Mama Dearest (28 page)

“That’s just her style. But she gets on my damn nerves too. Has she gotten the final approval on her little television show yet?”

“I don’t know. They started filming and then they just stopped. So
I don’t know what’s going on.” She sighed, not liking her new life as a reality show assistant. “She’s been having me make a lot of calls and I don’t really like harassing people on the phone.”

“Like who?”

“Lots of agents who don’t have a fuckin’ clue as to who she is,” Lyrical cried. Then she paused, considering something. “But I must give your girl credit. She is going to wear somebody down.”

Ava sneered at that idea. “No agent worth his or her salt is going to represent a has-been. Trust me on that. When I came back from Europe, I couldn’t get a decent agent and I was willing to pay some big money. So I guess somebody should tell Yancey to forget that. And she can forget television and pray to God that her reality show gets picked up.” Venting about her daughter picked up her spirits, and she asked, “Who else has she been talking to?”

“There was a Nicole somebody in Atlanta, a lady named Windsor, some guy named Basil Henderson, and Derrick Lewis in California. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with her show. I overheard her talking to the Derrick guy. I even think she went to lunch with him a couple of days ago.”

“Derrick Lewis?” Ava perked up. “What does she have to talk to him about?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. “I bet she’s trying to get to the goose who laid the golden egg. I’ve got to find a way to beat her to the punch. Damn, I hate being broke.”

“Did you see this?” Lyrical said, pointing to a picture in the newspaper.

Ava held up the newspaper for a closer look. “Who is that?”

“It’s some count from Luxembourg. Didn’t you tell me you used to be married to somebody from there? I thought you might know him.”

“Yes, I was. That’s my ex’s brother-in-law, Duke Van Puttan. What is he doing in the newspaper?”

“The article says he and his wife have donated a lot of money for some cancer ward here. It seems like they are having some big gala at
the new Plaza Hotel to celebrate. I heard that hotel was the shit in its day.”

Ava scanned the article, then closed the paper. She looked at Lyrical and said, “I’ve got to get an invite to this party. It could be just what I need to get back on my feet. I’m just not good in this broke bitch role.”

“So you know him?”

“Do I know him? Honey, please. Not only do I know him, but I know his secrets,” Ava added with a smile. “And where I’m from, that’s like money in the bank.”

That is the most exciting news I’ve heard in a long time, Madison! You’re finally going to meet your mother. Are you more nervous or more excited?” Caressa asked. The two of them were sitting in the middle of Madison’s king-size bed decorated with pink and white polka dots and green pillows.

“Who said I was
going
to meet her?” Madison said firmly. “She
wants
to meet me.”

Caressa watched Madison for a moment before choosing her words carefully. “How many times have we talked about this? Of course you’ve got to meet her.”

“That’s when I was young and stupid. What do I need with her now? I’m the one who’ s rich and famous now,” Madison said.

“You don’t really mean that, Madison. I think it would be great if you met your mother. What if you have some sisters and brothers? That would be so neat.”

Madison shook her head. “Trust me, I don’t have any sisters and brothers unless my daddy is hiding something.” Then she voiced a
worry she’d had ever since she talked to her father. “I don’t understand it. Yancey isn’t the mothering kind. I think she’s up to something. I don’t know what, but I’m going to figure it out.”

“What do you think she is up to? Maybe she just came to her senses and realizes what a wonderful young woman she is missing out on.”

That’s exactly what Madison was hoping, and she flashed a broad smile. “Oh, Caressa, that’s so nice of you to say.”

The two of them lay back on separate pillows. After a few moments Caressa said, “You think she wants some of your money?”

“Everybody wants my money,” Madison answered, pulling another pillow to her chest. “Not you, of course, Caressa. I would just hope that she is more original than that.”

“So did she call you?”

“No, she called my dad and told him she wants to meet me.” A slight burr entered her voice as she said, “I think he still has feelings for her.”

“You do? Is there a chance they might get back together?”

Madison stared at the ceiling. “Anything is possible when you’re talking about adults.”

“That would be so romantic,” Caressa swooned.

“You’ve been watching too many movies, girl,” Madison said.

Caressa popped up, bursting with energy. “What are you going to wear? I mean, with her being a diva and all, we have to pick the perfect outfit for you to wear. I’m sure the press will be all over this.”

“I
told
you, girl, I haven’t decided if I want to do it,” Madison said. Still, she had been thinking hard on that very question. Crawling off her bed, she walked into her large walk-in closet. What
would
she wear if she granted her birth mother a meeting? Madison wondered as she looked at all the new clothes she had bought and been sent by various designers. Moments later, Caressa reached into the pink section of the closet and pulled out a sweater and skirt set.

“You should wear something like this, since pink is your favorite color. What if you guys look alike?”

Madison eyed the pink confection doubtfully. “I’ve seen pictures of her and I don’t really think we look alike.”

“I’ve seen pictures of Yancey and I disagree.”

“Really?”

“Both of you are beautiful and you still got some more growing up to do, Madison.”

“Are you saying you think I’ll look more like Yancey when I get older?”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Caressa suggested.

Madison’s gaze swept down the long row of clothes. Finally she announced, “If I go—and I haven’t decided that I will—I think I will wear pink.”

Caressa smiled and said, “Good decision.”

“You think this is going to turn out okay, Caressa?”

“Madison, I do. How many times have we talked about you one day meeting your mother.”

“I know, but what if she doesn’t like me?”

“You don’t want her to like you, you want her to love you.”

“Is that possible, Caressa?”

“Anything’s possible, Madison.”

The two girls embraced in a supportive hug.

A New York number flashed across my cell phone, and I decided to answer because I was in the mood to give a bill collector a good cussing out.

“May I speak to Yancey Braxton, please?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Regan Reynolds.”

My demeanor switched to sunny like the flip of a switch.
“The
Regan Reynolds? I mean, with the Reynolds Agency?”

“That would be me.”

“I heard a lot of great things about your firm, Regan. Is it okay if I call you Regan?” I asked, like a schoolgirl trying to impress her favorite teacher. I had read so many articles about her in the trades. This former actress now ran one of the biggest talent agencies in New York, with offices in Los Angeles and Miami. She had become a star with fashion spreads in
Essence
and
Vogue.
Her Central Park South apartment was featured in the pages of the
New York Times.
Needless to say, as an African-American woman I’d admired her from afar.

“Sure, call me Regan.” She laughed at the sudden informality. “I must tell you, I was a big fan of yours when you were recording. ‘Any Way the Wind Blows’ is still one of my favorite songs.”

I couldn’t believe this was falling into place so smoothly. “Thank you, Regan. How did you get my number?” I had to remain cool and calm like I was expecting her to call. I mean, why wouldn’t she? I was still Yancey Harrington Braxton with numerous stage roles and platinum-selling albums.

“Well, if I’m to believe my executive assistant,
you
called
me
. I usually don’t return unsolicited calls for representation, but I recognized your name.”

“Maybe it was
my assistant
who called you,” I said. I didn’t need Regan to feel that I was desperate.

“You’ve not released anything in a while, so what have you been up to?”

Keeping up a front was second nature to me. “A lot of work, mostly theater.”

“Well, that’s not what I heard, but that’s neither here nor there. Are you still looking for representation?”

“I’m still interviewing agents,” I corrected.

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Listen, Yancey, let’s cut to the chase here, girl, and not waste each other’s time. Now, we both know your best days in the industry are behind you. Still, I think I can help revive your career, but only if you come clean and leave those tired diva ways at home. Do I make myself clear?”

I was stunned into silence. Who did this woman think she was, and who was she talking to in that “let’s be real” tone?

After a few moments of silence Regan said, “Yancey, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here, Regan,” I said coldly. “I guess I’m a little stunned here and don’t know quite what to say.”

“Let me tell you what you say, Yancey,” she said with a new warmth
in her voice. “You say, Regan, I want you and your firm to revive my career and take it to new heights, or you say, You so like a bitch and I don’t think I can work with you. It’s just that simple. Let’s not waste each other’s time. I’m sure we both have things to do if we work together or not.”

Reality was settling in, and I didn’t want her to hang up. “Okay, I understand.”

“So is that a yes or no, Yancey?”

“That would be yes.”

“Great. Let me have my assistant Corrie give you a call to set up a lunch date for us to discuss a plan. I will have her schedule it somewhere close to our office so that we can bring you over after we eat.”

“That sounds good,” I said, feeling as though I was in great hands, but not knowing why. “I look forward to meeting you, Regan.”

“And I look forward to meeting you, Yancey. Have a good day.”

Ava couldn’t believe her good luck. While going through Yancey’s good underwear drawer, she discovered stacks of hundred-dollar bills neatly placed beneath the silk and satin panties and bras. However Yancey had gotten this money wasn’t legal, and Ava would use that if Yancey got upset with her.

So Ava counted herself thirty thousand dollars and took it to her room and placed it in her purse. She immediately called for a car service and then phoned Bergdorf Goodman, introducing herself as Lady Ava Van Putten and demanding a personal shopper in two hours. When asked if she had anything in mind, Ava replied, “Everything, love. It’s fall, and time for a new wardrobe.”

Two hours later, Lady Ava found herself in a private salon on the seventh floor of the Fifth Avenue department store. She sipped on champagne while her personal shopper brought items for her to look at.

Lauren, a tall, willowy blonde who looked like a runway model, suggested that Ava start with shoes. Ava agreed.

“What do you think of these, Lady Ava?” Lauren asked, offering a pair of purple crisscross platforms in violet silk.

“Oh, those are beautiful,” Ava said.

“Yes, they are, and they will look spectacular on you. They’re Brian Atwood.”

Ava instantly went against the grain. “Do they come in any other colors besides purple? Is that the lesbos’ official color? Ava don’t play that.”

“Yes, in red and black,” Lauren said.

“Okay, I will take both in a size nine, and let’s take the purple as well. You never know when you might have to do a lesbo charity event,” Ava said. She knew from her days of money that you never ask a personal shopper the costs of items. If you had to ask prices then you couldn’t afford the item. Ava would know when it was time to stop shopping.

“Got that. Now how about these? I think it’s a great show for that St. James suit I’m sure you have and will go well with pantsuits as well,” Lauren said.

Ava shot Lauren an incredulous glare. “Pantsuits? Tell me you’re kidding, Lauren. Lady Ava doesn’t wear pantsuits.”

“Oh, so you weren’t swayed by the Hillary effect?”

“I love Hillary, but the only thing I want her to give me advice on is how to make more money. But I do like these shoes,” she said, examining a pair of open-toe pumps with a beautiful rosette. “Who makes them?”

“These are Stuart Weitzman. It’s satin, in chocolate or black.”

“I’ll take them in chocolate.” She tore her eyes away from them and saw that her flute was nearly empty. “Before we go on to handbags, can you get me some more champagne and maybe some finger sandwiches?”

Ava had already bought up a storm, and Lauren was having a very good day. “Sure. Would you like some cucumber and tomatoes?”

“That sounds lovely. And maybe some smoked salmon as well, honey.”

“I will get that right away and see if my salesclerk has pulled those bags I asked for. Why don’t you look through these books and see if there are any dresses that catch your eye?”

“I will. Just leave them on the table,” Ava said.

As Lauren prepared to leave the salon, Ava called her name. The mild frown on Ava’s face suggested a problem.

“Is everything all right, Lady Ava?”

“Is this
it
with the shoes?”

Lauren was surprised by the question. Ava had bought six pairs in one sitting. “Yes,” she said apprehensively, not wanting to lose her rich customer with the wrong answer. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, Lauren, there is. I can’t believe you haven’t shown me any Christian Louboutins. You do have them, don’t you?”

“We do, but when I checked, we didn’t have any in your size. I would be more than happy to order them for you. It takes about two weeks, and I can show you a satin bow sling he made in pink. I think it would be perfect for you.”

“No, I don’t want to wait two weeks. And don’t show me those shoes,” she said, pointing to the pink Louboutin. “It’s like teasing me. Just get the sandwiches and champagne.”