Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [102]
“Who is that?” I finally asked after about the tenth time Wylie played the song.
“It’s Donnie McClurkin and it’s my theme song, and now it’s got to become yours. You’ve got to change, Bart. That’s the only thing that’s going to save you from possible jail time and, at the very least, expensive legal bills.”
“The song is nice and all, but how is that going to get me the money I need to give back to the bank? And they still might press charges,” I said. My body felt warm and sweat was pouring out of me and my knit shirt felt uncomfortable against my skin. I wanted to run from Wylie’s apartment and back to South Beach on foot. But it was clear Wylie wasn’t playing and I was going to have to face up to what I had done.
“If you tell the bank what happened, maybe you can turn things around.”
“They won’t listen.”
“I’ve talked with Mr. Bell at the bank, and we can work something out, but you’ve got to play by my rules. And I mean the first time I get an inkling that you’re not playing the game like decent folk, then you’re on your own, and our friendship is over,” Wylie said, sounding sympathetic but firm.
“What do I have to do?”
Wylie told me that he was willing to pay back the money to the bank, but I had to come and work for him until the money was paid back.
“What am I going to do for you?” I asked.
“Whatever I tell you, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face. The first time I hear someone at my company say something about Bart being shady, then it’s over. You’re going to treat people the way you say you want them to treat you. Am I making myself clear?”
“I hear you,” I mumbled. I felt like a child being disciplined by the school’s headmaster.
“None of that ‘I hear you’ bullshit. It’s either probation with me or a chance of probation with the state of New York after some time in the joint.”
“I’ll do what you want, and somehow I’ll make you proud.”
“I’m already proud of my life. Take that pride and save it for yourself,” Wylie said.
I didn’t answer, because I was too busy crying, wondering if I could really get up, or had I fallen down too far?
Promises, Promises
After Raymond’s visit, things in my life changed. My heart had softened, but I wasn’t soft. There was still a part of me that wanted revenge against Bart. Even though I’d promised Raymond I wouldn’t do anything stupid, I still had pangs of great anger.
Raymond and I had spent a couple of days working out and walking around Manhattan, just talking about life and what the second half might hold for the both of us. There was no sex, no kissing, just a lot of intimate moments without physical intimacy. Raymond told me he missed the East Coast and talked about some major changes in his life. When I asked him to elaborate, he turned lawyer on me and said he couldn’t talk about it until he’d worked something out with Trent, his longtime partner. He told me when everything was settled he would give me a call. While I wasn’t holding my breath, I had to admit to myself that I was looking forward to the day when I would pick up my phone and hear Raymond say he had moved back to New York. Solo.
I also found out who was sending me those nasty e-mails. Some mofo named Sean, a sportswriter from Chicago who I assumed had some dealings with Zurich Robinson, an ex-pro quarterback I tried to get with. Sean gave himself away when he sent me an email telling me to keep my clothes on when I was around somebody else’s man. Since Zurich was the only one I had given the full monty, I gave him a call. When I told him the e-mail address, he knew immediately. SWALZ-Sean will always love Zurich. Before I hung up, Zurich assured me I wouldn’t be getting any more e-mails.
I guess the most amazing thing to happen was that I actually had a very civilized and cordial meeting with Yancey. She had called and said she had something very important to tell me. At first I told her I didn’t have time, and then she pleaded, saying it would be the last time she would