Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [28]
“’Sup, Nico,” I said as I watched Nico walk over to my desk and pick up Yancey’s empty CD case.
“Damn, dude, who is this?” Nico asked as he moved the case close to his eyes to inspect it more closely. “She kinda looks like that singer Pebbles from back in the day.”
“You don’t know who that is?”
“She looks familiar and tasty,” Nico said, as he licked his lips like he was ready to go “downtown.”
“That’s Yancey. The woman I was engaged to,” I said as I took the case out of his hand before he started to lick it. I could see I was correct in not introducing Yancey to Nico while we were dating. He wouldn’t have thought twice about trying to hit on her. Nico was both a baller and a playa hater. I had invited him to the wedding, but Nico told me he couldn’t bear to attend a ceremony celebrating a playa giving up his freedom.
“Damn, B, now I see how this honey almost got you to turn in your playa card. I bet she was pissed when you told her you wouldn’t give up your freedom.”
“It was a mutual decision. She wanted her career, and I still had some more hunney-hunting to do,” I said with a slight smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh yeah, she made me forget my bizness. Who’s the dude from CSU you just signed?”
“You talking about Daschle Thompson, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Can I get his phone number? I’m trying to sign a basketball player over there, and I want to see if Daschle knows him,” Nico said.
“Kendra has all Daschle’s information. I’ll reach out and tell him to expect your call.”
“Thanks, Buddy,” Nico said as he picked up the CD single-case and said to himself, “‘Any Way the Wind Blows.’ I’m gonna have to check Yancey B out.” When he looked back at me and saw the puzzled look on my face, he quickly said, “I mean, check out the CD. Got to support a sista who was almost like a member of the family.”
“Yancey always appreciates support from her family,” I said with a nervous grin.
• • •
Before I left the office for the evening, I got another e-mail from that crazy mofo out there trying to mess with me. I decided against blocking the messages, because I knew from the movie The Godfather that it was important to keep my enemies close. I opened the e-mail and read: Why won’t you answer my missives? I am serious. I don’t want to have to post your name and picture on brothersontheDL.com—what would your business partners and clients think of that?
I’m Ready for My Close-Up
I spent Monday in cold, sun-drenched New York, interviewing personal assistants at the Motown office near Fifty-seventh and Seventh Avenue, and looking for a director. I saw about six candidates, most of whom had worked for stars like Ashford and Simpson and Queen Latifah. The most qualified was a young lady named Nancy, who had worked for Diana Ross and Quincy Jones. She had excellent references, but there was a slight problem. Nancy looked like a model and had show business aspirations of her own. I had a rule: Never trust a beautiful woman to cover my back, especially one who carried her extra demo tapes in her purse and wore “I’m a Stank Ho” blue jeans. In light of that, I’m leaning toward this pleasingly plump sister, Amy, from the Bronx. She’s a little rough around the edges, but I think she’ll be fine for running the errands I hate, like picking up laundry and buying my toiletries. I also needed someone to help me with Windsor until she and her family decided whether or not to try and move her back home.
I had insisted that Windsor stay with me in New York until the baby arrived, but Windsor was worried about being in the way and not being able