Despite the sleeping arrangements, it was a wonderful weekend. Trent had taken the Tylers on a tour of the city, while Raymond made sure his caseload was in order. He had been advised to make sure there weren’t any controversial cases outstanding that might derail his nomination. Since he mostly handled corporate clients and a few sexual harassment cases, he wasn’t that worried, but he made sure.
Saturday evening, the four of them had gone to see the movie Soul Food and then enjoyed a delicious Italian dinner at Marco’s, an elegant supper club, posh with pretense. Sunday found them enjoying services at Mount Zion Baptist Church and then brunch at Mecca. Trent was happy about this since Raymond didn’t go to Mount Zion as often as he did. Trent went every Sunday, sometimes on Wednesday, and anytime there was a gospel musical. Trent loved gospel music. Raymond couldn’t count the number of times he had come home and caught his lover swaying from side to side like he was directing a large mass choir. He loved everyone from Tramaine Hawkins to Sandi Patti. Just as long as the song had a little Jesus in the lyrics.
Sunday evening, Raymond had tears in his eyes as he bid good-bye to his parents. In a tender embrace, his father told him how proud he was of him. His mother shared the same sentiment and whispered how much she loved him.
“I think your folks had a great time, don’t you?” Trent asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Thanks again for helping out,” Raymond said.
“I love your folks. They’re like family and it was my pleasure.”
“Even my pops, with his sometimes evil self,” Raymond laughed. He didn’t think his father was evil, just a little difficult at times, or as his mother put it, stubborn as a country mule. It was a part of his charm.
“Your pops is cool. He’s coming around. Besides, he’s so excited by the fact his son is going to be a judge, one day soon he might even accept us as a couple.”
“My pops accepts us,” Raymond said defensively. Raymond Sr. had never really voiced opposition toward Trent, at least not to Raymond. He couldn’t understand why Raymond Jr. wanted to move to Seattle when things were going so great for him in Atlanta, or so he thought. The truth was, Raymond had become bored with Atlanta, bored with his job, bored with his social life. When he fell in love with Trent, they both wanted a new beginning.
“Really?” Trent quizzed. Raymond smiled at his partner as he gazed into Trent’s cinnamon-brown eyes with their rims of dark charcoal. After a few quiet moments, Raymond spoke of his father’s pride.
“Yeah, I think Pops is cool with us. I know he’s pretty excited about this judge thing, but I don’t know what he’s going to do if I don’t get confirmed.”
“Of course you’ll be confirmed. Are you worried about that?”
“Naw. If it’s to be, then everything will be cool,” Raymond said confidently.
“Are you excited about it?” Trent asked. His face took on a serious expression.
“What do you mean?”
“Aw, you know. This confirmation process sounds like a bitch.”
“Yeah, it could be. But this is an opportunity I can’t pass up. You should see how the people in my office are acting. It’s like I’ve been appointed to a court in heaven,” Raymond said.
“You know I support you two hundred percent if this is what you want,” Trent said. His full lips curved into a tender, loving smile.
“So you think I should do this?” Raymond asked.
“You’re kidding, right? Didn’t you hear me? I’m behind you all the way. We need people like you on the bench.”
“I know that, but the FBI is going to be getting into my business.”
“Have you done anything you’re ashamed of?”
“Yeah, but I was acquitted of those charges,” Raymond responded with a marvelous, deep-throated laugh.
“What are you going to do when they ask about your marital status?” Trent asked as he took a slow sip of his beer.
“I’ll tell them I’m in a strong, stable, and loving relationship,” Raymond said. “Besides, they must know I’m gay.”
“Have they said so?”
“Not really, but you gotta know they’ve already done some investigating before they nominated me.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Did your father give you advice on how to handle this?”
“Not really. Just to make sure I tell the truth, but don’t tell them anything they don’t ask,” Raymond said as he loosened the gold metallic tie that lay against his snow-white shirt.
“What’s your mother sending you?” Trent asked.
“Huh?”
“She said something at dinner about sending you something that would help with the nomination process. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s probably some good-luck charm or some of her cookies and brownies. I hope so, ’cause it’s been years since she sent me some. Kirby gets them all now.”
“Maybe she thinks you’re too old for her cookies,” Trent joked.
“You’re never too old for your mother’s cookies. Never too old,” Raymond said as he savored the last of his wine.
5
Nicole felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned around to face a pretty young lady in the lobby of a downtown rehearsal hall. Nicole immediately noticed her beautiful wheat-colored eyes, full of innocent intensity. She looked vaguely familiar, maybe because she looked a lot like Nicole, only a few years younger and a few shades lighter, almost golden, like the color of apple cider.
“Miss Springer, I’m Yancey Braxton. I think I’m going to be your understudy and I’m just so excited to meet you again. I met you once and you gave me your autograph,” Yancey said nervously.
“Yes, I’ve heard some great things about you. Nice meeting you,” Nicole said as she extended her hand to Yancey. As they exchanged warm smiles, Nicole suddenly remembered seeing her photo in the office of the producer of the revival of Dreamgirls.
“Miss Springer, I know we just met, but I have a big favor to ask you,” Yancey said.
“Sure, but please don’t call me Miss Springer. I’m just plain Nicole. What did you want to ask me?”
“Can we go and get a cup of coffee or some tea?”
“I wish I could, but I’m waiting for my husband to pick me up. We’re still unpacking. I don’t know if you know, but I just moved back to New York.”
“I didn’t know that. I heard you were teaching down at Spelman.”
“Yes, my husband, Jared, and I lived down in Atlanta for about three years, but to tell you the truth I’m so glad to be back in New York,” Nicole said gleefully.
“And I’m sure New York is glad you’re back. Well, it was nice meeting you and I look forward to working with you.”
“Me too. And we’ll get the chance to get together real soon.”
As Yancey turned and walked away, Nicole looked at her watch and realized it would be about thirty minutes before Jared would pick her up.
“Yancey,” Nicole called out.
“Yes, Nicole,” Yancey responded as she turned around quickly.
“I didn’t realize how early it was. I’ve got a little time. Why don’t we just sit in the theater and talk a little.”
“I would love that,” Yancey smiled.
“Are you from New York?” Nicole asked as they walked into the semidark theater.
“No, actually I’m from Memphis,” Yancey said.
“Wow, that’s not that far from my hometown. I’m from Arkansas.”
“Yeah, I knew that. I remember when you won Miss Arkansas.”
“You remember that? Child, that seems so long ago,” Nicole said.
“Here, why don’t we just sit here in center row,” she suggested. The two ladies dropped their bags in a seat directly in front of them and sat down for a visit.
Yancey told Nicole how seeing her win the Miss Arkansas title had inspired Yancey to start participating in pageants at a young age. Yancey Elizabeth Braxton had been first runner-up for Miss Tennessee for two consecutive years, but
had never made it to Atlantic City as a contestant for Miss America. She told Nicole that she was devastated when she didn’t win on her second try. Yancey felt despite the success of Vanessa Williams and Debbye Turner, her race had worked against her in Tennessee. She became so disgusted that she gave up a full academic scholarship at Vanderbilt University and transferred to Howard University to study theater when she discovered Vanderbilt’s program was geared toward music performance. After performing in every student production available, Yancey felt she was ready for Broadway and had left D.C. right before her senior year at Howard.
“You know you need to get that degree,” Nicole advised.
“Yeah, I know. I might do it later on. But there can’t be any better training than understudying someone like Nicole Springer,” Yancey said.
“You’re too kind. But after two years of teaching I don’t know what you could learn from me. I think I’m still in training myself.”
“Oh, Miss Springer … I mean Nicole. You don’t need any training. I’ve seen you perform. You’re the best,” Yancey said.
“Yancey, you’re just too sweet. When did you see me perform?”
“Actually, I’ve seen you in Dreamgirls, Jelly’s Last Jam, and, of course, Miss America. My parents used to bring me to New York every summer and my mother and I would just go to shows. When it came to your shows, we would often see them twice. We were so proud of you … with you being from Arkansas and all,” Yancey gushed.
“So you always wanted to be an actress?”
“It’s been my dream since I knew I could have dreams. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“How did you hear about this revival?”
“My agent sent the producers a tape and they flew me up from Washington, D.C.,” Yancey explained.
“They did? Who is your agent?”
“Some local guy down in D.C., P. J. Stencil and Associates. They were good for D.C. and regional theater, but I’ve made up my mind that I’m getting myself a major agent. Somebody like William Morris,” Yancey said.
“You want to be with a big agency like that?” Nicole quizzed.
“Honey, I heard they are one of the best and that’s what I want,” Yancey said confidently. Nicole admired her self-assurance and started to tell her she was going to need it. They continued to chat with ease, more like old friends than newly introduced castmates. Nicole told Yancey how, after two years in Atlanta teaching theater, and being the perfect wife, she had convinced her husband to move to New York, because she missed the Broadway stage. She shared how Jared, a real Southern man, supported her desire even though he was perfectly happy living in Atlanta.
“Where are you living?” Nicole asked.
“I’m subletting a friend’s loft in SoHo, but I’ll be looking for my own place once I find out how long we’re going to be on the road,” Yancey said.
“Well, I’ve heard we’re not going to be out on the road that long. Plus we’re in D.C. and Detroit for more than a week. My contract is for three months and then we’re supposed to come back to Broadway. I have a husband who doesn’t like me gone for long periods of time.”
“I hope you’re right. I want to be in New York, and not in Podunk, U.S.A.,” Yancey laughed.
“I know that’s right,” Nicole giggled.
“Do you plan on having children?”
“I hope so. Jared would have a houseful if it was up to him,” Nicole said as she looked at her watch. She decided not to mention her miscarriages and problems with conceiving.
“I can’t wait to meet your husband. I mean, if that’s all right,” Yancey said.
“Sure, I’d love for you to meet the man in my life. Maybe once we get settled we can have you over for dinner.”
“That would be just wonderful. I’ll even cook for you guys if you want. I make this wonderful shrimp pasta dish. It’s not that fattening like most of the Southern food I grew up on.”
“You won’t have to do that. And from the looks of you, fat wouldn’t know where to find you,” Nicole said as she noticed Yancey’s shape, one that would look splendid either in a beauty pageant swimsuit or the jeans and sheer sweater she was wearing.
“How sweet of you, but trust me when I say I’ve had my moments,” Yancey said.
“Haven’t we all! Look, I’ve got to go. It’s been so wonderful talking with you. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nicole said.
“Thank you so much for giving me this time,” Yancey said as she grabbed Nicole’s hands and shook them over and over. When Nicole stood up, Yancey stood also and suddenly gave Nicole a big hug as she whispered, “Thank you, thank you.”
6
It was Thursday afternoon, 2:00 P.M. sharp.
“How was your week?” the doctor asked.
“It’s been all good,” Basil said.
“Tell me about it.”
“I went on a date,” Basil said.
“With a man or a woman?” the doctor asked.
Basil became visibly upset and looked sternly at the doctor. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What do you mean a man or a woman? I told you I don’t date men. I just sleep with them.” Basil felt his body become sweaty thinking about where the doctor was headed with a question like that. Once again, he thought the sessions were not helping.
“Did you have a good time?”
“It was all right. You know, dinner, a movie, and then back to my place for sex.”
“On the first date?”
“Of course.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Damn straight. I met this woman walking down Fifth Avenue near Tiffany’s. She was beautiful. I caught her eye and she smiled and stopped. You know when they stop they want some play. So that was my cue. I went over, introduced myself, and got the digits. I waited the mandatory three days, called her, and invited her out,” Basil said confidently. “But she was slick in a way … I mean making me call because she wouldn’t take my number.”
“So how did you end up in bed?”
Basil gave the doctor a faint smile of amusement and said, “It was easy. We went to this nice seafood joint and both ordered lobster, and after a couple glasses of wine she leaned over and whispered, ‘I bet you eat pussy real well,’ and I looked at her and said, ‘And you know it!’ ”
“Did you tell her you sleep with men?”
“Fuck no! She didn’t ask. That’s why I think women are so stupid and why I hate them sometimes.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“I know, but that’s how I feel sometimes,” Basil said somberly. For a second he thought about Yolanda, the last woman he had loved.
“Why do you hate them?”
Basil balled his left fist and pressed it into his cupped right hand. As he turned it firmly, he wanted to hit something or somebody, but he controlled his anger.
“I hate them and I love them. I usually try not to make eye contact with women because when I see them and I see that smile and that ass, then I immediately want to fuck them. And after I fuck them, I hate them. You know, when I get my nut.”
“Do you think that’s hate?”
“I don’t know what you call it, but for me it’s a strong reaction. I suddenly become sick at the sight and smell of them. And you know what I really hate is when they ask, ‘Do you love me?’ I want to tell them that pussy is the best truth serum.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean women ought to ask a man if he loves them right after they’ve fucked. ’Cause if he says he loves you before you fuck and he stutters after sex, then he don’t love the woman, he loves the pussy.”
“Why do you think that’s true?”
“ ’Cause I used to date this honey once and I couldn’t stand her. But I couldn’t break up with her ’cause the pussy was so good. She had this beautiful ass and I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody else hittin’ it.”
“What didn’t you like about her?”
“She was a dumb bitch but she thought sh
e was so smart. I mean she had gone to City College or some school like that and she thought she knew everything. But the truth of the matter was the bitch didn’t know shit. She would misuse big words all the time and that just drove me crazy.”
“Why didn’t you tell her or correct her?”
“The bitch was so stupid she wouldn’t have figured it out.”
“And how do you feel about men?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think of men?”
Basil suddenly had a picture of Raymond in his head, but quickly replaced it with Monty, a man who had threatened to announce Basil’s bisexuality to the world. Basil couldn’t stand Monty. Basil really hated his uncle.
“Aw, they’re just as bad. If they’re gay, then they fall in love with the dick. Mofos love a big dick. And the mofos who ain’t gay fall in love with the pussy and the pussy controls them.”
“And where does that put you?” the doctor asked.
“On top of any situation ’cause I know what the real deal is when it comes to sex. I understand the power of sex. And once you understand something completely, you can control it.”
“Do you feel the need to have sex with anyone right now?”
“Why not? I’m not depressed or anything like that, and when my jimmie gets up, I’ve got to feed him.”
“Do you feel like you’re addicted to sex?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said just a minute ago? I ain’t addicted to jack.”
“Do you plan to call this woman again?”
“Fuck no!”
“Why not?”
“ ’Cause I got what I wanted. If she’s lucky she might get a booty call in a couple of months.”
“A booty call?”
“Yeah, you know … well, maybe you don’t. It’s when you call somebody late at night, at least after midnight, and you ask them to come over and they know what the deal is.”
“I see.” The doctor nodded.
“I do know that right now I can’t have no honey riding my jock. Calling me every five minutes asking me what I’m doing. That’s how they try to get control.”
Abide with Me Page 3
