26
IT WAS a week after Basil’s surprise visit and Yancey was removing her stage makeup after her performance. She was about to dip her hand into the blue jar of cold cream when she heard a knock on her dressing room door. Yancey assumed it was the director coming to tell her how pleased he was with her performance, so she tightened the sash around her robe, checked herself quickly in the mirror, and said, “Come in.”
In walked Darla, her understudy, with a little girl dressed in her Sunday best, a pink and light-blue silk taffeta dress with tiny white bows around the collar. Darla still had on her costume, a black unitard from the show.
“Darla?” Yancey’s face registered complete surprise.
“Hi, Yancey. You were great tonight. I have somebody who wants to meet you,” Darla said as she pushed the little girl toward Yancey.
“And who might this be?” Yancey asked. She bent over and extended her hand toward the little girl.
“Tell her your name, sweetheart,” Darla encouraged the seemingly shy little girl with bright, liquid brown eyes.
“My name is Mollie. Can I have your autograph?” she asked softly, handing Yancey a plastic yellow book.
“Sure, Mollie. I’d love to sign your book.” Yancey took the book and looked on her vanity for the gold ink pen she loved to sign her name with.
“Are you looking for a pen? Mollie, didn’t I tell you to make sure you had a pen?” Darla asked.
“No need to worry. I have a special pen,” Yancey said, spotting it next to her sterling silver hand mirror.
With her back to both Darla and Mollie, Yancey noticed how much the two favored each other from their reflection in the mirror. Maybe Mollie was Darla’s younger sister. Yancey turned back around and asked Mollie if she wanted to sit in her chair while she signed her book.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mollie said softly.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Darla asked.
“Of course not,” Yancey said as she picked Mollie up and sat her in the chair.
“Thank you, Yancey. Mollie just loved you in the show,” Darla said.
“That’s so sweet. Is this your little sister?”
“Oh, no. Mollie is my daughter,” Darla said proudly.
Yancey looked up from the autograph book to make sure she’d heard Darla correctly. “Your daughter?”
“Yes, this is my baby.”
As Yancey scribbled her name with her standard “Love and kisses” inscription, a thousand questions raced through Yancey’s head. Darla couldn’t be more than in her early twenties and Mollie looked to be at least six years old. She wondered who kept Mollie when Darla was on the road, like most chorus performers. Where did she get the courage to continue her career while being saddled with a child?
Just as Yancey was getting ready to get answers to some of her questions there was another knock at the door. Surely this was the director, Yancey thought.
“Who is it?”
“A flower delivery for Ms. Braxton,” a booming male voice said.
Yancey smiled to herself. This was the second floral delivery she’d received from Basil, and she was happy to be marrying a man so shamelessly romantic. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a large vase filled with calla lillies so tall they covered the face of the delivery man. When he handed her the bouquet, Yancey saw the face of a man she could never forget.
Yancey drew a deep breath and tried to relax her now tense shoulders and said, “Derrick. What are you doing here?” Darla immediately noticed the distress in her voice and face, so she quickly instructed Mollie to get her autograph book so they could leave.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your party,” Derrick said while the three adults and child tried to maneuver around one another in the small dressing room.
“Derrick, this is Darla Givens and her daughter, Mollie,” Yancey said.
“Nice meeting you ladies,” Derrick said, extending his hand toward Mollie. She very sweetly placed her small hand in his.
“Thanks, Yancey. I’ll see you later,” Darla said as she placed her hands on Mollie’s shoulders and slowly pushed her toward the door. “Say ‘Thank you’ to Miss Yancey, Mollie,” she said.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome. I hope I’ll see you again,” Yancey said.
“Me too,” Mollie responded with wide eyes and a gentle smile.
After Darla and Mollie left, Yancey clicked the lock on the door and turned to face Derrick. Her emotions were like a broken strand of pearls, suddenly unleashed and scattering across the hardwood floor. She was excited to see Derrick but angry as well. How dare he show up unannounced? She was wondering why after all the years of separation, Derrick was now standing only a few inches from her. Yancey’s eyes filled with both curiosity and concern, while Derrick’s eyes had the look of glazed excitement. She looked in heavy silence at his cinnamon-brown, clean-shaven face. After a few moments, she tried to speak, but her voice cracked when she mumbled, “I can’t be—”
“Believe I’m here,” Derrick finished. “I bet I’m the last person in the world you expected to see tonight. I’m in town for a conference and I saw your name on the marquee. Can’t be but one Yancey Braxton.” Derrick then moved so close to Yancey that his breath felt like a gust of wind. And then Yancey fainted.
PART TWO
27
YANCEY’S EYES jerked open in a panic. At first she didn’t realize where she was and then she recognized Derrick sitting on the edge of the bed with a paper cup in his hand. He was reading a newspaper that lay open on the bed.
The night before, after Yancey had fainted, Derrick suggested she see a doctor immediately. Derrick even asked the stage manager, Talbert, if he could help locate a doctor. Yancey drank a couple of glasses of water and rested with a cold towel on her forehead for about an hour. She told Derrick and Talbert she would be fine with a good night’s rest. After Talbert left, Derrick insisted that he should spend the night in Yancey’s suite to make sure she was alright. Yancey was exhausted and still in shock, so she agreed to let him stay, but made it clear to Derrick that he would sleep on the sofa.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he stood up.
“I bet I look terrible,” Yancey said. She patted her hair with her hands and looked around the room for a mirror. Then she looked closely at Derrick. He looked the same as he had when he had helped her move her boxes in a rented U-Haul from the dorm when they moved into their first apartment about a mile from Howard’s campus. Derrick was tall, with a solid-looking body, like a sprinter. His coarse brown hair was trimmed to military shortness and his skin was an oatmeal brown. His features were too plain for him to be considered handsome like Basil, but he had beautiful hazel-brown eyes and a boyish vulnerability that Yancey found hard to resist.
“Do you ever think about Madison?” Derrick asked.
“Madison? Who’s Madison?” Yancey asked.
What is he
talking about,
Yancey wondered as she pulled the sheets and comforter up close to her neck as if she were covering some horrible skin problem. She sank back to enjoy the comfort of the down pillows.
“Aw, I forgot. You didn’t name her,” Derrick said.
“Derrick, you’re tripping. Didn’t name who? Who is Madison?”
There was a heavy silence in the room as Derrick reached for Yancey’s hand and rubbed it gently, then said, “Madison is our daughter.”
“Our daughter?” Yancey screamed. “What are you talking about? We gave our baby up for adoption!” Suddenly Yancey was thinking back to the day when she told Derrick she was pregnant and he had firmly said, “I’m not ready for a child. I’m not ready to get married. I want to be on my feet financially before I start a family.”
“
You
gave her up,” Derrick corrected.
Yancey leaned toward Derrick. “
We
gave her up— where were you? But tell me what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Madison,” Yancey said as she began shaking her head from side to side in disbelief.
Her mind wandered back to those college days in Washington, D.C. She had discovered she was pregnant a month after Derrick started to waver about their future. Yancey’s first reaction was to have an abortion. If she couldn’t have a life with Derrick and their child, then she’d devote herself to her career and becoming a star. When Derrick overheard Yancey talking to Ava about scheduling an abortion, he pleaded with Yancey to let him do the right thing despite his own family’s objections. Several months after accepting Derrick’s proposal, Yancey decided Derrick’s offer had more to do with his guilt than true love. When she confronted him, Derrick confirmed her suspicions. She couldn’t start off their life like that. But it was too late for an abortion, so Yancey decided the best thing for their unborn child was adoption, and broke off the engagement just weeks before she delivered the baby.
“I couldn’t give her up. She was my blood. When I went to the lawyer’s office to sign the papers, something just came over me. I don’t know if it was guilt, and even though I know I wasn’t ready to be a parent, I also knew I couldn’t just let her go out in the world without knowing who her father was. So I arranged for my sister, Jennifer, to adopt her. Jen wanted children really bad and when she approached me with the idea . . . well, it just seemed like the right thing to do. She has been a great mother.”
“Then what’s the problem? Why are you here? And why are you telling me this?”
Derrick’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and he began to cry uncontrollably for about five minutes. As he slowed his crying and rubbed his eyes with his large hands, he said, “Jennifer is dying. She can’t be Madison’s mom anymore, and Jen said Maddie needs a mom after she’s gone.”
The room fell silent again. For Yancey the silence felt suffocating, as though someone had taken a pillow and was trying to smother her. Yancey walked over to the window, opened the curtains, and looked at the hazy morning sky, the clouds struggling to cover the sun. She then closed her eyes, commanding herself to breathe deeply so that she could wake up from this living nightmare, but she could still hear Derrick’s voice.
“My sister has cancer. Breast cancer, and this is her second bout. The doctor said she probably has about three months to live. It was Jennifer’s suggestion that I contact you. At first I didn’t think it was such a good plan. But I thought, what if you want to see your daughter one day? Maybe one day when it is too late. Jennifer never married, but she is seeing a guy who loves her crazy. But he hasn’t been a father to Madison. That’s been my job. Even though I never considered it a job. She’s a joy.”
Yancey remained silent.
Derrick finally asked, “Yancey, are you alright? Do you understand what I said?” He spoke in a low, soothing voice. He walked over to the window and put his arms around Yancey’s waist. His touch seemed to release the tension in her body. After a few minutes Yancey pulled herself from Derrick’s embrace and turned around to face him.
“Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke. Please . . . please.”
“I can’t do that. Our daughter is very much a part of my life and my family. I’m here to see if you want her to be a part of yours. Are you ready to be a mother?”
“Are you out of your mind? This is as close as I have ever been to happiness. I’m getting married!” Yancey yelled as she pushed her ring finger in Derrick’s face. Her voice sounded erratic and uneven.
“Who is the lucky guy?”
Yancey wanted to slap Derrick silly. “Is this why your mother called me? Why didn’t she tell me about the child? What did you say her name was?”
“I was upset with her for calling. It wasn’t her place. And her name is Madison. Jennifer named her Madison. It fits her to a T. Would you like to see a picture of her?” Derrick asked as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“No! Don’t do that. I don’t want to see a picture of somebody I don’t know,” Yancey said.
As Derrick placed his wallet back in his pocket, he noticed the haunting look of sadness in her eyes and the large, effortless tears that were now flowing down her face. He was coming to the gut-wrenching realization that very soon, his daughter would be without a mother.
28
I WOKE UP in the middle of the night with my body soaked with sweat and my jimmie rock hard. Both of these things disturbed me deeply. I had awakened from a dream—make that nightmare. I usually don’t remember my dreams or think they mean anything, but this one was different. It was a sexual dream with Zurich and myself, doing things that required breaking the laws of gravity. The scary part of the dream was that I was really feelin’ him until Yancey stepped into the room of my dream. All I remember is her screaming “Get off him, you asshole,” and shaking her head from side to side as if she were possessed. It wasn’t clear if she was yelling at me or Zurich. It was some strange shit. Maybe Zurich was trying to tell me what might happen if I voted against making him a partner.
I decided the only thing that could take my mind off Zurich and his cucumber-size jimmie was some phone sex with my baby. I picked up the phone and dialed her number as I felt my jimmie become as limp as wet celery. But I knew once I heard her voice it would be back standing at full attention.
After a couple of rings, I asked the hotel operator for Yancey Braxton’s room as I reached over to my nightstand and pulled out my favorite lubricant. As the phone continued to ring, I put a little of the greasy substance in the palm of my hand and prepared to take my jimmie to ecstasy. All I needed was to hear the sexy, sweet voice of my angel, but instead I got a hotel recording informing me that the guest wasn’t available and to leave a message. I started to hang up, but instead I whispered in my best
I
want to knock some boots
voice, “Hey, sweet lady. This is your man. I was holding on to something here that misses you dearly. Now what am I gonna do? Where are you? Call me.” I hung up the phone and started to take matters into my own hands, literally. I imagined Yancey lying on a bed of white rose petals with a body-clinging natural-colored nightgown. Her hair was perfect, framing her beautiful face like a silk scarf, and she had a finger in her mouth, softly sucking on it as if it were some exotic delicacy. Even with this picture in my head my jimmie remained unimpressed, and for a second I thought back to my dream with Zurich, and this made me feel even more uneasy. I was through with that kinda shit.
The next morning I jumped out of bed and was heading for the shower when I had a brilliant idea. I returned to my bedroom, picked up my phone, and called my travel agent. I told her to get me on the first flight going to Las Vegas. She asked me if I could make a flight four hours later. I told her I was there. It was obvious to me that I needed something more than phone sex before I got myself into some kind of trouble I didn’t even want to think about.
I
was on my way out the door, garment bag in hand, when I heard my phone ring. My first thought was that it was Yancey calling me back, but my caller ID showed a number from my office. It had to be either Nico or Brison.
“Hello.”
“B, whassup?” Nico asked.
“On my way out the door, dude. Going to see my lady for a night or two.”
“Didn’t you just get back from Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“Now don’t tell me you ain’t got a little something stashed away here in the city for times like these,” Nico joked.
“You know my player days are over, so I’ll leave the playin’ up to you. And I know you didn’t call me to discuss my love life.”
“Naw, dude. Man, I need you on my side. I get the impression that old goody-two-shoes Brison is going to vote to let that faggot in the firm. And B, you know that’s going to hurt us. Dude, everybody in the business will be talking and laughing at us when this damn article comes out if we bring him on board. This shit has got my dander up big time,” Nico said.
“I feel you, man. But what makes you so sure he’s going to vote to bring him in?”
“Trust me, I know him. He’s family and I love him, but I don’t think he’s thinking straight. I mean, he keeps talking about all the business this dude will bring with him, but I think between the three of us, we can get his clients and then some.”
“How you figure?”
“B, I bet you cash money that his big-name clients don’t know they’re dealing with some church-goin’ fag. I think he’s just bluffing. I know if we talked to his clients and laid out what we could do for them . . . they would sign with us quicker than a crack whore minute.”
I looked at my watch and realized I needed to head toward the airport. I started to tell Nico about my conversation with Zurich and how I didn’t think he was going to come on board unless it was a unanimous vote, but then I figured I didn’t want any questions on why I was talking with him one on one.
“Maybe he will ask to take his name out of consideration,” I offered.
“Where else is he going to go? What you wanna bet them white boys have already showed his ass the door? Where else is he going to find fresh dick unless he’s patrolling the locker rooms all over the country with cards that have our company’s name on them?”
Again I started to come to Zurich’s defense. I didn’t know a lot about him, but I knew he wasn’t the type to mix business with pleasure. That sounded more like Nico and my former self.
“Dude, like I said, I feel you, but can this wait until I get back from Vegas? Ain’t nothing going to happen until we vote, and who knows, Brison might change his mind. He might realize we don’t need to take on another partner.”
“I hope you’re right, man. But if we got to have somebody gay in the firm, then let’s get some pussy-eatin’ dyke in here. At least with a bitch like that we might get a chance to watch,” Nico joked. At least it sounded as if he was joking. With Nico you could never tell.
“Dude, my car is waiting downstairs. I’ve got to bounce,” I said.
“Be safe, dude, and hit that stuff for me.”
“I’ll holler at you when I get back, Nico.”