Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [38]
“Is this the audition for the video?” he asked.
“It sure is. I was just coming to look for you,” Michel said. “Come on in.”
He walked confidently toward me and took a seat at the end of the table.
“Are you the singer?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m Yancey B,” I said as I extended my hand toward him.
“Nice meeting you. Are you the Yancey Braxton who was in Dreamgirls and Chicago?” he asked.
“That would be me,” I said cheerfully. I already liked this man.
“Have you ever done a video before?” Michel asked.
“Yeah, I’ve done a few, but never as a principal. This is for a principal role, right?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” I confirmed.
“Tell me your name again,” Michel asked as he looked at the yellow legal pad on which he was making notes about the guys we interviewed.
“Bart Dunbar,” he said.
“Bart, yeah, that’s right. You had a great comp card,” Michel said.
“Thank you.”
“Bart, before we ask to see your body, I want to make sure your agent told you what the video’s about,” I said.
“He did,” Bart said quickly.
“So you don’t have a problem embracing another man?” Michel asked.
“I do it as often as I can,” Bart said as a huge smile crossed his face.
“So do you mind my asking if you’re gay?” I asked.
“No, I don’t mind, and the last time I checked I was.” Bart giggled without looking at Michel or me, like he was enjoying his own private joke. I admired his honesty, but I couldn’t help thinking, There goes another good-looking black man to the other side.
“So, Bart, do you mind standing up, taking off your shirt and dropping your pants to your knees? They did tell you to wear a swimsuit, right?” Michel inquired.
“No problem,” Bart said. He stood up and very quickly pulled his sweater over his head and dropped his pants. Bart had a great body, with a double-barreled chest, small waist and nice ass. It reminded me a lot of Basil’s body, except the skin and eyes were significantly different. Bart had serious eyes the color of warm walnuts, and he wore his hair cut close. He had on tangerine bikini swimming trunks that looked wonderful against his skin. Michel scribbled down a few notes and then looked over at me and whispered, “What do you think?”
“He works for me,” I said.
“Great,” Michel said as he looked up at Bart and said, “The job is yours if you want it. The shoot is going to take place next Thursday at a studio in Harlem.”
“Hey, thanks a lot! I’m looking forward to it, and since I live in Harlem I won’t have far to go,” Bart said as he pulled up his pants and zipped them, then grabbed his sweater off the conference table.
“Thanks for your time, and I look forward to working with you,” I said.
“Me too. My friends who are Broadway groupies aren’t going to believe I’m working with Yancey Braxton,” he said.
“Yancey B,” I corrected.
“My bad, Miss Yancey B,” he said with that smile that must melt many a young gay man’s heart.
“I’ll contact your agent and book you right away. I’ll also have a final treatment messengered to your apartment,” Michel said.
“Cool,” Bart said as he tucked his sweater into his pants and grabbed his black leather bag from the floor. He shook Michel’s hand and then looked at me and asked, “Can I have a hug?”
“Sure,” I said as I gave my new leading man a simple embrace.
Seconds …
It was a little before midnight and I was getting ready to hit the sack, when my buzzer rang. I hit the intercom, and the doorman told me Bart Dunbar was downstairs. I had done a good job of avoiding his calls for almost a week, and even contemplated changing my digits. But I realized that wouldn’t do any good, since he still had my office number.
At first I was upset that Bart would show up uninvited, but then I remembered how hot our first session had been and decided he was as welcome as a soul food delivery after a month of eating in Russia.
I quickly brushed my teeth and put on a pair of