For the Love of Money (53 page)

Like I said, I just needed a little more time to think, and I would work everything out. As far as the bodyguards were concerned . . . I think it was time for me to get some.

Hollywood called my name
from black limousines,
wearing designer dresses
and flirting with
pretty-skinned men,
while puffing on long,
exotic cigarettes
from under straw beach hats
to hide
the glare of stardom.

Hollywood called my name
with twenty million
dollars
per film
from Los Angeles, California,
New York, New York,
Paris, France,
and Tokyo, Japan.

Hollywood called my name
from 1915,
birthing babies
in Massa's house,
with Harlem's Jazz
and Billie's Blues,
for
A Raisin in the Sun
on
Superfly Street,
drinking
Coffy,
and watching
The Color Purple
in
Star Wars
'cause
She's Gotta Have It,
the
Hollywood Shuffle
and the
Glory
for
Boyz N the Hood,
who satisfy my
love jones.

Hollywood called my name
and got me high,
and had me wet,
naked,
and begging
for the fuck,
and then left me there
squirming like a nasty,
stepped-on snail
against the sidewalk.

Hollywood called my name
and made me walk
on Sunset Boulevard
after dark,
with no condoms,
no sense,
and no gun.

Copyright © 1998 by Tracy Ellison

W
hen the premiere television season rolled around in September, Susan and I had no new takers on the Southern-flavored pilot show, and the production company that we had turned down got desperate and contacted Reba. The shit hit the fan after that. Reba called me up and was pissed as hell about us not taking up the offer.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she asked me over the phone. To tell you the truth, I had left my girl hanging, thinking that someone else would give us a better offer. Meanwhile, I stopped working on her show altogether and was well into writing my own screenplay.

I said, “Reba, they weren't giving us a good deal, so we were still trying to shop it.”

“What do you mean ‘they weren't giving us a good deal'? Were they gonna
pay me
?”

Reba was talking the bottom line: money.

I said, “Girl, they were trying to set us up to use the show as a springboard for this young white girl.”

“So what? As long as
I
get paid, they can do what they wanna do. It could have been a
springboard
for me too,” she snapped.

“
Or,
they could have picked another black girl to replace you,” I argued. “We had nothing set in stone yet, Reba.”

“Well, why would they call my agent then, if they were gonna use someone else?”

“Because we had already turned them down. They're just trying to get
you
to agree to it. That's not even professional. That just shows you how slimy they are,” I told her. “You don't do that. They're already showing their colors.”

“You're showing
your
colors too; you gon' turn it down without even telling me about it,” she said. “How are you gonna make a decision for me? I can't
afford
to turn anything down, but
you
can,” she added. “It was
my
idea in the first place. You're not even from the South.”

“Yeah, but
I
was the one doing all of the work to develop it,
and
pitching it,” I told her.

“Oh, so
that's
how you are? I guess I
do
need to learn how to write then with people like
you
around. Fuckin'
backstabbers!
”

“Reba, I did
not
stab you in the back. If
anything,
I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? From getting paid?”

“It's not all about the money,” I said rather weakly.

“Hmmph. It ain't? You could have
fooled
me,” Reba huffed. “Why don't you give me
your
money then, if it's not about the money?”

She had a point, and I was caught speechless for a change. I didn't know what to say.

“That's what I
thought!
”Reba snapped at me. “Well, thanks a lot,
Tracy!
You got
your
fuckin' money, now you gon' try and hold
me
back from getting
mine.
”

I took a deep breath and asked her, “Are they still willing to work with you?” I hoped that they were. I had to admit, I felt bad about it. A starring role
did
represent a big step up for Reba, whether she would have been selling out or not.

She answered, “Wouldn't
you
like to know,” and hung up on me.

I was dazed and confused. I must have sat there silently for a good half hour, thinking about everything. I honestly didn't believe it was realistic for everyone in Black Hollywood to turn down bad ideas. However, if more of us did, then maybe we could have more of the
better
ideas developed. Was I wrong for standing my ground? I didn't think so. Nevertheless, Reba was right; I had no business trying to make her decisions for her.

The next thing I knew, the word got around that I thought I was the shit and was out to make my own moves in spite of my friendships. People were calling me a backstabber. It's funny how quickly things change. I went from being the flavor of the month to a backstabber in just one year. At first, I wanted to step up to Reba about it, but then I just decided to ignore it. I knew that I wasn't like that, so I blocked it all out, kept my focus, and continued to work on my screenplay.

Reginald called me up and tried to pour salt into my wounds because I hadn't had anything produced on television in a while. He asked, “It's not so easy to get a credit with the
big
networks during premiere season, hunh? Are you sure you don't want to come back down to us? We'll forgive you. And now you know who your
real
friends are.”

I guess he assumed, like others, that television writing was my ultimate goal, but it was not. I just blew him off, basically. Reginald had no effect on me, and my name was not Juanita.

Rich called and said, “I heard about what happened.” He was laughing at it. I guess it was all a big joke to him. He said, “I can't believe you actually turned that down. Well, I hope you don't starve out here while trying to be a big shot.

“You better learn how to take the money when you can get it,” he added. “
Seriously!
”

Yolanda called me with her usual. “I told you about that Black Hollywood shit, Tracy. They are
real
petty. I learned my lesson about that years ago. But you
still
should have taken that deal.”

I was just about fed up with everyone's opinions about my actions. So I leveled with Yolanda. I asked her, “You know why I keep coming back to you for business?”

She answered, “Because I'm black.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Otherwise, I would have stepped off from you a
while
ago. But you're also good at what you do, and I respect that. But your damn mouth . . .” I didn't even finish my sentence. She got the point.

“Tracy, whenever you're ready to leave, I have other clients to take care of. Okay?”

That shocked me. I never imagined Yolanda Felix as a quitter. Maybe I was wrong. She had quit Black Hollywood, and she was ready to quit me.

“Is that how you feel about it?” I asked her. I was actually hurt by it. She couldn't take me telling her the truth? I felt that was petty on
her
part.
Susan
was strong enough to deal with my candor. I mean, it wasn't as if I was over-bearing or anything, I just stayed on top of my business and spoke my mind about it.

Yolanda said, “The world keeps turning, Tracy.”

I couldn't even breathe straight I was so damn mad. I felt that I could always count on Yolanda, whether she ran her mouth at me or not.

I said, “You know what, if your ego is that fucking
inflated
where you can't handle me telling you the truth, then
fuck you too
!” and
I
hung up on
her
ass!

My heart was beating fast, my head was hurting, and I felt miserable. There I was sticking my neck out for the black community, and all I was receiving in return was flak, and from my
own
people. I guess it was just me against the world then. I always worked well when I had something to prove anyway. So I used all of that negative
bullshit
to fuel my determination, and by October, I had finished the first draft of
Led Astray
to add to my beginning and ending:

ACT I
: Cynthia Moore prepares for her intricate plot of payback to several Hollywood businessmen who have led her astray for three years of her acting career. She jots down their names for the last entry in her diary and puts it in an envelope to be sent to Detroit, Michigan. She calls her mother long distance in Detroit to let her know that she'll be sending home an important package which is to be left
unopened,
regarding legal film matters. She orders an open, one-way plane ticket to Detroit. Then she calls Peter Dalvin, a sleazy, wanna-be, Hollywood player, and sets a date.

CYNTHIA
: (over the phone) I need to get high.

PETER
: (smiling) Me too. Where do you want to meet?

PLOT POINT I
: Cynthia's date with Peter is all about gathering information on the
real
players of Hollywood. Peter knows it all, and he likes to talk, especially when under the influence. However, at the end of the night, he gets no love, while Cynthia leaves to begin her next level of the plot. She meets with a young and hungry screen-writer, David Bassenger.

CYNTHIA
: (grinning) I have a blockbuster story for you.

DAVID
: (cynical) Oh yeah, well, so does everybody else.

CYNTHIA
: (confident) Trust me. And make sure you stay in touch.

ACT II
: Every Hollywood player is into something that they need to hide, shady dealings and extra lives, and Hollywood is a small town. One by one, Cynthia wields her plot up the ladder, exposing the dirty laundry of each player, and causing them paranoia, while they lose out on big-money deals, have family problems, suffer public embarrassment, and ultimately deteriorate in their loss of omnipotence.

PLAYER
#1: (to his wife) Honey, it's a lie. I love only you.

PLAYER
#3: (to Player #2) Did you tell the media about my therapy?

PLAYER
#2: (responding) Why would I do that? I'm not perfect either.

PLAYER
#4: (hysterical) What the hell is going on around here?!

PLOT POINT II
: Peter, still pissed off that Cynthia didn't give him any, catches on to her plot, and threatens to inform everyone involved unless she cuts him in on the deal.

CYNTHIA
: (playing innocent) What are you talking about?

PETER
: You
know
that I know, and I want a piece of this deal.

CYNTHIA
: What deal? Are you high again? I think you need some help.

PETER
: Don't fucking bullshit me! I want in, or I'm talking!

ACT III
: Player #1 and Player #2 both confront Cynthia after Peter gives them the scoop. Peter then threatens to go up the ladder to Player #3 and Player #4, the much bigger prizes, unless she cooperates with him. Player #2 is also interested in her ultimate scheme. However, Cynthia
won't
be denied her revenge,
nor
her payday.

CYNTHIA
: (to Player #1) I could call your wife and straighten everything out if I could afford the phone call.

PLAYER
#1: (eager) How much will it cost me?

CYNTHIA
: Fifty thousand.

PLAYER
#1: That's a hell of a phone bill.

CYNTHIA
: How much is your marriage worth, less or more?

Player #2 confronts her with subtle threats of violence:

PLAYER
#2: (as calm as a killer) It's a very dangerous game to play with people's lives, Cynthia. Very harmful things could happen to you.

CYNTHIA
: Harmful things have
always
happened to me in Hollywood. Sometimes you need to write them down just to keep your sanity. I sure hope my mother doesn't open my diaries at home. It's still personal. And I wouldn't want her thinking the wrong things about our business.

PLAYER
#2: (thinking)
Shit! She's untouchable!