A Hire Love (19 page)

I
couldn’t say it. How could I ask him if he was about to leave me? The words were stuck in my throat. I contemplated: What more could he give me? I asked him to facilitate a fantasy and he exceeded his performance in all areas.

As the authentic sounds of nature entertained us, it felt like time stood still. His raised eyebrows begged me to finish my sentence. I sighed. “Are you happy?”

“The happiest man in the world.”

Why did his lines feel like lies? Could it be because they were my words and not his? I kissed away the uncertainty and wondered how I’d drifted so far away from reality.

“Do
I
make you happy?”

He rocked side to side. “Don’t make me flip this boat over to get through to you. You know that you make me happy.”

I laughed. “I just needed to know.”

He sat up. “What’s the title of our second album again?”

I frowned. Then it dawned on me, I laughed. “Oh! The title is ‘In This Life Together.’”

He smirked. “All right then.”

My eyebrows rippled. All right then, what? Why was he pretending like he wasn’t about to call it quits? He shook his head. “You’re a trip. You came up with this whole fabricated story and I have to remind you who we are. You have to stay in character, Teem.”

His words stung. That’s it. He planned to stay in character until the end. Then, he would step away from the script and stomp on my heart like this role never existed. He sat back up, lifted his paddle over his head, and gave me mine back.

“C’mon. Let’s head back. I want to do more sightseeing.”

I watched his broad shoulders seesaw as we headed back. Each stroke made him more and more attractive. I shook my head and pitied the way I would feel once he was gone.

By the time we got back to the hotel, the sun had gone down. We sat on the balcony with our jackets on until night fall. Before we got ready for dinner, we admired the stars. Why can’t I predict the future? If the clarity of the sky has anything to do with an astrologist’s accuracy, sign me up for a reading in this town as soon as possible.

When we returned from dinner, it was quite disheartening that we’d be returning to the city in less than twelve hours. I wanted to talk about his plans for us, but the mood was too perfect to ruin. So, I fell asleep with tons of unanswered questions and woke up with even more.

When would he turn in his resignation? Would he still want to be friends? Am I smitten with Rashad or the main character that I developed? Was he planning a clean break? Would he step out gradually?

Before he woke up, I practiced an array of lead-ins to inquire about the conversation that I overhead. Nothing seemed right. No matter which way I worded it, it made me sound as if I wasn’t holding up to my end of the bargain. I propped my chin in my hand and watched him snake around. He flinched and his eyes popped. My eyes met his. He squinted. It was obvious my gaze startled him, so I smiled to calm him. “Good morning.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist and laid his head in my lap. As I traced the definition in his back, my eyes rolled in my head. Boy, how I’m going to miss him.

While I showered, I concluded that I didn’t want to force him to say what he wasn’t ready to say. Maybe he had changed his mind. He brought me here to say something, but maybe he didn’t have the heart to do it. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Rashad sat with his head in his hands. The shades that I pulled down now blocked the sun out. My heart raced. Maybe he was about to say it. I tiptoed toward him. He ran his hand over his face. “Whew! I’m tired.”

My eyes asked if there was another reason that he looked distressed. I pretended to be protecting my towel from falling, but I held my heart in my hand. He smirked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ah, I was just wondering if you were okay.”

His face wrinkled and then he laughed. “Are
you
okay?”

Maybe I’m paranoid, but he looked like the one with the problem. I proceeded to get prepared.

Once we were both ready, Rashad took our bag to the car while I looked around at the room. This place was probably the beginning to the end. My eyes filled and I quickly dried them when Rashad came in. I presumed my stance asked for a hug. Instead, he stopped several feet away from me and said, “C’mon. We have to get back to the city.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

He huffed. “We have to. I have an audition in the morning. I want to get back and relax.”

I dragged from the room. When I sat in the car, I decided to suppress my insecurities with positive thoughts. At least I’ve been happy for almost six months.

When the engine shut off, my eyes popped open, and I was surprised to see we were on my street. After we’d stopped for lunch, I fell asleep, but I didn’t realize I was out that long. I rubbed my eyes.

My hand rested on his leg. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep the whole ride.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind. It gave me a chance to think.”

To think? What is he thinking about? After we’d gotten the stuff in the house, I stood in the middle of the living room floor and he gave me a hug. As we rocked side to side, he asked, “Do you mind if I go home tonight?”

Although I did, I shook my head, no. He kissed my forehead and explained, “The audition is at six in the morning. Plus, I need to take this car back tonight.”

I was certain—I didn’t believe him. In all the years that Mya has been in the business, I never recall a casting at six in the morning. I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

He kissed me again to prolong his departure. My eyes danced around the ceiling. He chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

I smiled. “Nothing.”

“Did you have a good time this weekend?”

I nodded. He kissed my forehead. “Me too.”

“Okay. I need to get some rest,” I said.

“Are you trying to put me out?”

“Ah. Yeah.”

He laughed and kissed my cheek. With his hand still resting on my face, he stared into my eyes. “Good night, Teem.”

I smirked. He kissed me once more and fled the scene. My hand gripped the knob and I touched the back of the door. Something told me this was our last night.

O
n the ride home, I began to wonder if I was really what Fatima needed and wanted. As my feelings sank deeper for her, the more I questioned transforming this into a real relationship. I was always told that if you want to know how something will end, look at how it began. How could Fatima and I ever have the wonderful relationship I imagined, considering it started with me being a male prostitute? Will she always think she can pimp me?

When my alarm went off at five in the morning, I hopped up and rushed through the apartment. Lucky thing I had organized everything last night. I was out and on the train by five-thirty. It was ten before six by the time I arrived at the audition. As I sat waiting in a crowded room, I dropped my head and prayed. Though my life as a landlord was looking positive, my heart was here awaiting stardom. This is what I was born to do.

My fist clinched tightly. It seemed it had been an eternity since I’d had the opportunity to audition for something other than a stand-in. As luck would have it, they were searching for a relatively unknown actor to play a major role in a blockbuster. Looking at the hundreds of dudes in the room with me, I wondered if this were a pipe dream.

They began by calling us in twenty at a time. My number being seventy-three, I was in the fourth round. A piece of me began to feel defeated. That was until the lead casting director introduced himself to the group. I smiled and hoped he recognized me. It was one of the guys I had met at Mya’s house.

He announced that he planned to make a decision today. Then he said, “Does anyone have any issues that would prevent you from spending the night here?”

A few guys chuckled. He said, “Actually, I’m serious. For those of you who have worked with me before, you know that I give my all and I expect the same from you. That commitment begins the day you audition. If you can’t spend the night, leave now.”

It amazed me that several guys walked off the stage. They obviously hadn’t been a part of the hustle as long as I had. Damn if I planned to go anywhere. The director continued, “Commitment means more to me than talent. You could be the best actor in the world, but if you’re not committed, you’ll never make it.”

After the group audition, I made it to the individual audition. My fingers were crossed and nothing else mattered to me. I confirmed every ten minutes or so that my cell phone was definitely off. Several guys were cut just because their phones rang. Let my talent be the reason, because I would flip if it were something so stupid.

When I was called in, Steve, the director, greeted me, “Hey, Rashad. I thought that was you.”

I walked over to shake his hand. He patted my back. “I’m glad to see you, man.”

“Same here.”

After I auditioned, Steve summoned me. His tone didn’t sound too friendly. My eyes opened wide and he shook his head. “Nah, I just have a few questions for you, man.”

I dramatically wiped my forehead. He and the others chuckled. After he told me that I had made it to the next round, he invited me into the coffee room. As he poured coffee, he asked, “How flexible are you?”

I frowned. He clarified, “I mean, at the party, you mentioned buying some property. I’m just curious how quickly you could pack up and be in LA. Or if you’re even interested in being in LA.”

As a goofy grin appeared on my face, he jumped in, “I’m not saying that you have the role. We have a few rounds left, but I just want to know your status.”

“Look. I will drop everything and catch the first flight to LA if an opportunity comes through.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Then, his expression changed and he released a sympathetic sigh. “How’s Mrs. Mayo?”

I cringed. “Fatima’s fine.”

“That’s good. I’ve known her and Mya for a long time. I’m Mya’s mentor.”

I nodded, because he had shared that with me at the party. He continued, “Fatima was something else. I’m sure she still is.” He sighed. “She’s a hard woman to please. I always said I feel sorry for the man that had to replace Derrick.”

He patted my back to alleviate the sting. Trying to shake it, I defended her: “She’s not that bad.”

“Fatima is a brat. Derrick knew how to manage her, but man, I wish you luck.”

Since he had the upper hand on me at the moment, I couldn’t hit him in his mouth like I was tempted. How could I be disrespected so easily? His comments were confirmation. I could never replace Derrick? Everyone, including Fatima speaks as if he were a god. I refuse to walk in his shadow.

W
hen I woke up to no coffee or breakfast, it was obvious that Rashad was sleeping on the job or trying to quit.

By the time I got to work, it was close to noon. Kia blinked rapidly when I walked in. I smiled. “Hey, honey.”

She whispered, “Mr. Lisbon called for you.”

“Why are you whispering?”

She shrugged her shoulders. I asked, “What did he say?”

“He called at nine. Then again at ten and around eleven-thirty.”

My eyes shifted and my heart dropped. “And what did he say?”

“He keeps saying for you to come to his office the moment you get in.”

Her eyes told me she knew more, but I tried to think positive. It couldn’t really be anything major. Before going to his office, I decided to do some investigation. No one that I tried to call picked up. Suddenly, I began to feel they were all trying to avoid me. I took a deep breath and stood proudly.

After ironing out my suit with my hands, I strutted out of the office. Kia whispered, “Good luck.”

I waved my arm at her hoping to calm her concern. On the way to his office, I came up with a defense just in case. Finally, I stood outside of the president’s office. The last time I’d gotten a personal call, it was when I was promoted to editorial director.

When his secretary noticed me, she tightened her lips. I responded with the same expression. After a few seconds of awkwardness, she said, “Fatima, you can go on in. He’s expecting you.”

With my head held high, I strutted into his office. Though he didn’t greet me with a pleasant expression, I smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good afternoon.”

I nodded and folded my arms. He instructed me to have a seat as he stood up and walked to the door. As I lowered my bottom into the chair, my heart fell on the seat first.

When he finally sat across from me, his eyes scorned me. Mine lowered. He began, “You came to us straight out of college and you were a star for such a long time.”

As he awaited a reaction, I just stared through him. I sighed deeply. He continued, “Over the last year or so…” He paused. “I just can’t justify why you’re here.”

It took several seconds for his words to register. I squinted. Did he just tell me that he can’t justify why I’m here? I mouthed, “What?”

“Everything you’ve acquired has been a flop. Money is going out and we’re not getting a return. You’ve become a liability.”

When I tasted my tears, I knew I couldn’t sit there and humbly accept his verdict. I scooted to the edge of my chair. “Have you ever even considered that I’ve lost good authors to other houses because contracts are too slow or you’re too cheap to approve my recommended advances? Have you ever thought about that? I’ve spent twelve hours a day here for the last three months because I can’t depend on other people to hire qualified freelancers. What about them? Why is this all falling on me?”

“Fatima, we really like you and I didn’t want it to get to this point. It’s unfortunate for everyone, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”

Now, my reputation was insulted and I disregarded my dignity as I shouted, “Let me go? Let me go? You couldn’t even offer me the opportunity to resign?”

He muttered, “This way, at least you’ll receive severance.”

Now on my feet, I pointed. “I don’t want your damn severance. Keep it. I just want to keep my reputation.” I spoke slowly. “Allow me to resign.”

“I know you’re upset right now, but maybe you should think about it. I’m offering you three months of pay.”

I snickered. “I don’t want your sympathy. Let me just quit and you don’t owe me anything and I don’t owe you anything.”

He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter to me. Do what you feel is in your best interests. You don’t have to walk out right now. If you would like to stay the remainder of the day to transfer responsibility, it’s perfectly fine.”

He must think I’m some sort of fool. What makes him think I’ll transfer anything? I stormed from his office and jogged to mine. When I walked in, my runny eyeliner alarmed Kia. She stood up. “Fatima, what happened?”

“Type me a resignation letter effective immediately.”

When I walked into my office, the room spun around me. I stood confused. The walls closed in on me as I absorbed what had just happened. I looked at all the things I needed to pack and began to wail. Kia rushed in with the resignation letter and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Kia, I needed a break anyway.” I laughed in the midst of it all, because I subconsciously wanted this.

“It’ll be okay. You know you’ll find another job.”

I sniffed. “You’re right. Can you help me pack?”

We threw my stuff in trashbags and I called Rashad. His phone went directly to voicemail. Before I took the letter to Mr. Lisbon’s office, I tried again. Still no answer. In an attempt not to alarm him, I left calm messages.

Certain that the word had spread through the company seconds after it happened, I was offended that no one came in to say good-bye. That hurt more than the actual termination. Seconds before I walked out, I tried Rashad again. Then, it dawned on me, I had lost my job and Rashad was voluntarily quitting his.

As I sat in the taxi sniffling, I directed my anger at so many different people. My industry contacts flooded my mind as I decided who and where I should send my resume. With my adrenaline rushing and anger exploding, I forgot how much I hated work anyway. Finally, I concluded that I would just stay still and decide what’s next for Fatima. One week after Derrick’s funeral I went back to work because I was on a path to success. And where has it led me? Crazy! Never once did I think about taking time for me. What about me?

My mind reverted to Rashad. The money I had always planned on using for a sabbatical was the money I’d been using to pay him. But now, there was more to this equation than me. What about him?

By the time I reached home, I had called him three more times. Already feeling like the victim, I refused to have two men in one day determine my future. It was best to end the relationship with Rashad.