Any Way the Wind Blows (13 page)

“Now Yancey B, come on now!” Dee Dee said in amazement.

Before I could respond, Doug asked me if I was surprised at how well the song was doing.

“I’m not a bit surprised. My record company, Motown had a great marketing plan and the music and lyrics are just great. Not just with the single, but the entire CD. Have you guys played ‘I’m Not in Love’?”

“Yeah, and it’s tight, but we don’t get as many calls for that as we do for ‘Any Way the Wind Blows,’” Doug said.

“I think that will change when people hear the entire CD,” I said.

“Let’s go to the phone lines and see what our listeners think. Good morning. You’re talking with Yancey B, Dee Dee and Doug Banks,” Doug said as he punched a blinking phone line.

“Look at all those lines light up,” Dee Dee observed. “We haven’t had this many calls since we had Janet Jackson in the studio.”

I spent the next thirty minutes taking calls from all across the country. Everyone was telling me how much they loved the song and asking if I was going to tour their city. Several women told me that they’d bought several copies of the song and sent it to girlfriends who they thought were dating brothers on the down low. I thanked each of them and told
them to go out and buy some copies for their male friends as well.

Everything was going smoothly until the last caller. “You’ve got a question for Yancey B?” Doug asked.

“Yeah I got a question for her. What about Madison?” a female voice asked in an unmistakable threatening tone.

“Madison?” Dee Dee quizzed. “Do you want to know if Yancey B is going to visit Madison, Wisconsin? Is that your question, caller?”

I drank the rest of my now-cold coffee and noticed Dee Dee and Doug exchanging puzzled looks. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, and my heart felt like it wasn’t going to take the next beat. There was also a pain pounding in my head and my body began to feel cold, so I pulled my mink back up to my shoulders.

“Caller, are you still there?” Doug asked.

“She knows what I mean,” she said, and then we heard a dial tone in the dimly lit studio.

“I wondered what’s her problem?” Dee Dee said as I breathed a sigh of relief and gave them both a weak smile.

When I left the studio and reached the lobby, my cell phone started ringing. The caller I.D. said “out of area” so I knew it wasn’t Ava or Basil. I thought it might be the person who had just called the station, and I suddenly felt like I was ready to confront whoever was playing games with me. I clicked the
talk
button and screamed, “Who is this? Hello.”

“Damn, baby, you get up on the wrong side of the bed? Do you miss me, baby?”

“Malik, why are you calling me so early?” I asked. I
looked at my watch and noticed it was a little before nine, which meant it was before sunrise on the West Coast.

“It’s never too early to talk with my star,” he said.

“What do you want?”

“I’m just wondering why I haven’t heard from you. Haven’t you been getting my calls? I even called Motown. Did you get that message?”

“No, I didn’t. So you’ve been calling my cell. I don’t have it on all the time,” I lied. The truth was I was avoiding talking to Malik, hoping he would get the message that I didn’t need him anymore in bed or out. I decided no one could manage Yancey better than Yancey. I wondered if he was behind the calls and photos but then realized he had no way of knowing I had a child. Even though Ava had made me aware that with a little bit of money a person could find out almost anything about anyone.

“Then give me the number at your house,” Malik said.

“What?” I said as I walked out of the revolving doors into the cold winter air.

“Give me your number at home.”

“Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you. I’ll call you later,” I said as I hit the End button and smiled to myself at how easy it was to hang up on someone with a cell phone and blame it on the service.

I
came home after waiting tables at the Viceroy, emptied my tips on my bed, and stripped down naked. I got on my knees and counted the night’s take. Two hundred and fifty-six dollars, not bad for a Tuesday night, I thought. I took out my tip journal and wrote down “$126,” in case I got audited by the IRS, then placed the money in the leather pouch I kept my money in until I made my weekly visit to the bank.

I looked at my answering machine and was a little disappointed the message light was not flashing. It had been several days since I’d heard Basil’s voice, and I was determined to speak with him tonight even if I had to wait all night or make another surprise visit. I thought after my last visit I would hear from him more often. I had to hear him whisper “It’s all love” once more. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had said he loved me and I believed him.

I walked into my bathroom and turned on my shower. While I was waiting for the water to warm up, I lit a piece of jasmine incense and covered my face with Noxzema skin cream. I stepped into the shower and relaxed as the warm
water ran like a river down my body. The water felt almost hypnotic. Five minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, drenched myself in baby oil and grabbed a yellow striped towel to wipe off my body. I wrapped the damp towel around my waist and walked into my bedroom. My apartment was quiet, almost peaceful, as I put my Mary J. Blige CD in my stereo system.

After a glass and a half of wine, I started thinking about love and being held by Basil’s strong arms. I had to see him, so I muted Mary’s voice and picked up my phone. Basil’s number rang a couple of times and then I heard his deep, sexy voice. My heart started pounding with excitement, like I had just received a call telling me I had won the lotto.

“’Sup,” Basil said.

“How you doing?” I asked nervously.

“’Sup, dude,” Basil said.

“Is this too late to call?”

“I was kinda busy. Sorry I haven’t returned any of your calls. Busy, you know,” Basil said.

“Oh, that’s cool. I’ve been busy too. You know, working and going on a lot of auditions,” I lied.

“Cool. Can I get back with you later?”

I took a sip of wine and then said boldly, “I was hoping I could walk up on a good fucking tonight.”

“I think we need to chill,” Basil said.

“What did you say?” His voice had become so quiet I could barely hear him.

“We need to chill. We can get together sometime and maybe have a brew or two, but I’m back with my lady,” he said calmly.

“What lady? You never mentioned any special lady. Besides, I don’t care. I just want to see you.”

“Let me call you when I get a minute,” Basil said, and then he hung up the phone.

My face felt flush and the back of my neck felt tight. I gulped down the rest of my wine and suddenly had a headache. I was mad as fuck. How dare Basil just brush me off like I was some little bitch? I picked up the phone and hit the redial button. This time after a couple of rings, a soft female voice filled with sleep or sex picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”

I hung up the phone, sank my body to the floor and muttered to myself, “Wrong move, Basil. Wrong fuckin’ move.”

T
iffany was my latest overnight guest. I’d met her several nights before at Justin’s while I was out hunting down some new pussy. I had planned to call her the night Bart showed up unannounced, but he’d given me what I needed at the time. But that would have to last for a while, because I was going back to the other side. It was time to start interviewing prospects for the mother of my children.

Tiffany played hard to get by telling me she didn’t go home with men on the first night, but the second night was open for debate. There wasn’t much of a debate, actually; I just called and asked her to come over, and she quickly obliged. All I cared about right now was the intense pleasure of chasing pussy, and the mystery and delight I felt at seeing another woman naked.

“Who was that?” Tiffany asked. “You must really like letting me answer your phone. Most men I know turn off their phones when I spend the night.”

“Somebody who doesn’t understand that no means no,” I said as I thought about the three messages per day Bart had
been leaving. Besides, every time I heard his voice, it sounded more and more familiar. I just couldn’t figure out why.

“You’re not gay or bisexual, are you?” Tiffany asked as she looked at me seriously while pulling the sheets over her orange-sized breasts like she was covering them from a hidden camera.

“Hell naw! That doesn’t stop gay dudes from coming on to me. Some of those mofos are bold as shit. Like this guy. I did some business with him and now he keeps calling,” I said, looking her dead in the eyes.

“You think just because you got a woman answering your phone that will stop him?” Tiffany asked.

“Maybe you could come over and ride this jimmie again, so we can videotape it and send him a copy,” I teased. With all the talk of brothers who swung both ways, women still hadn’t learned all the games. They didn’t know that sometimes men brought shit out right up front so they would suddenly feel safe and secure and put their questions in the background. It was like talking on the phone with the old girlfriend while the new one lay beside you. Neither one would ever suspect shit else was going on.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Tiffany asked as she gave me the sexy smile of a secure woman who suddenly felt like she had the upper hand.

“I’m kidding about videotaping us, but not about riding the jimmie,” I said as I pulled the sheets away and started to suck her nipples and then between her legs. Tiffany began to moan like she was experiencing ecstasy for the first time. She hadn’t felt nothing yet.

I
swooped into Windsor’s room looking pretty damn hot, if I do say so myself. I was wearing a peach-and-cream-colored silk dress, and my hair was in a French roll and I had done my makeup so it was as perfect as perfect can get without a plastic surgeon, or Sam Fine.

“Don’t you look good,” Windsor said. “Where are you going? To an opening or something?”

“I’m on my way to something very special.” I smiled as I headed straight to Windsor’s closet, pretending to look for something I thought I’d left in the closet before she moved in.

“What are you looking for?” Windsor asked.

“Oh, just something I stored in a box.”

“I wish I could get up and help you find it,” Windsor said.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine,” I said.

I hadn’t seen much of Windsor recently, because Motown had been working me like a field mule. But I didn’t think Windsor had noticed, since her sorors and her church-lady friends were taking good care of her. They regularly brought her meals, flowers and books or magazines. Her two sorors
Marlana and Dionne came by almost every day. I wanted to tell Miss Marlana she couldn’t get a career going attending to the sick and shut in, but I figured her talent was limited at best, and maybe by taking care of Windsor she would have something to fall back on, like being a full-time candy striper.

Windsor’s parents and Wardell called three times a day every day. Her parents had even arranged to use their vacation time to take care of her during the last two months of her pregnancy. Then Wardell called and told me about his special plan that would change all that. Just as I located what I was looking for, I heard voices coming from the living room.

“Yancey, I think there’s someone out there. Are you expecting company?” Windsor asked.

“Oh no, I must have left the television on. Look at this, Windsor, this is beautiful. Why don’t you put this on,” I suggested as I held up a beautiful ivory silk nightgown edged in lace.

“I can’t put that on. It’s a special gown Wardell bought for me. I’ve been saving it for our honeymoon. If that ever happens.” Windsor sighed.

“Come on, put it on. Let’s fluff you up,” I said as I moved over to Windsor’s bed and laid the gown against her face to show her how pretty it would look against her beautiful brown skin.

“Yancey, what’s going on?” Windsor asked.

“Nothing. I just think if you put on something nice, it’ll make you feel better. It always works for me,” I said.

“I’m feeling fine,” Windsor protested.

I didn’t pay any attention to Windsor and marched right
over to her dressing table and grabbed her comb and brush so I could style her hair. I was so happy she had cut off her dreads and let her hair grow back into a more manageable style. About ten minutes later, Miss Windsor was looking pretty good.

Windsor didn’t ever wear makeup, but I insisted, telling her we could pretend we were little girls playing dress-up. It had always been one of my childhood fantasies to have a sister to exchange makeup tips with. When I finished putting a little blush on Windsor’s cheeks and mascara on her long thick lashes, I topped everything off with some plum-colored lip gloss. I gave her a mirror so she could admire my handiwork, and I think she was pleased, because she couldn’t stop looking at herself. She was gazing so hard that she didn’t even notice when Aunt Toukie walked in wearing a tacky lavender rayon suit and a Tina Turner wig.

“My … my, don’t we look pretty,” Aunt Toukie said. Windsor looked up, briefly startled, and I rushed over and whispered in Aunt Toukie’s ear, “Now, don’t forget this is a surprise.”

“Aunt Toukie! What are you doing here?” Windsor asked.

“Thought I’d come up here to see you. I just bought me a new car from Mel Farr Motors. You know, the guy who does those funny commercials in the Superman suits. He gave me a great deal. Now, what did you ask me?” Aunt Toukie said as she sat down on the edge of Windsor’s bed and kicked off one of the black patent leather pumps she was wearing.

“What are you doing here?” Windsor repeated.

“I told you. I bought me a new car and I wanted to put
the pedal to the metal, so I said to myself, ‘Toukie, you need to go check on Windsor and see if she’s still holding on to that baby,’” Aunt Toukie said as she patted Windsor’s stomach. “So how you doing?”

“I’m doing fine. But why are you dressed up?”

“Don’t you like my new hair? I thought, Shit, if Tina Turner can wear her hair in this style, then so can I. You know we around the same age,” Aunt Toukie said.