Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [63]
“I heard the real estate market is going crazy. LaVonya said white folks are buying up everything. I might need to come up there and make a few investments myself,” Ava said in a casual voice, like two old friends talking.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Please, just don’t do anything until you hear from me?”
“I’m not making any promises to a lady with a nice voice,” I argued.
“Bart, listen to me. Wait until tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re home around ten,” Ava instructed.
“That’s my gym time,” I protested.
“Honey, if you help me with my plans … you will have enough money to build your own gym.” Ava laughed.
“I like the sound of that,” I said, letting my guard down slightly.
“Then you’ll give me at least forty-eight hours?”
“You said tomorrow morning. Now you’re saying forty-eight hours. What kind of game are you trying to run?”
“No, listen to me. Tomorrow morning is when the partnership of Ava and Bart begins. I need forty-eight hours to be able to meet my new partner face-to-face,” Ava said.
“Show me you mean business and then we’ll talk,” I said. Suddenly realizing I had already said too much, I hung up the phone.
• • •
I was enjoying a cup of coffee in my kitchen after a restless night’s sleep. I had spent the night thinking about the phone call from Ava and if she was serious or just talking smack. I got the answer a few minutes later when there was a knock at my door.
“Are you Bart Dunbar?” Aren’t all overnight delivery-men good-looking? I thought.
“Yep, I’m Bart Dunbar.”
“Sign here,” he instructed. I signed his clipboard and he handed me an envelope, which I ripped open while closing the door.
After I picked my face up off the floor, I raced to the phone and dialed Wylie’s office.
“Wylie Woolfolk’s office,” Mollie said in her perky white-girl voice.
“Hey, Mollie. Is he in?”
“Bart? Sure, let me see.” A few seconds later, Wylie picked up the phone.
“What’s up, diva?”
“Please tell me you don’t have plans this evening,” I pleaded.
“I don’t. What’s going on?”
“I want to take you to dinner. Your choice, and it can be the best restaurant in town. Jean Georges, Club 21, you name it,” I said proudly.
“Did you land some kind of Ralph Lauren campaign or something? I didn’t know you were up for major work. You keeping secrets?”
“No, it’s not a campaign. All my booker has been sending me on are video go-sees. But something wonderful happened just a few minutes ago. I opened the door, and this FedEx man had an envelope for me. I opened it and out fell a hundred crisp hundred-dollar bills. Who said there were no more fairy godmothers?” I laughed.
“Where did the money come from?”
I told Wylie about the call from Ava and how she wanted to help me with my case against Basil.
“Did she say why this was important to her? Have you met her?”
“No, but I think I will.”
“Have you told your lawyer about this?”
“No! It ain’t her business if I’m getting a little cash on the side.”
“Baby, you better be careful. You don’t really know nothing about this lady and what she really wants you to do,” Wylie advised.
“I don’t care what she wants me to do if she’s got money to throw around like this. I mean, within reason I don’t care. I think she’s some woman he fucked and left high and dry. She said it was somebody else, but I don’t believe her.”
“How did she find you?”
“Who else? Miss LaVonya.”
“Did you call LaVonya and make sure she knows this lady?”
“Wylie, what part of ‘I don’t give a shit’ don’t you understand? I’ll worry about LaVonya later. Let’s celebrate. Let me treat you for a change,” I said.
“Sounds good. I will call you in a couple of hours when my taste buds tell me where I want to go. Maybe Mollie has heard of something good and trendy,” Wylie said.
“Okay. If I’m not here, leave me a message. I’m going to buy me a DVD player and some DVDs.”
“Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Don’t worry. But I do need to make sure this money is real. If you don’t hear from me this evening, start checking the jails,” I said, and laughed.
“I will, but I’ll give you a week or two to make