Never Again Once More (30 page)

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Authors: Mary B. Morrison

BOOK: Never Again Once More
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“Explain what! Explain why I’m paying you thirty-five dollars an hour to waste my electricity!” The back of his hand slapped into his opposite palm repeatedly as he continued. “Occupy my space! Drink my coffee! Eat my bagels! And play games on my computer!” Darius threw his hands in the air then said, “That doesn’t require an explanation. The only thing I want to know is how your playing a sorry-ass losing hand of three-card draw,” his pointing finger landed next to her score, “solitaire made me money? Prove that and you can stay.”
The twenty-two-year-old recent college graduate, who was the same age as Darius, silently stared at Darius, then said, “But everyone in the entertainment business is on vacation except us.”
“That’s right! And you should be studying the screenplay I gave you yesterday because I specifically told you I need to hand this to my inside contact at Parapictures and give a copy to Morris Chestnut first thing Monday morning. Am I supposed to pay you and someone else to do your job? Huh? Answer me!”
Calmly she replied with a frown, “Why are you so upset? You’re the one who said your mother’s best friend Candice Morgan wrote the screenplay, so obviously Candice will select you as her agent. What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t care who wrote the damn script! Unless I secure the best deal possible before anyone else—” Darius shook his head. “You just don’t get it. You may have graduated cum laude but you sure as hell flunked basic comprehension.” He grumbled, “Damn, it’s hard to get good help.” Darius paged security from his mobile phone and said, “Escort my new employee out of my building. Immediately,” and went back upstairs into his office.
How in the hell was he going to maintain an advantage over the other nine companies that were also given a non-exclusive right to shop the hottest screenplay on the market? As much as he wanted to attend the ball, he had no choice. He had to stay home and work. Darius speed-dialed his mother’s number.
Candice and his mother had lost favor when Candice produced an unauthorized biography of his parents’ love life including all the graphic juicy details his mother had shared with her so-called best friend. That’s what his mother deserved for telling all her business to her so-called trustworthy girlfriend. Women. They all spent too much time analyzing every damn thing, talking too damn much, and complaining all the time. Maybe women were the ones responsible for fucking up the world. First Eve. Then his ex-fiancée. And of all persons, his mother.
Sighing heavily Darius answered, “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby, I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about you.” His mother whispered, “Stop, Wellington. I’m on the phone with Darius.” Returning to a normal tone, she asked, “So what time is your flight getting in?”
“Hi, son!” Wellington’s voice cheerfully resonated in the background.
Wellington Jones, although he wasn’t Darius’s biological father, was the only man man enough to raise Darius from birth until now. When Darius’s mother revealed the truth, Wellington had said, “You are my son. A very brave man stepped up to the plate and raised me as his own.” Darius recalled how Wellington had shared his adoption history. “I don’t wish this type of devastation on any person. Honestly, I’m disappointed in your mother. But God wants us to learn the importance of forgiveness. You have every right to be mad. Just don’t let your anger destroy you . . . I love you no matter what.” Darius wondered how Wellington could be so compassionate without losing his masculinity.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m not going to make it. Gotta work. Something important just came up.” Darius couldn’t dare tell his mother her life was the greatest story roaming throughout the industry, because his mother was livid with Candice while Wellington thought how wonderful it would be if another black person could join the ranks of becoming a millionaire. His dad felt there was no direct harm to them. Wellington’s only request was that Candice change the names.
“Darius, you work too hard. You just started in this business. Give it some time, honey. You’ll get the next movie deal and I bet it’ll be a more lucrative contract.”
“Mom, you don’t understand. There’s no such thing as working too hard. If I get this deal, my reputation will soar internationally. Mark my words. Darius Jones will instantly become a household name because this is a script all nationalities can relate to. Mom, somebody’s gotta be on top. There’s those who do and those who don’t. And those who don’t never come out on top. Gotta go. Gotta work. Happy New Year, Mom, and tell Dad I said the same.”
“Well, honey. If you insist. But before you go, how’s your proposal coming along?”
“Not as well as I thought. I just fired the person assigned to put together my presentation. The meeting for selection of an agent is Tuesday morning. Every interested agency is going to pitch why they should represent Candice. I have a meeting with my inside contact person at Parapictures on Monday. And if I’m lucky, Morris will show up as promised to the meeting.”
“Okay, baby. Now, I’ve got to go. Your dad is trying to—never mind. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”
“Yeah, mom. I know. Bye.”
Darius gazed at the family photo, dialed his travel agent, and arranged for Ashlee to take a flight into Los Angeles.
Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top
Stop!
Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top
How much are you willing to pay
To live another day
What are you afraid of. . . .
Money isn’t keen
It’s the realization of a dream
In the color green
Envy
Slime
Slipping
Tripping
Through time
Exchanging hands
Yours
Mine
What are you afraid of. . . .
Wishing
Wanting
Never daunting
Taunting
Your faith
Or taking a risk
Or waiting for break
To take a piss
Shit!
Piss on
Those who sing
Piss off
Those who scream
I’m living my dream!
Stop!
Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top
How much are you willing to pay
To live another day
What are you afraid of. . . .
Success
Achieving your best
Willing to live with less
In order to attain more
Are you afraid to open the door
Before you knock
Or maybe you’re content
Shoulda
Coulda
Woulda
Only if. . . .
You’d spent
Time Time Time
How much are you willing to pay
To live another day
Frivolous chatter
Doesn’t matter
Settling
Meddling
Gabbing
Back-stabbing
Shattering hope
Slippery slope
Walking a tight rope
What are you waiting for. . . .
An invite
When the time is right
Not tonight
Tomorrow
Sorrow
Today
You’ll borrow
Someone else’s
Money
Honey
Hopes
Dreams
Anything
Sign an I.O.U.
Promise to repay
In dismay
That which you haven’t earned today
Belongs to someone else
Isn’t that funny
Yesterday is gone
You’re sitting at home
On a diminishing throne
Of hopes
Dreams
Envy
Green
You scream
Money ain’t a thing!
That’s a lie
Can’t miss what you never had
Lad
Your slice of the pie
Is on someone else’s table
You’re able
But. . . .
Unwilling
What are you afraid of….
Stop!
Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top
How much are you willing to pay
To live another day
No pain
No sweat
No blood
No tears
Just fears
Who cares
What’s new
What are you really going to do
Successful people are the same as you
Living with fears too
What are you afraid of. . . .
How much are you willing to pay
Today
Or Not
Regardless
Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2002 by Mary B. Morrison The copyright for the poem “A Day I’ll Never Forget” belongs to Exavier B. Pope. All other works, including poems, are original words of Mary B. Morrison.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7317-8

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