Mama Dearest (19 page)

“We should see if she’s working. I think she’d be fascinating as your assistant for the show.” He turned to me, swept up in his idea. “It would be great to see the two of you interact. It could be great television. A gay woman would be so much better than a gay man. Everybody has done that already.”

I was appalled. “I won’t have that
thing
working for me. Matter of fact, as soon as Ava brings her ass back home, I’m telling her don’t ever have that thing in my house again.”

Marcus took the tips of my hands and tickled the tops of them. “Come on, Yancey. Don’t make a rash decision. Think about what I’m saying. This could be one of the hooks we need.”

“Stop. That tickles,” I said with a light slap.

“I know.” He kissed me quickly on the lips.

I pulled back. “Marcus, please tell me you’re not serious.”

“Then I’d be lying and I told you I’d never do that.”

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. For the first time I noticed he’d brought a black bag. “What’s in the bag?”

He instantly looked uncomfortable. “Oh, nothing really, but I need to leave it here for a minute. I got a meeting when I leave you.”

“That’s cool. I will keep it for you.”

“So what about our girl Lyrical?”

“Damn, you remember her name. What is that about? So you think she could help?”

“Seriously, Yancey, I think it would be the most brilliant casting in reality television. There’s never been anyone like her. I want Jeff to meet her. If he feels the same way, then I think we got to do it.”

“Jeff won’t like her,” I protested weakly, afraid he in fact would.

“How about a deal? If he doesn’t, then I’ll drop it, but if he does, will you promise me you’ll ask her to come work for you?”

I hated this idea. Still, I was aware that I had to appear reasonable, or the show would be called off before it started. “Only if Jeff agrees, and I need to be there when he meets her or ‘him.’ Shit, you’re going to leave me alone with a thing like that? Aren’t you worried she might try to turn me out?”

He pulled me in close. “If I do my job, then that won’t ever be a problem.” S. Marcus kissed me again, this time deeper, causing me to pull him by his expensive tie toward my bedroom.

“I think it’s time for a little afternoon delight.”

Ava glided into the restaurant at the Four Seasons on 57th Street as if on air. After losing fifteen pounds, she felt light as a feather.

She stepped to the host’s podium, wearing a beautiful peach knee-length silk dress that clung to her newly visible curves. The shoulder straps were sparkling sequins that matched her diamond earrings, and a breathtaking tennis bracelet was draped on her wrist. She was clearly overdressed for the dinner crowd at the popular restaurant.

“Table for two, madam?” the host, a tall, thin man with a pencil mustache and a very bad fake French accent, asked.

“Does it look like there are two people here?” Ava said, catching an attitude because she felt the host was making a smart remark regarding her single status.

“So sorry. Obviously.” He grabbed a purple velvet-covered menu and led Ava to a table. She rejected it, saying it was close to the kitchen, and asked to see another.

When they stopped at a table Ava found acceptable, she stood motionless beside one of the chairs. He paused as if expecting her to
seat herself, but Ava nodded her head at the chair. She then cleared her voice, waiting for the host to pull the chair out for her. When he finally got the clue, she gingerly took the seat. “Thank you,” she said in a dainty voice, and then accepted the menu.

“Your waiter will be right with you, madam.” The host bowed slightly and disappeared.

The elegant golden room was dimly lit by candles that danced in the center of all the tables. Most of the parties were small, couples leaning across the white cloths, holding hands and sneaking kisses and drinking wine.

If Ava weren’t so confident, she might have felt a little self-conscious about being alone in a restaurant so obviously made for couples and powerful business moguls closing deals. But she was the new Ava, and not the old patronized one who dragged her fat, broke, tired ass out of jail four months ago. No, she was the new, fit, spectacularly made-over, not as broke Ava, and there was no way she was feeling the slightest bit of shame. She was going to have herself a nice meal, and a wonderful time by herself tonight, and if anyone glanced her way, she’d look them in the face like, “What!” then tip her glass of wine and continue eating.

Ava opened the menu, even though she didn’t need to. She had never been to this restaurant, but if the
New York Times
food critic was right, she was in for a treat. The writer had said the filet was to die for, and the prawns were so succulent they’d bring you right back to life.

The waitress, a beautiful, young, cinnamon-colored girl who reminded Ava of Yancey when she was younger, approached the table smiling. “Would you prefer sparkling water or flat tonight, ma’am?”

“Oh darling, sparkling, of course,” Ava said, raising her arm in the air so the waitress could see her expensive bracelet.

“Okay, I will get that for you. Would you like to order a drink? Maybe a glass of wine.”

“In a moment. Tell me love, do you have a tasting menu that comes with wines?”

“No, ma’am.”

Ava acted put off. “Well, you should. All the top restaurants are doing that.”

The waitress blinked in hesitation, not used to anyone criticizing this fabulous place. “Would you like to hear the specials this evening?”

“No, thank you, sweetie. I know exactly what I want. The filet, medium well, not one degree warmer, and the prawns—the biggest ones you got—with asparagus, and hold the rice. If I never eat another grain in my life, it’ll be too soon.”

The waitress laughed, writing down the order. “And to drink?”

“Wine. White. The best you’ve got. Surprise me,” Ava said. “And bring the bottle, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the waitress said, then left to place the order.

Ava made herself comfortable. When a basket of bread and butter was set before her, she simply pushed it away and took a sip of her water.

She felt a staring eye on her, and when she looked up, she noticed a man at a corner table sitting by himself. His face was so wrinkled, it resembled a road map, and his hair implants were so bad that Ava could almost see each individual hole the strand of hair was plugged into.

Ava quickly looked away, but when she glanced back, he smiled with a mouth of what looked like fake teeth and raised his wineglass.

Okay, she was hard up for money, Ava reminded herself, taking another sip of her sparkling water. But even if she were living on the street, with nothing but a loaf of white bread to last her a week, she didn’t think she would give that guy the time of day.

Ten minutes later, Ava’s wine and her meal came. The waitress happily placed it down in front of her. “Does everything look okay?”

“It looks perfect,” Ava said.

“Enjoy.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Ava surveyed every morsel on the beautiful white china with the gold band surrounding it. She didn’t know where to start, so she speared a single piece of the grilled asparagus with her fork and bit off the end. It tasted fabulous. Next was a small slice of the steak. Ava was certainly going to eat it all but maybe not tonight. She thought how the succulent beef would make the perfect addition to a salad the following day. Besides, she didn’t want to gain back an ounce of the weight she’d lost until she’d found a new husband or mate.

About fifteen minutes later, the waitress appeared and asked again if everything was to her liking.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” Ava said, starting to regret what she knew she would have to do to the sweet girl. But Ava pulled her mind off that as she took in the sweet aroma of the steak and shrimp wafting up from the plate. She was grateful that no one was sitting across from her, because her stomach growled like there was a bear inside, trying to get out.

Ava motioned for the waitress to pour a glass of wine almost to the top. She gave her knife and fork a rest, but only for a minute. She kept telling herself, Take small bites, hon. Small bites.

Twenty-five minutes later, Ava’s belly was comfortably full, and she had a buzz going. Ava was twisted quite nicely, and she smiled wide as the attractive waitress came back to check on her.

“Was everything okay?”

“Wonderful!” Ava said, smiling, composing herself in such a way that the woman could not tell she was a little pissy. “May I have the check now, please?”

“Sure,” the waitress said. She set a small leather-covered binder in front of Ava, who opened it and tried to focus her drunken
eyes on the tiny numbers on the check. When she did, she saw that she had eaten and drunk $163.54 worth of food and wine.

Ava smiled again, looking up at the waitress, who was smiling back. “I can sign this to my room, correct?” Ava asked.

“Of course,” the waitress said. “Just put your room number there, and signature there.”

Ava grabbed the pen, did as she was told, writing in the huge tip she would’ve left the woman if she were staying in that hotel and did have money. She handed the binder back to the waitress, her heart beating quickly now.

“I’ll just go run this and bring you your receipt,” the waitress said.

“Okay,” Ava said, her heart beating even faster now, already preparing to make her getaway.

Ava kept her eye on the woman. When she disappeared behind two swinging kitchen doors, Ava was up, throwing the cloth napkin out of her lap onto the floor, snatching her purse from the seat beside her and scrambling away from her table.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of the old man who had been eyeing her. He had a repulsed look on his face, like he knew what she was doing.

But Ava thought, The hell with him. If he wanted the bill paid so much, he could hobble over there on his cane and pay it himself.

Ava blew past the host, saying, “It was wonderful. I’ll see you again soon.” She didn’t wait for his reply, just looked over her shoulder, hoping she didn’t see her waitress as she pushed her way out the restaurant’s front door.

On her high heels, Ava did more than glide through the hotel lobby. She was practically jogging. If she got caught, it would be theft, and a sure violation of her parole. She would go back to jail, lose everything she had been working so hard to get.

No, she couldn’t let that happen, and she realized maybe that’s
what made this escape so exciting. Maybe even why she pulled the stunt in the first place.

Once Ava had broken through the hotel’s exit, hurried down the street, and turned the corner, she stopped and leaned against the brick wall of a jewelry store to catch her breath. Her chest heaving, her body tingling, Ava, a huge smile on her face, had to admit that was the most exciting thing she had done in quite some time.

As Madison sang in the rehearsal room for her teacher, she imagined the windows behind her were a glamorous stage and that she was performing for a huge, cheering audience. She tingled from head to toe, feeling the flow of silky-smooth sounds flowing all around her.

“Bravo, girl!” Nicole Springer-Stovall cheered. “Sing out!”

Madison hit the last notes and held them, making her voice echo off the shiny wood floor. Then, as her teacher pushed away from the piano, she took a swig of water from the bottle she’d set on the window ledge.

“Great job, Madison,” Nicole said, turning on the piano stool, pushing up the sleeves of her soft brown sweater. “I think you’re ready to start recording that CD. I plan to be the first one in line to buy it.”

Madison grinned. “Thanks, Nicole. I couldn’t have done it without your help. Now all I need is to get some songs that will be hits.”

Nicole walked over to Madison in the warm sunlight. “I’m sure you’ll have your choice of songwriters, Madison.”

A worried look twisted Madion’s face. “Thank you, but all the songs my producers have brought to me are bubble gum stuff, like what Miley Cyrus sings. My daddy always had me listening to Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder. I grew up with old-school R & B and I’d like to add youthful twists to some of the classics or something new.”

Nicole shrugged. “Like I said, you won’t have any problems.”

Madison wished she could be as confident as the wonderful woman at her side. “You know the day I first met you, I was so excited that I went home to google you. It said you were directing and teaching voice in Atlanta at Spelman College.”

Nicole gazed down at the bustling Manhattan street. Taxicab horns and screeching bus brakes punctuated the silence. “I did that for a while, but my husband, Jared, got promoted to headquarters here and suddenly the family was living in New York.” Her tone turned wistful as she added, “I loved living in Atlanta and didn’t think I’d ever live in New York again.”

Madison had found out so much about Nicole, including one piece of information that interested her very deeply. “I saw where you were in a lot of musicals besides
Dreamgirls
.”

“Yeah, I was blessed. I had a great career,” Nicole said as she took the stool near the piano again.

Madison stepped closer, resting an arm on the piano. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want your children, I mean like your daughters, to follow in your footsteps by going into show business?”

Nicole, smoothing her sleek brown skirt, shrugged. “I just want my children to be happy, Madison. I think that’s what all parents want for their kids.”

Madison looked at the floor and said with a soft, sad voice: “I wish that were true.”

Nicole saw the tears glazing the teen’s eyes. “What’s the matter, Madison? You sound sad.”

Madison wiped her eyes and hardened her voice. “No, I’m okay. Maybe I’m just a little melancholy about not really knowing my own mother, but I have the greatest dad in the world and he more than made up for my not having a mother.”

“God always equalizes things, Madison. I hope you know that,” Nicole said as she gently brushed her hand across Madison’s smooth cheek.