. She didn’t want to appear too eager. As Desiree often said, “We’re getting too old to be eager.” I should call Desiree, she thought, but realized she didn’t know where she was. Desiree had been laid off from her teaching job and seemed to be taking it in stride. Maybe she should call her mother. She looked at her watch and realized her mother was teaching and that she only had thirty minutes to pick up her car and meet her new client. She put the phone down, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out the door. As she got on the packed elevator, one of her mother’s favorite bits of advice reverberated through her head: “Ain’t nothing to it, but to do it.”

  While waiting on hold for his travel agent to calculate costs for a trip to Dallas, Sean picked up the photo of Zurich Robinson. A dancer, he thought. He tried to imagine that same heavily padded body that raced past tacklers leaping across a stage in nothing but a leotard. What a fascinating bit of information this would add to his profile. He had to know
if Zurich Robinson was also a dancer, and if so, why no one else knew it. Sean suddenly hung up the phone and called information to request a listing for the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.

  “Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater,” a friendly female voice said.

  “Hello. I’m a freelance writer working on a piece about one of your former dancers,” Sean said. “Who would I need to talk to?”

  “How long ago did this person dance with our company?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think the early nineties,” Sean said.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Yes, Zurich Robinson.”

  “Let me put you on hold for a second.” Sean heard a click and then a Muzak version of Rick James’s “Super Freak.” Sean had started laughing to himself when a male voice came suddenly over the line.

  “This is Terry Tyler. How can I help you?”

  “Yes, as I was telling the receptionist just a minute ago, my name is Sean Elliott and I’m working on a story about someone who I think used to dance with your company,” he said.

  “Yes, the name our receptionist gave was Zurich Robinson. Now I’ve been in our publicity department for over six years and this name doesn’t ring a bell,” Terry said. “Do you know the exact year and if this person was a member of the main company or just a student here?”

  “That I’m not certain of. Do you have a listing of your former company members and students?”

  “Do you mind my asking who the story is for? Because I know most of the people over at Dance magazine,” Terry said.

  “Oh, this isn’t for a dance magazine, it’s for Sports Today,” Sean corrected.

  “They’ve finally realized that dancers are athletes too,” Terry laughed.

  “Now, I wouldn’t go that far, but I think they would be interested in a former dancer who is now a starting NFL quarterback,” Sean said.

  “Wouldn’t we all be,” Terry laughed. Sean could picture him snapping his fingers up in mid-air.

  “So can you help me?” Sean asked.

  “Well, that name doesn’t ring a bell, but let me do some checking. Robinson is a pretty common name and I should remember a name like that pretty easy. As much as I’d like to think I know everything about the company somebody might have slipped through here. Let me get your name and number, and I’ll do some research,” Terry said. Sean gave him the information and hung up and called his travel agent back. After about ten minutes of going over fares and possible cheap hotels in Dallas, Sean hung up the phone. He’d started to look for his latest Visa statement to see how much he could spend before he reached his limit when the phone rang.

  “Hello. This is Sean.”

  “Sean, this is Terry Tyler with the Ailey company. We spoke a few minutes ago.”

  “Yes, right. That was quick,” Sean said. “What did you find out?”

  “We definitely haven’t had a Zurich Robinson here as a student or as a member of the company, but I found something that might interest you,” Terry said.

  “I’m listening,” Sean said.

  “We had a member of the main company named Zachary Robinson. He was with us from 1988 until late 1991. But I know this couldn’t be the dancer slash quarterback,” Terry said confidently.

  “Why?” Sean asked. Maybe Zurich used an alias, he thought.

  “Because I knew Zachary Robinson, and Zach has been dead for almost three years,” Terry said.

  “How well did you know him?”

  “I knew him pretty well. He wasn’t, you know, like one of my running buddies,” Terry said.

  “Terry, do you know where he was from?”

  “Somewhere down South. Wait a minute,” Terry said. Sean heard the click again and now heard the Muzak version of James Brown’s “Living in America.”

  “Sean, he was from Tampa, Florida. Zachary Robinson was from Tampa,” he repeated.

  “Thank you. Look, can I ask another favor. You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of Zachary, would you?”

  “Sure, but he’s with some other people. I’ll check and see if I have an individual head shot. Give me your address, and I’ll have a messenger deliver it to you.”

  “That would be great. Thanks, Terry.”

  “Glad to help out. This sounds like something interesting. Keep me posted.”

  “Thanks, and I will,” Sean said.

  Sean started to fold up several pairs of underwear, a couple of baseball caps, and jeans in preparation for his trip to Dallas when the phone rang again.

  “Hey, baby brother. What you doing?” Anja asked.

  “Packing,” Sean said.

  “Where are you off to now?”

  “Dallas.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll be back by Saturday,” Anja said.

  “Saturday? What’s happening Saturday?”

  “Oh, Sean, please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your promise,” Anja said in an alarmed tone.

  “What promise?”

  “You promised to take Gerald to register for Pee Wee football up in Mount Vernon. And you told him you were going to take him to a Warrior game. Remember?”

  “Oh shit, you’re right, Anja. I’m sorry but it slipped my mind,” Sean said.

  “Are you going to tell him or should I?”

  “Tell him what?”

  “That you can’t make it,” Anja said.

  “Oh, I’m going to make it. I promised him so I’ll be there. I might have to change my plans, but I will be there.” Maybe Dallas would have to wait, Sean thought. He didn’t want to disappoint his nephew.

  “That makes me feel better, ’cause that’s all he’s been talking about. Every night before bed he’s talking about playing football and going to the game with Uncle Sean,” Anja said.

  “Please don’t mention to him that I forgot.”

  “Don’t worry I won’t,” Anja said. “Who are the Warriors playing Sunday?”

  “Let’s see here,” Sean said as he pulled a NFL composite schedule from his briefcase. “This is great,” he said.

  “What’s great?”

  “The Warriors are playing that new team from Chicago. The Cougars,” Sean said.

  “What’s so special about that?”

  “Well, remember I just got through interviewing their quarterback Zurich Robinson. You know, he’s black, and he seemed like a really nice guy. Maybe I can introduce him and maybe take some pictures and have Gerald meet some of the other players,” Sean said.

  “Sean, that sounds wonderful. Now I want to go,” Anja teased.

  “Naw, this is the boy’s day out and don’t you forget about the rev,” Sean teased back.

  “You know I’m just playing,” Anja said as she cleared her throat and then said, “And speaking of the reverend don’t forget that you also promised to come to church next Sunday with Gerald and me. Remember?”

  “And why did I agree to that?”

  “It’s Youth Day and your nephew is doing the occasion,” Anja said.

  “And I can leave after he’s finished, right?” Sean laughed.

  “Sean.”

  “Anja.”

  “Well, we can talk about that later, okay?”

  “Deal,” Sean said.

  “Okay, I’ll talk with you later.”

  “All right, give my little man a hug for me,” Sean said.

  “You got it,” Anja said as she hung up the phone.

  Sean looked at his half-packed suitcase and at his date book. He had planned to leave Dallas and then travel to the West Coast to interview Vince Evans. But he had made a promise to his nephew. A promise he had no intention of breaking. Besides, he thought as he pulled the suitcase off his desk, it would be nice to see Zurich Robinson and be in the Cougars’ locker room once again.

  Tamela met her new client right outside the police station near City Hall. Zurich was standing at the entrance with a large black notebook with Z-man stamped all
over it. He had told Tamela, when they spoke briefly on the phone, he would be carrying the notebook so she could identify him. She smiled pleasantly as she approached him saying, “Mr. Robinson? Zurich Robinson … right?” She paused to shake his hand. “I’m Tamela Coleman … It’s nice meeting you. This shouldn’t take that long.” Tamela instantly recognized him as the man in the restaurant. The one Desiree and her crew were in such heat over.

  “It’s nice meeting you. Thanks for helping me out on such short notice,” Zurich said as he opened the large metal door and gestured for Tamela to go in first.

  Tamela was struck by how tall and handsome he was close up, as she noticed his compelling dark eyes, his large, distinguished, and sexy-looking nose. He was wearing a beige cotton shirt, and his black linen pants hung limp and wrinkled. But Tamela had seen good-looking and well-dressed rapists before, and reminded herself not to be swayed by his appearance. Besides, she thought, Didn’t he know you didn’t wear linen after Labor Day?

  Zurich noticed Tamela’s slow smile, almost sly, and he wanted to tell her immediately that he didn’t do it, but decided to wait until he was asked. She reminded him of a young lady who had tutored him in biology during his freshmen year in college. The tutor helped him to earn a B, and Tamela’s resemblance to her made him feel safe immediately.

  “Now I don’t know what they are going to ask you, but all I want you to do is to tell the basics, like your name, where you live, you know. When they ask specific questions about your contact with the lady, leave that to me,” Tamela said forcefully. “Do you know the lady in question?”

  “Yes,” Zurich said.

  “How well?”

  “Not that well. I met her when I first came to Chicago and later when she interviewed me,” Zurich said.

  “Interviewed you?” Tamela asked with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Yes. She works for one of the television stations here,” Zurich said.

  “She does? Who is it?”

  “Mia Miller. Do you know her?”

  “Mia Miller. That’s who was attacked? I don’t really know her, but I know who she is,” Tamela said. She wondered if Mia’s status in Chicago would bring a different light to this case. She wanted to ask Zurich if he had raped her, but knew it would be unprofessional.