All the while, my phone was not ringing with calls from Tyrell.
The lack of contact from Tyrell was fine with me. It wasn’t like he and I were long-lost friends, nor were we anywhere close to a romantic relationship. I chalked it all up to vulnerability, celebrity insecurity, a nasty cheating incident involving public sex, and frustration with being forced into silence about his reality that led Tyrell to lean in for that kiss that almost happened. It was all fine, I told myself, though Tyrell being on my mind meant something else. I just had to block Tyrell from my thoughts, I told myself.
Now it was time to put everything in motion that Kyle, Blake and I had talked about.
The thought of going back to LADS was humiliating in itself, though it was necessary to what we hoped to accomplish. I’d never been fired from a job. And since it was a high-profile position, and working with young people, I didn’t know what impression the young people at LADS would have of me. I imagined that Reverend Murphy and company had to have done a hatchet job on me and my reputation after I left and they took over.
But now that the gossip sites were done with me, I could start moving forward.
My fears were eased a bit when DeMarco’s face lit up as I walked through the door with Blake.
“Oh my God, Malcolm,” he said and ran around the desk to me. He planted his arms around me and squeezed like he’d missed me his whole life. I’d never seen DeMarco dressed so conservatively in our time working together. Reverend Lamont Murphy must have implemented a dress code.
“DeMarco, you look great,” I said. “And so professional.”
“Ha, very funny. This is the new boring workplace uniform,” DeMarco said and modeled his blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. “I never thought I’d see you again. Are you coming back? The guys, we all miss you here.”
“No, not at all,” I said and saw the disappointment in DeMarco’s face. “I’m here to pick up some of my leftover things and take some of my files off the computer.”
“Take me with you, Malcolm,” he exclaimed, and then whispered, “I hate it here. It’s like church…but mean church. Who’s this?”
DeMarco eyed my nephew up and down, in more of a “he’s cute” way than suspicion. That probably meant Compton was no longer in the picture or that the gloss of their new relationship was wearing dull. Funny how quickly those relationship things die at that age.
“This is Blake,” I said. “My nephew from Indiana. He’s staying with me for the summer.”
“That’s whassup,” DeMarco said and bumped his fist against Blake’s. “I heard about you. You should add me on whatever sites you use.”
Blake smiled and said, “Fo sho.”
“I hope your uncle Malcolm has been showing you the sights…what young people like to do, not his generation,” DeMarco said. “Or maybe not, knowing how serious Malcolm can be?”
“I’m a prisoner at his place…all the damn paparazzi,” Blake said. “This is our first time out in about a week. Thank God.”
A young people reunion, talking about their “old” uncle and former boss, was not what I returned to LADS for. As nice as it was seeing DeMarco again, I didn’t want to get attached to what I was missing at the organization.
“Is Lamont Murphy here?” I asked. “I need to get into the office and computer, if possible.”
“He’s at a Family First campaign luncheon in Long Beach,” DeMarco said. “He should be gone for a couple hours, I guess.”
“Good,” I said. “Do you mind if Blake goes with me? Technology…I’m old, don’t get the stuff.”
“Yeah, but I need to log you in,” DeMarco said. “He changed all the damn passwords to Biblical names, and he monitors all our computer use from his office. Troll.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. Of course, what supervisor wouldn’t change passwords in the office when following someone else’s leadership?
“Yep,” DeMarco said, a bit of sarcasm in his voice. “Real dope, huh? Real muthafuckin’ dope.”
“Well, you were the king of Facebook and whatever else you used to look at when I worked here.”
“And all the Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, Octavia Butler, and Bayard Rustin quotes on the walls…gone,” DeMarco said. “All the books you used to keep in the library by E. Lynn Harris, James Earl Hardy, Keith Boykin, Daniel Black, Rashid Darden…gone.”
As DeMarco, Blake, and I walked down a long hallway to my former office at the back of the building, I noticed all the quotes I’d had framed and along the walls were gone and replaced with Bible verses. Not that I minded the Bible, or spirituality, for that matter; I just thought a little balance and open-mindedness was important too.
“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t think you paid attention to my work.”
“I did…we all did,” DeMarco said. “We just didn’t want you to know we were paying attention.”
“Geez, thanks, DeMarco.”
“No worries,” he said as we entered Lamont Murphy’s office, my former office. “Just don’t want you to think you made a difference, Malcolm.”
“Yeah,” Blake added. “Don’t let it get to his head.”
DeMarco sat at the desk and logged in for me.
“It’s all yours,” DeMarco said. “I need to get back to the front desk, so let me know when you’re done so that I can get his computer back to how it was.”
“Fo sho,” Blake said. “I’ll help him…old people and technology, ya know?”
DeMarco and Blake shared a quick laugh before DeMarco went back to the LADS reception desk. Blake took out what he needed and connected to Lamont’s computer.
In a way, I felt bad for lying to DeMarco. The day I’d been fired I transferred all my work and personal projects to an external hard drive. I wasn’t too tech deficient not to figure out that part.
But adding information to a computer was a whole ’nother subject, and thanks to my nephew Blake, I was well on my way to completing that goal.
Chapter 28
That evening, after Blake and I finished our business at LADS, I decided to invite DeMarco and some of the other guys from the group over to my place for dinner. On my way out the door, DeMarco had handed me a certified mail package. It turned out to be my buyout from LADS, almost six figures—thank God taxes were taken out—which was enough for me to live on for at least a year in L.A.—two anywhere else—though I didn’t want to be without a job for that long.
Having the guys over was part victory party, since Blake and I had completed the first part of our plan for justice. The other part was recruiting the young men to participate in the next step of our plan.
And what victory and looking-to-the-future party would be complete without a feast of good-luck foods? Bernard, Kyle’s partner, had my apartment smelling like a New Orleans restaurant with all the foods many of our families mythologized as luck-producing. Seafood gumbo with thick chunks of crab, okra, shrimp, and tomatoes stewing on one eye of the stove. A pot of black-eyed peas simmering on another. Fluffy white rice sat on the side, ready to be scooped up and garnished. For those over twenty-one, there were authentic Hurricanes, mixed up by Kyle, who loved a good drink as much as I did. For those under twenty-one, there was red Kool-Aid to at least give the semblance of enjoying an adult good time. Next time Bernard had an audition for the Food Network, I’d be sure to organize a letter-writing campaign pleading for him to have his own cooking show.
Blake was in a good mood, finally getting to be around young men his age in L.A. We’d crammed close to twenty LADS in my living and dining rooms. He turned up his iPod mix featuring the latest in hip-hop and rap that they all could sway their heads to, while keeping their heads down and focused on their personal music, tablets, and phones. Definitely a party for the twenty-first century, but for today it was all fine. I needed my army of LADS men to start a campaign for change.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” I said and banged a spoon against my glass. I opted for red Kool-Aid, just to make sure I was levelheaded. “To
you…all my fine young men from LADS. Without you, my work would have been nothing. I wish nothing but the best for you in this time of transition at LADS, and during this time of blatant dislike and disrespect for young men like you with Lamont Murphy and the Family First initiative. Stay strong and know that you’ll always have support from me.”
Most cheered and clinked glasses with each other. DeMarco shared a sloppy kiss with Compton, apparently still his man o’ the day, whose presence made me a little uncomfortable and Blake a little jealous. Anyone could see that Blake and DeMarco had a little attraction toward each other, but I decided to stay out of it for the moment. I decided against telling DeMarco that his man had been trying to get at me weeks earlier at The Abbey. No need for mentor / mentee drama.
“Well, I want to say something,” DeMarco chimed in. “We all know why you got fired, Malcolm. And it’s okay. We’ve all seen your videos, or watched porn online, and some of us—I’m not naming names—have posted ourselves up doing the do. No shade. We don’t judge you at all. It makes you like one of us, and we love you and will do whatever it takes to get you back at LADS or running another program for guys like us.”
“Okay.” A few guys clinked their glasses as they spoke out in agreement with each other.
I had to interject a little so the young men wouldn’t think I was aspiring for a career in Internet porn.
“Now, I wouldn’t willingly put myself online like that,” I said. “My ex made those videos without my knowledge while we were in a relationship, and he posted them without my permission. I wasn’t out having random sex with random people.”
“That’s cool,” Compton said. “They still dope.”
“That’s my uncle you talking about,” Blake said, shooting a dirty look across the room to Compton. “Watch yourself.”
“He’s the one talking about being sexually empowered,” Compton shot back at Blake. “I think it’s not wrong to record yourself and make a little cash on the side. I’m sure you wouldn’t know about that, Blakey.”
“Guys,” I said. Wasn’t looking to referee between a stranger and my nephew. “Regardless, I took responsibility and faced my punishment. Fair or not. But there’s something bigger at stake.”
“Like the lies out there about my uncle and Tommie Jordan and Tyrell the ball player,” Blake said. “Did you hear how Tommie Jordan disrespected you all and LADS on The Black Morning Radio Show the other day? How he lied about my uncle’s work and his own sex videos?”
The room got silent as Blake got on his own nineteen-year-old soapbox. I was proud to see him step up.
“I know it’s all lies,” Blake said. “Trust me, my uncle and I have proof.”
“But how can it be lies if Tommie Jordan said it on the radio?” Compton said. He hadn’t been part of LADS, so he wouldn’t have known what many of the other guys had learned about questioning everything. “That’s against the law.”
Kyle emerged from the kitchen with Bernard and jumped into the conversation.
“I’m Kyle, Malcolm’s best friend,” he said as he joined Blake and me at the center of the room. “I work in entertainment. I’m an attorney and agent. One thing I can tell you about the world of entertainment—none of it is real. It’s all made up. People lie every day to get a deal, get you to buy something, or to get ahead in the industry.”
“Okay, Mr. Big Shot, and what?” Compton said defiantly. “What’s that got to do with old boy here dropping it like a porn star?”
“Who asked you here?” Blake shot back to Compton, and stepped closer as if to challenge him.
“Yo, Uncle, who wanted to give me some of that good good,” Compton said and walked toward the front door. “Fuck y’all. I’m out. You coming, DeMarco?”
If I’d been in DeMarco’s head, I could have imagined the conversation going on—good dick or good friends?—as if there were really a choice. Figured I might have to explain to DeMarco about The Abbey, Compton, and me after all.
In the midst of the argument and commotion, Bernard ducked his head in the living room doorway with his chef’s hat and apron on.
“While we’re waiting for the next exciting episode of Hot Gay Mess, why don’t the rest of you decide if you’re going to come on in here and eat, or watch the drama?”
The guys erupted in a mixture of laughs, amens, and heads turning from Bernard to Compton to Blake. Most, however, headed toward the kitchen while Compton walked out of the apartment—without DeMarco. I was glad that Bernard broke up the tension with the main reason I brought the guys from LADS together—food.
As the young men returned with their plates piled with Bernard’s culinary delights, Blake and I started making our plea to enlist their support.
DeMarco, armed with a new confidence since standing up to Compton just minutes earlier, said, “No need for a presentation. Whatever you want from us, Malcolm, you’ve got.”
Chapter 29
MalcolmDeservesHisJob.blog.com
I don’t know if you know my former boss, Malcolm Martin Campbell, but if you did, you’d know he was a good man and that all the lies that the singer Tommie Jordan is spreading are just not true.
Posted by Anonymous
WeHateTommieJordan.blog.com
How can someone who’s part of us do so much against us? That’s exactly what Tommie Jordan, the supposed singer now of gospel music, is doing to the Black, gay community. He’s turning his back on those who supported him all his career. You know what I say? I say we turn our back on his career and stop crushing on him, stop buying his music, and stop going to his shows. Hell, better yet, let’s all go to his shows, get front row seats, and let him (and all those straight women without gaydar) know who puts the butter on his toast…who puts the lube on his you-know-what!
Posted by Anonymous
ShadyTJ.blog.com
I don’t know about you, but I’m so glad we have a place like LADS where Black, gay men learn to support each other and not pull all that shade that society expects of us. Especially when it comes to so-called celebrities like T. Jordy, who’s trying to have a hip-hop career with his old ass. I digress with disrespect. If any of you listened to his whack-ass interview on The Black Morning Radio Show, you heard nothing but shade and disrespect being thrown at a community that T. Jordy is a part of. Hell, everyone has seen him on Sundays at The Abbey, of course trying to pass himself off as a “straight ally.” “Straight ally” my ass. If anything, he tried to get all up in my ass one sunny Sunday at The Abbey, but he wouldn’t want y’all to know about that.
Posted by Anonymous
The Livonia Birmingham Show
They say there’s nothing worse than a Black woman scorned, but I’m telling y’all that the wrath of the Black gays…ain’t no joke. Michael, roll this footage from last night’s Tommie Jordan performance at the Morning Star Mega Church in Atlanta. The boys were all up in the house of the Lord, supposedly to watch Tommie Jordan premiere his new hit gospel duet. The performance was your standard ToJo show. But just as he got to his climax of the song, the black gays, who had mixed in with the church first ladies, all stood up and staged a kiss-in…in the house of the Lord!!! Lawwwwd, watch the clip as Tommie and the church all went quiet during the non-violent love protest. Talk about a premature release…all Tommie Jordan could do was walk off and the show was over. So much for Family First! Thanks, boys, for the tip…and the clip…If you got vids you want to share, get at your girl Livonia Birmingham!
Chapter 30
I couldn’t tell if the LADS guys were making an impact or not, but maybe I was expecting too much to happen too soon.
Within a few days of the dinner party Blake, Kyle, Bernard, and I had thrown, three new blogs from the guys sprang up online. And a couple of LADS had created their own channels on YouTube and uploaded their own video blogs about the scandal. The content wasn’t as objective as we’d suggested it to be and came across as more of why-Malcolm-Campbell-was-done-wrong propaganda. Not that I expected work th
e quality of Morrison, Baldwin, or McMillan to come from the guys. For most, this was their first serious writing since high school, and for those who’d completed public school in L.A., that wasn’t saying much.
Still, I was proud of their work. And soon, their work and activism caught the eye of more popular Black, gay news sites—Rod 2.0, Clay Cane, Keith Boykin, and Jasmyne Cannick—to drive traffic and interest to their work. The Livonia Birmingham Show clip was a coup and brought national attention to gays in the Black community.
But for every good clip that brought attention to the larger issue, there were those sites—both the gossip ones and the conservative ones backed by Family First supporters—who brought attention to me…and the videos posted online of me by Deacon. I knew I’d never escape that part of my life. But neither could Tommie Jordan, as more and more young, Black men came forth with their allegations of being hit on, or sleeping with, the new prince of the gospel music world.
Even with the mixed response to the online activism, I knew in the long run we would prevail and get LADS back, defeat all who supported Family First, and earn my reputation back as a hard worker who cared for causes larger than myself. Getting my name back would have been enough. But the young men really loved LADS and hated seeing how it had changed since Lamont Murphy’s appointment as executive director.
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