Boss Lady (5 page)

“If you're gonna talk the talk, then get ready to walk the walk,” she warned me. “Because I never got pregnant, nor had any diseases. But what do we do with Jason?” she asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders. I said, “I don't know. Doesn't he have to start back at Temple in August? He's not even planning on being here long.”

I was hinting big time. I didn't care if Jason went back home tomorrow. That would make more peace and quiet for me. I didn't need a lot of company. I could handle being alone.

Tracy nodded her head in deep thought about it. She said, “I have to think this over. Then I'll let you know.”

J
ason was pressed to find out what his sister and I had talked about after he left. He was sure we had had some girl talk. And he was right.

“So what she say?” he asked me.

Tracy was on her way back to her movie set in North Hollywood. They had finished all of their scenes out in the Nevada desert a week before we had arrived.

“What do you think she said?” I asked him back.

Jason said, “Look, I don't have time for no guessing games. Just tell me what she said.”

So I told him. “She said she'd think about having me look after myself out here. And by the way, I caught that little comment of yours about me getting pregnant, and I didn't appreciate it.”

Jason looked me in the eyes and said, “I'm just stating the facts. I mean, you can be all mousy if you want, but as soon as the right guy get up in you, it's a wrap. And the quiet ones are the worse ones for that.”

He said, “Tracy knows it. That's why she had me out here with you in the first place.”

I said, “Well, thanks for your vote of confidence in me, cousin,” and I walked away from his ass to leave him standing there.

Jason had nothing to say for a change.

*  *  *

Over the next few days, Tracy invited me out to the movie set in a chauffeured limo to serve as one of her “personal assistants.” She didn't work me too hard though. She mainly had me watching the process of her other assistants. They were mostly young white girls. It seemed like everyone out there but Tracy was white. I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You need any more water?”

“You want me to get that?”

“Is that cold enough for you?”

“You need to make a phone call?”

I was unnerved by it all. I mean, I had seen the catering to the stars process on TV and in the movies, but to see it up close was really something. I don't know if I had what it took to work for someone like that. Or least not by my own free will.

“Have you made amends with your mother yet?” Tracy asked me. I guess she was trying to see when she could expect to send me back home.

“No,” I answered. I had talked to my sisters, but my mother refused to have any words for me.

“So, she's not even accepting your phone calls now?” my cousin assumed.

“That's what it looks like.”

I felt like I was in the middle of a bridge. Tracy had invited me out to her world, but she still was not inviting me all the way in. She was leaving the door wide open for me to return. I couldn't blame her though. Like she said, she hadn't had any children, so it was hard for her to accept me barging in on her life. Nevertheless, she had invited me there.

Tracy finally broke down and asked me, “Vanessa, what would you do in my position?”

I guess we were reading each other correctly. We were both in deep thought about our dilemma.

I answered, “I'd give my little cousin a chance to prove herself.”

What else could I say? I believed in myself and I wasn't planning on turning back.

I said, “I realize that everybody may not get an opportunity to really do something in life, but I feel like you're able to give me that opportunity.”

“Give you the opportunity to do what, Vanessa? To act?”

I shook my head and said, “No, but just to be in the middle of things, where I can make up my mind on which way to go and where I really want to be. And it's not in Philly right now.”

“What's wrong with Philly? They have the neo-soul movement popping right now. The new Sixers . . .”

I cut her off and said, “But you're not there because you realized that you had to make things happen elsewhere. Sometimes it's just better to leave home.”

I had Tracy stumped for a second.

She finally said, “We'll see.” She wasn't going to make it easy for me.

*  *  *

By the time August rolled around, I was on solo missions of my own, finding my way around L.A., and Tracy was nearly done filming her second movie. Her next project was already lined up, writing
For the Love of Money,
the sequel to
Flyy Girl.

She began to talk about the process of interviews with author Omar Tyree, who was supposed to fly out to L.A. to ask her a thousand questions about the next phase of her life. After Tracy's adolescence and teen years had been published to huge success, she and Omar planned to team up for more of the same.

I still had not been able to rectify the situation at home with my mother, so it looked more and more like I would either be staying out in L.A. with Tracy, or returning to Philly to stay with my aunt Pattie.

So, for the rest of my days in L.A., I worked hard on being the best personal assistant to Tracy that I could be. I took mental notes on what she liked and didn't like, where and what she liked to eat, who she wanted to talk to and who not. I cleaned and organized the house. I collected her news and magazine articles and filed them alphabetically in folders. I met her business associates, publicist, hairdressers—you name it. And I listened to and tried to understand her every complaint and suggestion. I basically forced myself to map out my cousin's entire psychological profile, all so she would allow me to stay with her for as long as I wanted. I had to allow her a chance to see that I would be more of an asset to her than a hindrance.

In the meantime, Jason had worn out his welcome with more than a few California girls, who began to realize that his slash-and-burn attitude was counterproductive to a meaningful relationship with them. The reality was that if he was so set on only a temporary stay in L.A., then what was the point of getting too close to him? And once they began to figure him out, Jason felt less opportunistic about his chances.

“Aw, man, I'm about to get up out of here,” he complained. “Y'all jinxed me. Ever since that day we had that argument, these girls've been acting funny on me.”

I smiled and said, “You had it coming. You were just a little too cocky.”

He said, “Aw'ight, well, you're about to get your wish then. I'm about to start getting ready for school now. But what about you? You gon' go to school out here?” he asked me.

I said, “I want to.”

Jason nodded. “Good luck then.”

It was the only time he said anything of encouragement to anyone outside of himself since he had been out there in L.A. Too bad it was only because he was leaving. But I'd take it however I could get it.

“Thanks,” I told him.

*  *  *

As soon as Jason took that plane ride back home to Philly and left me all alone with Tracy in L.A., I became more nervous about what her verdict would be with me.

I attended a wrap party with her for
Road Kill
in Santa Monica with the intention of being as perfect as I could. Most of her new Hollywood friends were there, and I wanted to make a great impression.

“So you're the infamous Vanessa Tracy Smith?” her lawyer friend Yolanda Felix asked me with a glass of wine in her hand. I had heard about her, but I had not met her until then. From what I had heard about her, Yolanda Felix was a hell of a character. She had the golden-brown, Hollywood skin, the long dark hair, the fancy clothes, the slim physique, the expensive jewelry, and the twinkle of a high-class and viperous woman. I figured I needed to be as forward with her as I could to keep her from intimidating me. She was definitely the intimidating type.

I said, “And you're the infamous Yolanda Felix?” just to throw her comment about me back in her face.

There was no mistaking who she was. Some people will always stand out in a crowd. I knew that from high school, and Hollywood was only the tenth degree of the same process.

“So what did you hear about me?” Yolanda asked me.

I kept my guard up with her. I had too much to lose if I didn't. She was the kind of in-your-face sister who would figure you were weak if you let your guard down with her.

I asked her, “What did you hear about me?”

She smiled. She said, “You're Tracy's cousin all right. So how long will it take before you're in movies?”

Her question threw me for a loop. I wasn't thinking about movies for myself. I just wanted to be behind the scenes.

I said, “I think you're more of the movie type than I am.”

“Not from what I've heard,” she insisted.

I became nervous for a minute. I started to wonder what she had heard. She was breaking me down.

I said, “You must have heard the wrong things then,” and lost my eye contact with her.

“Are you sure?” Yolanda pressed me.

I was wondering if Tracy had told her about my scuffle with my mother. I doubted it, but I wasn't certain. That's what pressure makes you do. Yolanda was running me through a test to see how much guts I had.

“Hey guys, what are you two talking about?” Susan Raskin popped up to rescue me. I took a breath and relaxed.

I answered, “Movies,” and caught Tracy's nod to me from across the room. There were too many people smothering my cousin as the star of the movie for her to just break away, so she sent her agent Susan over to me just in time.

Yolanda asked her, “What do you think about her chances?” referring to me in starring movie roles.

Susan took a good look at me in my lime green satin dress and said, “As long as she prepares herself accordingly, Vanessa has the chops to do whatever she wants to.”

It was a good answer. Susan was helping to encourage me while keeping me on my p's and q's about proper preparation. It was one thing to lift a person up, it was something else to tell them the truth while you're at it.

I was learning what to expect rather quickly there. The wrap party was like a Hollywood crash course. A couple of older guys even tried to come on to me, rich white men.

“So, ah, I hear you're the star's cousin out of Philly.”

“Yeah,” I answered a blond-haired white man with poise. He looked around forty, but he was probably older than that. I was aware that people in Hollywood spent millions of dollars to maintain their youth.

He slipped out a business card without telling me his name and tried to slide it inside my small purse.

“If you need anything you just let me know, okay?”

I moved my purse away from his reach and told him, “I can't take that. I'm underage.”

I was embarrassed again, and wondering who was watching us. It was simply too many people in the room to think that no one would see it. I'm sure he knew it as well.

So he performed a quick trick with his hand and hid the card inside of his palm.

In passing, he told me, “There's no such thing as underage in Hollywood, my dear.”

That was it. Mr. Man moved on to the next conversation.

I was tempted to fade into the corners of the room and keep out of sight at that point. But a lime green, satin dress made that hard to do.

“How are you? I love this color,” an older white woman said, while rubbing my dress material in her fingers. She didn't even ask if she could touch it first.

I looked into her aged face and said “Thank you.” I don't know how old the woman was, but she had so many lines in her face that I realized instantly why so many older white men chased after girls who could pass for their daughters.

I must admit, I was ready to leave that place early. It wasn't my kind of party. They had no hip-hop or R&B music, few people my age, and few people of color.

“Are you having fun yet?” Tracy's friend Kendra asked me. She was being sarcastic. I'm quite sure she could read the look of bewilderment on my face. I had no idea what I was getting into out in Hollywood.

I took a deep breath and responded, “This is really different.”

“Tell me about it,” Kendra said. She blended in a lot better with the crowd in her black business suit. But she was one of the brownest faces in the room.

She said, “By the fourth party, you'll get good and used to it. But that still doesn't mean you have to like it. I only come to these things because Tracy asks me to, to keep her grounded in reality. So when she sees me, she relaxes. We have a little system going.”

I told her, “I see. Are there any black parties out in Hollywood?” I asked.