Authors: E. Lynn Harris
“You asked for a salad.”
“But what kind of salad dressing did I ask for?”
“I don’t know, but I got you honey mustard.”
“I asked for ranch. Why can’t you just do what I ask?” I asked wearily. “It was a very simple request.”
Lyrical said, “Where is Ava, by the way? I haven’t seen her in a couple of days. I want to talk to her about something. I want to make sure she doesn’t forget what she promised me.”
“She’s not here.”
“I can see that,” she said, looking around the house in an exaggerated manner. “Where is she?”
“Out of town.”
“What is she doing out of town? She’s not supposed to do that. Did she get permission to leave town?”
“Permission from whom?”
“From Mr. Lomax, her probation officer. She can get in big trouble
for leaving the city without his approval. She is still on paper, and they could send her grand ass back to jail if they found out about it.”
A magnificent thought popped into my head. I almost could have hugged Lyrical. “Are you serious? They can do that?”
“Damn straight. Now, I’m going to go back down to this damn deli and get your salad dressing, princess, but the next time, get your order straight,” she said with a downward glance at her own body. “I got better things to do than to be carrying my ass back and forth to that deli. Look at me. I don’t need the exercise.”
When I heard the door close, I smiled to myself and said, “Well, well, Ms. Ava, look what information just fell into my hands. Let’s see what lessons I can teach you about interfering with my life. Can’t say I didn’t learn from the best.”
“T
HIS HOT CHOCOLATE IS
to die for,” Dalton said as he took a long sip.
“It’s like someone melted a Hershey bar into milk.”
“Would you like another one?” I asked. I’d invited him to have tea with me at the chic Lowell Hotel on the East Side. Dalton told me he wasn’t a tea drinker so I suggested the hot chocolate. I wanted to make sure he gave me his songs and didn’t go dig up one of those old divas like Angela Winbush or Regina Belle. Dalton could be my way back to the top.
“I don’t think so but thanks. This place is nice,” Dalton said as he looked around the exquisitely decorated café. We were seated at a sofa in the corner with a glass-topped table. On the table was a crystal vase filled with elegant white flowers, surrounded by lavender candles. I loved this café, and even though it wasn’t in the budget I thought it would be the perfect place to close the deal with Dalton. I had even dressed like I was going on an interview or audition.
My hair was in a tight chignon and I wore a white sateen high-collared blouse, a black pencil skirt with pleats in the back and a simple pair of low-heeled black Chanel pumps. On days like this I was happy I’d invested in expensive shoes and bags when I had money.
“Yeah, this has always been one of my favorite places,” I said as I finished the last sip of my tea.
“I can see why. Maybe I will bring Anderson here sometime. He would like this place.”
I kept my face carefully neutral at the mention of Anderson. “How long have you guys been a couple? I always thought you were dating someone in the cast.”
“No chorus boys for me, hon. I’ve been dating Anderson about two years.”
“What does he do?”
His friendly smile instantly shut down. “I can’t speak on it.”
“What?”
“I’m not allowed to speak about Anderson’s private life even with someone I really adore and trust.”
“Is he in the closet or one of those down-low brothers?” I wondered what he meant by not being allowed to talk about his boy-friend’s life. What kind of shit was that?
“Yancey, I can’t speak on it,” Dalton said in a voice that almost sounded like he was singing.
Sensing an opening, I plunged ahead. “Where did you meet him?”
“You gonna make me get up from this table, Yancey.”
“I was once in love with one of those down-low brothers,” I explained, “and I could never understand why he couldn’t just say it.”
“Maybe because he knew you’d make a hit record out of it,” Dalton said with a giggle.
I shared a smile, tipping my spoon at him. “Okay, you got me on that one … hon. I like gay men like you, Dalton. I like my gays, gay gay so I know what side of their bread is buttered. You know?”
“Yeah, Yancey, you like your gays to do your hair and make your dresses. I totally see where you’re coming from.”
I looked at Dalton to see if he was serious and realized how stupid I sounded. I need to get back to the task at hand, getting those songs.
“Let’s talk about your music,” I said.
He, too, seemed relieved to change the subject. “Yeah, let’s get down to business, Miss Yancey. When do we go into the studios and record my songs?”
“Do you really think I’m the one to sing them?” I asked in that sugary voice that suddenly sounded so fake.
“Come on now, Yancey, cut the crap. You know I want you to sing the songs. That’s why I gave them to you. Don’t be coy, hon.”
“So you’re saying I don’t have to kiss your ass,” I said. I really like Dalton, with his dazzling charm and wit and the way he always seemed in control.
“Like my mother always said, ‘Never kiss anyone’s ass to get along with their face,’ Dalton said with a hearty laugh. Taken by surprise, I started laughing so hard that I quickly grabbed the glass of water at the table and took a sip to avoid choking.
“Are you okay, Yancey? We’re going to need those vocal cords. Let’s not damage them.”
A few moments later I felt back to normal. Dalton and I talked about the songs and some of his ideas for arrangements. This boy was not only a talented songwriter but also knew more about music than anyone I’d met in a long time. He shared with me that he also wrote Christian music and a couple of those songs were being considered by Heather Headley for her gospel CD. Maybe now was the time to bring up my God question.
Dalton and I decided to order a glass of champagne to celebrate our new collaboration and while we were waiting I asked him why he started the Bible studies every other day when we were on tour.
“Because I think prayer changes things. My faith is very important to me.”
His response startled me and I found myself studying him so intently that I could tell he was growing uncomfortable.
“What, Yancey? Is my wig not on straight?” Dalton acted like he was fixing an imaginary wig on his head. Leave it to Dalton to turn my serious question into something funny.
“I was just wondering because you know I’ve had a lot of gay friends but never one who was so into the church and God,” I said. Maybe my question had been thoughtless.
“Yancey, because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t believe in God. That I can’t love him like straight people. My faith is the most important thing in the world to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without God.”
“But you know what the churches and the Bible say about homosexuality.” It wasn’t like I knew this for sure since I’d never picked up a Bible in my life unless I was using it as a prop in some play I was doing. Neither my grandmother nor Ava had ever been high on the church but I thought it was because most of the church ladies didn’t like my mother and grandmother. The reason being neither had a problem dating married church folk.
“I know what it says but I know how I feel. God made me in his own image and loves me no matter what, Yancey. He loves me just like he loves you. Once I was in doubt and I talked to Nicole Stovall about it and she assured me that God loved me no matter what.”
“Oh, I forgot she has a direct line to God,” I said curtly.
“I get the feeling you’re not as big a fan of Nicole as she appears to be of you.”
“No, we’re cool. Perfect people just bother me,” I said. My fears about Dalton’s loyalty had all but disappeared. This child really
got
me.
The champagne arrived and I made an announcement that seemed to surprise Dalton.
“I don’t think God loves me, knows where I am or cares,” I said as I took a quick sip of champagne. Dalton didn’t say anything but just gazed at me in puzzlement. An agonizing silence stretched between the two of us until finally Dalton leaned over and put his arms around me, bringing me close to him and then hugging my neck. I pulled back and looked into his eyes. It was the first time that I’d noticed how beautiful they were, dark brown with a deep gold circle the color of clover honey. They were now glistening with tears and I realized Dalton was crying for me. I felt like he really cared about me, might even love me like a close friend.
“Who hurt you, Yancey?”
“What?”
“Somebody hurt you bad, baby girl. I can see it when I look into your eyes. I can also tell you that God will never hurt you.”
“I’ll be okay, Dalton. The past is just that, the past,” I said.
He pulled me close again and gently butted his forehead against mine. Low and intimate he said, “God loves you just as much as he loves me, Yancey. So trust me when I say he always loved you. Always will. One day whoever hurt you will have to answer to him.”
The limo pulled up at the service entrance behind the building. Mike, the driver, got out and opened both doors for the excited teenage girls.
“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Caressa said. “This is so exciting.”
“Believe it, Caressa,” Madison said, stepping out of the car. “I think you better get used to this because this is going to be happening a lot.”
“They closed the entire store for us?”
“Yes, they did.” Madison was pretty amazed herself that they had done it, but she wasn’t going to let on to her friend. “I can’t wait to see what kind of new party dresses they have in. We have to get you a wardrobe for when you go to Auburn.”
“You’re going with me, aren’t you?” Caressa asked, sounding concerned.
“I think my schedule will permit it,” Madison said, and then both girls broke out giggling. She walked up to the back door and knocked a couple of times and a young lady opened the door.
“You must be Madison B. Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
“Thank you, and this is my best friend, Caressa. My daddy told me I could bring a friend.”
“That’s no problem at all. We’re happy to do it. We’ve already pulled out our best dresses for you. Some of them haven’t even been put out yet.”
Madison and Caressa followed the lady through the door and into a back space covered with boxes, gift wrap, ribbons and dresses in plastic bags.
“This is our shipping area for online orders,” the woman explained, more out of nervousness than anything else. “Are you going to wear these dresses on your tour?”
“Maybe, but these will be for my two television shows,” Madison said.
“OMG. You have television shows too?”
“Yes, she does,” Caressa stepped in proudly. “Madison B. is going to be bigger than Hannah Montana and Raven Simone.”
“Sounds that way,” the woman said, smiling as she led them into the showroom. “Okay, where do you want to start? Pants, skirts or dresses?”
“I don’t know,” Madison said, having not given it much thought.
“Then why don’t we start with some of our new party dresses.”
Madison and Caressa followed the straw-thin young lady with brunette hair to the front of the store, where several strapless dresses in different colors hung on a metal rack.
Madison raced toward a short dress with pink chiffon on the top and black silk on the bottom. She caressed the fabric and said to Caressa, “This will look beautiful on you.”
“It is pretty,” Caressa replied. “But are you sure you don’t want it?”
“Not if you do.”
“You pick first, Madison,” Caressa said.
Madison paused and stared at Caressa for a moment in an exaggerated manner. Finally she smiled. “Look, Caressa, this isn’t all about me. I want you to get some nice things as well. Go try it on,” Madison said as she took the dress and handed it to Caressa.
“Oh, thank you, Madison. You’re the best friend in the world.”
“She sure is,” the young lady said. She smiled at Madison and said, “I think I have a pink and green dress over here that you might like. It’s made by the same designer as the dress you picked out for your friend.”
Two hours later, both Madison and Caressa left the store with two bags of new dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes. When Mike saw them coming out the door he leaped from the car and raced to the young ladies to assist them.
Caressa slipped her arm in Madison’s and whispered, “Thank you for the best day of my life, Madison.”
“No problem, and I hope you know this is only the beginning, girl. Only the start.”
Ava finally spotted the power couple enjoying lunch at the beach bar. Perfect timing, she thought as she whisked by the hostess and headed straight to the table in the private dining area.
“I’d been hoping I’d run into you,” Ava said, kissing a startled Sonja on the cheek.
Regaining her composure, Sonja said, “Ava, right?”
“Yes, love, and this must be the handsome man you were telling me you were lucky enough to marry. I’m Ava Middlebrooks of Palm Springs, California,” she said, extending her hand to Sonya’s husband. “You must be Dennis. What a pleasure to meet you.”