Mama Dearest (35 page)

“What are we celebrating?” Lyrical asked.

“We can celebrate everything. My return to Cali, the election, and
the fact that we don’t have to kiss Yancey Braxton’s ass anymore. So let’s get started. I want you to order two cases of champagne. Get Ruinart, which is wonderful. I need some Grey Goose, Crown Royal and Hennessy.”

“You know we can’t drink, Ava,” Lyrical warned.

“Said who?”

“It’s a part of our probation. Remember?”

“This is a private party, sweet one. Nobody will know. I want you to contact the executive chef at the Trump and ask him to come up with a menu. I want a beef dish and a fish dish. Tell him I also want an assortment of some of those desserts he’s so famous for.”

Lyrical didn’t write any of this down. Instead she eyed Ava suspiciously, wondering what all this was about. “So where are you getting the money to pay for this? Did you hit the lottery?”

“There you go with those questions,” she said airily. “I told you I was going to soon be in my rightful place in society. And this will be good for you as well, Lyrical. I’m going to hire you as my assistant and help you to get your record deal, honey. You don’t think I’ve forgotten about that?”

“But you said you’re moving to California. I’m not leaving New York,” Lyrical said.

“But of course not, love. I will just have you manage my New York affairs. Now let’s get busy,” Ava said, clapping her hands twice.

Lyrical still didn’t know what was going on, but she asked, “So when is this big shindig going to occur?”

“In forty-eight hours. I want to get to the West Coast this weekend.”

“How are we going to make it happen so fast, Ava?”

“When you have money, Lyrical, anything can happen. And I have money. Those bitches on
Housewives of Atlanta
don’t have anything on me.” A snide tone entered her voice. “Don’t you just love that show? Those poor girls actually think they have money and class.
Child, please, that shows us what Yancey’s little show would have looked like if it ever made the air. NCAA. No class at all.”

Lyrical looked surprised. “What happened to her show and why is it not going to happen?”

“It was never going to happen,” Ava informed her, patting her arm. “Yancey is delusional, honey. Like anyone would be interested in her pitiful little life.”

Now Lyrical was getting worried. She knew how much Ava hated her daughter. “Where is Yancey, Ava? You didn’t kill her, did you?”

“Didn’t have to. Yancey took care of it herself.” The lie hung in the air for just a moment, and then she said, “Now let’s get busy. I’m going into my room to compose a list of who I want to invite. We need to find a service to hand-deliver the invitations.” Lyrical was still looking at her funny. “Come on, let’s get busy, dear. Ava’s back and that’s reason to celebrate.”

Derrick walked into her dressing room where the makeup artist was applying the last touches to Madison’s face. “The director said they would be ready for you, Madison, in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Daddy. I see they made the changes you suggested.” She was holding the script in her hand but laid it on the makeup desk as she took the earplugs to her iPod out of her ears.

Abby, the makeup artist, gave Madison a quick once-over and asked, “How is that, Madison?”

Madison moved her face close to the mirror and said, “Looks perfect as always, Abby. Thanks a lot.”

The makeup artist smiled. The young star was a doll to deal with. “No problem. I will see you on the set.”

“Okay.” Madison turned for her father’s inspection.

“You do look beautiful, darling,” Derrick said.

“Thanks, Daddy. I’m so excited. Can you believe we’ve shot nine episodes?”

“And if the producers are right, looks like we’ll be shooting many
more. They are going to add a mother for you to the show. They are talking about some pretty big names, like Angela Bassett, Lynn Whit-field and Vivica Fox.”

“Wow. I like all of them. Lynn Whitfield was the mother on the
Cheetah Girls,
but that doesn’t matter.” Then she paused, her excitement replaced suddenly by a somber expression. “Daddy, don’t you think it’s kind of funny and sad at the same time?”

“What is, darling daughter?”

“That I would have to wait to have a successful television show before I could agree to get someone to be my mother.”

He quickly turned somber. He knew how hurt Madison had been at her first meeting with Yancey. “Don’t think like that, sweetheart. God never shorts you on your blessings.” He gave her cheek a light pat. “Besides, you got me. And even though I can’t take the place of a mother, I try hard to be a great dad.”

She leaned into his hand. “And you are. The best there is. I was just thinking, that’s all. Besides, whoever they pick, she won’t really be the mother of my dreams. I’ve given up on that.”

“Don’t ever give up on your dreams, Madison. Please don’t ever do that.”

“I won’t, Daddy. I got plenty of dreams left.”

“Have you decided what you want to get for dinner, and please don’t say chicken fingers.”

“Why don’t you decide? And, Daddy.”

“Yes, Madison?”

“I want to get Yancey out of jail. I saw on the
Entertainment Tonight
website that she’s been unable to make bail. I don’t know her, but somehow I feel sorry for her. I mean, I don’t owe her anything, but I feel obligated to help. It’s nothing but nasty gossip all around.”

He looked her straight in the eye. “Do you want to get her out because you feel sorry for her, or are you embarrassed by all of this publicity?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Yes. Always, Madison. You know that.”

“It’s a little bit of both. I read where she doesn’t have the money.” She had an acute moment of doubt, and added a condition. “But if we do help her, I don’t want her to know it was us.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s not that important, but also I don’t want her to think I want her in my life.”

“I don’t know if I agree with you on that, Madison, but I’ll talk to my lawyers and see what we can do. I heard her bail was half a million dollars. That’s a lot of money.”

“I know, but we can afford it. Right?”

“Yeah, Madison, and I think we only have to pay ten percent of that.”

Madison jumped out of the chair and raced over to her daddy and kissed him on the cheeks. “Thanks, Daddy. I think this is the right thing to do.”

“It is, Madison. I’m sure your mother will be real happy you did this.”

She was instantly cautious. “You mean Yancey will be happy. My mother is dead.”

“Whatever, Madison.”

On my third morning in jail I was greeted early by a prison guard. My appearances on entertainment television had earned me a private cell, which I was very happy about. I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth or washed my face when I found her standing there staring at me in disgust.

“Yancey Braxton. Collect your stuff. Someone has posted bail. Let’s go,” she ordered.

I’d heard from no one but Raymond since I’d been arrested. I had all but given up on that bastard S. Marcus, who I now realized had some hand in setting me up, and I had a strong suspicion Ava might be involved too. What I couldn’t understand was
why
anyone would set me up. That said, I couldn’t begin to guess who would post bail. I jumped from the iron cot and looked at her like she was playing some cruel joke on me.

“Are you kidding me? Who?”

“They don’t give me that kind of information, Braxton. Just get your stuff. Your lawyer is waiting on you.”

I saw this was no joke. “Oh, my God. Thank you,” I said. Basil had come through again, I thought as I looked for the prison-issue toothbrush and the bad-tasting toothpaste they issued.

“Hurry up, Braxton. I don’t have all day. You’re not the only prisoner getting sprung today.”

I didn’t want to look a wreck in front of Raymond. “Do I have time to wash my face and brush my teeth?” I asked.

“Hurry up.”

“I will,” I said as I moved over to the face bowl. Once again I tried to avoid the mirror. I knew I looked a hot mess. The first thing I was going to do when I was let out was go to the beauty shop and get my hair done and a facial. I hoped the press hadn’t been alerted and weren’t waiting outside to take snapshots of me looking my worst.

About thirty minutes later, I was given my purse, cell phone, earrings and the little money I had and released into the reception area. I was expecting to see Raymond Tyler but instead was met by Basil. He gave me a smile, one that was warm and caring, and I just lost it. Tears streaked down my face as I raced into his arms.

“Basil, thank you. I can’t thank you enough. Please take me home and get me out of this place,” I cried.

“I will, Yancey, but I didn’t do anything.”

“You got Raymond to come and see me,” I said.

“I mean besides that.”

I pulled away from him, confused. “Are you saying you didn’t put up my bail?”

“No, I didn’t. Raymond just got a call this morning saying someone had paid your bail but they wanted to remain anonymous. He’s busy in a meeting and asked if I would come down here and make sure you got home all right.”

“Maybe S. Marcus came through after all.” It suddenly occurred to me that he might have steered clear of the press in order to protect me and the show. I’m sure it killed him to do that. But this would be
his style. Could I have been wrong about him? Was somebody setting him up and I got caught in the middle? He was probably waiting at the house for me. “Let’s go,” I said.

“There’s a car waiting. Raymond said he’d come and see you later this evening.”

“Good, I can’t wait to get home.” Then a pang in my stomach reminded me of something else I had been dreaming about when I was stuck in that cell. “Can we pick up something to eat? I haven’t eaten anything in days.”

“What would you like?” Basil asked.

“I don’t care. Just as long as it’s not from this place,” I said as I grabbed Basil’s hand and led him toward the door.

When we got outside, a half dozen photographers were waiting. Basil tried to shield my face and I had on my big sunglasses, although it was an overcast day. One yelled out, “Yancey, why did you do it? Did things get so bad that you had to sell drugs to children?”

They had overstepped the boundaries and I stopped, went over to the photographer who hurled the question. I took off my glasses and looked him dead in the eye. “How dare you accuse me of something so low? I’ve never sold drugs to children or anyone else, for that matter. Let me have my day in court before you accuse me of something so classless. Do I make myself clear?”

“I was just asking you what we were told,” he explained meekly.

I was preparing myself to read him the riot act when I suddenly felt Basil pull my arm.

“Come on, Yancey, these guys aren’t worthy of your time. Why don’t I take you to my place to avoid the creeps that I’m sure are camped out at your house?”

I glanced at the reporter one last time and said, “You’re absolutely right, Basil. Just get me away from this horrible place.”

As soon as we reached Basil’s car, I made the call I needed to salvage whatever was left of my career. I called Regan Reynolds. I knew
she would be upset with me and most likely drop me as a client. She hadn’t returned my calls over the past three days or maybe she had since my voicemail was full. I also needed to call Dalton because he had left several frantic messages saying he was worried about me. There was also a sweet call from Nicole Springer that almost brought me to tears. She simply said she was praying for me and told me she had come to know my lovely daughter. Nicole didn’t have to do or say that. She really was a sweet woman and one day soon I wanted to tell her that. But right now my plate was full.

“Is Regan in? I need to speak with her urgently.”

“Who’s calling?”

“Yancey Braxton.”

The receptionist made no reply for a pregnant moment, then said, “Let me check.”

After a few minutes Regan came on the phone. She didn’t sound cold as ice, as I’d feared.

“Yancey, how are you?”

“I’m fine. I was released this morning. The whole thing was a horrendous mix-up obviously. I don’t know how I was included in it or why someone would set me up that way, but I’m in the process of clearing my name right now. I don’t know what to say, Regan. I feel awful that one of your clients has put you through this.” I added, dreading the reply, “I hope I’m still a client.”

“Yes, Yancey, I’m still representing you.” She sounded surprisingly pleasant. “I’m just glad to hear you’re okay. We can try and get the
Ugly Betty
audition changed. I know for a fact they haven’t cast it. I also got a call today from Disney for a part I think you might be right for.” That explained why I was still alive with her. I was still a bankable commodity. “But the most important thing is your well-being. So when you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you at home?”

“No, I’m staying with a friend,” I explained, reminding myself I had unfinished business with Ava, “but I’m ready to go to work whenever
you have something for me. I’m not going to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I know that I will be cleared of this mess. Until then I want to work.”

“Okay, let me make some calls and get back with you.”

“Thanks, Regan. I really appreciate you not giving up on me.”

She was all business. “I’m not doing anything that I should not be doing. Just don’t let yourself down, Yancey.”

“I won’t. Thanks, and I’ll wait for your call.”

“Bye, Yancey.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it for a second and then hit Dalton’s speed dial number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Yancey, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. How are you doing?”

“I’m back home.”

“Home? Where?”

“I’m back in Athens with my folks.”

“Have you heard from Anderson?”

“No, and I won’t because I told him if he contacted me I would file charges and I mean it!”

“Good for you.”

“So what’s gonna happen?”