His Last Name (15 page)

C
HAPTER
30

Adrienne

I
f I was going to stay in L.A., I had to look the part. My plan was to go and beat on every door in Hollywood. Which meant I needed to get my hair done and buy a few things to enhance my wardrobe. I Googled African-American hair salons, and Envoy Salon and Spa came up. I clicked on their web page and it was a beautiful salon, but could they do hair? I didn't have any money to waste. Then I read a news article on their site that dubbed them the “Stylists to the Stars” and that made my decision easy. I never knew who I could network with under the dryer.

Walking into the salon, I knew I had made the right decision. There were beautiful women waiting to be serviced, and even the stylist's hair was done to perfection. They were wearing full makeup and heels.

“Do you have any open appointments today?” I asked the receptionist.

“Yes, Chike is taking one more, I think. What are you getting?”

“A wash and curl.”

Chike approached the counter with masculine facial hair and a straight blond bob weave. He had a shape that would make any woman jealous. He looked at his schedule for the rest of the day and said that he would take me.

“Hello, beautiful. I love your color but not them split ends, girl.”

“I know. It's a mess. That's why I'm here.”

“Yes, child, just in time, too.” He laughed and turned me over to the shampoo girl. I had my hair washed and blow-dried, and then I sat in his chair.

“You are so pretty. So what do you do? Are you an actress?”

“I'm a script writer.”

“Have you sold anything yet?”

“No, but I'm in the process.”

“Uhm-hum,” he said sarcastically.

I couldn't help but laugh. “I know everyone here is an actress, a model, or a movie director. But I am going to sell my script. I am. But right now, I'm just trying to make it out here.”

“Make it how? Like a job?”

“I guess. Why, do you know someone that is hiring?”

“My other client is looking for a personal assistant. You seem like you would get along with her. Plus she knows a lot of people in the industry. She was just talking about being an actress. I forgot her ex-husband's name, but you probably heard of him.”

“Really? Do you know how much the salary would be?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“I'm not sure, but I know it would pay really good. I heard her talking about it earlier. I have to say she is a strange woman, but I'm sure someone like you can handle her.”

Chike made me feel like a new woman. He gave my hair a new life with textured curls and he added a few tracks. He called his client who was hiring, and she said to give me her information.

I called Morgan Coleman and she gave me a phone interview. She seemed to be pleasant over the phone, and asked if I could meet up with her that day.

Her house was in the Hollywood Hills; the farther I drove, the farther the city was below and behind me. The GPS declared that I had arrived at my destination in front of a beautiful mansion sitting alone on top of a hill.

I hoped I was hired, because it looked like she could afford to pay me well. I rang the bell and knocked a few times. A teenage girl answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, I'm here for Morgan Coleman.”

“Mom, your new assistant is here,” she yelled out and told me to come in.

I followed her to a beautiful woman with a head full of black, shoulder-length curls, sitting in a black bikini, soaking up the sun. She sat up and threw a turquoise cover-up over her olive tone skin. I had a seat at a table next to the pool. She offered me a drink. I declined, and she said, “Let me get right to the point. My ex-husband is the comedian RJ Coleman. Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. We were married for seventeen years, but we've been separated for a year and a half. And that bastard already has a baby and is about to marry this little non-English-speaking bitch. But that's another story. How are you? Can you work the weekends?”

“I'm fine. Yes, I can.”

“So, as I was saying, he left me for a red beans and rice
chica
.”

Her daughter, who pretended that she wasn't listening to our conversation, took off her pink Beats by Dre headphones and said, “Mom, she was born here. She can speak English very well. She went to Stanford. And she's not Spanish, she is Mexican.”

“It's all the same. No one asked you anything, Alexandria. Don't disrespect your mother. Okay? Don't take up for the bilingual bitch that took your father away.”

“I didn't disrespect you, Mom, but she didn't take Daddy away. I asked her when they met. She said it was at the Image Awards, and that was after he had moved out.”

Morgan turned her attention back to me, shook her head, and said, “Ungrateful teenagers. I'm the one who was here with them when her father was filming movies all around the world. He hasn't been to any of her games or report card conferences. He probably doesn't even know her birthday.”

“That's because he is working. He does know when my birthday is. He calls me every year at midnight. And his work is the reason we have everything we have. We get to live in this big house and have nice things,” Alexandria shot back.

“I'm the reason you have everything that you have. Not him.”

“You are being angry again, Mom. And we went to counseling. You said it was okay if I had an opinion and you wouldn't hold it against me.”

She thought about it for a moment. “I did say that, but I also know that your father ain't shit. If he was something, he would be here with your mother. He hurt me and you want to tell me how great he is. He ain't shit. He's nothing.”

“Okay, Mom. He ain't shit.” Alexandria sighed aloud.

“Don't cuss in my house.”

“Okay, I won't cuss if you take your medicine. Please. You're making my head hurt.”

I felt like I was in the middle of a scene in a movie. Morgan ordered her daughter into the house.

“Don't worry, you won't have to deal with her. My last personal assistant quit. He was the third one in three months. He was a little weird. Anyway, I need someone to make my phone calls, schedule my meetings, and remind me to pay my bills. I need someone to practically live with me. Actually, if you could live with me, I could pay you extra. I have a guest house in the back.”

We walked around her sprawling home. Each room was the size of an apartment. It was enough space for several families and their pets. On the mantel, I noticed she still had family and wedding pictures up of her and RJ. I stopped and looked at them. With great pride and a smile she gave me details about each picture. “This is when RJ hosted the BET Awards the first time. That's us at the Grammys. And of course, that's the president with us at the annual White House Christmas party.”

“That painting is very nice,” I said, admiring a big, colorful painting on the wall.

“Thank you. I got that in France. I loved it there.”

She gave me a full tour of the house and three hours later, we were talking like old friends. I couldn't believe I had just met her and I was blessed with this opportunity. I hoped she would hire me.

“I get a very good vibe from you, Adrienne. I think you would make a great assistant. I can pay you a thousand per week. When can you start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Really? That soon? Great. I'll show you to where you will be staying.”

In a matter of seventy-two hours, my life had changed. I had a job that paid well, somewhere to live, and I definitely would be able to get my script sold, get Asia back, and who knows what else.

I went back to the hotel, checked out, and gathered all my things and settled in the guesthouse, which was like a small apartment with a private kitchen. I called my mother and told her about my new position.

She didn't seem pleased. All she could say was, “Adrienne, when will you learn?”

C
HAPTER
31

Monique

R
eading his texts every morning made me smile.

His text was accompanied with a picture of his hand grasping ten inches of hard, plump chocolate. Just seeing his naked, perfect body made my entire body warm. Damn, I couldn't wait to see him again. I turned the phone sideways to get a better view. We had been seeing each other consistently for months.

Dele was so intelligent and worldly. He taught me something new all the time. He was ten years younger, but so much wiser. Honestly, he was the more mature person in our relationship. When I was with him, he concentrated on me. I've never had a man run to the other side of the car to open my door, make my tea in the morning, and massage my body until I fell asleep. He was kind and had a great personality. Then there was his smile, that body, and his sexy accent. He always smelled so good and our sex was amazing. Then, to top it all off, he was rich and wanted to be in a serious relationship. It wasn't a lie that he didn't date a lot because, in his eyes, most American women were unintelligent gold diggers that he couldn't relate to.

I texted back.

“Mom, what are you smiling about?” Kadir asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing.” I exited out of the text.

He put two honey buns in the microwave.

“Now, you don't need all those sweets. There's food in there. You need to get some real food in your system for the road.”

“I'm eating those and some cereal.” He pulled up a chair and poured a bowl of cereal.

I wanted to ask him about who he was dating and what was going on with him. “So are you seeing anyone now?”

“I got a few girls. But I'm not bringing none of them over here.”

“Good, because I don't want to meet them. Just make sure you use a condom, maybe even two. And bring your own because there's plenty of girls trying to get a million-dollar baby up in them.”

“Mom, can you stop. I'm eating. Nobody wants to talk about sex with their mom,” he said, and put his hands over his ears.

“It's the truth. When these girls see you, they see a winning lottery ticket.”

“I know who likes me for me and who doesn't. Like Abigail, you didn't give her a chance, but she's real cool. Out of all of them, she's the one I'm feeling the most.”

“I don't like her. Find someone a little darker, with no kids, and who is in college so she can help you with your businesses.”

“I don't need that. I just need a chick who looks good on my arm. We can hire people to do everything else.”

“I'm not going to say anything else. Just watch out for her and all the little groupies like her, Kadir.”

“Mom, you talked to my dad?'

“I have, but we are not getting back together.”

“I didn't say get back together. He asked me about you. Maybe go to the movies and have dinner with him. He misses you, Mom. You should go to Philly. I don't want you in this big house all alone.”

“No, Aunt CeCe is coming here. Kadir, your dad and I have been having problems for years, and now we both have the chance to be happy. I don't want you worried about me. I'm okay. I want you to concentrate on yourself. You have a lot of people to prove yourself to.”

The transition for Kadir from college to the NBA had not been great. Everyone said it was a faster game, and they were right. The NBA's fast-paced twelve-minute quarter means you have to shoot the ball whenever you get a chance. Kadir still had a way to go in order to build up his endurance to keep up. Also, the shot clock is only twenty-four seconds in the NBA, and those seconds had caught up with Kadir a couple of times. Luckily, it was still the preseason, and that gave Ka some time to get himself together. In Phoenix, he suffered a slight panic attack and needed to call me when he arrived at the arena. One of the Phoenix Suns fans knew his name and called him a weak player that needed to go back to the playground. He missed a few free throws that night, which cost his team the game and he got beat up on Twitter. Everyone has an opinion.

He celebrated his twenty-first birthday on the road without me. I thought I was being a great mom when I sent him a bunch of fruit baskets, flowers, and gifts to his hotel with balloons. He said not to ever do it again because I was embarrassing him. Kadir was worth millions of dollars now and he had the skills, but at home he was my man-child that needed reassuring.

“Does this look right, Ma?” Kadir asked about his navy suit.

“It does, but fix your tie. I packed everything together. Your socks are tucked in your underwear with your t-shirts. I'll drive you down to the arena. Remember, Kadir, you need to be everywhere thirty minutes early. So hurry up.”

“Mom, I have something to talk to you about.”

“I'm listening.” I thought he was going to ask me about Dele. He got up and handed me his cell phone and showed me an e-mail.

“This guy reached out to me and says that he is related to me. And that he and my grandmother want to meet me. Am I related to the Hendersons from Twenty-third Street, in North Philly? That's where my dad is from, right?”

I felt better the e-mail wasn't about me. “Yes, your dad was a Henderson, but . . .” I said as I previewed the e-mail.

“The guy's name is Isiah. He said he's my cousin, and I have a brother that looks like my twin named Phillip, and we both look like our dad. My dad is his uncle, and they all want to meet me. And that they're all are so proud of me.”

“Kadir, are you fucking serious? Haven't I told you that people would be trying to get to you now that you are famous? Carl's your dad, that's who raised you. Don't be a dumbass. Those people don't know you. Where were they when you needed a ride to school or some sneakers? Don't respond to any more e-mails.”

“Mom, I know, but I looked at the picture he sent me and my brother does looks just like me.”

“That's not your brother. Stop saying that dumb shit. I raised you better than to be this fucking dumb.” My words were harsh and I didn't care. Kadir didn't speak to me the rest of the ride to the airport.

“I'm sorry for cussing at you. It is my job to protect you. You have all the family you need.”

“Mom, come on. I'm grown now. And I can make my own decisions. I want to meet them.”

“No, you will not.”

“I am and there isn't anything you can do about it.” He got out of the car and walked toward his teammate. I wanted to get out of the car and say something to him. Then I saw Dele. He almost looked as if he was going to try to say something, but I pulled off before he could.