Boss Lady (39 page)

I said, “Yeah, but a lot of women your age have read and loved the book: your age and older. That was the initial audience, people who grew up in the eighties.”

Yolanda looked at me and began to chuckle.

She said, “Honey, women my age and older are not gonna be caught dead in a teenage movie. And they can tell you all the lies they want to about that. Reading the book ten years ago, and going to see the movie now, are two totally different things. And I don't even count because I would see it for free.”

“But what about mothers and daughters going to see it together?”

I was reaching for anything at that point to keep my dream alive.

Yolanda said, “That sounds like a made-for-television special. And I'm sure you do understand that the material of your cousin's book is about four times too raw for the average TV rating. However, HBO might like it if packaged to them correctly. Now that's an idea.”

“But beyond HBO, we just can't get it done?” I questioned.

“Some things are just gonna be better left as books. I mean, look at this
Lord of the Rings
trilogy,” she told me. “It took many years for them to figure out how those books could be made into a successful film series. And there are no black people to even dream about in that thing.”

She said, “We are just not in a position for making meaningful black films, honey. Nobody wants to see them. Even black people show up late and uninterested in films that try to do more than entertain us. John Singleton realizes that now. He's not wasting any more of his career dealing with black films. With
2 Fast 2 Furious,
he's now reaching out to get some of that white money. Gary F. Gray. Antoine Fuqua. The Hughes brothers. They're all grabbing after that white money now.”

I said, “What if Tracy directs the movie herself?” I don't even know why I asked her that. I guess I just wanted to see what Yolanda had to say about everything, since she was running her mouth so much.

She looked at me and said, “Child, please. Tracy's begging to get her next movie to act in, let alone try and direct something. She didn't tell you that she was trying to direct
Flyy Girl,
did she? Her best idea would be to start a letter-writing campaign to Steven Spielberg to see if he'd try and do the movie to get another award out of it or something. He did Alice Walker's book
The Color Purple
twenty years ago.”

Yolanda was really draining me. She had me thinking now about the whole Philadelphia casting call. Was it all an illusion to make me and my friends feel that something was getting done when it really wasn't? Tracy had paid for everything through Susan's hookup with the Marriott Hotel chain, and the Flyy Girl clothing line sales. So she really didn't even spend anything. She had all of her bases covered.

Did my cousin mastermind the whole trip with Susan before she agreed to it? Maybe that was why it was all of a sudden. They had to work out the details first. And now Tracy was back home in Hollywood bullshitting me, while she and Susan looked for her next film job. Only Yolanda was willing to tell me the truth.

I said, “What about the film crew we had with us from New York? If we just got the money . . .” I was more or less speaking out loud to myself, trying to justify the energy, ideas, and hope I had spent on the project, but Yolanda took that information and ran with it as well.

She said, “Those New York people can't touch this film. Tracy knows that. They were just out there playing with the cameras and having a good time in Philadelphia. Susan and I didn't go anywhere near Philadelphia with you guys—did you once stop to think about that?”

I was only thinking about whether Yolanda was supposed to tell me so much information at that point. If it had all been mapped out, and they all knew about it, then they were all in on it, and Yolanda was now spilling the beans to me. Maybe she had had too much alcohol in her system already.

I said, “Why would she do that to me?” I was speaking out loud again when I didn't mean to. Maybe my spiked drink was getting to me as well. I wasn't much of a drinker.

Yolanda said, “From what I understand, you came out here ready to take on the world. But you're gonna need a little more education
before you get your feet wet in Hollywood, honey. You can't just come out here, walk up to a door, and expect it to open for you.”

I said, “Well, how did Tracy get in?”

“Science-fucking-fiction,” Yolanda said, spraying me with some of her drink. “I told her where to go, and who to talk to, and she got in with science fiction, just like I said she would. Then she tried the little black television show thing, and that didn't work. She tried the freelance script writing thing for the major networks, and wasn't paying any consistent bills. And then she lucked up with
Led Astray
because it was a raw emotion project that struck with the right people at the right time.”

She said, “But now your cousin's luck has run the hell out with those two last films she tried to do, and what are we discussing now to get her back in, a science fiction movie. All she has to do is look good, and let those computer graphics people do what they have to do. Because, see, when white folks watch science fiction movies, as long as there are enough special effects going on, they can finally get past our damn color.”

I had heard enough from Yolanda, I really had. She made me not want to fuck with Hollywood at all. Was it that damned racist out there? Black people still seemed to be in movies. But how the hell were they getting in them if it was that difficult to pitch anything black?

“Excuse me, I have to use the restroom,” I said, just to get away from Yolanda.

She said, “Well, when you come back, I can tell you more of what you need to know.”

“I'm not fucking coming back,” I mumbled under my breath. I was using bitter language and everything. That was not even my style. Yolanda had really gotten under my skin. So I romped on my way to the bathroom, feeling shitty about my big cousin duping me with the
Flyy Girl
project, and somebody reached out and grabbed my arm.

I looked, and was ready to let whoever have a piece of my sour mind at the moment, and spotted Anthony Coolidge, who had taken a couple of media courses with me at UCLA. He was a slightly older guy who had returned to school to finish what he started years ago, after dropping out to get involved in straight-to-video movies. Once
that stopped paying off for him, he was right back in school to finish his education.

He said, “I see you're here mixing with the in-crowd.”

Anthony was mixed with Indian or something. He had the prettiest brown skin and thick curly hair that he managed to keep cut just right.

I was startled by him. He was over six feet tall and dressed in a charcoal gray suit, with white shirt, and an eye-popping tie.

“Where are you on your way to?” he asked me.

“The restroom,” I told him.

He said, “To rest, or to do something else?”

It was a corny joke, but he still held my attention with it somehow. He was hinting at being fresh.

“What do you think I'm about to do?” I asked him. I wanted to see where he was going with it.

He smiled with perfect white teeth and said, “To relieve yourself. We all have to do that at some point or another.”

He was being fresh and tactful at the same time.

So, fuck it, I decided to play his game. I had nothing better to do. My damn cousin was bullshitting me about my dream, and she had dragged me to another one of her bullshit-ass Hollywood parties. I was all dressed up in electric blue silk like a damn grown-up, black Barbie doll, so I decided to act grown.

“And what do you know about it?” I asked Anthony.

He stopped and searched my face to see if I was willing to go there.

He said, “I know plenty about release. Sometimes it just jumps up and grabs you without warning. You know what I mean?”

I asked him, “What if I don't? What if I never been jumped up and grabbed before?”

He read my face to see if I was serious again.

“Well, there's always a first time, too.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And how do you know when it's gonna be first?”

He looked deep into my eyes and said, “You just let it happen and be natural with it. And I don't mean like, natural without protection.
I mean natural emotions. When you feel it strong enough, you just let it go.”

I nodded to him. I said, “I'll think about it while I'm in here . . . relieving myself,” I added with a grin.

He smiled back at me and said, “Yeah, you do that.”

I walked into the restroom and felt tingles all over. I had never gone there with a guy before, but I had imagined it. Every girl had her fantasies whether she allowed them to happen or not. But I was ready to allow them to happen now. Like Anthony said, when you feel it, you just let it go. And I was feeling it.

I did what I had to do in the bathroom, and made sure that everything was up to par with me, just in case I let somebody explore something that night. Like I said, I did have my fantasies.

When I walked back out from the restroom, I spotted my cousin Tracy. She had appeared just in the nick of time to cock-block my flow.

“It figures,” I mumbled to myself. Fortunately, I had driven myself to the event that night in my brand new Volkswagen Bug. I never said that Tracy didn't take care of me. But that was besides the point. She had pulled the rug over my eyes regarding the real business of Hollywood, and I wasn't feeling too happy about that.

Once she spotted me, I walked in her direction and away from Anthony on purpose. I would deal with him later.

When I reached her, Tracy asked me, “Are you okay?” She was just checking up on me, I guess.

I said, “Tracy, I really don't feel like hanging out here all night. So I think I'm about ready to drive on home and see what my girls are up to.”

It was closing in on eleven o'clock on Saturday night, so the night was still young.

Tracy looked me over. “Are you sure?”

“Actually, if I had my own car before, I would have left a lot of these parties earlier. I mean, it's just not my thing to hang around and talk if things are not getting accomplished by it,” I hinted to her.

She nodded to me. I'm sure she understood.

She said, “Well, drive safe tonight, and stay out of trouble.”

I looked over at her friend Dalvin and asked her, “And what kind of trouble are you gonna get into tonight?”

She smiled at me and declined to answer.

“Go on out of here, girl. I'll see you when I see you. You're responsible enough to know what to do.”

She was telling me in her way that she might not be coming home that night, and that was music to my ears. I was mapping out my own plans for the night.

So I kissed my cousin on the cheek, and walked back in Anthony's direction on my way out.

As soon as I approached him, I asked him boldly, “Do you have a room here?” I didn't have any time to ruin my plans with too much small talk out in the open. I didn't want too many people to see me talking to him for too long. I would talk to him more in private later.

“I do,” he answered.

“Are you sharing it with anyone?”

“Not if I don't have to.”

“I would prefer that you didn't,” I told him.

“Well, then, I won't.”

I said, “What room are you in?”

“Twelve-eleven.”

“I'll meet you there in ten minutes,” I told him.

He hesitated. I guess I had caught him off guard with my urgency and forwardness, but I had no time to waste.

I smiled at him as I spoke and shook his hand to make my fake exit. I said, “If you're not there, or if it's too complicated, then I'm leaving. Now let me make my exit and then sneak up to see you.”

He smiled real calmly and said, “I like your style.”

I told him, “You make sure you make a clean exit, too.”

“I will.”

I let his hand go and waved good-bye. He waved back to me as I made my final rounds.

When I reached Yolanda again, she had her eyes wide open for Anthony.

“Who is that?”

“He goes to UCLA with me, but I don't really know him like that,” I told her.

She said, “Well, you need to get to know him.”

I grinned and shook my head. I said, “I'm just letting you know
that I'm cutting out of here. I want to go catch up with my girls. You know, Tracy told me to enjoy myself while I'm still young so that's what I'm gonna do.”

Yolanda said, “Are you trying to call us old in here?”

I grinned. “No, but you know.”

“No, I don't know,” she responded to me. “Because I'm not old yet.” She was still staring over at Anthony when she said it.

“Well, let me get out of here,” I told her.

I walked away from her and found Kendra and Susan to say my good-byes to them, and to congratulate Susan on her engagement. Then I headed out of the ballroom toward the lobby area and managed to slide right onto a just arriving elevator. Since Tracy had taken a limo to the event, I didn't worry about her spotting my car in the parking garage. My black Volkswagen didn't really stand out in a parking lot anyway. Unless you were right next to it, you barely noticed it.

I rode the elevator up to the twelfth floor with no other guests onboard. It was a perfect setup.

I arrived on the twelfth floor and walked past Anthony's room on purpose. I wanted to act lost, just in case someone spotted me there in the hallway. So I walked all the way down to the opposite end of the hall, slowly looking at the room numbers. By the time I turned around and began to make my way back up the hall toward his room, he walked out from the elevator ahead of me.

He turned immediately toward his room and didn't even see me behind him.