Fortune & Fame: A Novel (15 page)

“Your working with her has nothing to do with this, Jasmine.”

“But—”

“Leave it alone!” he’d said before he’d stomped out of the bedroom.

And that had been the last of it . . . at least from Hosea.

Natasia was a different story.

On the Monday after she’d bogarted her way into their church, Natasia had swooped onto the set where they were filming with twinkling eyes and a bright smile.

“What happened to you since Saturday?” Jasmine had overheard Melinda asking Natasia. “Did you meet a man and fall in love?”

Jasmine had wanted to yell, “Cut!”

No, they were not filming that scene. Of course, Natasia and Melinda were never in any scenes. But Jasmine had wanted
to shout, “Cut,” to get Natasia to cut it out. Whatever game she was playing was never going to work.

Except, it was working . . . with Hosea.

Three more times that week, he’d told Jasmine that he had to spend some time with Natasia.

“It’s nothing that you have to worry about,” he always assured her. “I love you and only you. Trust me.”

But nothing Hosea said could reassure her. If he was spending time with Natasia, that meant trouble, and with Mae Frances still on the injured list, Jasmine had spent eight days filled with nothing but frustration.

There was no way that she could let this go on. Hosea just had to understand that with their history, she needed to know everything about Natasia—whether he’d been told in confidence or not.

When she heard the two beeps of the alarm indicating the front door opening, Jasmine scooted out of the bedroom and scurried down the stairs. Usually, the children met Hosea at the door before she could even get there, but today she was the only one home.

She’d never get her answers if Hosea was in any way distracted. So, she’d sent Jacqueline and Zaya to Chuck E. Cheese’s, and she’d told Mrs. Sloss to let them stay as long as they wanted. Knowing her children, they might not return until the next day, but that’s what she needed—time and space.

At the bottom of the staircase, Jasmine paused to give Hosea time to step into their home. “Hey, babe,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her husband. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said, grabbing the tie from around his neck. “I’m really happy about the way things are going. It’s not going to take long to build this church.”

“I could’ve told you that.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.

“How’s Nama?” he asked. “The doctor came today, right?”

She nodded. “Only Mae Frances could get a doctor to make
a house call in a city that’s not even her home. But anyway, he said she has a mild case of pneumonia.”

He stopped moving. “Pneumonia? That’s serious.”

“It can be, but the doctor said her case is mild and she can be treated right here at home.”

“So, what does she have to do?”

“Just rest. He’s given her some antibiotics and, of course, she has to drink plenty of fluids. He said she’ll be tired for a while, but he’s sure she’ll be fine. She talked him into coming back tomorrow.”

He chucked. “Only Nama. I’ll go check on her in a little while.”

Jasmine followed Hosea into the bedroom and thought about her timing. Which would be the best way to get what she wanted? Should she wait until he undressed? Should she feed him first, wait until his stomach was full, and then demand answers? Or should she sex him and after she laid him out, he’d tell her everything over a little pillow talk?

Any of those options would’ve been fine, and probably would’ve been better—if she could’ve waited.

But she couldn’t.

The moment they stepped over the threshold to their bedroom, Jasmine said, “I know you don’t want to talk about this, Hosea, but I have to know what’s going on with Natasia.”

“Not again,” he moaned.

“It’s because of us working together. You should see how she’s been treating me, Hosea. Like she has some secret world that she lives in with you, and I’m not invited.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. You can ask anyone. Even Rachel.”

“I’m not going to talk to anyone about Natasia. I told you what I could tell you, and nothing more. This has nothing to do with you, Jasmine. Just leave it alone.”

He quickened his steps as he moved toward the bathroom.
Jasmine followed him, determined not to give up. But then he shut the door behind him . . . something that he never did.

She should have definitely taken him to bed before she said anything. But while he was pissed, she was mad, too. This was her life that Natasia was messing with and Hosea was just allowing her do it.

As she heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, Jasmine once again paced the length of the bedroom, exactly the way she’d been doing since before Hosea came home.

She needed to do something . . . something. She needed help from someone . . . someone. But what? And who?

Like a strike of lightning, it came to her.

She plopped down on the bed. She still didn’t have all the parts of this equation, but one half, she could fill in. She could fill in the who . . . Rachel.

Rachel Jackson Adams was not her favorite person. At least not right now. Not with the way she’d been acting on this show. She was walking around like
First Ladies
belonged to her and Jasmine just felt like she had to put that child in her place.

Things had really gotten bad at yesterday’s taping at a Delta Sigma Theta charity fashion show. The three First Ladies had been called in to be celebrity models for the chapter and as they were in the back room checking out the clothes, the president of the chapter came in to greet and thank them.

“We are so excited to have you,” the chapter president said. “You know, this is our tenth couture fashion show, so it’s very special.”

Just as Jasmine was getting ready to thank the president for having them, Rachel jumped in front of her. “Oh, yes!” she said. “I’ve actually done some modeling. I modeled for him a few years ago.”

The woman looked confused. “For whom?”

“For Couture,” Rachel said.

There was a moment of silence and then Jasmine filled the room with her laughter. Even Mary snickered.

The Delta president still looked confused, and Jasmine was going to let it go until Rachel said to her, “What’s so funny? You jealous?”

“Of you and Couture? No . . . but let me ask you something. Does your mother know that you’re stupid?”

Rachel’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “My mother’s dead!” she cried. “How can you be so mean?”

Jasmine knew that half of that drama was for the cameras, but then a part of her heart instantly ached. Having lost both of her parents, Jasmine understood that pain and she wished that she could’ve taken back those words.

But she wasn’t going to take all the blame. Rachel was always trying to act like more than she was. And Jasmine just felt it was her place to remind her that she’d only come up two minutes ago.

Thinking back on that now, Jasmine sighed. She and Rachel were almost back to where they were when they met two years ago at the American Baptist Coalition. During that time, Jasmine had done all she could to expose Rachel as the not-too-smart bumpkin that she was. She’d even had her arrested for shoplifting, and there were times when she wanted to have her arrested again.

But maybe she’d hold off on that. Because without Mae Frances, Rachel was the only one who could help her. As the idea brewed inside Jasmine’s head, it made more sense. Rachel owed her and all Jasmine had to do was remind her of that. And then, of course, Rachel would help her. They’d work together the way they had to clear Rachel’s name in Chicago.

Yes, once she got Rachel on board, Jasmine had no doubt that it would take little time for the two of them to get rid of Natasia Redding.

Jasmine smiled. She finally had a plan.

R
achel surveyed the scene. This was absolutely perfect, and she couldn’t have envisioned a better scenario if she’d put it all together herself. Well, she had put much of it together anyway, but no one needed to know that she was the one who’d convinced Melinda that this community service activity was exactly what they needed.

It had been Rachel’s idea to come with her backups, as she called Mary and Jasmine, to this youth facility to talk to at-risk girls.
First Ladies
had filmed scenes at Mary’s church, which Rachel wasn’t about to attend; at each of their homes; at brunch; hanging out; and at a charity event. The three of them did a lot of bickering on the first few episodes—some of which had almost led to blows—and since she always seemed to be the one right in the middle of the mess, Rachel knew she needed to change the viewers’ perceptions. The most successful reality stars were ones who brought the drama but who were also well liked. This would definitely make her well liked. Advising these kids, something she did already with her Good Girlz youth group, would show her soft side. And
Rachel really did have a soft side. It’s just being around those two brought out the worst in her.

“Hey, Rachel, I understand it was your idea to come here,” Sonny, the director, said, looking around nervously. “Is this place safe?”

Rachel laughed nervously as she glanced around. She hadn’t expected Melinda to tell anyone this was her idea, but oh, well. Rachel had purposely suggested Fulton County Right Track program because she knew these were the hardest of the hardcore girls around. Some of these girls had done time in juvenile facilities, mostly behind some guy. But there were a few bona fide criminals in the midst. A little ghetto chick never scared Rachel. But she couldn’t wait to see how that siddity Jasmine reacted, she hoped they ate Mary alive, and of course, Rachel wanted it all caught on tape.

“Oh, yes,” Rachel told Sonny, “these girls are harmless.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Cara, the makeup artist, came stomping over.

“Unh-unh, Sonny. Y’all don’t pay me enough for this!” she barked. “These girls want black eyeliner around their lips. I don’t do black eyeliner around lips! And I know one of them stole my MAC brushes.”

Sonny let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you just try to work with them?”

Cara threw her arms up. “It’s not just me! They are giving Jeffrey the blues.” She pointed to the horrified hair stylist, who was shaking his head while one of the girls shook a handful of blonde weave at him. “She wants him to put that dollar-store weave in her pitch-black hair. You know Jeffrey will slice his own wrists first.”

Sonny looked like the last thing he wanted to do was go at it with the hair and makeup crew and since this was Rachel’s idea, she decided to step up.

“Let me talk to the girls. I have a way with them.” Rachel
looked around. “But where’s the production crew? They need to be rolling on this.”

“They have fifteen minutes to call time,” Sonny replied.

“Well, call somebody to come on right now so they can get this on tape!” Rachel had tried to get as many stolen solo moments as she could over these past two weeks, but it had been hard with Jasmine and Mary constantly trying to step into her limelight.

Sonny ran his fingers through his already tussled hair, then said, “Fine.” He pushed the button on a little device clipped to his waist. “Can I get one sound and camera crew on set, stat?”

It didn’t take but a minute for the two men to appear by Sonny’s side.

“Grab your gear and film Rachel mediating this disaster,” he said.

Rachel flashed a winning smile. This was why she always came camera ready. Whenever opportunity came knocking, she wanted to be prepared.

“Right this way . . .” Rachel’s words trailed off when Mary and Jasmine appeared in the doorway.

“Umm, is someone about to film without us?” Jasmine asked.

Rachel rolled her eyes. Jasmine needed to change her name to Jasmine Always-Messing-Ish-Up Bush. She had the nerve to seem annoyed with Rachel. Rachel actually hated that this reality show seemed to be pulling her and Jasmine further and further apart. After that fiasco in Chicago, Rachel thought they stood a real chance of being close, but since Jasmine acted like she didn’t know her place, it looked like that wasn’t possible.

“So, are you guys taping already?” Jasmine asked. “Without us?”

“Yeah, I thought call time was ten a.m.,” Mary replied.

Mary had done good in terms of not talking to Rachel outside of filming, and when her overbearing husband wasn’t
around, Mary actually tried to keep her distance from Rachel.

“It is,” Sonny replied nervously. “We were just going to get this shot of Rachel helping out the girls.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Jasmine said, pushing her way past the cameraman and standing next to Rachel. “If she’s helping, I’m helping.”

“And if
she’s
helping, I’m helping,” Mary added, pointing at Jasmine as she followed suit.

“Whatever,” Sonny said. “Can we just do something before Jeffrey has a stroke?”

Rachel huffed again as she spun around and marched over with Jasmine and Mary close on her heels.

“Hi,” Rachel told the girl arguing with Jeffrey. She looked like she couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. “What’s your name?”

The girl was severely overweight, but her clothes apparently didn’t know it. Her outfit appeared about six sizes too small, and she had on some loud gold earrings and wore a necklace that said “Hood Chick” like it was a badge of honor. She stopped, looked Rachel up and down, then said, “Who wants to know?”

Rachel flashed a warm smile. “Oh, I’m just the star of this show, Rachel Jackson Adams, but girl, I just came to tell you those sheer jeggings are fierce.”

The girl slowly smiled. “Yeah, it’s the American flag.” She held out her leg, which looked more like a tree trunk, and wiggled it.

Of course, Jasmine had to angle her way into the camera shot. “Hi, I’m Jasmine. One of the other First Ladies who stars on this show.”

The girl hesitated, but then said, “I’m Quita.”

“Quita, what’s up? Is there a problem here?” Rachel sweetly asked.

“Yeah,” the girl wiggled her neck ferociously. “I want my bangs to be blonde and this he/she won’t do it!”