Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [50]
“A lawyer? You think I could sue him?” Maybe the threat of a lawsuit could get me back in Basil’s bed, I thought.
“You did trade sexual favors for a job you didn’t get. Sure sounds like it to me. If I gave some pussy to a man who promised me a job and then he reneged, I’d be in a lawyer’s office quicker than you can say money can’t buy me love, but it can sure ease the pain,” LaVonya said, laughing.
“Fuck pain, I need some money,” I joked.
“So what do you think about bringing a suit against him? Even if it’s thrown out, I could give you plenty of ink in my column. Who knows, some Hollywood producer might come around and make you an offer for your little story,” LaVonya said with a broad smile.
“But a lawyer would cost money, and I don’t have a lot of that,” I said.
LaVonya picked up her large designer purse from the floor, pulled out a card and wrote something on the back. She passed the card to me and said, “Give this woman a call and tell her I sent you.”
“What if she asks for money before she’ll hear my case?” I asked.
LaVonya suddenly leaned in, lowered her voice and said, “Let me tell you a little back story to make sure she’ll take your case. …”
Top Forty
I was on my way inside Tower Records at Sixty-fifth and Broadway to check out the first-day placement of my CD when my cell phone rang. “Blocked I.D.” flashed across the console, but I clicked the phone on anyway.
“Hello,” I said.
“Is this Yancey B?” a female voice said.
“This is Yancey,” I said.
“Yancey, this is LaVonya, darling. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Do I know you, LaVonya?” I knew exactly who she was, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.
“Of course you do, darling. Remember? I covered your alleged wedding last year. I see you’ve bounced back in a big way. Way to go, girl,” LaVonya said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked in an annoyed tone.
“Look at you. Making the media rounds. You’re everywhere. Got a song climbing the charts, and it sounds like a tune of sweet revenge.” LaVonya laughed. “I haven’t checked lately—is your song in the top forty yet?”
“It’s number thirty-six. My album’s out today. What publication do you write for and how did you get my number?” I asked, still pretending I didn’t know who she was.
“I know you’ve read me. I write ‘Lines from LaVonya,’ and I got your number from your publicist at Motown. Sounds like they love you over there.”
“I’ve heard of you. You’re a gossip columnist, right?” I said. I was relieved LaVonya was inquiring about my song rather than Madison.
“I’m a journalist. Listen: The reason I’m calling is because a little bird told me your new song, ‘Any Way the Wind Blows,’ is about somebody famous. Could it be that fine man who left you at the altar—Oh, excuse me, darling, I’m sorry, the man you left at the altar,” LaVonya said. Her voice was so full of sister girl sarcasm, I knew LaVonya hadn’t bought my wedding-day story. Now I was really worried and figured I needed to get off the phone before I said too much.
“LaVonya, why don’t you call Austin over at Motown and set up a full interview. We can talk about the song then,” I said as I rode the escalator up to the second floor of Tower in search of my CD display.
“I don’t do full interviews, darling, unless it’s a cover story for Diva or People. I’m much too busy. Just tell me if it’s true and if the guy’s name is Basil or John,” LaVonya said.
“What did you say? I think I’m losing you,” I said as I pushed the End button on my phone.
When Trouble Calls, You Betta Listen
Basil you need to look at this,” Kendra said as she passed me a large legal-sized piece of paper.
“What is it?” I asked as I took the papers from her hand.
“It’s Daschle’s credit application,” she said, and smiled. I had promised to co-sign a loan for Daschle to get himself a car before the draft. I didn’t like to do this, especially for players who hadn’t been drafted yet, but the big boys did it, so on occasion