Fortune & Fame: A Novel (3 page)

Rachel swung the door open. “Hey, my—”

“Shhh,” Twyla said, motioning toward Brooklyn, who was sound asleep in her arms. “She’s knocked out.”

Thank goodness, Rachel wanted to say.

“Where’s Nia?” Rachel asked as Twyla walked in.

“I hope you don’t mind. My niece is at my house and Nia had a fit to stay, so I let her stay. I’ll bring her back in the morning.” She laid Brooklyn down on the sofa in the living room. “But this one, she’s a handful.”

Rachel laughed. “That she is.”

“Well, she’s all yours now,” Twyla said, setting her little backpack down. “I need a bottled water.”

Rachel motioned for Twyla to follow her into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, I caught your interview on
Access Hollywood
earlier. Girl, you rocked it,” Twyla said as Rachel handed her a bottle of Oasis spring water. “But umm, why were you looking straight at the camera? Weren’t you supposed to be looking at the reporter?”

“
Supposed
to, but when has Rachel Jackson Adams ever done anything she was
supposed
to do?” Rachel replied. “You know I wanted to be a reporter so I know how the game is played.”

“Then, educate me because it looked crazy.”

“Are you talking about it?” Rachel asked matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes . . .”

“I rest my case. I know how an interview is supposed to go, but the reality stars who are successful are the ones who are over the top. That’s going to be my thing. I’m going to be
Gone-With-the-Wind
fabulous. I have to be dramatic. That’s what the whole purpose of looking at the camera was. Get people buzzing.”

Twyla released a small chuckle as she sipped her water. “I should’ve known you had something up your sleeve. What did your new BFF say when you told her about the show?”

Rachel waved her comment off. “First of all, Jasmine is not and never will be my BFF. That’s reserved for you. Second, I didn’t tell her.”

Twyla’s mouth fell open. She’d never personally met Jasmine, but she knew all about her and she definitely didn’t care for her. “So, she doesn’t know?”

“She probably knows now if she was watching TV. My agent told me to keep it under wraps until we went public with the announcement.”

“So, you got an agent now?” Twyla raised an eyebrow like she was really impressed.

“I told you, I’m big time, girl. Anyone who doesn’t recognize needs to exit to the rear!” Rachel pointed over her shoulder.

“Huh?” Twyla frowned.

“I’m trying a few catchphrases.”

Twyla laughed. “You are silly. But I still think your girl is gonna blow a gasket.”

“Jasmine and I are cool now but you know, with her backstabbing history, I have to keep one eye open. Even if she tries to do right, Harriet Tubman might start planting some ideas in her head.”

“Who?”

“Mae Frances. You know I told you about Jasmine’s decrepit old friend/nanny/maid/lover, I don’t quite know what that old woman does. But she knows everybody and I don’t need her or Jasmine trying to pull any strings and get my show canceled.”

“Why would they try to get your show canceled?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Twyla shook her head. “Honey, just let me have a front-row seat when she finds out because something tells me she’s not going to take too kindly to this news.”

“I’m not worried about Jasmine,” Rachel responded. “All I have to do is keep being friendly with her. She helped me out in Chicago so she thinks we’re all buddy-buddy now. I just need to keep making her think that and we’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

“I do. I’m not trying to trip on Jasmine now. We seriously are in a much better place. As long as she stays cool, I’m cool.”

“Why do I have the feeling that she is so
not
going to stay cool?”

“Whatever. I’m the head diva in charge. I think she’s finally realized that.” Although Jasmine and Rachel talked only occasionally, Rachel thought Jasmine really had gotten over her jealousy at Lester’s winning the presidency of The American Baptist Coalition, which made Rachel the top First Lady. So, they were in a good space. And since no one was buying Jasmine’s claim of how she threw the election and let Lester win,
Jasmine had finally let that ridiculous notion go and the two of them were getting along just fine.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Twyla said, heading toward the door. “Because neither you or the ABC can stand anymore drama.”

Rachel followed her best friend out. “Oh, I’m done with the drama. This will be smooth sailing. After all, it’s my world. My rules.” She snapped her fingers. That was it. That was her catchphrase!

“I like that,” Twyla said.

“Me, too.” They hugged and said their goodbyes.

My world. My rules.
That’s what her signature phrase would be, Rachel thought as she made her way back inside.

Now that that was out of the way, Rachel was ready to get this show started and show the world the real First Lady of reality TV!

D
ivine intervention!

There was no other way to explain it. All it could be was God and His hands all up in this.

“So, I take it that’s a yes!” Melinda said.

“It’s a definite yes.” Natasia laughed. But then, she coughed.

“Are you all right?” Melinda asked.

“Yes, yes. Something caught in my throat.” She coughed again this time putting her hand over the phone, and when she found her voice, she said, “And yes to the job, too. I thought about it,” she continued, then added, “and, I prayed about it. I’m on board for
First Ladies.
Again, I have to thank you for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome. There are so few of us in this business; we have to stick together. And I’ve been a fan of yours since we met at the Emmys.”

“Well, I’m a fan of yours, too,” Natasia said, and once again raked through her memories to find one of this woman. From the moment Melinda had called her last week about being the executive producer on her new reality show, to this minute,
Natasia couldn’t ever remember meeting her. Even when she’d Googled her, Melinda’s face wasn’t familiar. But as Natasia had researched the new VP of OWN, she’d found Melinda’s accomplishments impressive, though not nearly as impressive as her own.

But with the way Melinda kept raving about her, Natasia wasn’t about to tell her new boss that she wouldn’t even be able to pick her out of a police lineup. She may not have remembered the woman before, but from this point on, she’d always remember and think of Melinda as her angel. Natasia was riding Melinda’s angel wings right back to Hosea Bush.

“So, we have a contract ready for you,” Melinda said. “I can email it to you and after you review, you can print out four copies, sign, and get it back to us.”

“That’s fine. I’ll want a couple of days to go over it with my attorney.”

“Of course. But if you can expedite this, I’d really appreciate it. Like I told you, we’re ready to begin filming within the next few weeks. So, we’ll relocate you down here to Atlanta as soon as it’s a go on both ends.”

Natasia frowned. “Atlanta? Aren’t we filming in New York?”

“No, I’m sorry, I thought I told you Atlanta. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“Uh . . . no,” Natasia stuttered, as all kinds of questions galloped through her mind. “I just thought . . . you said Jasmine Larson Bush was the First Lady on the show, correct?”

“Yes, but she’s not the only one. I just mentioned her because I knew you’d worked on her husband’s show years ago.” Melinda paused for such a long moment that Natasia wondered if there was something more behind Melinda’s wanting her on the show. When Melinda first called, she’d mentioned Jasmine’s name as if she was just an ordinary First Lady in America. But now, Natasia wondered if Melinda knew any of the dirty details that were part of Natasia and Jasmine’s history.

Melinda continued, “The show centers on Jasmine and another First Lady, Rachel Jackson Adams out of Houston.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Yes. And we’re looking for a third person, but we want someone out of Atlanta so that we won’t have the expense of relocating her. You’ll be involved in helping us choose the third one.”

“So, that’s what you’re going to do? Relocate Jasmine and her family?”

“Well, I’m not sure if she’s bringing her whole family. We have to sit down with Jasmine and Rachel to discuss that. Sometimes husbands, especially ones who are as prominent as Hosea Bush and Lester Adams, don’t want to have anything to do with these shows. But whatever, both Jasmine and Rachel will be relocated to Atlanta for the six weeks of taping. We figured that would be neutral territory.”

Natasia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her cherrywood desk. The lines in her forehead deepened. If they weren’t going to tape in New York, what would this mean? Would Hosea actually leave his church for six weeks to film a reality show? Natasia couldn’t imagine that happening. So, if he wasn’t going to be in Atlanta, how would she make contact? He was the reason she was getting involved in what she anticipated to be nothing but a hot mess. A reality show? Really? Total madness!

Maybe she could convince Melinda to tape the show in New York. She said, “I don’t get it, Melinda. Viewers surely know that Jasmine is married to Hosea Bush. And if they know that, then they know that he’s the pastor of one of the largest churches in New York. So, what’s he doing in Atlanta? How are you going to explain this to the viewers?” Even though Melinda couldn’t see her, Natasia shook her head. “That won’t work. The viewers will never believe it.”

Melinda laughed like she’d just heard a good joke. “Obviously,
you’re not a reality TV fan. The viewers don’t care where these people live or where they lived before. They don’t care if their husbands are there or not. These viewers just want the drama. And the more ratchet, the better.”

Natasia groaned inside. See? Definitely madness! There was no way that she would ever lend her name to such a show—except, she had to do this. This was the doorway she needed.

“Well, you’re right about that. I don’t watch reality TV.” Natasia paused. She hoped she hadn’t said that too emphatically, or said too much. She really wanted and needed this job.

“And that’s exactly why I want you as the EP,” Melinda said. “I want a fresh eye from someone who can bring something to the table besides drama.”

It didn’t sound like Melinda knew anything of her history with Jasmine, which was a good thing. Because those months that Natasia had worked on Hosea’s TV show had been nothing but drama.

“Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Because I’m not into drama,” Natasia said.

“No problem. I’ll handle the drama part. Your job is going to be to make sure that drama is not all that we’re about. We need some positivity because I definitely don’t want to portray the First Ladies in a
completely
bad light, even though we know there is often more drama in the pews than in the streets. But at the same time, we do want viewers to walk away, at least some nights, feeling uplifted. That alone will make our show different . . . and a success.”

“Then, that’s what we’ll do!”

“Perfect. I’m telling you, Natasia, we can ride this reality wave. Especially with Jasmine and Rachel, I can see this going on for three, six, or nine seasons.”

Natasia closed her eyes. No matter which way all of this played out for her, she wouldn’t need more than one season. She just had to figure out how she was going to use this to get
to Hosea. How was she going to get to New York, or get Hosea down to Atlanta?

“So, what I was thinking,” Melinda said, breaking into her thoughts, “is that I’d like to fly you into New York within the next few weeks before we start filming.”

New York!

Melinda continued, “I’ll be there . . . taking care of some things, and this will give us a chance to sit down and talk this show out face-to-face. Will that work?”

You have no idea,
was what Natasia said inside. Aloud, she said, “Yes, the sooner, the better.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get back to you on the exact date.” She paused for a moment. “There are some arrangements I have to make.”

After a few more thank-yous and then the final goodbye, Natasia hung up the phone, still amazed at how God had stepped in. When Melinda had first called her, Natasia had been sure that this was all about God giving her the desires of her heart. But now with New York added in, Natasia was sure that not only was God going to give her what she wanted, but He was setting it up so that it would be easy. And to think, she’d only been back to going to church on the regular for three months.

She leaned back into the soft leather of her executive chair and reflected on these past months. She thought about all that she’d been learning, the faith that she’d been building, and the prayers that she’d been sending up. God seemed to be coming through for her in every single way. And this call was the best way possible—she was going to New York; she’d get to see Hosea.

Hosea Bush. The man she hadn’t seen for more than a minute. She hadn’t seen him since he’d had her thrown off as the producer on his TV show
Bring It On,
almost seven years ago.

Natasia had had such high hopes at that time. Her desire had
been to be reunited with the man whom she’d loved like no other. Of course, when she’d finagled that position, she knew Hosea had a wife. But surely Hosea couldn’t have loved Jasmine the way he’d loved her.

In the end, though, Jasmine was still there and Natasia was the one who’d been kicked to the left.

Natasia slowly pushed herself away from the desk. Those memories, especially of the last time she’d been with Hosea, were not the ones she wanted to remember. She preferred to think about the days when she and Hosea Bush had been planning
their
wedding and
their
long life together.

That would be what she would focus on from now on. Those memories and the new images she had in her thoughts during the day and in her dreams at night. It was always the same—Hosea was always glad to see her once again. He was always thrilled to have her back in his life.