Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [59]
“Bart, how are you, sweetheart?” Yancey said as she gave me a peck on the cheek like we had known each other for years. I was glad I had worn my suede pants and a form-fitting beige turtleneck. I wanted to show her I knew how to dress for success.
“I’m fine, Yancey. You look great,” I said.
“Thank you. Where is everybody?” she asked as she took off her short leather jacket and looked around the studio.
“The director is back there,” I said as I pointed to a small room with light pouring out into the large, dark studio.
“Oh, Desmond’s here,” Yancey said as her eyes lit up with an I want to know you better look.
“Yep, he’s here. Doesn’t talk much, though,” I said.
“Do you think he’s on your team or mine?” Yancey asked.
“Depends which team you’re on, Miss Yancey,” I said. “Do you like boys or girls?”
“Oh, I guess you could say we’re on the same team. I like men. I don’t care how good a girl is, she ain’t getting near this,” Yancey said as she outlined her chest and hip area.
“I think he’s for you,” I said.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, the old gaydar didn’t pick up any signals, but he is a cutie,” I said.
“I like you, Bart,” Yancey said as she put her hands softly on my shoulders. “You keep me feeling like this and I might have to take you on tour with me.”
“Cool! So you’re touring?”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to wait until we drop the second single. They tried to hook me up with a male singer to tour with. But they want me to audition. And I am over that,” Yancey said.
“I heard that. Do you miss Los Angeles?”
“Child, pleeze, with all those fake-ass people? No, I don’t miss it a bit,” Yancey said.
“But I know movies have to be in your future,” I said.
“Yeah, but a lot of films are shot here in New York and in Toronto. Los Angeles has become so expensive,” Yancey said.
“What kind of roles do you want? I see you as the Sanaa Lathan/Nia Long type,” I said.
“They should see themselves as my type.” Yancey laughed. “I want the kind of roles Jennifer Lopez is getting. I hear that heifer is getting nine million dollars a film. If they want to give away that kinda money, I wish they’d give it to somebody who can act, like Angela Bassett or me.”
“Ain’t that some shit. I mean, how many awards, nominations has she gotten? When Miss Angela, Vivica, Lela and all them Waiting to Exhale girls have to beg for roles, you know the business world ain’t fair,” I said.
“I hear you. Doesn’t it just drive you crazy when everyone talks about J-Lo as a woman of color? Do you think if the studio’d considered her a woman of color she’d be doing love scenes with George Clooney?” Yancey asked.
“I feel you! Even though I think he has a little case of jungle fever,” I said with a grin.
“I’m not a bit surprised.” Yancey smiled.
“Don’t you think it’s funny that Hollywood is supposed to be so liberal, yet there ain’t never gonna be a superstar black woman actress, much less a black gay male actor?”
“I hadn’t thought about that. I guess if you’re black and gay and you’re an actor, then you better keep your mouth shut,” Yancey said.
“And trust me, there are plenty of black gay male actors. They act when they’re on the screen and when they’re off. Showing up with their fake girlfriends and wives,” I said. I was getting my dandruff up. It happened every time I thought about all the black men who were afraid to tell the truth about who they really were.
“You got any names?” Yancey said as she rubbed her hands with glee.
“I might drop a few when I get to know you better. I don’t know, though, you might be working undercover for the Enquirer or something,” I said, and laughed.
“I probably know more names than you,” Yancey said. Just as I was getting ready to see if I could pump any information out of her, my cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” I said as I flipped open my phone and moved a few yards from Yancey.
“Hello,” I said.
“Bart, this is LaVonya. I just wanted to make sure you read my column tomorrow. There will be something on