Fortune & Fame: A Novel (16 page)

Jeffrey balled his fists and looked like it was taking everything in his power to keep his temper in check. “Look, you little thuggette . . .”

Rachel put her hand on Jeffrey’s arm to calm him down. Jeffrey gritted his teeth but turned to Rachel. “I’m not doing it,” he whispered. “I have been known to drop kick kids.”

“Your hair is black. Don’t you think it’s a bit much to put blonde hair in?” Mary said with a terse chuckle.

Both Rachel and Jasmine stared at her. Rachel knew Mary had grown up around black people so she could hold her own, but she’d been locked up for a while. She wasn’t ready for this new breed of kid.

Quita and another hoodrat-looking girl who had appeared next to her each took a step toward Mary.

“What did you say?” Quita asked.

The other girl, who had apparently mastered the art of chewing gum and talking, said, “I think she said your hair too nappy to be trying to put in that good hair like hers.”

Mary looked confused. “No, no. That’s not what I said. I was just—”

“How ’bout I snatch some of your hair out and have him put that in my hair instead?” Quita said, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Mary’s hair before anyone could react.

Mary yelped as security quickly moved in and grabbed Quita before she could do anymore damage.

“Let me go!” Quita screamed as they pulled her away. “You betta tell Mary Poppins to recognize!”

“What in the world is going on here!”

Everyone turned to see Natasia standing next to Sonny, a horrified look on her face. Mary leaned against the wall as she nursed her head.

When no one answered, Natasia said, “Someone better explain to me what is going on!”

Rachel took it upon herself to step up. “One of the girls just got upset but it’s all good.”

“All good? That little delinquent attacked me!” Mary cried.

“I got your delinquent!” Quita called out from the corner where the center director had appeared and was trying to calm her down.

Natasia inhaled, briefly closed her eyes, then exhaled. “I told you all,” she said, glaring at Rachel, Jasmine, and Mary, “there will absolutely be no violence on this show.”

“I wasn’t fighting,” Jasmine and Rachel said simultaneously.

“And I wasn’t fighting either. I was attacked,” Mary added.

Natasia held up her hand to stop them from talking. “I’m just happy the three of you finally agree on something!” She turned to Sonny. “Can you take five? Especially since it’s not even call time yet?”

Sonny looked relieved that someone else was here to take charge. “Take five,” he told the crew.

Natasia motioned toward the women. “Ladies, can I speak with you for a minute?”

Rachel and Mary immediately followed her, but Jasmine stayed behind, her arms folded across her chest. This had been the scenario whenever Jasmine and the EP were anywhere near each other, and Rachel was trying to figure out what in the world was going on.

Rachel’s eyes went to Natasia, then to Jasmine. Jasmine had a look in her eyes that Rachel had only seen directed at one other person—her. Jasmine’s eyes were filled with . . . Rachel struggled to find the right word—
hate
. She looked like she hated Natasia. But why? Then, as if a light bulb had gone off, Rachel remembered.

“No,” Rachel found herself muttering. Rachel didn’t know much about the woman, but when Hosea and Lester were
running for president of the American Baptist Coalition and she’d tried to help Lester out by digging up dirt on Hosea, Rachel had discovered that Hosea was once engaged to a woman named Natasia. “Are you . . . are you Hosea’s Natasia?”

Jasmine spun on Rachel like she was the new star of
The Exorcist.
“Hosea only has one woman,” Jasmine snapped. “And it ain’t her!”

Rachel couldn’t help it, she busted out laughing. Oh, this show had just gone to a whole other level.

“And what exactly is so funny?” Jasmine hissed.

“You. This.” Rachel motioned between Jasmine and Natasia. “The irony.” Rachel held her stomach, she was laughing so hard.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Natasia said, “but can we get down to business?”

Rachel let her laughter die down, but this was good stuff. Jasmine and her decrepit old friend had taken little digs at Rachel over the past few tapings. They’d done that knowing this Natasia chick was here. Oh, it was about to be on. Now, Rachel just needed to figure out how to bring it up when the cameras were rolling. That might be a little challenging since Natasia wasn’t actually on the show. But if there was anyone up for a challenge, it was Rachel.

N
atasia was a long way from being a schoolgirl, but that didn’t stop her from feeling giddy.

She peered through the camera, taking in the scene that was unfolding before her. Jasmine, Rachel, and Mary sat in a circle with a dozen girls from the Fulton County Right Track facility.

From the moment Melinda had brought this idea to Natasia, she’d thought it would be a good scene for the show: these three First Ladies, who each had such shady backgrounds themselves, talking about their tests and giving their testimonies to young ladies who needed to hear words of inspiration and wisdom. Surely, Rachel, Jasmine, and Mary were capable enough to handle this.

But then, maybe not. Instead of being inspired, the girls were just . . . bored.

It had started with Rachel. When she’d scooted forward in her chair and began to tell the girls how she became a teenage mom, but now she was a First Lady of a major church, the girls had exchanged glances, then slumped back in their chairs as if they knew this was gonna be a long day.

When it was Jasmine’s turn, she told the girls about her life and how she’d been delivered from envy, jealousy, and coveting. But when she ended her talk with “That’s how divas do it . . . and I’m done,” the girls looked at each other and shook their heads like they’d never heard anything so ridiculous coming out of the mouth of a grown woman.

And now Mary was talking. Most of the girls had thrown their heads back and were actually sleeping.

Then, Quita, the girl who’d almost beat the mess out of Mary, let go a snore so loud she sounded like a bear coming out of hibernation.

Everyone laughed, even Natasia.

Chauncey asked, “Should I keep filming?”

“Yes!” Natasia exclaimed. “We can always edit that out.” Or then, maybe not. She’d have to see if it helped to make for great TV.

Natasia couldn’t believe how she was really getting into this show. Often, she felt more like a referee than an executive producer, but she was getting the footage she needed to push the show to the top. She was sure of that. And with this being her first gig in this genre, that made her happy.

But what had her giddy had nothing to do with reality TV. What had her giddy was the reality of her life . . . and Hosea.

It had been more than a week since she’d walked into City of Lights and told Hosea everything and her heart still filled with joy when she thought about how it had all gone down. Not only had Hosea promised to be there for her always, but he’d even come to her home and then that night, had come back and taken her out to dinner.

They’d just had a quick bite at Captain D’s. Hosea explained that he had to get back home to his family. For the second time that day, she’d held back what she really wanted to say—that she needed him more than his wife and children did. Instead, she’d let Hosea know how grateful she was for his help.

In the past week, he’d continued to be there for her. He’d spent five of the last eight days with her. He’d come by to check on her, bring her dinner, give her scriptures to read, and pray with her. Then, sometimes, they would just talk.

But he never stayed for more than an hour or two. Though Natasia cherished that time, she noticed that he didn’t touch her, he hadn’t held her the way he had on Sunday. That’s what she yearned for; she just hadn’t been sure how to make that happen again.

But then there was last night. Just thinking about that made her smile now.

Hosea had called just as she sped away from Copeland’s, where she’d had a quick dinner with Sonny, Chauncey, and a couple of other guys from the crew.

“I’m just leaving church,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”

Natasia had looked in her rearview mirror at the restaurant’s flashing blue sign.

“No,” she said, even though she’d just stuffed herself with the pecan-crusted catfish, her favorite Copeland’s dish. But she’d eat an elephant if it gave her a chance to go out with Hosea. “What do you have in mind?”

“I was gonna pick up a pizza . . . or do you want something else?”

Something else,
she thought. Aloud, she said, “A pizza will be fine.”

It wasn’t the sit-down, candle-lit dinner that she’d been looking forward to, but she was sure that was coming. When that happened, she was going to make sure that Jasmine knew about it; maybe she’d even capture it on tape. But for now, sharing a pizza with Hosea at her apartment was a good thing—and actually, it might even be better than going out; this way, they could be much more intimate.

Just a little more than thirty minutes later, he’d shown up with the vegetarian pizza.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said the moment he stepped inside her apartment.

“I am.”

“Well, good. ’Cause I got a large for you.” He’d followed her into the kitchen.

“Great!” She reached for two plates from the cabinet.

But then he’d said, “Oh, no. This is for you. I have to get home.”

The look on her face must’ve told him that she’d expected more.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, of course. I just thought a pizza, and a large . . .”

“Well, you can freeze some for later.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do,” she said, trying to maintain her enthusiasm.

“Oh!” Hosea pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her. “I made some calls and found a doctor.”

“Really?’

“Yeah, Dr. Ginsberg. He’s supposed to be one of the best rheumatologists here in Atlanta.”

“Thank you. I really do need a doctor here. I’ll call tomorrow for an appointment.”

He nodded. “And if you want, I’ll go with you to see him.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, and then, without thinking, she’d jumped into his arms. “Thank you!” All thinking was tossed aside when she leaned back from her embrace and pressed her lips against his.

At first, the kiss shocked even her. But when Hosea didn’t pull back, Natasia pressed her body into his.

That contact awakened him and Hosea stepped away.

“Oh, my God,” Natasia said, as she tried to catch her breath. “Hosea, I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hands. “No, I get it.” With his fingertips, he wiped her kiss from his lips. “It’s fine.”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is anything but what it is.”

“I know it was just the moment. I know you’ve been going through all of this by yourself and to now have a little bit of help . . . it must mean a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s what it is,” she said, looking straight at him, hoping that he would believe her lie.

“So, we’re fine,” he said.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Well . . .” He waited as if he expected her to say something else.

“Well . . .” She stalled, hoping that once he thought about it, he would want to turn that kiss into more than it was, into what she wanted it to be.

But Hosea had just turned away and with a curt “Good night,” he left her standing in her kitchen.

It wasn’t all that she’d hoped for, but Natasia got way more out of last night than she could’ve wanted. She had not been fooled by the way Hosea had left. Yes, she’d been the one to kiss him, but he hadn’t pulled away. That’s what she remembered. And that’s why she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The thing was, he was such an honorable man. She would have to be the one to figure it out for both of them.

Not that Natasia had any false hopes about what could really happen with Hosea. Would he leave Jasmine? Probably not. Especially not with the medical death sentence that hovered over her. But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have a relationship. She wanted it all—the time, the intimacy. She just wouldn’t have the ring.

She shook her head slightly, a bit surprised that she was willing to settle for that. She never thought she’d be willing
to just have an affair. But facing her mortality had changed her perspective on so much.

It took everything within her to turn her thoughts from Hosea and focus on the scene they were still filming. She let her eyes rest on Jasmine for a long moment, and for the millionth time, she wondered what Hosea saw in that woman. Then, she turned to Rachel and Mary, who still sat with Jasmine, all three women talking to the mostly half-asleep teen girls.

At least she wouldn’t have to break up any fights today. The battles that they got into really amazed her.

It was a curious thing. Yes, Rachel always went to war with Jasmine, but their fights seemed to be all about the show. Each wanted to be the star and without that competition, Natasia could see the two being friends. Rachel had no class and Jasmine was only one step up, being the low-class chick that she was. That was enough to make them soul sisters.

But then there was Mary. Natasia could tell that if Mary was burning on a sidewalk, Rachel wouldn’t even stop to spit on her. In the past, Natasia may have been curious enough to explore that drama on the show. But not right now. Right now, she had her own issues. She had her own drama and she wanted to use the show to play it out, to help her get what she wanted.

She had to get Hosea on the show. Of course, she could ask him directly, but she wanted to keep their conversations just about the two of them. She never wanted him to think that she was using him or had any other motives besides him helping her through this horrible time of her life.

But Hosea being on the show would give her just what she wanted—more time with him. And the secondary benefit was she’d be able to expose Jasmine for the mean fool that she was. It was horrible what Jasmine had said to Rachel the other day, asking if her mother knew that she was stupid. If Hosea had
seen that, he would know the kind of woman she really was, and then Natasia would be right there . . . Jasmine’s antithesis.