Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [10]
“What bet?”
“Don’t you remember? We said whoever signed the first client of the new year would get the largest office when we move,” Brison said. Nico, our other partner, had convinced Brison that maybe we should move to a large suite of offices in the Times Square area. Rent in the area was off the hook, and sometimes I worried that we were moving a little too fast. We had already moved once in the last year to accommodate additional support staff.
“Aw, yeah. Cool,” I said as I shook my head, recalling our friendly wager.
“Is Daschle still here?”
“Yeah. He’s in my office. I think we need to get him with George real quick before old boy spends all his money before he’s drafted.” George Douglas handled the finances of most of our clients, even though a lot of them resisted his advice.
“Let me guess. He wants a car for himself. One for Mama. A car for his childhood friend, Pookie, and a car for his girl.” Brison laughed.
“You got it.”
“How long is he going to be here?”
“I can keep him for a couple of days. He’s already dropped out of school.”
“Where’s he staying?”
“I think at the Hudson.”
“Okay, I’ll place a call to George’s office and try to arrange a meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks, Brison,” I said as I headed back to my office. When I reached for the door handle, I heard Brison’s big voice call my name.
“Basil.”
“Yep,” I said as I turned around.
“Way to go. Looks like you’re going to have another bang-up year. Before you know it, we’re going to be buying up the competition.”
“And you know that,” I said with a confident smile.
• • •
When I got home from hanging out with Daschle, I was checking my e-mails when I ran across one from someone with the screen name SWALZ. The e-mail address wasn’t one I recognized, so I started to delete it, but instead I opened it and began to read: Hey Mister Sex Pro Football Star: When was the last time you kissed the boyz and made them cry? Whose heart are you holding hostage now?
So I wrote back, How are you doing, Yancey? I was wondering when I would hear from you. Glad to see you’ve joined the world of technology … Basil.
I checked a few more Web sites like the football rating service on CBS SportsLine.com. They had Daschle rated as an 9, which was great because it meant he would definitely be a number-one pick. I spent about ten minutes checking out the ratings of a couple other players I was interested in representing and was getting ready to sign off, when I decided to check my mail again. There was another e-mail from SWALZ. I clicked it open and read: Yancey? Who dat? A man or a woman? And just so you know, this is not Yancey. … But I’m watching you, heartbreaker.
I chuckled and said, “Yeah right” to myself and clicked off my computer.
Love … Peace and Yancey B
When I was a young girl growing up in Jackson, Tennessee, Soul Train was my way of learning what was going on in the rest of the world. I heard songs that weren’t played on our local radio stations. I learned the latest fashions and the newest dance steps. I dreamed of being a Soul Train dancer, moving my way down the line, causing both admiration and envy. When I dreamed of being a singer, I imagined Don Cornelius with his huge Afro interviewing me and saying, “Let’s give it up for Miss Yancey Braxton.”
That was a long time ago, so I was shocked when my manager told me I was doing the show. Not because I didn’t think I was good enough, but because I didn’t realize it was still on the air.
On my last day in Los Angeles before I left for New York, I taped two songs at the Soul Train studio. The first was the title track, “I’m Not in Love,” and then I brought the house down with a dance version of “Any Way the Wind Blows.” It was obvious from the reaction that most of the crowd knew what I was talking about. But I wanted to wave my magic wand over the rest of the crowd and tell the ladies with questionable-looking male dance partners, “Y’all not listening to this song, ladies.”
It was also a special day because I met one of my favorite television performers,