Fortune & Fame: A Novel (31 page)

Only the attendant spoke as he rolled Natasia to the elevator. He chatted about the cool summer temperatures, and how he was sure Natasia was glad to be leaving.

But Natasia wasn’t listening to any of his words. Her ears were perked to hear the whispers between Jasmine and Rachel.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Rachel call Jasmine stupid. And then Jasmine asked what was she supposed to do?

With every bit of the conversation, Natasia’s smile widened. By the time the attendant got her down to Jasmine’s waiting car, Natasia’s grin was so wide, her cheeks hurt.

“Do you want to get in the back?” the attendant asked Natasia.

But Rachel answered for her. “No, put her right up there in the seat of honor,” Rachel said, pointing to the front passenger seat. “Since she’s about to be the queen of the castle.”

“Would you shut up!” Jasmine growled.

Natasia wanted to stand up and applaud Rachel. Now, she wished that she’d been nicer to her. Rachel seemed to be enjoying this as much as she was. If they’d been working together, they could’ve destroyed Jasmine.

Maybe she would talk to Rachel again. Maybe there was still some way for Rachel to help her. And if she did, maybe she would reconsider showing the sermon scene.

Maybe.

Natasia slid from the wheelchair into the car and settled in, waiting to be driven.

This is classic,
she thought. All those years ago when she’d been fired from Hosea’s show, Natasia bet that Jasmine believed
that she’d won. She probably believed that the two of them would never cross paths again.

How wrong she’d been, though Natasia had to admit those had been her thoughts, too. But this was just an example of how true love could wait. It could endure anything—time and space. This was an example of how God truly, truly answered the prayers of the righteous.

“So, Natasia,” Rachel said from the backseat the moment Jasmine took off from the parking lot. “How are you feeling?”

Natasia froze. Had Hosea told them what was wrong with her? If he had, this was a disaster—Jasmine and Rachel would tell the world.

But then she released a long exhale. Hosea would never betray her confidence. Never.

So, she said, “I’m fine. Just had a touch of the flu,” she said, repeating the story that she’d told Melinda and everyone else from OWN.

“The flu kept you in the hospital for five days?” Rachel asked.

“They were concerned that it could’ve turned into pneumonia. And what is this? Some kind of inquisition?”

“I was just asking to be friendly,” Rachel snapped. “Which is more than you’ve ever been to me.” She leaned forward from the backseat. “I needed to talk to you about a couple of those scenes where you set me up.”

Ahhh! Now, she understood. This was why Rachel had come along. To harass her about the show.

“I didn’t set you up, Rachel. This is a reality show. We tape real scenes. All of that stuff that you got into, none of that was scripted. It was all real and all you.”

“Having me do a sermon at the last minute wasn’t all real. Having me served with custody papers wasn’t all real.”

Natasia sighed. “I’m really tired. If you want, we can talk about this tomorrow on set,” she said.

“You’re going back to work?” Jasmine and Rachel said together.

If she hadn’t been sure before, Natasia was sure now. Hosea hadn’t told them anything if they didn’t know that she was still going to be working.

“Yes, I’m going to work. It was just the flu, I’m over it, and we’re just about ready to wrap.”

Then, Natasia looked up and frowned. “Why are we here?” she said, pointing to Buckhead Tower.

“Isn’t this where you were living?” Jasmine asked. Before Natasia could respond, she said, “I thought you’d want to pick up a few of your things. Hosea said he would move you out of your apartment as soon as he got back from New York. But I figured you would want at least one change of clothes.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to wear the same clothes every day, do you?” Rachel asked. “I mean, how you gonna get Jasmine’s man wearing the same funky clothes?”

“If you don’t shut up,” Jasmine sneered at Rachel through the rearview mirror.

From the backseat, Rachel chuckled, and Natasia had to hold back her own laugh. All she wanted to do was laugh out loud . . . right in Jasmine’s face.

But she just opened the door and slid out silently like the lady she always was.

“You can leave the bag in the car,” Natasia said as if Jasmine was her assistant. “No need for you to carry it up and then back down.”

Jasmine’s eyes became thin slits, and Natasia could imagine her thoughts. She probably wanted to curse her out. Well, there were plenty of times when she’d wanted to curse out Jasmine, too. So, as far as Natasia was concerned, they were even.

She didn’t say a word, and didn’t even crack a smile. She just pivoted and sauntered into the building, the whole time,
making a mental list of what she would take with her to her new home. Because Rachel did have a point. Every move she made had to be calculated, had to add up to her getting what she wanted. And that included what she would wear . . . especially her lingerie.

Natasia nodded her hello as she passed the concierge, and then inside the elevator, she pressed 17. They stood like silent soldiers, the three pairs of eyes focused on the numbers above the door, lighting up with each floor they passed.

When the doors parted, Natasia stepped off first, moving left. But Jasmine and Rachel moved to the right. When she realized they weren’t following her, Natasia turned around and frowned.

“Uh . . . where are you going?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention that I have a friend who lives here?” Jasmine asked.

Natasia shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, you should come down here and meet her.”

Natasia narrowed her eyes. She had no idea what Jasmine was up to, but it was something. She could feel it. But even though her mind told her to just go to her apartment and let Jasmine do whatever Jasmine was going to do, curiosity pulled her the other way.

She followed Jasmine to the apartment all the way at the end of the hall. From the floor plans she’d been shown when she first moved in, she knew that this was one of the bigger suites—a three-bedroom apartment.

Jasmine rang the doorbell and two seconds later, the door swung open.

“Natasia! Welcome home!”

“What?”

Jasmine stepped inside first, and it was only her natural instinct that made Natasia follow.

“Welcome home, roomie,” Mae Frances said, and wrapped
her arms around Natasia as if they’d always been friends. She stepped back and said, “I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

“What . . . what . . . what’s going on?” Natasia asked, looking from Jasmine to Mae Frances and then to Rachel, who was standing against the wall, buckled over with laughter.

“I’m your new roomie.” Mae Frances took Natasia’s hand and led her to the couch.

Now, it was just confusion that made Natasia follow.

She sat down, and Mae Frances kept talking, “Now, here’s the thing, I ain’t never had a roomie before. The only people I share rooms and apartments with are men. But after all that you’ve been through, I said, I’d try it out with you. So, I got a few rules here.” She reached over to the coffee table, lifted up a piece of paper, and handed it to Natasia.

“What is going on?” Natasia said again as if those were now the only words she knew how to speak.

“This is your new apartment, boo,” Rachel said through her giggles.

“Yup,” Jasmine said, and for the first time, Natasia saw a smile on her face. She sat down next to Natasia. “My husband was really concerned about you and he wanted you to move in with us.”

Mae Frances jumped in, “But I told them, no grown woman wants to be living in another grown woman’s house. Hmph, that’s why I had to get out of there. Jasmine Larson was barging into my room at all hours of the night. Suppose I’d had a man up in that bed with me.”

Jasmine, Rachel, and Natasia cringed together.

Jasmine picked up the story, “So, Hosea rented this apartment for the two of you. This way, you won’t be living by yourself.”

Natasia was smart, some called her brilliant. So, she couldn’t figure out why she didn’t understand. She wasn’t supposed to be
living in this apartment. She was supposed to be in a house . . . with Hosea.

“But . . . but Hosea said that I was moving in with you.”

Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t know how he could’ve told you that when I told him that was never going to happen.”

“Now, Jasmine Larson, don’t be so mean.” Mae Frances turned to Natasia. “We all wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be living alone, so we all agreed that you and I should live together. And then anytime I have to go back to New York, we’ll get a nurse to stay overnight. This was all my idea. Isn’t it great?”

“No, no!” Natasia said, standing up and stomping her foot. “I’m not going to live here.” She turned to Jasmine. “I’m moving in with you!”

Jasmine shook her head and didn’t even bother to stand. “Ain’t happenin’.”

“Hosea told me—” Natasia screamed.

Now, Mae Frances stood up, too. “Now, see, that’s one of the rules. No loud talking in here. And while we’re talking about loud noises, I don’t want no loud music, no loud sexing . . . oh, wait, can you even have sex?”

Natasia looked like she was about to faint again, and that’s when Jasmine said, “Uh, Mae Frances, Rachel and I are gonna go down to Natasia’s apartment and get the rest of her things.” Glancing at Natasia, she continued, “Hosea packed up everything for you. We’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Jasmine Larson.” Turning to Natasia, Mae Frances said, “Now, let’s go over these rules one by one. . . .”

Jasmine and Rachel scurried from the apartment. Once they closed the door behind them, they leaned against the hallway walls, laughing until tears fell from their eyes.

“Oh, my God! Did you see her face?” Rachel said.

Jasmine nodded. “She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Either she’s going to have a miraculous healing or she’ll be going downhill fast.”

When their laughter settled, Jasmine said, “Mae Frances will take care of her.” Her tone was serious now. “I hope Natasia realizes that this is really for the best. I hope she doesn’t think about moving back to her own place.”

Rachel shrugged. “If she does, that’s on her.” She marched toward Natasia’s apartment. “So, one down, and the next one to go.”

Jasmine nodded. “We’ll get Natasia’s bags, go back to Mae Frances, and find out her plan for Nathan.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Rachel said as she high-fived Jasmine. It was time to take Nathan Frazier all the way down.

R
achel knew if her mother was here right now, she’d say Rachel should be ashamed of herself. Natasia was so sick, after all.

But the look on Natasia’s face when Mae Frances opened that door was so unbelievably priceless. Rachel had to give it to that old woman. As much as she worked Rachel’s nerves, Mae Frances provided unlimited entertainment.

“Finally got her settled down,” Mae Frances said, walking back into the kitchen where Jasmine and Rachel were seated at the table. She glared at Jasmine. “I’m no caretaker. I’m a sitter. I sit. I can’t handle her getting all worked up.”

“That was just tonight,” Jasmine said. “She’ll be fine once everything sets in.”

Mae Frances gave Jasmine a “she’d better be” look before plopping down in the seat next to Rachel.

“I have a newfound respect for you,” Rachel told Jasmine, “because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t help Natasia.”

Jasmine smiled. “Yeah, that’s what you say, but you did take in Mary’s son.”

Rachel paused for a moment, letting Jasmine’s words sink in. “You’re right,” she said. “We both should qualify for sainthood.”

“Hmph, sinnerhood is more like it,” Mae Frances said.

“So, are you planning to torture that woman?” Rachel asked.

“Me, torture?” Mae Frances shook her head. “I’m just here to make sure she’s comfortable, especially if these are her last days . . .” She glanced at her watch. “But again, all you have to do is say the word and we can speed this process up.”

“Mae Frances!” Rachel and Jasmine said at the same time.

“We’re not interested in killing anyone,” Jasmine said.

Mae Frances threw her hands up in exasperation. “Just soft.” She turned to Rachel. “Make me some tea.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. “Excuse me, do I look like my name is Hazel?”

Jasmine stood. “I’ll get it.”

“No. I want Rasbushah to get it.”

Rachel turned up her lip, shifted, and got comfortable in her chair. She wasn’t even going to correct Mae Frances on her name because now she knew the old woman was just trying to get her riled up.

“After all I’ve done for you two, y’all indebted to me, so if I say make me some tea, you make me some tea.”

Oh, this woman was tripping for real. “No, it seems to me you
claimed
you could help, but you didn’t make Natasia sick.” She leaned in, narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”

“Of course not,” Mae Frances replied.

“So, yes, you’re helping with the Natasia situation, after the fact,” Rachel continued. “And you dang sure didn’t help me because I have court at nine in the morning, trying to keep my son.”

Mae Frances just scowled at Rachel, but didn’t respond.

“What? Say something,” Rachel said. “It creeps me out when you just stare at me.”

“And just staring at you creeps me out,” Mae Frances coldly replied.

“Would you two stop?” Jasmine said. “I’ll make tea.” She pulled a small tea kettle off the stove and began filling it with water.

“So, I didn’t help you, huh?” Mae Francis asked Rachel.

“No.”

“What time is it?” Mae Francis asked.

“Four fifty-six,” Jasmine said. “Why?”

“Perfect timing. Turn on the TV. Put it on Channel Two.” Mae Francis pointed to the small television positioned on the corner of the kitchen cabinet.

“For what?” Jasmine asked as she set the teacup in front of Mae Frances.