God's Gift to Women (19 page)

“What just happened?” I asked Mitch.

“Your dream just came true, that’s what.”

“But this is happening way too fast. I thought maybe a year from now, maybe two, but not this soon.”

“Julian, snap out of it! This is the opportunity of a lifetime!” Mitch yelled. “Don’t even think about blowing it!”

“I need a few minutes alone, Mitch. Do you mind?” I said calmly.

“Take all the time you need, partner,” he said with his hand on my shoulder. “But remember what I told you back in Chicago. It’s your season. Don’t be afraid to claim it.” Then he walked out.

While I sat there in deep thought, I reflected back on all those frustrating days in Chicago at WTLK—the low pay, the raggedy equipment, the leaking ceilings, and the weak radio signal. Now I had a chance to be heard nationwide. But instead of celebrating like Mitch, I was trippin’.

“Mitch is right. I need to claim what’s mine!” I said, trying to pump myself up.

While I was working up the courage to take that next step, there was a knock at the door.

“Mitch, I told you I needed a few minutes alone.”

“It’s not Mitch, it’s me—Terri. Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit!” I said under my breath.

I quickly sat down in my chair with my right cheek turned away from the door.

“Come on in.”

When she opened the door I could see the look of disappointment in her eyes. I had been avoiding her all week.

“I was hoping to see you for a couple of minutes just to say hello.” She sat down in the chair directly in front of my desk. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over? I could have rearranged my appointments.”

“This meeting was called at the last minute. As you can see, I didn’t even have time to change clothes.”

“Is something wrong, Julian? You seem a little tense.”

“No, I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind lately—the situation with Samantha, and this syndication deal. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Mitch told me about it. In fact, the whole office knows about it. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, baby,” I said while making sure to keep my head turned. “Well, I’ve got to read over this contract before my lawyer gets here. Why don’t we get together this weekend to celebrate?”

“Sure, that sounds like fun!” She stood up and began walking toward the door, then stopped. “Can I at least have a hug before I go?”

“Of course.”

I approached her from the right side of my desk while doing my best to keep the bandage hidden. I leaned over to her left side and gave her a firm hug.

“Mmm,” I sighed. “I had forgotten just how good you feel.”

“Is that right?” She said in a curious tone. “Then why don’t you hug me on the other side to see if it feels any better?”

I knew I was busted, but like any man who’s guilty as sin, I tried to play it off.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!” She pulled the bandage off my neck with her left hand and threw it on the floor. “You must think I’m a damn fool! Now I see why you’ve been avoiding me!”

“If you just calm down, I can explain.”

“Don’t even waste your time, Julian! I saw the bitch get in your car at the Hilton Saturday night!”

“So now you’re spying on me!”

Smack!
She slapped my face. Then tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“How dare you accuse me of doing something so trifling! I came because you asked me to be there. I wanted to surprise you, but I guess I was the one who got the surprise.”

“Terri, I swear to God, this is not what you think. I can explain everything if you’ll just give me a chance.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Julian!” she yelled. “I never want to see you again. Don’t call me, don’t send me any flowers, and don’t you dare write me another damn poem about how different you are, because you’re as typical as they come!”

As she turned to leave, I grabbed her by the arm.

“Terri, please!”

“Let me go, goddamnit, before I forget I’m a lady!” Then she jerked away and rushed out the door.

A few seconds later Mitch came rushing in.

“What the hell is goin’ on?”

“I fucked up, Mitch!”

“Let me guess. She’s not the one who gave you that hickey.”

My sad expression said it all as I walked over to the window and peered out.

“Julian, you know I try to stay out of your personal business.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “But you can’t carry around this burden forever. It’s been affecting your performance on the air for the last few days and now this!”

I turned around and stared at him, surprised by how transparent I was.

“How did you know?”

“Come on, man, I’ve been dealing with your drama for over fifteen years! I was there when you got cold feet at your wedding, I was at the hospital when Sam was born, and I was crying right along side of you at Carmen’s funeral. Hell, I know you better than you know yourself!”

“Mitch, you wouldn’t believe this crazy shit even if I told you.”

“Try me!”

I was embarrassed about telling him, but I needed to talk to someone who would listen without passing judgment. Mitch was mature and open-minded. After fifteen years of working together he had proven to be more than a mentor, he was a friend—even more so than Eddie. Funny how I never realized that until that moment.

“All right, Mitch. Close the door.” I took a deep breath. “Pull up a chair and have a seat.”

“I’m cool right here.” He was leaning against the wall.

“Trust me, Mitch, you’ll need a Snickers for this one—it’s a
long
story.”

DAYS QUICKLY TURNED into weeks and I still hadn’t heard from Terri. I respected her privacy by not calling or writing letters. The one time I saw her at the studio she walked right past me without saying hello or even making eye contact. I guess the old saying is true: Once a woman is through, she’s through.

I put all my energies into the show, hoping it would distract me from missing Terri. I came to work an hour earlier than usual and stayed an hour later. When I was asked to make personal appearances around town to promote the show, I hit every spot I could think of. I spoke at Texas Southern University and Wheatley High School, and passed out flyers at the after-work party at Maxwell’s nightclub. I even signed autographs at Mikki’s Café off Highway 59 and W. Belfort. I never saw so many black folks licking their fingers and arguing about relationships at the same time.

All that extra effort paid off. By the end of October,
Love, Lust, and Lies
was the number one radio show in Houston. WBMX billboards went up all over town, even in the white suburbs. They ran full-page ads in the
Houston Chronicle
and
did an article on my career in the Sunday entertainment section. It was a real ego trip seeing my mug on the front page. The caption underneath my photo read:

THE BAD BOY OF RADIO NEW PERSONALITY STIRS UP CONTROVERSY ON HOUSTON AIRWAVES.

But all the media exposure came with a price. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t even pump gas without being approached for relationship advice. When I stopped at the grocery store, the cashier asked if he should take his wife back after she slept with his best friend. When Samantha and I went to Katy Mills mall to see the movie
Monsters, Inc.,
a teenage girl selling popcorn asked if giving a blow job was considered having sex.

The public appearances and long work hours also began to affect my relationship with Samantha. It was already strained because of the incident with Terri. It had been nearly a month since she had seen me on my knees in the kitchen giving Terri head, and she still wouldn’t talk about it.
Maybe I should be more stern and press the issue,
I was thinking, but my guilty conscience wouldn’t allow it. For the first time in her life she didn’t see me as Superman. I was just
a man.

I tried to rebuild our relationship by taking her to the studio, but she got bored within the first fifteen minutes. She spent most of the night downstairs playing checkers with Joe the security guard. She was much better when we went to Astro World amusement park. She laughed and screamed on the roller-coaster and water rides. We ate cotton candy, played games, and took silly pictures in those little photo booths. But as soon as we got home she went back into her shell again.

At least she seemed to be enjoying music ever since the substitute, Ms. Randall, took over for Mrs. Adams. I was grateful for that. But I couldn’t help feeling like a failure as a father. For the first time since Carmen was gone I questioned whether
I had what it took to raise a little girl into a healthy woman. Many nights I stared at Carmen’s picture on the mantel searching for answers. “What would you do, baby?” I was so desperate that I considered calling Terri for professional advice, but each time I picked up the phone something told me—
bad idea.

The only good news was that I hadn’t heard from Olivia. That was four weeks ago. There’s no way I could have dealt with her insane ass while going through these changes with Samantha. I guess the old saying is true: The Lord never puts more on you than you can bear.

MS. RANDALL WAS writing the homework assignment on the blackboard when the school bell rang. The children jumped to their feet and rushed toward the door.

“Don’t
even
think about it! Sit down and copy this homework assignment before you leave my class! You’ll be quizzed on Thursday.”

“But Ms. Randall, it’s Halloween!” Melissa whined. “Can’t we wait until next week?”

Ms. Randall slapped the eraser down hard on her desk and gave Melissa an evil stare. Melissa quickly opened her notebook and began copying down the assignment along with the rest of the class. Samantha laughed when she saw Melissa being put in check.

“Do you have something funny you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Payne?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then why are you disrupting my class?” She walked over to Samantha’s desk and stood over her. “I can see you need to be taught a lesson.”

Samantha stared down at her desk, afraid to look Ms. Randall in the eye. She was more intimidating than old Mrs. Adams.

“I want you to stay after school and practice playing the piano and holding a note,” she said. “If you’re going to run off at the mouth in music class, you may as well do it singing.”

“But Ms. Randall, I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Samantha! Now go to the front of the class and start playing.”

“What do you want me to play?”

“I don’t care, ‘The Star Spangled Banner,’ ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing,’ or ‘Wade in the Water,’ it doesn’t matter to me. But you
will
play until I tell you to stop, and you’d better hold your notes.”

Samantha sat down at the piano and began playing the Destiny’s Child song “Independent Woman.” As she pressed down on the keys, she sang along.

“The shoes on my feet, I bought it

The clothes I’m wearing, I bought it…. ”

“Very funny, Samantha. Now try again. This time choose a song with lyrics you can sing, not rap.”

As the rest of the class filed out, Melissa stuck out her tongue at Samantha. She was about to give Melissa the black eye and busted nose sign but Ms. Randall was watching her. Once the room was empty, Samantha nervously bit down on her lower lip, trying to think of a song she knew the lyrics to. Then it came to her. She took a deep breath and hit the high note of the Alicia Keys song “Fallin’”: “I keep on fallin’ in and out of love with you.”

As she continued to play, Ms. Randall was amazed by how well she played and how strong her voice was. She listened for a while and then joined in on the piano. Samantha grew confident and sang even stronger. “That’s it, hold that note!” Ms. Randall shouted while waving her hand like an orchestra leader. “Relax; now breathe.”

Samantha sounded just like Alicia when she hit the high
notes. She sang with emotion and passion. Ms. Randall couldn’t believe this sound was coming out of a ten-year-old child. When the song was over she gave Samantha a hug and rocked her back and forth.

“That was great! Where did you learn to sing like that?”

“I listen to a lot of radio.”

They were so excited, Samantha missed the school bus. It drove off while they were talking.

“Now how am I supposed to get home?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you. But I think you should call home and tell your father you’ll be a little late.”

Ms. Randall gave Samantha her cell phone to call her father. When he didn’t pick up, she left a message. After gathering up her books, Samantha flung her backpack over her shoulder and followed Ms. Randall out to her truck.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! Why don’t we stop by the mall before I drop you off?”

“I don’t know, Ms. Randall. My daddy gets really mad when I go somewhere without telling him first.”

“Come on, Samantha, you’re a big girl. Besides, men don’t always need to know what we girls do, right?”

Samantha was starving for attention. She saw Ms. Randall as someone she could relate to. She was young, intelligent, beautiful, and hip, just like her mother. Samantha thought about the offer for a second, then gave in.

“Okay, let’s go!”

“Great!” She opened the door to her truck and strapped Samantha into her seat belt. “I’ve always wanted a little girl I could take shopping.”

“You don’t have any kids, Ms. Randall?”

“Not yet,” she said with a smile. “But I’m thinking about adopting a little girl.” Then they drove off.

First Colony Mall was only a short drive from the school. Ms. Randall held Samantha’s hand and led her around the mall as if she were her own daughter. They took a photograph together
and bought matching outfits. While she was in the dressing room trying them on, Ms. Randall left her with the store clerk and went to have a key made.

By the time she returned, Samantha was all decked out in her new outfit and ready to go.

“This is fun! Where to next?”

“Home!”

“But I don’t wanna go home yet! Can we at least go down to Foley’s and sniff some perfume?”