Mama Dearest (29 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Very much so. Scurry, Lauren,” she said with a wave of both hands.

T
HREE GLASSES OF CHAMPAGNE
and several finger sandwiches later, Ava’s shopping spree was complete. Lauren arranged for two sales associates to take her packages to the car and Ava tripped out of the
store carrying her new Bottega Veneta woven napa leather bag on her shoulder.

When she got back to Yancey’s town house, she was happy to discover that her daughter wasn’t at home. Ava immediately enlisted Lyrical’s assistance.

“I need you to help me hide this stuff.”

Lyrical was wide-eyed at Ava’s purchases all lined up. “Where did you get all this from?”

“The department store, silly.”

“Who are we hiding it from and why?”

“Yancey, because I don’t want her to know I went over my budget or have her borrowing my stuff.”

“You have a budget?” Lyrical asked as she opened one of the shoe boxes. “Oh, these shoes are tight,” she exclaimed.

Ava took the box from her and closed it. “I guess I could put the stuff under my bed. Damn, I need my own place. I feel like a dumb teenager hiding something from my parents.”

“Yancey is too self-absorbed to be looking for shit. I think you’ll be just fine leaving it in your room.”

“I know, but we still need to hide it,” Ava said.

“What about your bathroom or the office? She never really comes in there unless to give me orders.” Lyrical bristled at the thought. “I mean, your daughter is a piece of work. But then you know that.”

“I’m too tired to think about this,” Ava said, handing the bags to Lyrical. “Just take this stuff and put it under my bed. I need a drink.”

“Me too,” Lyrical said, not moving. She wasn’t playing the family servant.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be drinking on the job, Lyrical.”

“I didn’t ask you, and it’s after seven. I was just waiting on you to get back,” Lyrical informed her. “I’ll hide these packages while you go in the kitchen and fix us some drinks.”

Lyrical was tough, and Ava lost the attitude. “Okay. I’m sticking with champagne. What do you want?”

“I’ve never had champagne,” Lyrical said.

“Then I think it’s time we change that. Champagne for everyone,” Ava said as she snapped her newly manicured hand in the air with a haughty laugh.

I met Cale at a crowded Starbucks across from the Time Warner Building at Columbus Circle. I felt great in the black-and-white belted poplin shirtdress I’d recently purchased at Bloomingdale’s.

We were getting ready to resume filming. The producers liked our proposed changes to the show, and I filled Cale in on my meeting with Derrick. I knew this would score major points for me.

Delighted by the news, Cale asked, “So when are you going to hear from him?”

“As soon as he talks with Madison. You know, Cale, I feel as though I ought to thank you for pushing me to reunite with my daughter. This could be a wonderful direction for all of us. And, oh, did I tell you I got a call from Regan Reynolds about representing me?”

“You did?” he asked, sounding a little too surprised. “That’s great. Do you think she will give us permission to tape your first meeting?”

I played right along. “I don’t see why not. I mean, it’s her job to promote my career. I’m going to meet her for lunch, so we ought to plan what I should say.”

“It looks like things are coming together. With Regan Reynolds representing you, it will mean that you’ll be getting more auditions, and that will make the producers and investors happy.”

I raised my latte in a toast to myself. “Yeah, things are looking up. It looks like Yancey Harrington Braxton is on her way back to the top.”

“The haters better get ready,” Cale laughed.

“Yeah, they better because I’m ready for them.”

T
ALKING ABOUT REGAN REYNOLDS
with Cale over coffee must have gotten her ears burning. No sooner had I walked through the door of my home than my cell phone rang.

“May I speak to Yancey Braxton?”

“Who’s calling?” I asked.

“This is Gilliam James calling for the Regan Reynolds Agency. Is this Yancey?”

“Yes, Gilliam, this is Yancey.”

“Hold for Mrs. Reynolds.”

After a few moments of silence Regan came on the phone.

“Yancey,” she said brightly, “how are you doing?”

“I’m doing well. How are you?” What I really meant was “find me some damn work.”

“Everything is great. Look, I’ll get right to the point. I have a couple of opportunities for you.”

Those were the magic words. I quickly replied, “I’m listening.”

“Well, Seal needs a couple of background singers for a recording session and for a party he is doing for Sean Combs. I understand Mary J. Blige is one of the hosts and will be singing.” When I didn’t respond right away, she added, “A lot of industry people will be there.”

So this was her news? “I don’t do backup,” I said flatly.

I heard a sucked-in breath of surprise. When she spoke again, her voice was ten times harder. “Now, Yancey, what did we agree on?”

“What are you talking about, Regan?”

“The diva attitude and how you were not going to do that. This is a good-paying gig and a chance for some much-needed exposure.” The phone went silent, and when she came on, she was reading some listing. “The only other possibility we have is a recurring role on
Ugly Betty.
You know they moved filming to New York.”

“Yeah, I knew that, but I can’t play Vanessa Williams’s mother. I already turned that role down.”

“That’s not the role,” she clarified. “It’s playing opposite Vanessa, but it’s not her mother. I would never send you up for a role like that.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Regan,” I said, thinking that maybe Regan Reynolds understood me better than my former agents.

“So are you on board? This would only be for two nights. Let’s see what we can parlay those jobs into.”

I liked Regan’s direction. She spoke my language, and for the first time in a long time, I felt that someone other than S. Marcus had my back. “Yeah, I will do them,” I said without the normal hesitation I would have put up.

“Great. Do you have a reel and a demo tape?”

“Sure.”

“I will have Gilliam send over a messenger with the script and pick up those items while she’s there. She’ll let you know where you need to be for the rehearsals.” She added a little pep talk. “I know you’ll knock them dead.”

“I will do my best. I’m really excited at the possibility of doing something involving the election,” I said.

“These are some exciting times,” Regan said, being genuine for a
change. “Who would have ever thought we would live to see the day where we might have a chance at electing an African-American man as leader of the free world?”

“Who would have thought that would ever happen?” I chimed in. “Maybe if we’re lucky we will live to see the same thing happen to an African-American woman.”

“One thing at a time,” Regan said.

Before I hung up the phone, I did something else I normally didn’t do.

“Regan?”

“Yes, Yancey.”

“Thanks for this. Thanks for giving me a chance and believing in me.”

“Not a problem, Yancey,” she said smoothly. “Just don’t let me down.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

H
IS STEEL GRAY EYES
were hard to ignore in the nearly dark BB King’s Blues Club on 42nd Street. John Basil Henderson, a man I’d come oh so close to marrying, sat across from me.

“You still look good, girl,” Basil said, all smiles, the charm dripping from each word.

I couldn’t help but return the smile. “So do you, Basil, but you already know that.”

“Thanks, babe, but I know you didn’t want to meet with me just to tell me how good I look. What’s up? You said something about a forgiveness tour. What’s that all about?”

Basil and I knew how each other played our game. So there was no fooling him. Even so, I tried to stall.

“How is your daughter?”

“Tally is fine.”

“I bet she is beautiful.”

“She’ll be the Halle Berry of her generation,” he said expansively. “So come on now, Yancey. What are you up to, and how does it involve me?”

I bowed my head, took a breath, then faced him. “Okay. I know you’re busy. But I got this chance to do something big for my career. I’m shooting a pilot for a reality show, and the producers thought it would be great if I include some of my friends and boyfriends who knew me when my career was really smoking. So naturally I thought of you. But we’ve been out of touch a long time, and I don’t know what you’ve been up to. Are you involved right now?”

“Come on, Yancey. You know me.”

“Man or woman?” I just couldn’t resist asking.

“Yancey,” he said, looking off to the side.

“Just asking. Anyway, it would be what they call in the business polluting reality with us. We would pick some restaurant or public place where it would look like we ran into each other accidentally, and when I get back to my town house I would talk into the camera about our relationship.”

“Kinda like what you did with your hit record.”

I knew he would get around to that sooner or later. There was no way I could make that up to him. I’d hoped after all this time he might have found room in his heart to forgive me. It wasn’t as if we both hadn’t done hurtful things to each other.

Basil took a swig of his beer. “Thanks, but no thanks, Yancey. I don’t need the publicity.”

“I know you don’t, Basil, and I promise you I won’t do anything to embarrass you or make either of us look bad. You know how I feel about you,” I said as sweetly as I could. That was the closest I’d ever come to an apology for how I’d exploited him. Basil could be tough,
but I knew he had a sensitive side. I always viewed him as a male version of me when it came to getting what I wanted. Which is why we worked so well as a couple; also why we were so fucked up. It showed in the way he dressed and how people (both men and women) stared at him whenever he entered a room. I had become used to this when I was younger. I missed it and was determined to have it again.

“I don’t know, Yancey. I know you and there’s always an agenda up that beautiful sleeve of yours. Just like your mama. Is she still in the joint?”

“No, she’s out for now. Didn’t Raymond tell you? I’m sure the prison authorities notified him before they released her,” I said. Raymond Tyler was the man my mother had shot. I was convinced he was also the love of Basil’s life, even though he would never admit it.

His face had completely shut down. “I don’t talk about Raymond with you, Yancey. You know better.”

“You started it asking about Ava,” I pointed out.

He took my point. Plus, he wanted to get off that subject immediately. “So that’s it? No strings?”

“Yes, that’s it. Simple as that. I’ll make sure the producers make you seem like the big balla you are, Basil.”

He chuckled, spreading his arms out wide. “Can’t keep that from happening, Yancey B. It is what it is. Anybody can see that.” He regarded me curiously. “I don’t know why, but I thought maybe you’d given up the acting thing and just married well and had some kids.”

I leaned in toward him. “You know better than that. I still got to win an Emmy, a Tony, an Oscar, and a Grammy, Basil. Then and only then will I consider my second act.”