For the Love of Money (61 page)

Read For the Love of Money Online

Authors: Omar Tyree

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By our fifth day of shooting in Nevada, I was physically exhausted. We shot most of the other scenes that day so that I could rest. In the meantime, I had an interview with
The Black American
magazine.

A young sister reporter approached me in front of my trailer with a tape recorder and a cameraman, who wanted to snap pictures of me in my action gear. I had forgotten that I had agreed to do the interview. That's just how tired I was.

The young sister commented, “These are the kind of American films that turn into blockbusters, one black star in the middle of Vanillaville.” She and her dreadlock-wearing cameraman were laughing about it.

I must admit, I was getting used to being around white people, and I was starting to understand how human they were along with everyone else. It wasn't
always
a black and white thing.

I said, “If it's not a good film, it won't matter.” I didn't even remember getting the sister's name (I guess I forgot it in the heat), but the cameraman was named Jabari.

He said, “You have to admit though, this is how black stars are made, because you'll stand out in this movie, like Eddie, Will, Whoopi, you name it. Chris Tucker. Even Richard Pryor made his mark in Vanillaville.”

They shared another laugh between them.

I'm sorry, but I didn't even feel like talking that radical shit at the time. I had a movie to complete for two million dollars that I had already been paid half of.

I asked, “Is this a straight Q&A or what?” I was ready to get it over with.

The sister answered, “No, this is a feature story.”

I didn't trust those two to write a damn feature on me. I could tell already, they had come to write a militant piece on blacks in Hollywood. They didn't necessarily want to hear what
I
had to say. I would become a sound bite for their trite opinions. That was exactly why I had a new policy.

I said, “I don't do feature stories anymore. Call your editors back and tell them I want a Q&A, and I want to see their okay in writing. We have a fax machine that you could use in the production trailer.”

The sister looked at me as if I had lost my mind, but so what? If she wanted to talk that militant shit, then write a commentary, don't mix me up in it. Not saying that I had crossed over or anything, but I didn't appreciate being a damn
pawn
either.

She said, “Well, we weren't really prepared for a Q&A.”

“What, you don't have any questions to ask me?” Of course she didn't, they just wanted me to respond to shit so that they could play me like a fool. I knew the damn game, and I was tired of it.

“Well, I had questions, you know, but not like a Q&A kind of thing.”

I said, “Well, you have time to come up with some. I'll be here all day and all night. In the meantime, call and get that okay in writing from your editors.”

I know the sister wanted to call me all kind of names. I had just ruined her militant Hollywood story. I even chuckled at it. I liked my new policy. If they wanted to write a story that said I wasn't available for comment, then fine. At least they wouldn't have any quotes of mine that they could
misuse.
I didn't mean to single out a black magazine, because my policy would stand with every one of them, as if I was the president of the United States.

The sister asked, “Well, how about we just hang around and get some action quotes while you're shooting on the set?”

I shook it off. “Not with this movie,” I answered. “We have too many stunt scenes to shoot for you to be in the way. You could get hurt or something, and we don't have any insurance on you.” I was saying any-damn-thing that came to mind to let the sister know that it would be
my way
or
no way.

She sighed and finally went ahead to get the Q&A agreement in writing. When she returned with it, I signed it and told her to fax a copy back.

She stopped and asked me, “What's the deal on this? You don't trust me with a feature story, sister?”

I looked her dead in her brown eyes and answered, “No, and it has
nothing
to do with color. I would do the same thing if you were a white girl from
People
magazine. That's just my new policy.”

She took a deep breath and went to fax the copy back. By that time, Jabari was laughing and shaking his head at the whole scene. I guess he figured that I was ego-tripping, but I wasn't. I was simply protecting my intelligence for the story.

The sister made it back to me again, and was ready to get the interview under way. However, first she said, “Off the record, I read your book
Flyy Girl
when it first came out
years
ago, and now it just seems like your whole
Hollywood
mission is selling out all of the young sisters who related to what you went through growing up as a teenager in the 'hood. I mean, we all figured that you would get back with your first love and work it out on the black family side of things, and be more community related. You know what I'm saying? And I just wanted to say that to you for all of the sisters who really believed in your message. But now it seems like you're all out for the love of money.”

I looked at Jabari, and he raised his brow at me as if to say, “Damn, she gave it to you!”

I was perfectly calm about it. I asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” she snapped at me.

“And how old were you when you first read my book?”

“Seventeen.”

“Did you go to college?”

“Yes I did.”

I nodded and said, “Good. And did you learn anything from my book?”

“I learned plenty.”

“Good. So, now that you've read and liked my book, you think that you can control my life now? Is that it?”

She backed down and responded, “I didn't say that.”

“Well, what
are
you saying?”

“I'm saying that
you led
a lot of people
a-stray.”

She was clever. I smiled at her. I said, “First of all, Victor married another woman, and I had to grow up from that. Second of all, no one can succeed with all that I've done up to this point because of money. Third of all, you need to read my
next
book, because you only know
half
of my story. Okay? You don't know how hard I had to work to get here,
nor
do you know where I'm going. I turned
down
money to get to where I am today! And I'll tell you another thing, while we're talking about the so-called
love
of money. Nobody flew in to interview me when I was a damn schoolteacher in Philadelphia!”

I couldn't help myself. The fire just rushed out of me and started growing:

“So, if you want to represent for the young sisters so much, then why don't you go back to the
'hood
and interview the brothers and sisters who are still there in Philadelphia, or Washington, D. C., and Baltimore, and New York, and Chicago. Why don't you go and interview the
broke,
grassroots
people in Atlanta, Dallas, Detroit, and in South Central Los Angeles?

“Better yet, why don't you call your editors up and tell them that you'd rather do a story on a community activist instead of the
sellout
Hollywood sister, and see what they tell you?” I asked her. “But
please
don't hold your breath, because you'll
die
before they get back to you, since we're talking about
the love of money!
You're out here to interview me because I
have
money! So don't get it twisted, sister. You know
damn well
how it works! If it don't make money, it won't make the press!”

I was
incensed.
The young sister had really pressed my damn button. She had
no idea
how much I had been through!

When she opened her mouth again, she nodded to me and showed me my respect. She said, “Well, you're right, but that doesn't mean that you can't look out for the community in the films that you
do
decide on.”

“Films like what?
The Queen of Harlem,
so my
own
people, who
asked
for it, can
ignore it
when it comes out. How many people went to see Oprah Winfrey's
Beloved? I
supported the movie.”

She said, “Well, nobody
asked
to see that movie. Oprah Winfrey doesn't ask us what
we
want. She does her
own
thing.”

“Well, what do you want, sister?” I asked her. “Let
me
know.”

“How about making
Flyy Girl
into a movie?”

I asked, “And how many theaters do you expect me to be able to get?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it does matter. Because if we don't get enough theaters to show it in, we'll have more of the shooting and fighting and all of that other nonsense.”

“How do you know that? You don't have faith in us to go to the movies like we have any sense?” she asked me.

“The people who own the theaters don't, and that's all that counts.”

“Well, why don't you make it into an HBO special.”

I shook my head and smiled. The young sister just didn't get it. I said, “George Lucas gets the
world
with
Star Wars,
and I get a goddamned bubble-gum machine with HBO, right? Is that how it works? You'd rather have
anything
than the
right
thing? That's why we can't ever
get
the right thing; we're always settling for less.”

She finally folded her cards and said, “Okay, well, let's just do this interview then.”

“Good,” I told her.

She said, “Well, how did Terry McMillan get
two
of her books made into movies?”

“Is this a part of the interview?” I asked.

She smiled at me and said, “No.”

I answered, “Because Terry McMillan sold millions of copies of her books, that's why? For the love of money is how
Hollywood
works. So if you want to see
Flyy Girl,
the movie, then you buy a million copies of the book first.”

The young sister laughed and shook her head. I know it sounded capitalistic of me to say something like that, but it was the truth. If Hollywood could not see an automatic return on their investment, then they were not trying to make it, not even HBO.

We finally got into the Q & A interview with her first question.

Q
: “Is Hollywood the vehicle for strong black films to be made?”

A
: “No,but independents will never get the job done for the mass community.”

Q
: “What about Spike Lee's movies?”

A
: “What Spike Lee movie was ever filmed in Hollywood?”

Q
: “I guess you're right. His movies have mainly been in New York. Do you ever think that Hollywood will change, and black cinema will begin to address more of the normal people of Black America?”

A
: “No. Nothing will change in Hollywood until Black America can own a thousand of their own movie theaters nationwide. So if you want something to change in Hollywood with black cinema, then more black businessmen have to follow Magic Johnson's lead and own their own theaters.”

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I called my parents that night, just trying to stay in touch like I had promised. It must have been after three in the morning in Philadelphia, but my father said that it didn't matter when I called, so . . .

“Do you know what time of night it is over here, Tracy?” my mother whined when she answered the phone.

I said, “I couldn't sleep, and Dad said that I could call anytime.”

“Well, you talk to
him
then,” she joked, wearily.

I said, “I'm serious, Mom, I just needed to talk.”

“And you had to wait until
this
late at night to call?”

“We're shooting a movie over here. I had to prepare for my scenes tomorrow.”

She took a breath and asked, “Okay, what's on your mind?”

I said, “How do you really feel about my acting career, Mom?”

“I'm proud of you.”

“What about the sex scenes and stuff?”

She responded, “How you think you got here? America can be so damn
childish
about sex sometimes.”

I laughed. I didn't expect my mother to be so crystal clear on that. I guess she said it because she was sleep talking or something, and the truth had slipped out.

“How would you feel about me making a
Flyy Girl
movie?” I asked her.

She chuckled and said, “Who would play me?”

“I don't know. Lynn Whitfield or somebody.”

“That's a good choice. I like her. Who would play your father?”

I laughed and said, “You're really getting into this.”

“You
asked
me about it.”

I said, “Well, what do you think about a sequel to
Flyy Girl
? I've been trying to get a new book deal signed for
months
now.”

My mother responded, “Tracy, why are you asking me this? You're gonna do what you want to do anyway.”

“I just wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“Well, why would you
want
to do it? That's what you have to ask yourself. Why?”

Good question,
I thought. “I guess to see how people would respond to it, you know. I never expected
Flyy Girl
to be as big as it has the potential to be,” I answered. “It's almost like a cult following going on, and I really want to see what the numbers would be like if we went all the way with it. I'm just
mad
curious, like they would say in New York.”

“And that's why you want to do this, just because you're curious?”

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