Beware of Boys (21 page)

“No, no, you won't. Whip said it's crazy dangerous, even in the daytime. He said the cops won't even go without backup because the neighborhood's so rough,” Liam protested.

Charly blew her frustration. “Listen, Liam, do you want this spinoff show or not? Because I do, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to get it. You just go build something or wait for the rest of the crew to get there.” She hung up on him, then marched out of the bedroom. She jogged down the stairs, turned a couple of corners in the house, and finally found the garage. “Voila!” she stated, finding the fuse box. With one pull of the door and one click of the main power switch, she did what Faizon couldn't: she made the partiers leave, because it was hard to party, play games, or cook without electricity.

F
aizon was no longer just Faizon—he was beautiful, she told herself. She sat in his cast chair next to Eden, watching him intently on one of the camera's screens. For a brief moment, she'd gotten so wrapped up in him that she had forgotten she'd come to the set to see M
kel, whenever he showed. Despite Faizon's early-morning partying and inability to control his friends, she respected his artistry. He switched lives in front of the cameras, becoming the character that he portrayed. Charly thought it was a great role for him because it was hard to distinguish fiction from reality. “This is great,” she whispered to Eden. “He can get an Oscar for this if he stays in character. It's like I don't even see Faizon on the set. All I see is whoever he's playing.”

Eden sat next to Charly, shaking her head, while Charly toyed with the all-access studio pass around her neck she'd been issued, and checked the time. “It's not his best, not the part. He should've won for his last film—it was more positive. Kind of like Denzel Washington back in the day. Remember he won an Oscar for being a dirty cop, but not Malcolm X or one of his other positive roles? The media never recognizes our community when we play positive parts. They only highlight thug roles.”

Charly cringed. Eden was a little accurate and a lot wrong, and her uneducated views irritated Charly. Yes, the media hadn't given their community a fair shake or the credit it deserved. All one had to do to know that was look at ratios of people on television or writers on bookstore shelves and bestseller lists or actors in movies. The lack of recognition Charly could agree with, but not the roles. She looked at her watch for the umpteenth time in ten minutes, then turned to Eden. “The Oscar isn't won based upon what
kind
of film it is, Eden. It's based upon suspension of disbelief—how well the actor plays the part. Remember when Jamie Foxx played Ray Charles, and we forgot that we were watching Jamie because we didn't see him anymore, and we only saw Ray?” Eden nodded. “Well that's why he won the Oscar. No different from the movie
Precious
.”

Eden nodded. “Okay, I get it now. I'll have to remember that the next time I see a script.” She looked at her watch. “It's almost time for them to break, Charly.” She lifted her brows, giving Charly a look of concern.

Charly nodded, wondering why Eden would be reading scripts, then shrugged. “I know. I know. I'm on it. M
kel has to show up soon,” she wished aloud. “Another thing, where is Lex's camp here? Do you have an address or can you take me there?”

Eden looked down, then shook her head. “I can't, Charly. I got a text from Lex earlier, and Faizon told me to mind my business.” She pressed her lips together. “I wish I could, but . . . you know. Work.”

“You work for him and signed a confidentiality clause, yada yada yada. I heard it before,” Charly hissed, borrowing Bobsy's yadas. “It's old. And worse, it's going to get in the way of the project. But it's cool though, if you don't want to help girls like Bobsy . . .” She left the rest hanging in the air, hoping Eden would feel some sort of guilt and spill Lex's whereabouts.

Eden just sat there looking straight ahead. “But Faizon . . .”

The bell sounded, signaling the break had come. Faizon made his way over to them with a pronounced limp and a million-dollar smile. “Well, what did you guys think? Charly? Eden? How am I doing?” he asked, his words now proper and his enunciation perfect.

Charly's brows drew together in wonder, then rose in surprise. Faizon didn't sound like himself. She'd never heard him speak so eloquently or not end his sentences with
mama
. “What happened to your leg?” she asked. “Did you hurt it after we got here, because you weren't limping earlier. And why can't Eden tell me where Lex is?”

Faizon's million-dollar smile turned trillion-dollar brilliant. “Ahh, you noticed. Huh, mama? I'm uppin' my swag. Turnin' up for the miz-oovie,” he said with a bit too much passion, making what Charly assumed he considered street lingo sound like certified Ebonics, a term she thought was stupid. He'd also ignored her question about Lex.

She rolled her eyes. “You're trying too hard with the vernacular, Faizon. No one will ever take you seriously speaking like that. Who talks that way, anyway?” she was saying when a different bell sounded. “So about Lex's camp?”

Faizon stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Charly. “Sorry, I have to run. Please hold those for me. I forgot to put them away with the rest of my things.” He waved at them both. “That bell's my cue. I have to go back now and rehearse some lines.” He nodded. “We just broke for a quick restroom break.” He pointed behind him with his thumb. “It seems not everyone around here can keep their bladders in check. Too many potty breaks!” he said, switching dialects again as he shuffled back to the set and disappeared behind a black curtain.

Charly's jaw dropped. Either L.A. was really La-La land or she'd been hearing things. Had Faizon really just said “potty”? She looked at Eden, who didn't seem the least bit fazed, and questioned her authenticity too. “You know, Eden, about you working for Lex . . . did he hire you or did the network hire you?” Charly asked, fitting more pieces of the puzzle together and putting Faizon's keys into her purse.

Eden put on her model-like smile again. “Well, it's because of Lex that I'm your chaperone, if that's what you're asking. But, really it's because of Faizon. He came up with the fabulous idea, then told Lex about it.”

“What?” Charly asked, now really confused. “Idea?”

Faizon's head popped around the black curtain. “Eden, I think you're going to be a shoo-in. I just told the producer about your part in the play. He's thinking of speaking to you. Now I have to go run lines. I had the times mixed up. I should've been here earlier.” He disappeared again.

Charly stared at her. “You're an actress? I thought you were Lex's cousin.”

Eden shrugged. “I'm an actress and a chaperone and Lex's fake cousin. I'm from his old neighborhood, and we've known each other since preschool, so his family looks out for me. Plus, I have to make money while I'm working on my craft. So, today, I'm a chaperone.”

Charly shook her head. “That means today you're essentially working for me, not Lex and not Faizon. The network's paying you; they hired you off of Lex's recommendation.” Eden nodded slightly. “So, I guess you can go back to Las Vegas or wherever then, Eden. You abandoned me, and I got lost and stuck in the desert. Then you wouldn't tell me why the show was at risk when Lex and M
kel got into it, and now you won't tell me where the camp is. As my chaperone, you're supposed to make sure I get to where I need to safely and on time.” Charly pasted on a false smile. “And while all those instances may not have fit within your title, I'm sure the network will take my side. Business is business, and you, Eden, you're fired for insubordination. Take care,” Charly said without apology or remorse or anger. She got up, and speed walked through one of the doors. She didn't know her way, but would find it. The only thing that concerned her at the moment was making a call.

“Are you with someone?” a young blond guy who looked no older than Charly asked, while looking at the all-access visitor's pass Charly's wore.

Charly nodded. “Yes, I'm here with Faizon, but I'm looking for an ex—”

“Right back there.” He pointed, cutting her off and walking away. “Second door on your left. Enter quietly because he's rehearsing lines.”

Ready to get answers about M
kel's whereabouts or where she could find him, Charly walked toward the second door. Eden refused to talk, but that wouldn't be the case with Faizon. If he couldn't handle the situation at his home, he surely wasn't ready to take her on, she decided, rushing through the rehearsal door with all her might. She dug her feet in the floor, and stuck out her hands to prevent herself from colliding with the brick wall she'd almost walked face-first into. “Oh.” She smiled, admiring the structure that wasn't a wall at all, but a life-like studio prop that was set on wheels.

“ 'Nah'mean?” Faizon said from somewhere behind the fake brick wall, pulling Charly's attention. “I ain't no window dressing, son. I was born in Kingston, raised in Queens, and I know how to get down for mine. I'm mean with these thangs. Nah'mean?” Faizon rattled one sentence after another, inflecting harder and harder.

“Good. Good. Faizon. You've perfected the nah'mean. Very authentic! Now let's try the line from the love scene. How about we go over that?” someone who Charly thought was a voice coach said.

“Sure. We can go over the love scene. I practiced that one so many times, I couldn't help but master it,” Faizon said in a voice that Charly knew had to be his true one. “Yo, mama, you got selective vision, you know that? Meaning, you only see what you wanna see. So see this: You're good for me, ma. With other women . . . it was like they were pushin' a playa outta the game; but with you . . . you're pushin' the game outta the playa. So see, you're not pushing me out, you're reelin' me in.”

“What the
what!
” Charly said, way louder than she'd planned. “Really? Almost word for word too.”

“Charly, is that you?” Faizon's voice called out. “One second,” he said to the coach.

She heard the scraping of a chair being dragged across the floor, followed by footsteps and other clanking noises. The brick wall rolled to the side, and Faizon appeared, wearing a proud grin. “So, you like it, mama? Don't ya?” he said, snapping his fingers like he'd just thought of something.

Her eyes were surely going to pop out of her skull, Charly thought. She could feel them protrude just like she felt her nostrils expand and her fists ball. She borrowed M
kel's philosophy.
Control. Control the situation more than you let the situation control you.
“You're
tion more than you let the situation control you
. “You're serious, huh?” she asked Faizon. “So this whole time I've known you, every conversation we've had . . . it was all a joke? Just like Eden being a chaperone? That's your idea of acting?”