TheProfessor (2 page)

“And he’s a
genuine
geek, right?”

“Honey, there are no imitation geeks.”

“Baby, I’m counting on you to hook me up.”

“Look, honey, I told you before, he’s completely in his own little world. When he gets to his desk, the only thing that could possibly get that man out of his head and back into the real world was if all the fire alarms in the building went off.
All at once
.”

I laughed. “I’ll have my assistant pick him up.” I made a mental note to speak to my assistant Clarice. Then I said, “Baby, have I ever thanked you lately?”

Marlene’s laugh came through clearly. “Not lately, no.”

“Well, consider this my official thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I laughed again. “Bye-bye, baby.”

“Bye, honey.”

I went back inside the conference room and eased back down in my chair. I made a point of turning my phone off and putting it in my purse instead of my jacket pocket.

Darryl turned in his chair to look at me. “Business taken care of?”

“Yes, business is taken care of.” I turned to the label rep. “So. You were saying?”

The man smiled and turned back to his notes. “Yes. As I was saying…”

Half an hour later we were headed out to the limo.

As we walked, Tyrone was grilling me like a cheeseburger. “So,
who
was that you were talking to on the phone earlier?”

“Tyrone, I said it was Marlene from the Technical Institute. Business.”

“It didn’t
look
like you were discussing business.”

I stopped walking and turned to face Tyrone. “Whether it was business or not, it was none of
your
business, Tyrone.”

His face became oddly rigid. “Yes, Danielle.”

“Good. Are you coming with us?”

He suddenly put his sunglasses on. “No. I need to get back to the office and take care of the paperwork.”

My voice, already cool, went cold. “I thought we took care of that, Mr. Williams.”

Tyrone visibly swallowed. “I hadn’t prepared the confidentiality agreement.”

“Then I can expect you to have that paperwork ready for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, Danielle. I’ll have the papers drawn up and ready.”

“Good. Thank you, Tyrone.”

Tyrone pivoted on his heel and stalked away, clearly not happy that I pulled rank on him like that, and because he felt I was keeping something from him.

Darryl was saying, “Well, Danielle, the label guy was absolutely frothing at the mouth over this idea you’ve got.”

I turned to look at him. Unlike Tyrone, Darryl was at least six feet tall and towered over me. Even in five-inch heels, I still had to look up. “The work hasn’t been done yet, Darryl. But yes, I do agree it will go a long way toward helping us promote the new album.” I started walking again.

“When is our man supposed to arrive, anyway?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“And what exactly is he supposed to be doing?”

“Well, mainly he’s going to help us with the setup of the cameras. Then he’s going to give us a few pointers about how to use digital cameras.”

“That’s good. I can’t believe that last photographer used
film
.”

I shook my head but didn’t say anything.

Darrell said, “What?”

“It seems like just yesterday that my parents gave me a new stereo for my sixteenth birthday that could play vinyl records
and
cassette tapes, too. Then compact discs came along. Now people just download music off the internet. Where did all the time go?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

I smiled. “Me, too, Darryl.”

“By the way, what’s this cat’s name again?”

“His name is Jeff Humphries. Marlene says he’s sharp as a tack and a real whiz with this type of stuff. I think he can handle our project.”

“As long as he doesn’t go over budget or behind schedule, I’m all for it.”

I patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Everything will be on schedule. I promise.”

“Right.”

We finally arrived at the limo, where Mitchell, my driver, held the car door open for me. I smiled at him. “Thank you, Mitchell.”

“Where are we going to next, Miss Danielle?”

“Home, please, Mitchell.”

“Yes, Miss Danielle.”

As the limo pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway, and ultimately for home, I stared out the tinted window as the city went by. It seems like yesterday when I was a girl in school. I began to think about how all of this got started.

* * * *

I was a model before I became a singer, like Cassie Ventura, and Whitney Houston before her. It was a reliable way to make money for school, for things that weren’t covered by my scholarship. Then one day some dude was hanging out at one of my photo shoots and happened to overhear me singing and doing my scales while waiting for the next setup.

His name was Tyrone Williams.

Before you could say
record deal
, he had me in the studio, recording songs for my first album. I was nineteen. Tyrone was all hot to get my first album released just as fast it could be recorded. My parents, on the other hand, were absolutely adamant that I still go to college and get my degree, resulting in a war of wills with Tyrone. Mom contacted another gentleman named Darryl Strawberry to work with Tyrone. Darryl shared the same concern with Mom, that education be first in my life. As a result, my first album wasn’t released until I was twenty-one, and old enough to not be swept away by all the glitz and glamour I was suddenly exposed to, although I had been exposed to a lot of it already as a model.

Since then I’ve had five more albums come out, all about two years apart, because each album was of course followed by a short tour. It was my fifth album that has been my biggest success so far, thanks to three top-five singles, one of which hit number one. Each of my other albums, while not quite as successful as that one, haven’t done too badly either. And since I had been a model, every company out there making beauty products wanted to film me and photograph me using their shampoo and wearing their lipstick, which I was only too happy to do, as I never have and never will turn down free lipstick or shampoo.

Even as I kept riding my wave of professional success, my personal life became a lie. I kept dating black men, even though I knew I wanted to date white men. Kind of like a bad itch, the desire would not go away.

Sometimes I feel like I’m going to
explode
if I don’t get some white dick.

And what’s wrong with black men
? Well, black men seem to have this aversion to eating pussy, at least the ones
I’ve
dated. They think just because they walk around packing eight inches in their pants, it’ll make women spontaneously orgasm or something.

Sorry guys, it takes more than just a big dick. It doesn’t hurt, but that’s not the only thing. There are
many
ways to arouse a woman and make a woman orgasm. A veritable smorgasbord of sexual delights, you might say, like kissing. Oh my God, I
love
kissing. I could kiss a man or a woman, it doesn’t matter. I could kiss all day. Oh, and touching. Too many guys ignore all the many places you can touch on a woman’s body that will make her go from zero to aroused in the flutter of an eyelash. And then there’s a woman’s
breasts
. It absolutely drives me
insane
to have someone play with my breasts. And then there’s
oral sex
. To have someone eat out my pussy makes me wet just thinking about it. But as I said, black men think all they need is their
dick
.

I knew without being told that if I publicly declared my preference for white men it would send shock waves through Black Hollywood. It was one of life’s little mysteries, that the people most opposed to interracial dating were black people. I just want to roll my eyes every time I hear someone say
the black race has to maintain its purity
. Tell that nonsense to all the beautiful women and men of mixed race out there. It’s a little late to close the barn door when the horses have quite obviously already gotten loose!

But I’ve discovered that older black folks were especially opposed to interracial dating. The older they were, the more old-fashioned they were and more set in their ways, the more intolerant they were of it. To them, white people were the enemy, to never be trusted. To keep all those negative thoughts bouncing around inside my head like that, I could not imagine living that way.

I’d rather be loving on a white man instead of hating on him. After all, that’s what my songs were about. Lovemaking.

In my age group, black men were dead set against black women dating white men, even though these were the same black men who would date a white woman with no qualms. Black women were at least open to dating a white man, even though they were also unsure about it. I knew why.
You couldn’t find a good black man?

This desire for white men was, meanwhile, still there inside me. It colored my life, you could say, in ways subtle and not so subtle. Ironic choice of words, I know.

* * * *

“Danielle.”

Hopefully this tech geek would scratch my itch, salve my wounds, whatever metaphor you want to use. And then
maybe
I could get some work done. These days I’m working on album number seven. It’s not going very well for some reason. Usually the creative process is so effortless for me.

“
Danielle
.”

“What?”

“We’re almost home.”

I looked out the window in surprise, to see the front gate not too far ahead. “Oh, good. I need to see Clarice.”

“What about?”

“I need to tell her she can go to the Fashion Room so she can pick out something pretty to wear for tomorrow. The girl is going to have a heart attack.”

He laughed. “I’m sure she can handle it. But, Danielle, about Tyrone.”

“I’m quite sure that Tyrone can handle it, too.” As the car eased past the gate and drove on to the grounds, I gathered my purse and my leather organizer.

“Danielle, I’m a little concerned about Tyrone, all the same.”

“How so?”

“He’s not going to take this defeat lying down. He carries too much pride.”

“Yes, I was noticing that.”

“I think you should let Tyrone out of his contract.”

“Okay. I’m interested in hearing your reasons why.”

“Well, there’s the emotional reasons I just mentioned. Plus his personality is completely the opposite from yours. And he’s not necessary to have around.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“My people could do all the work his people are doing and save you money.”

I regarded Darryl. “I will certainly take your concerns under advisement.”

“That’s all I ask, Danielle.”

“Unfortunately, it’s going to take a good reason to let him go. Especially since he seems to think he’s personally responsible for all my blessings.”

“Yes, well, he also seems to forget that he wanted to make money right away at the expense of your schooling.”

I favored him with a real smile. “But you watched out for me. You got my back.”

“Damn straight.”

Patting his arm, I said, “Indubitably, my dear.”

The car finally stopped. A few seconds later Mitchell opened the door and bright sunshine flooded my eyes. He offered a helping hand. I put my hand in his, got out and walked across the driveway to the front door.

I opened the door and stepped inside, the click of my heels on the hardwood floor loud in the silence. Darryl no sooner closed the door than Naomi appeared, dressed in her usual black-and-white uniform with black patent-leather pumps.

She said, “Welcome home, Miss Danielle.” She gave me a hug.

“Thank you, Naomi. You look very pretty.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Danielle. How was the trip into town?”

“Boring. But those usually are.”

“Would you like a glass of wine to relax?”

“Maybe later.”

“How about if I ran a hot bath for you?”

“Oh, now
that
sounds good.”

“Shall I get everything ready, Miss Danielle?”

“Yes, please. Is Clarice around?”

“Yes, she’s in your office making a few phone calls for you as you requested. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just get that bath ready for you.”

“Yes. Thank you. I’ll be in my office when you’ve got everything ready.”

“Yes, Miss Danielle.” Naomi went on her way. Darryl went past me into the living room, sat on the couch, kicked back, picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

I said, “It’s too early for the celebrity news nonsense, boo.”

“Hey, we’ve got business out of the way. Maybe there’s something on the sports channels about the NFL lockout.”

I rolled my eyes. “I swear, is there one single minute of the year, one single moment of your
life
when you are
not
thinking about football?”

Darryl pretended to think about it. Then he said, “Nope. Not really.”

I laughed out loud. “Listen to you.”

Darryl chuckled as he flipped channels, first to the sports channels, which apparently weren’t showing anything he was interested in, because he flipped it to CNN.

Frederica Whitfield’s smiling face came on. “Hi, everyone. We’re back, and with us is Kareen Wynters from
Showbiz Tonight
with a preview of tonight’s story about singer and model Danielle Evans.” The camera switched to a different view, one of her standing next to a wall-sized flat-panel TV, dressed to the nines. Kareen was on the monitor.

“That’s right, Frederica. It’s been about two years since the release of her sixth studio album, and critics are wondering if perhaps she has reached the end of her career, if maybe she has perhaps lost her relevance in today’s modern music scene.”

Frederica was saying, “Why would people say that, Kareen? I heard one of Danielle’s songs on the radio as I was driving to work.”

I said, “
Thank
you.”

Kareen gave a shrug. “Well, that’s what the people in Hollywood are saying. We’ll be discussing this and other stories in depth today on
Showbiz Tonight
.”