Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [49]
“Come on now, Wylie. I didn’t say that. Besides, I need her to do something for me, and I’m going to do something for her,” I said.
“So how did your fitting go?”
“Wylie, you’re trying to change the subject. Give me the damn number.”
“I don’t have it. My assistant, Mollie, is downloading some information into my Palm Pilot,” Wylie said.
“You should know her number by heart.”
“I don’t.”
“Wylie, you’re my friend, right?” I didn’t know why Wylie was tripping, but I knew questioning our friendship could get him back on track.
“Bart, why would you doubt that? Of course I’m your friend.”
“Then either give me LaVonya’s home number, or you call her and tell her I want to take her out for drinks this evening.”
“I’ll have Mollie call you in five minutes with the information,” Wylie said.
“Thanks.”
“Bart, I’m beginning to worry about you. This guy might change his mind and give you another chance if you don’t go off and do something stupid.”
“You have a point there. But I’ve got to put a plan in place to make sure he knows he can’t treat me like shit. Not unless he’s willing to put up with Nightmare from Faggot Hell, the movie, live and in person.”
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Wylie pleaded.
“I’m always careful and correct,” I said as I hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom.
• • •
I rushed to open the door of the Saloon restaurant, across the street from Lincoln Center. It was freezing cold, hinting that winter was going to stick around for a while. When I walked into the small annex of the restaurant, I saw LaVonya Young sitting on a bar stool.
I took off my coat and went over to LaVonya and gave her a hug and a kiss.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” I said.
“No problem, boo. Whenever someone calls me and tells me he’s got a story about sex and a famous man, I’m there,” LaVonya said as she patted the empty bar stool next to her. “Here, have a seat.”
“What are you drinking?” I asked LaVonya, as I took the stool next to her.
“Cappuccino. Ain’t nothing like it in the winter,” LaVonya said as she took another sip.
“Let me have what the lady is having,” I said to a female bartender as I pointed to LaVonya’s mug.
“So tell me,” LaVonya said as she pulled out a narrow white tablet. I began to tell LaVonya my version: I met Basil, and after seducing me, he sent me out to pasture without the promise of a job, love or steady sex. LaVonya listened intently, and every now and then jotted down a few notes. When I stopped talking to take a sip of my cappuccino, LaVonya said, “Sounds like he spit you out like stale bubble gum.”
LaVonya was a large woman with exquisite features and thoughtful brown eyes. She had a messy head of her own hair, plus a little weave. It was a little bit blond, brown and red, and the colors were slammed against each other. Her skin was pear brown, and LaVonya glowed like she had just been polished with some type of butter. She was wearing an expensive, snug, black gabardine suit with gold buttons and lots of jewelry. I couldn’t tell if it was from Tiffany’s or QVC.
After I finished my story, LaVonya looked at me and said, “You know, I’m going to have to get Mr. Henderson’s version of the story. Is he out as a gay or bisexual man?”
“I don’t think so, and I doubt if he’ll tell you the truth or even talk to you,” I said.
“Oh, he’ll talk to me. Especially when I point out there is no future in frontin’. I couldn’t wait to find out who you were talking about when you called, so I made Wylie tell me. I did a little research before I came to meet you, and Mr. Henderson was nominated for the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He didn’t get in, but he’ll be back up next year. He’ll talk to anyone from the media who will get his name out there, and that includes a gossip columnist like me,” LaVonya said.
“Before you speak with him, are you going to run one of your famous blind items?”
“I might do that,” she said as she paused to take a sip of her drink. “So Mr. Henderson worked you over and still didn’t give you the job that you went there for. Sounds like