I Know I've Been Changed (6 page)

Chapter 8

I
was still stunned over seeing Kevin this morning and had been holed up in my office all day trying to get my bearings about me.

I wondered if Aunt Ola knew; a question that was answered as soon as I checked the voice mail messages in my office.

“Raedella, it’s Mama Tee. Just letting you know your cousin Kevin done up and broke out of jail,” Mama Tee said in the message. “He robbed a bank, hurt some folks and we heard he was down your way. Lord, Ola ’bout to lose her mind. If you see that boy, you ask him what in the world is he thinking and tell him to take his butt back to that prison. Oh yeah, Shondella got promoted to manager at Jr. Food Mart and Mrs. Miller gon’ have to have her leg cut off. I told her that diabetes was gon’ get her if she didn’t take care of herself. You call me back and—” My machine cut her off. Her message actually made me smile. Not only because she just kept calling me with these crazy family updates, but I wondered if she actually thought I’d see Kevin—other than video of him running from police.

I shook my head as I deleted the message. I was contemplating whether I should call Mama Tee back when I glimpsed up to see Simone standing in my doorway. She had a hesitant look across her face.

“Yes, what is it, Simone?”

She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t know whether she should.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Actually I wasn’t. I was about to read the latest issue of
Essence
. But she didn’t need to know that. “If you have something to say, spit it out.”

“I…I was just wondering if you would take a look at my audition tape and give me some feedback,” she stammered.

So I was right on target. She did want to be on air. Probably wanted my job. I frowned up at her.

She spoke again. “It’s just, well, I respect your work and would love to, umm, get some constructive criticism on how I can improve.”

I leaned back in my chair. The girl was brave. Part of my persona as this high-powered diva was being unapproachable, yet she still felt compelled to come ask for my opinion. If she wasn’t trying to take my job, I might have some admiration for her. Might. “I don’t know, Simone. I’m really busy.”

Simone stepped into my office, a pleading look across her face. “I know that, so just whenever you get around to it, if you could maybe take a look at it…”

I sighed, making sure my irritation was evident. “Sorry, you’ll just have to ask someone else.”

Simone managed a smile. “I understand. I just thought I’d ask.” She turned to leave.

I thought about it, then stopped her just as she reached the door. Maybe I needed to see what she had. “Simone, give me the tape. I can make time. I’ll do all I can to help another sister out.” I gave her a phony smile.

Simone quickly turned around, beaming with excitement. “Oh, thank you so much! I really appreciate this.” She handed me the small Beta tape. “I won’t harass you about it, just whenever you get a chance to look at it would be good.”

“Umm-hmmm. I’ll get around to it.” I threw the tape down on my desk, then turned back to my computer, acting as if I were engrossed in my screen.

“Thank you, Rae. And I am thick-skinned. So I can take an honest assessment.”

I waved her off. Believe me, I was going to be honest. The girl had to learn the hard way that this was a cutthroat business. If down the line she ever hoped to compete with someone of my caliber, she would have to be able to endure the hard times.

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure she was gone, then I got up, walked over, and closed my door. I grabbed the tape off my desk and popped it in the outdated Beta machine in the corner of my office. I pulled up a chair, sat down, and pressed play.

“Knock, knock.”

Shereen’s voice startled me. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. I glared at her. “Most people knock, then wait for an answer before they come in.”

“I’m not most people. Whatcha doing?”

I grinned. “I’m about to watch Simone’s audition tape. You in for a good laugh?”

Shereen pulled up a chair next to me. “I’m always down for a good laugh. I didn’t know Simone wanted to be on air.”

“Don’t they all? The tape just started.” We turned our attention back to the TV. I turned up the volume. Simone was already in the middle of her first story. It was about the police department being under fire for shoddy procedures at the DNA lab. She did a stand-up—the part of the story where you see her walking and talking to tell us something about the story—and in this case, showing how a leak in the roof had allowed rain to drop on critical DNA evidence. I remember seeing the story on air. She had actually told my boss about it, but because she was just a production assistant, they gave the story to another reporter to do. I guess she put a story together herself for her tape.

The next two stories were also rehashes of stories that had aired on our news. But they were actually written better than the ones that had aired.

I stopped the tape before her last story could finish.

“Damn,” Shereen said, looking at me with her mouth open. “That heifer is good.”

I got up and turned the TV off. “She’s all right.”

“All right? Man, she’s better than half the reporters we have on air right now. I’m in awe.” Shereen was shaking her head.

“She wasn’t that good. Did you see the way her hair looked on that first report? She really needs to see a stylist to do something about those split ends.”

Shereen laughed. “All you can find negative to talk about is how she looks? Come on, you know those stories were da bomb.”

“Shereen, nobody says
da bomb
anymore.”

“I do. Anyway, it’s just a matter of time before someone snatches her up and puts her on air. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got a job in a nice-sized city real soon.”

“Please. She needs to take her little tail to Victoria, Texas, and pay some dues like the rest of us.”

Shereen’s smile faded. She got up, then walked over to my desk, plopping down in the chair in front of it. “Can I ask you something? Truthfully, why do you treat her so bad? She’s a really nice girl.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t feel like getting into this with Shereen, but she was the type that wouldn’t let up, so I decided to go ahead and be real. “Look, I know her type. Little yellow girl who thinks she can break into this business because of her looks. She’s in for a rude awakening and I’m just trying to prepare her.” I had been where Simone was, bright-eyed and ready to conquer the world. She had to be tough to make it, and believe it or not, I was really trying to toughen her up.

“But you have to admit, the girl is good,” Shereen said.

“I don’t have to admit anything. Even if she is that good, which she’s not, she doesn’t need to get a big head.”

“Like you?” Shereen smiled slyly.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Look, I used to be Simone. Cute, thought I was full of talent, and ready to take on the world. I got to Tyler and reality hit me smack dead in the face. I was the only black person working there, and those people treated me like dirt. I was nice and people ran over me left and right.”

“You don’t seem like you were ever nice.”

“Shut up and let me finish.”

Shereen shrugged.

“As I was saying, I cried myself to sleep so many nights. I turned to the only other black person in the business and she was mean to me, too. But you know what? It made me a stronger person. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“You’re doing it well.”

“Whatever.”

“It just seems to me that as people of color, we should be more supportive of one another, not fighting like crabs in a bucket,” Shereen said matter-of-factly.

“I’m no crab,” I protested.

“Hmph. If you say so.”

“That little Miss Thang has nothing that I want. She’s the one who wants my job.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure that eventually she’d like to have your job. But I doubt very seriously she wants to take your job from you right now.”

“Not that she even could.”

“Exactly. So why do you feel threatened?”

“Shereen, no offense, but you work in promotions. The news business is a different creature. I don’t feel threatened from that little wannabe. But all my life, no one has given me anything. I have had to work for everything, twice as hard. So, I’m just trying to prepare that girl for the hard days ahead.”

“Oh, so this is all about you caring for her?”

“Something like that.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you like I do.” Shereen got up and walked toward the door. “You don’t care about nobody but yourself.”

I resented that comment. And why was my so-called friend going off on me?

Shereen stopped in the doorway. “Oh, yeah, you care about me, too.” She smiled. “I don’t know why, and even though you try and act hard, I really think you care about our friendship, which is why I’m still hanging around. So, stop pouting at me for being real with you. And don’t forget, you’re going to church with me Sunday.”

“I never said anything about going to church with you Sunday.”

“Ummm, yes, you did. I told you last month I wanted you to come with me on the twenty-first because my niece was singing a solo. You promised.”

I raised my eyebrows. I remembered making that promise, I just never thought Shereen would hold me to it. She knew I seldom went to church.

“If you don’t go with me, you can forget about me being your friend,” Shereen playfully threatened. “I’m always there when you call. Maya is your biggest fan and I told her you’d be there. So do this one thing for me. Okay? Thanks, you’re a doll.” Shereen blew me a kiss, then sashayed out.

I reluctantly smiled. Shereen was my girl. Even though I didn’t agree with some of the stuff she’d said earlier, I knew she was frank. She loved me despite my faults and I couldn’t help but love her as well. If she wanted me there for her niece, I’d be there.

Chapter 9

I
studied the numbers in my checkbook register once again. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I kept coming up short $200. I eased out my calculator and tried to balance the numbers again.

Shereen leaned over toward me and hissed, “I can’t believe you’re sitting up in church balancing your checkbook.”

“What? I need to do something. This man is about to put me to sleep,” I whispered back. I knew I shouldn’t have let Shereen talk me into coming to church with her today. Even though I’d grown up in the church, I just didn’t get anything out of coming. I hadn’t regularly attended since I’d left Sweet Poke and hadn’t even set foot in a church since Easter Sunday last year. My disdain probably came from Mama Tee forcing us to go to church every time the dang doors opened.

Shereen poked me in my side and motioned for me to put the checkbook away. I reluctantly slid it back into my purse. I should just leave. Shereen’s niece Maya had already performed her solo, which was absolutely beautiful. So, I’d done what I’d promised I would do. But I knew Shereen would have a fit if I tried to leave. Besides that, we were seated right in the middle of the pew and I’d have to cross over several people to make an escape.

I sighed, leaned back, and tried to turn my attention back to the preacher. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, strikingly handsome with a salt-and-pepper beard. Shereen had told me he was a widower; his wife had recently died from a heart attack. And from the looks of the women in the pews salivating over his every word, it seemed like the Reverend Simon Jackson could have his pick of women willing to step into the first lady’s shoes.

“The problem is, God speaks to us all the time, we just don’t hear him,” Pastor Jackson said.

I leaned toward Shereen. “What’s he talking about?”

Shereen huffed. “Something you most definitely need to be hearing.”

“Anyway,” I said as I sat back and tried to focus on his sermon.

“See, if God ain’t saying something we want to hear or something we think can directly benefit us, we don’t listen to Him. Tell me, church, are you listening to God?” The reverend continued.

“Yes!” several people shouted.

“Are you really listening? With your heart? Can you hear what He’s really trying to say to you?”

“Yes!” they shouted again as the organist began playing.

I sighed in exasperation. Here we go, the dance and minstrel show.

Growing up, everybody and their mama at Greater Gethsemane back in Sweet Poke used to get the Holy Ghost. I could never understand why people had to dance and shout to give honor to God.

I tuned out all the shouting and began mentally making my checklist of things I needed to do this week.

I felt a bit of relief when I heard Pastor Jackson begin to wrap things up. It took fifteen more minutes before he finally dismissed the congregation, but when he did, I grabbed my purse and made a beeline to the door.

“The devil was hard at work on you today,” Shereen said as she caught up with me in the church lobby.

“Since when did you become a Holy Roller?” I asked.

She laughed. “Why I gotta be a Holy Roller? Because I believe in God?”

“I believe in God.”

“I can’t tell.”

“Why? Because I don’t jump up and down and shout like I’m crazy?”

“No, because you don’t act like it. When’s the last time you prayed?”

“I pray,” I said defensively.

“I mean really prayed? For something other than for Myles to act right.”

I cut my eyes at Shereen. “That was a low blow.”

“You know I keep it real with you, Rae. And as a Christian, it’s my duty to tell you when I don’t think you’re living right.”

“What? So now you’re a soldier for God’s army? Miss Sleep-with-anything-that-shows-me-attention.” I was pissed now. How dare she try to challenge me?

Shereen looked at me like she wanted to curse me out right there in the lobby of Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church. Then she slowly smiled. “Okay, you got me back ’cause that was a low blow, too.” She reached over and grabbed my hand. “Girl, you know I don’t judge you. I can’t judge you because my house is falling apart itself. I just feel like you’re not really happy, even though you try to pretend you are. And I thought that if you sought guidance from God, it would help guide you in the right direction.”

I rolled my eyes to the top of my head. Try as I might, I couldn’t stay mad at Shereen.

I was just about to say something when we were interrupted by a loud voice in the corner of the lobby.

“Why you gotta bring her here, Bobby, huh?”

I looked toward the young woman. She looked like she couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Her auburn-tinted curls framed her delicate face. She was pretty, too pretty to be standing in the church lobby acting a fool over some man.

“Oh, Lord, here she goes again,” Shereen said.

“Who is that?”

“Girl, that’s Reverend Jackson’s drama-filled daughter, Rachel. Her baby daddy married somebody else and she ain’t taking the news too well.”

“Rachel, that’s my wife and this is the church she attends,” the man responded as he picked up a little boy who was the spitting image of him.

Rachel started crying. “You’re supposed to be the man. Find another church! Do you know how much this hurts me?”

People had started to stop and stare. A handsome man in a choir robe walked over and whispered something in Rachel’s ear before taking her hand and leading her out of the lobby.

I shook my head in disgust. That would’ve been my life had I stayed in Sweet Poke. Somebody’s baby mama with no class whatsoever.

“You ready to go, or are you still mad at me?” Shereen’s voice broke my thoughts.

“I’m fine.” I followed Shereen out to her car, where we got in and rode in silence for a good ten minutes.

Shereen reached over and turned down the volume on the gospel radio station we’d been listening to. “Rae, don’t get mad because I’m asking this, but why do you seem so, I don’t know, disconnected from God?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just that you are so hard on everybody, yet you let Myles run all over you. On the outside you look like a strong black woman, but it’s like you’re miserable on the inside.” Shereen exited the freeway and pulled onto the feeder road.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She ignored my question and pulled into the Lakes at 610, a serene park on the southwest side where couples often came to talk and families came to play. Shereen parked the car and turned to me. “Now, tell me what’s really going on.”

I folded my arms and contemplated going off on Shereen, but finally decided that if she wanted the truth, I’d give it to her. “You want to know why I’m so disconnected from God, as you say? Huh? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s because I can’t for the life of me understand what kind of God allows a mother to just drop her kids off like they’re some old clothes she’s giving to Goodwill. I can’t seem to find praise for a God that will let those same children live a life of indescribable poverty.”

Shereen listened attentively. I felt empowered getting everything off my chest.

“In case you haven’t guessed, I’m talking about myself. My mother dumped me at a gas station in the middle of night and I didn’t hear from her for years. Granted, my grandmother raised me, but it was a horrible, poverty-ridden life. She struggled constantly, cleaning houses and taking care of people’s kids just to keep food on the table. My sister and I had to grow up too fast. My brother has leukemia and could die at any time. And my youngest sister, Jasmine…” I turned my head and took a deep breath before continuing. “My baby sister died a tragic death when she was just six years old. I ran as fast as I could from my life in Sweet Poke, Arkansas, and I haven’t looked back. I have had more than my share of tragedy.”

I waited for Shereen to ask me how Jasmine had died and was grateful when she didn’t.

“So, you’ll have to excuse me if I find it hard to be faithful,” I continued. Shereen still didn’t say anything. “What?” I said, turning to her.

She gave me a faint smile. “Nothing. I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “You do that, Shereen.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way home.

My conversation with Shereen was still fresh on my mind as I sat at Houston’s restaurant waiting on Myles. I knew she had some valid points about my relationship with God, but she just didn’t understand. I didn’t think she ever could.

I shook off the melancholy thoughts that had been plaguing me since Shereen dropped me off thirty minutes ago. I was here to have a good time and celebrate my Emmy nomination, which I found out about four days ago. I was up for another Emmy for best talk show host. I’d wanted to go out when I first found out about it, but of course, Myles couldn’t squeeze me into his schedule until today. Even though this celebration was late, I was determined to have a wonderful evening out with my man.

“Well, if it isn’t the second-best news anchor in town.”

I looked up at the leggy, blond-haired woman standing over me, Channel 13’s news anchor, Lorna Holliday. “Hello Lorna,” I replied, not bothering to fake a smile. “I see you’ve been going to Madonna’s hairdresser.”

Lorna patted her hair and I could tell I had hit a sore spot. “I’ll have you know, blonde is the latest fashion trend.”

“Not on black women, it’s not. But hey, I’m only an Emmy-nominated talk show host. What do I know?”

Lorna glared at me. “I see you’ve resorted to dining alone,” she smirked.

“Lorna, it looks like your daughters are waiting on you?” I pointed at the two thirty-something looking women standing off to the side waiting on her.

“Those are my sisters,” Lorna snarled.

I shrugged and quickly turned my attention back to the menu. I didn’t feel like sparring with her and she was ruining my mood. The sad part was I’d never done anything to that woman. Well, except come in and topple her from her number one spot, but that wasn’t reason enough to hate me.

Lorna didn’t bother to say goodbye as she huffed and stormed off to her table.

I glanced at my watch. Myles was now forty-five minutes late and I was officially upset. Just as I was about to call his cell phone, my phone rang.

“Baby…”

“Let me guess,” I cut Myles off, “something came up.”

“Sweetheart, please don’t be mad. I was going to try and make it to dinner in between meetings, but it’s just not working out that way.”

“Myles, this was supposed to be a celebration!” I caught Lorna looking my way, no doubt trying to be nosy.

“I know, baby. But I promise I will make it up to you. I just—”

I didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence. I snapped my cell phone closed, grabbed my purse, paid for my strawberry margarita and hightailed it out of the restaurant.