Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [52]
“What about your teammates?”
“What about them?”
“Were any of them going to be in your wedding party?”
“My wedding party? What wedding?”
“You are the John Basil Henderson who was going to marry Yancey Braxton, aren’t you?”
“Next question,” I said.
“If you say so. Let me get back to the Hall of Fame. Do you think it would be a sign of progress if a bisexual man were to be inducted into the Hall of Fame?”
“What?”
“What if you’re inducted into the Hall of Fame next year? Wouldn’t it say that the world of professional sports isn’t as homophobic as the media would lead us to believe?”
“Why are you asking me some bullshit like that?” The tone of my voice had switched from polite to that thin edge before I started calling people something nastier than mofo.
“You are bisexual, aren’t you?”
“What? Who is this? Are you the one sending me those annoying e-mails?”
“Just answer the question, Mr. Henderson. I have sources that tell me they’ve been involved in a long-term relationship with you. A very handsome man, I might add.”
“Bitch, this conversation is over,” I said as I slammed down the phone. I was wondering who this crazy dame was, when I thought about Yancey and her song. Had Yancey put this lady up to calling me for free publicity? How else would she know about my connection with Yancey? Maybe I needed to get Yancey on the phone right now and remind her that I still had a recording of her and Ava plotting against me and other information, which neither of them would want to reach the public. If they expected me to continue to chill with the tapes, Yancey needed to keep singing and stop talking to the press about my life.
As I picked up the phone to give Yancey a call, Kendra walked into my office and said, “I’ve got a little problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Bart Dunbar is on the line. When I told him you were out, he said he’d hold until you got back. I asked to take a message, and he said it was a very important matter and he wasn’t going to hang up no matter how long you were gone. He sounds serious,” Kendra said.
I shook my head and told Kendra, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. Why don’t you go to lunch.”
“Can I take a little extra time?” Kendra smiled.
“Don’t push it,” I said. After Kendra closed the door, I waited a few moments before I picked up the phone and said, “Bart, I told you to leave me the fuck alone!”
“Basil, I know, but I need to talk to you,” he said.
“I ain’t got time,” I said.
“It’s very important,” he said in an anxious voice.
“What is it?”
“I need to see you in person. Can I come over to your place this evening?”
“No. Anything you need to tell me, do it now. I’ve told you, nothing else is happening between you and me.”
“You might want to consider seeing me as soon as possible. I got a call from some lady asking questions about us,” Bart said.
“Us? There is no ‘us’! What lady are you talking about, and how in the fuck does anyone know ’bout you and me? Ain’t shit going on between us,” I said, suddenly wondering if Bart had anything to do with that bitch ass reporter. He was the only person who knew we’d dealt a couple of times, and since both incidents occurred at my house, there really wasn’t any proof anything had gone on. I wondered if he was taping our phone conversation now.
“There is this woman named LaVonya or something, and a friend of mine told me she’s a really powerful columnist. She told me she was doing a story on gay athletes,” Bart said.
“Then that don’t have shit to do with me,” I said. As I was preparing to hang up the phone, I thought that if I was being taped I should cover my ass so I added, “I’m sorry you didn’t get the modeling job, but I wasn’t involved in the process. My office manager and my firm are pleased with the selection.” Now let him use that tape, I thought as I hung up the phone.
Reunited
I was enjoying a glass of port, after a grueling day of interviews with Ebony, Entertainment Weekly and Honey, and it seemed all they wanted to talk about were the lyrics to “Any Way the Wind Blows.” When the