Any Way the Wind Blows (17 page)

“What did you tell her? Was her name LaVonya?”

“Yes, and I guess you’ll have to read the rest in the paper,” I snapped.

“Yancey, you know that we could never get married. What I did was best for both of us. Let’s just move on with our lives.”

“I have done that. You’re the one who seems worried about the past. What’s the matter? Are you worried about a new girlfriend or a new boyfriend?”

“I’m not involved with anyone right now,” Basil said quietly. I had to admit that he looked like a little boy who’d just lost his first puppy, but I couldn’t resist delivering one more body blow.

“Can’t decide whether to eat fish or beef?” I asked sarcastically.

“Do what you gotta do. If making me feel small makes you feel better, then knock yourself out. I was just hoping that we wouldn’t have to share our past with the public,” Basil said as he put on his jacket and walked out the door.

I
guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the way Yancey treated me. After all, I had left her at the altar and beat her at her own game. What surprised me most as I hailed a taxi on Third Avenue was the touch of jealousy I felt when I thought about some other dude smashing Yancey on a regular basis. I knew somebody was hittin’ it. I just didn’t know who. Yancey could be every bit the Broadway star one moment and a sex kitten the next. One of the things I loved about her was that Yancey loved sex just as much as I did. Bart wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with me if I’d still been with Yancey. The girl knew how to make my toes curl.

Yancey still looked damn good, even though she was trying to give off the impression that my visit surprised her. She looked fabulous with her hair whipped around her face like a gust of wind had placed it there. She reminded me of Raquel Welch on the movie poster for the flick she did with Jim Brown. Yancey is forever the actress and an undeniably sexy woman, and I did love her. Once. I guess now I was
going to pay the price for falling in love with Yancey, with a large part of the public hearing the anatomy of a breakup blow by blow on the radio. Love sure can take a destructive slide when it ends, like lava from a volcano covering a bed of roses.

Maybe I should have been more forceful with Yancey rather than letting her do all the talking. I still had the master tape of Yancey and Ava scheming and plotting all sorts of stuff, and I kept copies in my safe-deposit box.

I wondered if Yancey had a change of heart about the child she’d had out of wedlock. With all the press she was receiving now, the news of a deserted child could negatively affect her career. I wondered if that bitch LaVonya knew about Yancey’s daughter.

Didn’t Yancey remember who I was? Maybe she needed to be reminded I wasn’t the only one with threatening secrets. With the right embellishment, LaVonya might be more interested in a pop star who gave up a baby than who I was sleeping with.

• • •

A
s I was checking my messages, I was reminded of my other problem. Bart, the flip side of Yancey. He left a message:
You’re going to be sorry for messing with me. Do you think you can just kick me to the curb like day old bread? I don’t think so. You did it once before and I let it slide. I’m going to get me a lawyer and I’m suing you for sexual harassment, so I hope you got a good lawyer.”

What was Bart, with his dumb ass talking about suing me for sexual harassment? Had he lost his mind? Could he be
serious? I didn’t harass him for shit. I thought about the last part of his message, about having a good lawyer.

I looked at my watch and then picked up my phone and called Raymond’s office. I needed to find out if I had any reason to worry. I’d certainly never heard of a case of a man suing another man for sexual harassment, and I didn’t want to be involved in the test case.

“Professor Tyler’s office,” a sweet-sounding voice said.

“Is he in?”

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Basil Henderson,” I said. A few moments later, Raymond was on the other line.

“How you doing? Two calls within the month. I can’t believe this.” Raymond laughed.

“You must be living right,” I said.

“What’s going on? I know you didn’t call me just ’cause you were thinking about me,” Raymond said.

“Why can’t I do something nice?”

“Come on, Basil, whatsup?”

“Got a quick legal question. Can one man sue another man for sexual harassment?”

“Sure,” Raymond said quickly and confidently

“They can?”

“Sure. Who’s suing you?”

“Who said it was me?”

“Oh, I understand. It’s a friend,” Raymond said in a knowing voice. I told him a real quick version of meeting Bart, our two-night stand, and how when he wanted to get serious I’d given him the old heave-ho.

“I don’t think he can sue you. Depends on what the
New York law is. Now, if he was working for you he might have a chance, but I don’t think you have to worry since he wasn’t an employee,” Raymond said.

“Thanks. That’s good to know,” I said as I breathed a sigh of relief.

“It doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. We live in a country where people can still file a lawsuit if they feel like they’ve been wronged. There’s no law against doing that. The courts are filled with frivolous lawsuits. If he finds a lawyer who’s willing to take his case, with or without merit, you could find yourself in court. Look, I don’t think you should worry. I got to run. I have a class to teach. Keep me posted,” Raymond said.

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Raymond.”

“No problem. Be good.”

“Always,” I mumbled before I hung up the phone.

N
ow, Mr. Dunbar, who did you say recommended me?” Gail Dennis asked as she looked over some notes from her large glass desk.

“LaVonya Young. You know, she writes the column ‘Lines from LaVonya.’ She said you were one of the best sexual-harassment attorneys in the country,” I said.

“Oh yeah, LaVonya. How could I forget her,” Gail mumbled.

“So will you take my case?” I asked. Gail remained silent as she leaned back in her chair, studying me while twisting a silver pen in her hand. She was an above-average-looking white woman. She was tiny, with reddish blond hair, high cheekbones and a prominent chin. Gail’s makeup was perfect and pale and brought attention to her piercing blue eyes.

“I don’t really do a lot of sexual-harassment cases. My notes say you’re a model and a waiter. Who do you want to sue?”

“John Basil Henderson.”

“Then why are you suing his firm, XJI?”

“Didn’t your assistant or whoever I talked to tell you?” I wanted to know why whoever I had talked with was wasting my time.

“Oh yeah, it’s all here in the notes. But I want to hear what you have to say,” Gail said.

“Let me see, where should I start?”

“Why not from the beginning.”

“Okay,” I said. Right when I was getting ready to start my story, Gail spoke again. “I’m going to tape this. Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Let’s get started.”

Instead of telling Gail what had happened, the lies began pouring out of me, as they had in my earlier conversation with Gail’s assistant.

I told Gail how I had been promised the job of being a part of XJI’s ad campaign if I serviced John Basil Henderson.

“What do you mean, service?” Gail interrupted.

I looked at Gail with a puzzled stare and said, “Suck his dick, sit on his dick. Whatever he wanted me to do.”

“So you are homosexual?”

“You would be correct with that assumption,” I said.

“So you didn’t get the job. Were you told why?”

“He gave me some bullshit excuse about how the other partners and office staff had picked someone else. This could have been my big break. You know, like Tyson getting that Ralph Lauren campaign.”

“Who’s Tyson?”

“It’s not important,” I said. I wanted to tell her how it pisses me off when white folks don’t know shit about African Americans. I had stopped watching one of my favorite shows,
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
, because white contestants didn’t know anything about us. Now I was sitting in front of someone who was displaying the same type of ignorance and I needed her help.

“Okay, go on. Wait, was this relationship you had with Mr. Henderson consensual?”

“Consensual?”

“Did you agree to have sex with him before or after he promised you the job?”

“I didn’t want to have sex with him, but things were tight and I needed the job. And it seemed that if the only way I could get it was to get on my knees, then that’s what I was going to do,” I said with bitterness in my voice.

“You know, male-on-male cases are rare and difficult. I don’t know if I’m the right person,” Gail said.

I wanted to tell Gail she was the only person. She didn’t know that LaVonya had told me a little bit about her background and why she might be interested in taking my case. Apparently Gail had been married to one of the top players in the NBA. They were one of the city’s glamorous couples, and their wedding had appeared in
Town and Country
. Gail was called out of town suddenly for a business trip, and when her flight was canceled, she returned home to find her handsome husband with not one, but two of the building staff (the doorman and an electrician) entertaining her husband in their bed. Suffice it to say, Gail was not a big fan of bisexual
men. She owed LaVonya a favor for when LaVonya had agreed not to print Gail’s story in one of her famous blind items. I’d promised LaVonya juicy details about the talented Mr. Henderson once the lawsuit was filed. I’d lied and told her Basil had given me the names of several other high-profile athletes and entertainers who swung both ways.

“I know it’s going to be tough. But men like John Basil Henderson must be stopped,” I said firmly.

“John Basil Henderson,” Gail said out loud while looking out her huge picture window. “Why does that name sound familiar? Did he play basketball?”

“I think he played football.” I was certain Gail was wondering if Basil had “hit it” with her ex. Maybe that would convince her to take the case.

“Did you play sports?”

“Powder-puff football,” I joked.

“So you know this will attract the attention of the media?” she asked. I wanted to say if we’re lucky, but instead I said, “I have truth on my side, so that’s not a problem for me.”

“Are you prepared to put me on retainer?”

“LaVonya said you might cut me a break. I mean, if you take my case,” I said.

“Let me think about this. It might be hard to sue the firm, or even Mr. Henderson. You weren’t really an employee, and it will come down to your word against his,” Gail said.

“What if I have proof?”

“Proof? What kind of proof?”

“Say I got him to admit what happened to us on tape?”

“Are you still in contact with him?”

“No, but I have his number. I know his reputation is important to him, and he might be willing to settle if he’s approached by the right person, like a high-powered attorney.”

“I don’t want to be a part of anything like that, and you might find yourself looking for an attorney to defend you against an extortion charge. I am advising you to discontinue any communication with this man. I will get back to you within twenty-four hours,” Gail said as she stood up, closed her binder and extended her thin hand. I could feel her wavering and I had to bring her back over to my side.

“We can’t let these men who call themselves ‘bi,’ continue to destroy the lives of people who are comfortable with their sexuality. Somebody has to pay,” I said as I shook her hand firmly. The sudden change in Gail’s stern demeanor gave me hope that she agreed.

I
was getting ready to head up to Harlem for a run-through of my video when my doorbell rang. I figured it was the car service, so I opened the door without looking out the peephole. This was the second mistake I’d made since I returned to New York, the first was opening the door for Basil. Now standing at the door, wrapped in fur from head to toe, was my mother, Ava Parker Middlebrooks. When I didn’t hear from her again after her phone call, I figured she would get the message that I didn’t have time for her. No such luck. A deep disappointment bubbled up in my stomach. Ava’s visit was about as welcome as an early-morning snowstorm, but at least snow eventually melted.

“Ava, what are you doing here?” I stuttered.

“You need to get a two-way pager. Everybody who’s anybody has one,” Ava said.

“What are you doing in New York?”

“I got business here. Need I remind you that I have a big investment in this little career of yours? All the money I’ve spent on singing, dancing lessons, not to mention gowns for
pageants where you always came in second. It’s payback time. I thought I’d drop in and surprise you. It’s all decided:
I’m
going to manage your career,” Ava said as she walked into my town house, removing her hat and coat and dropping them on an empty chair.

“I already have a manager, and Motown handles all my other needs,” I said.

“I’m sure whoever they got, I’m better, so just fire them,” Ava said flatly.

“I’m on my way out. I thought you were the car service,” I said, figuring it was best just to ignore Ava’s ranting.

“Car service … oh. I guess you’re back in the money,” Ava said as she sat on the sofa. She was wearing a too-tight black leather skirt and rust-colored scoop-neck blouse. Ava simply refused to dress her age.

“My record company is picking up the bills,” I said. I didn’t want Ava to think I had any extra money lying around.

“So it’s
your
record company now. Funny how I missed that announcement in the trades,” Ava said.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ava said as she patted the sofa cushion. “Come sit down. Let’s catch up.”

“I can’t talk now. I’ve got to run,” I said as I went to the door and looked out, praying that I would see a limo outside with my name in the window. When I didn’t, I went over and sat next to Ava.

“So don’t you want to know what I’ve been up to? So much has happened since that sad, sad wedding day of yours. I’ve been doing a lot of singing engagements in Spain, and I’m thinking about starting my own record company. I have an
agent who sent my demo to Hidden Beach Records—that’s Michael Jordan’s record company. I tell you, if I could get rid of all those secretaries and executive assistants and talk to Michael myself, I know I could get myself a deal. But at least with my own label I don’t have to take shit from anybody else. I think I’ll release my CD in Europe first and then bring it over here to the States. Who knows? You and I could be the first mother-and-daughter on the charts at the same time,” Ava said. She liked to fill the air with her own voice; it didn’t matter that no one cared or listened to a word she had to say.