Lovers & Players (15 page)

‘I know, but—’

‘Enough of this nonsense!’ Tina said firmly. ‘You’d better pull yourself together
pronto
. You’ll have a
great
marriage.’

‘I will?’

‘Yes, you will. Everyone gets freaked out when the big day gets closer. It’s only natural. So start thinking clearly–Max is
it
! He’s your Brad. This time next year you too can have a belly swollen out to kingdom come!’

‘Thanks, I can’t wait!’

‘Now that we’ve settled your nerves,’ Tina said, patting her stomach, ‘pass me more chocolate. This fat woman is
desperate
!’

S
aturday morning Cindi and Liberty were up early. Beyond excited, Cindi insisted that they splurge and take a cab to the video shoot. The night before she’d cancelled her date with Moose, the security guard. This had given Liberty a chance to fill her cousin in on everything that had taken place in the short time she’d spent with her mom.

‘Wow!’ Cindi had exclaimed, after listening carefully. ‘She finally came out with info on your dad an’ he’s
dead
? That’s bad shit. How come she never told you before?’

‘She never told anyone, did she?’

‘Aretha always kinda suspected it was the manager at one of those clubs she sang at.’

‘Now we know–it wasn’t.’

‘I’m callin’ my mom,’ Cindi had said. ‘See what she has t’ say about it.’

‘You can’t tell her,’ Liberty had answered quickly. ‘Diahann doesn’t want anybody knowing.’

‘Why’s that? ’Cause he was
married
?’

‘Don’t ask me, I’m
still
in shock.’

‘But you must wanna find him?’

‘Aren’t you listening to me? He’s
dead
, Cindi,
dead
.’

‘Are you
sure
she’s handin’ you the truth? Germany’s a long way away, an’ if she
was
singin’ back-up for Isaac Hayes, you can bet my mom would’ve known it.’ Before Liberty could stop her, she’d picked up the phone, put it on speaker, and called Aretha. ‘Hey, Mom,’ she’d said, ‘did Diahann ever go to Germany singin’ back-up for Isaac Hayes?’

‘If Diahann went to Germany,
I
’d sure as hell
know
,’ Aretha had said. ‘An’ if she did one damn thing with Isaac Hayes, I’d
certainly
know.
Hallelujah
! That man is a god! Saw him in concert once–there he was, all naked, covered in gold chains, his manly body glistenin’ with sweat. Oh, Lordy,
Lordy
! That man is one
sexy
hunka beef! I wouldn’t mind—’

‘Mom! Please don’t be talkin’ to me ’bout
sex
, that’s nasty!’

‘Why you askin’ anyway?’

‘’Cause Diahann told Libby she was on tour with Isaac Hayes.’

‘Believe me, baby, it never happened.’

‘But you don’t know
everything
she did.
You
were in Atlanta, an’
she
was in New York.’

‘Honey,’ Aretha had said firmly, ‘if
my
sister took that fine ass of hers abroad, the whole family woulda known. She
always
told us ’bout the
good
things goin’ on.’

‘You’re
sure
?’ Cindi had said, exchanging a look with Liberty.

‘Yes, baby, I’m sure.’

‘Thanks, Mom. Oh, an’ listen to
this
–
I
am gonna be in a music video. You’ll be able to watch me on TV. How about
that
?’

‘
What
?’ Aretha had yelled. ‘This means we’re celebratin’. You an’ Libby get your asses over here Sunday. I’m cookin’ us a fried-chicken feast!’

‘I’m workin’ on the video Sunday.’

‘Now, don’t you go givin’ me no sass, Cindi. You be here soon as you’re through, you hear me, child?’

After Cindi hung up, she and Liberty had sat around mulling over everything. They’d decided that either Diahann was making up stories, or Aretha hadn’t known what the hell was going on.

Now they were in a cab on their way to the video shoot.

There were quite a few pretty, sexy and overweight girls milling around the studio. The choreographer, Benny Cassola, a young Hispanic man with shiny black hair pulled back into a ponytail, was attempting to shepherd them into a line-up. ‘You,’ he said, gesturing to Cindi, ‘you part of this group?’

‘I sure am,’ she said, hurrying over.

‘I’ll be teachin’ you some key moves. You gotta be natural, listen to the music an’ stay loose. I’m lookin’ for sexy an’ juicy–the juicier the better. All you gotta do is shake it like Jell-O.’

‘Shake
what
?’ Cindi asked, as if she didn’t understand what he was getting at, although she totally did.

‘Everythin’ you got.’

Cindi took a look round the studio. There were men everywhere–musicians, publicists, engineers, cameramen. She’d never been shy about taking her clothes off in front of men, but this group presented quite a challenge.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Liberty whispered soothingly, giving her a little shove towards the line-up of girls. ‘You’ll be amazing.’

‘Sure.’ Cindi snorted. ‘With my ass hangin’ out while all these horny gorillas are eyeballin’ me like I’m
meat
!’

‘At least we’re on a sound stage. That’s something to celebrate.’

‘
You
ain’t takin’ your clothes off,’ Cindi pointed out. ‘
I
am.’

Slick Jimmy’s song began booming over the speakers.

‘Crap!’ Cindi whispered, outraged. ‘It’s a
fat
girls’ song. I ain’t
fat
, I’m
womanly
. I know I got booty t’ spare, but that don’t make me
fat
!
Damn!
’

‘Get into it, have fun,’ Liberty encouraged. ‘It’s experience.’

‘Experience, my ass!’ Cindi snapped.

As soon as Benny got all the girls together, he started teaching them a series of basic moves–bend, shake and jiggle. Cindi fell into the routine immediately.

Standing on the sidelines, Liberty was fascinated, watching Benny as he circled the girls like a panther, style and grace personified.

‘You’ll all get individual marks to hit,’ Benny informed his line-up of large, bootilicious females. ‘I want you to keep it
movin
’, keep it
sexy
, an’ most of all, keep it
smooth
. You can do it, ladies.’

Cindi was busy checking out the other girls. At over two hundred pounds she realized she was the skinny one of the group, which immediately boosted her confidence.

When Benny felt they had it down, he sent them off to get their hair and make-up done.

‘Come on,’ Cindi said, dragging Liberty into the large make-up room where several make-up artists and hair-stylists buzzed around, looking professional and busy.

‘Hey–you,’ said a tall, striking woman, beckoning Cindi. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘Me?’ Cindi said, not sure it was her being summoned.

‘Yes,
you
. I’m Beverly. Welcome to my chair.’

‘Hi, I’m Cindi.’

‘Okay, Cindi,’ Beverly said, preparing her make-up brushes. ‘You got a real pretty face. My job is to make it even prettier.’ She glanced at Liberty, who was standing by the chair. ‘And who’re you?’

‘Cindi’s cousin.’

‘Watchin’ out for her, huh?’ Beverly said, concealing a yawn.

‘Late night?’ Liberty countered.

‘Gatsby’s. Best club in town.’

‘Wow!’ Cindi said excitedly. ‘I read about that place in
US
magazine. Wasn’t that where P. Diddy threw a big party?’

Beverly nodded. ‘I was there,’ she said casually, like it was no big deal.

‘
Shit
!’ Cindi exclaimed. ‘You get to hang at fancy places ’cause you make up stars? How fine is
that
?’

‘I work for whoever’s payin’ me,’ Beverly answered, soaking a cotton ball in astringent. ‘Today I’m doin’ make-up on you girls. Next week I’m workin’ on a photo shoot for
Glamour
with Vivica A. Fox.’

‘You’re making up Vivica A. Fox?’ Cindi said, duly impressed as Beverly dabbed her face with the cotton ball. ‘That girl is
somethin
’!’

Beverly took another quick glance at Liberty. ‘You need your eyebrows plucked,’ she remarked.

‘What’s wrong with my eyebrows?’

‘Too thick. They’re dominatin’ that
beautiful
face. You gotta do somethin’ about ’em. It’ll make all the difference.’

‘I thought thick eyebrows were in,’ Liberty said defensively.

‘Honey–you’re wrong,’ Beverly said, proceeding to smooth a Peter Thomas Roth expensive moisturizer over Cindi’s face.

‘Umm…feels real nice,’ Cindi said, loving the experience of being pampered.

‘Now your make-up’ll glide on,’ Beverly explained. ‘Always remember to moisturize. Black skin needs special care.’

‘I will.’

‘So,’ Beverly said to Liberty, ‘if I get a moment, I’ll pluck ’em for you later.’

‘I’m not sure I want to do that.’

‘You gotta treat your eyebrows like your snatch,’ Beverly said matter-of-factly. ‘’S all about groomin’, baby.’

Liberty and Cindi exchanged startled glances in the mirror. Had this tall, striking woman actually
said
that?

By the time Cindi was fully made-up, she looked as if she’d experienced one of those make-overs so popular on morning TV shows. And when Fantasia appeared with her skimpy costume, and she wriggled into it, it actually flattered her bountiful curves.

‘Dead-on sexy,’ Liberty said encouragingly, as they headed back to the set. ‘I’m telling you, you’re looking
way
better than any of the other girls.’

‘You sure?’

‘Course I’m sure.’

‘Cause I’m kinda jittery.’

‘You? Come
on
. Nothing gets
you
nervous–unless it’s the thought of not getting laid on a Saturday night!’

Cindi grinned, hoisting her massive bosom. ‘You’re right! Not me! I’m a winner, girl. I got
championship
booty!’

After more rehearsals, Slick Jimmy put in an appearance, surrounded by his posse. Slick Jimmy looked like a cross between Snoop Dogg at his pimping best, and Johnny Depp in
Pirates of the Caribbean
. He was no Usher, but he had his own look with his low-slung baggy pants, a big sweatshirt that hung below his knees, pirate headgear, and oversized dark shades.

The girls stood around staring at him while his song continued booming over the speakers. He began lip-synching, while the director, Maleek–a young African-American man with thick black dreadlocks and very white teeth–began telling Benny where he wanted the girls placed.

Liberty hovered on the sidelines, watching. There was no doubt about it, Cindi had big brass balls. There was no way
she
could have stood up there in front of all these men in such a tiny outfit, shaking her ass at the camera. But Cindi was acting like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Then, out of nowhere,
he
walked in. Damon P. Donnell. The Man himself.

Liberty jumped to attention. Damon P. Donnell was in the same place she was, and she
wasn’t
serving him coffee. This was a first.

People were fussing all over him, seeing he got a director’s chair to sit in, high-fiving him, generally kissing his butt.

‘Is Damon Donnell something to do with this record?’ she asked one of the assistants, who’d been hanging around her trying to score a date.

‘Mr Big Time. Yeah, Slick Jimmy’s on his label.’

‘No kidding?’

‘Wanna meet him?’ the assistant asked, sidling closer.

‘Sure.’

‘If you hook up with me later I’ll arrange it.’

‘I’m engaged,’ she said, backing away.

‘Don’t see a ring.’

‘That’s ’cause it’s through my husband-to-be’s nose.’

The assistant scowled. ‘You’re one of those smart-ass girls, aren’t you?’

‘I try to be,’ she answered coolly, watching Damon across the set. He seemed so laid-back and in control, with a look that screamed success.

After a while he got up and strolled over to the Craft Service table. Realizing this was her opportunity, she almost flew across the set. ‘Mr Donnell,’ she said, approaching him boldly, trying not to limp, wishing she’d fixed herself up more instead of just jeans and a T-shirt.

‘Huh?’ he said, turning round. ‘Do I know you?’

‘I’m Liberty. I serve you breakfast every day in the coffee shop across the street from your office,’ she said, her words spilling over each other. ‘But in the
real
world I’m a singer and I’m good. All I need is a chance, and I was, uh…hoping you could find the time to listen to my demo.’

He looked her over very slowly with his dark smoky eyes. It was the first time she’d seen him without his shades, she decided he had the most soulful eyes she’d ever seen.

‘Yeah, I know you,’ he said at last, tapping the diamond stud embedded in his left ear. ‘You’re the girl took a fall. You doin’ okay?’

She was shocked that he actually
did
remember her. ‘Uh…that’s why my arm’s bandaged,’ she stammered. ‘It’s only a surface burn. I’m feeling better already, my—’

‘What you doin’ here?’ he interrupted, reaching for a carrot stick.