Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [6]
“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were out there having unprotected sex with some dude you met on a layover.” There was a part of me that wanted to grab her and shake her and make her tell me what all our baby-planning conversations had been about. How could she be certain the child wasn’t mine? I had used condoms when we had sex, most times. But there were several shower sessions where we had only soap and water for protection. Had Rosa been diddling with me the whole time? Was she playin’ me?
“Basil, look, I still want to see you. We can work this out,” Rosa pleaded.
“You want to see me? Well, sweetheart, you better take a good long look right now, because this is the last time you’re going to see me and this jimmie,” I said as I headed to the bathroom. I knew Rosa was smart enough not to still be sitting on my bed when I returned.
When I walked back into my bedroom after a long shower, I realized I was right about Rosa. Not only was she gone, but so were her clothes and personal items she kept at my place.
Good. I’m cool with that. I’m ripe for another ride on the rough-and-ready freeway of love. Oh, my bad. I mean, that good old freeway of lust. I’m going back to my old motto: I’m sexing everybody, and the good ones twice.
Motown’s New Diva
I overheard two women whisper, “That’s Yancey B,” as I walked into the conference room at Motown Records’ Los Angeles office and took my seat at the head of the table. Some little skinny assistant with bad skin, named Lucy or something, looked at me and said, “That’s Mr. Hudson’s chair.”
“Oh, it is? I’m sure he won’t mind,” I said as I sat down without hesitating and opened my purse for a mint. A few minutes later, Marc Hudson, a big bear of a man, walked in cheerfully and took the seat right next to me. I wanted to whisper to him that suspenders didn’t look good on big men, but I resisted.
“So you ready to rock and roll, Yancey B?” he asked with a huge smile.
“As ready as I’m going to be.” I smiled.
“Then let’s make some money,” he said as he opened his leather portfolio.
“Lucy, can you get me a notepad and some carrot juice?” I asked. She looked at me, rolled her eyes and then looked to Mr. Hudson for confirmation.
“You heard our new star, Lucy. Get this lady a pad and some juice. Let’s go over the plans.”
This was the final meeting before the official launch of my album. My first single was due to be released in a couple of days, and I was ready to meet and greet my fans. There were five other people besides Lucy and Marc sitting around the table. They all had pads of paper and held their pens nervously like anxious executives on the brink of losing their jobs if they didn’t come up with a fresh idea soon.
“Anthony, what was the feedback from the listening party?”
“Very, very positive. Everyone loved the album, and they’re all on board for the promotions,” Anthony said.
“So are we all agreed on the first single?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, everyone loved ‘Any Way the Wind Blows.’ Everyone thinks it’s going to be a big hit,” Anthony added.
“Is anyone concerned about the lyrics?” I asked.
“Great question, Yancey,” Marc said with another smile. He then turned to a plump sista who was obviously a member of the Fake Flowing Hair Club and quizzed, “Vivian, what are the radio programmers saying?”
“Well, Marc, they think it will be controversial, but it’s such a beautiful song, and Miss Yancey B delivers on the vocals. Bottom line, they think it will help … if …,” Vivian said.
“If what?” I asked.
“If you’re willing to talk about the contents of the song,” Vivian said as she looked down at her yellow pad.
Before I could answer, Marc’s strong voice boomed, “Of course she’ll talk about it. With the song and the video we plan to shoot, everyone will be talking about it.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to sell records,” I said, making eye contact with everyone at the table to let them know I meant business. Lucy came back into the conference room with