Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [64]
Desmond the Delicious
Desmond, it’s just brilliant,” I said as I clapped my hands with a childlike glee. I had just finished watching for the third time the final cut of my “Any Way the Wind Blows” video.
“Yeah, we did good, didn’t we?” Desmond asked as he rubbed his chin.
“Come on. We have to celebrate,” I said as I took his hand and led him toward my dining room.
“Where are you taking me, Yancey?”
“We’re going to get some champagne. We can’t celebrate without champagne,” I said.
I took Desmond into the kitchen, and I pulled out a moderately priced bottle of champagne. I was saving the good stuff for my first platinum single or CD, whichever came first.
We then went into the bar area, where I kept my good crystal flutes. I poured two glasses of champagne, and Desmond offered a toast: “To a number-one record and video. The first of many.” Desmond then sat on the bar stool.
“Cheers,” I said with a smile, still standing and trying to decide if I should move closer.
“So you’re really pleased?”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am. I loved how you worked all my scenes and my wardrobe changes. I loved how you’d flash to the guys and then back to me! And how did you get that snow scene in? That was fabulous with the fur coat. I felt like Vanessa Williams in her ‘Save the Best for Last’ video,” I said.
“You know, almost anything can be done with computers now,” Desmond said as he took a sip of the champagne.
“I can’t wait to see it on BET, VH-1 and MTV!” I said.
“I think they’re going to start running it immediately. I mean, the song is burning up the charts. What number is it now?”
“Number seventeen with a bullet,” I said proudly.
“This video will help, but I think they should have done it a little sooner.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have had the chance of doing it here in New York and meeting—I mean working—with you,” I said. “Besides, I’m sure most record companies take their time with new artists.”
“It’s been on the real working with you. Yancey, you’re a talented and beautiful lady,” Desmond said.
“Thank you,” I said, blushing. I took another sip of my drink and gazed at Desmond, who was wearing a sweater the color of a faded blue summer sky and tan slacks. This was the first time we’d been alone, and it felt good.
“It really helps that you can act. A lot of these music divas can’t act or lip-synch, and it makes my job tough,” Desmond said.
“I am thankful for my Broadway training. I know how to show emotion, and I don’t have a problem singing live,” I said.
“I have a secret,” Desmond said as he leaned closer to me. There was something wonderfully sexy about the way Desmond smelled, like a wisp of cologne mixed with the clean fragrance of soap.
“Tell me a secret,” I said as I welcomed Desmond into my personal space.
“I’ve never been to a real Broadway show,” Desmond whispered.
“I can’t believe that! How can you be a great director if you haven’t seen a Broadway show?” I asked with a broad smile.
“Just haven’t got around to it. I will one day, maybe. I was never really interested in directing for the stage, so I spend a lot of time watching films. Both old and new.”
“Who’s your favorite director?”
“I love Orson Welles, and Boyz N the Hood was the best movie I’ve ever seen, and of course, Spike never really disappoints. I mean, have you seen Bamboozled?”
“No. Is it good?”
“Brilliant. I have the video. I’ll loan it to you. Even though I don’t know when you’ll have time to see it. I mean, it sounds like your record company is keeping you pretty busy.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But if you say it’s good, then I’ll make time. So what’s next for you?”
“You mean this evening?” he asked as a smile danced on his lips.
“No!” I said, wondering if he was thinking what I was thinking. “I was talking about the future. You plan on giving Spike and John Singleton some comp, I bet.”
“Yeah, I’m going to do features one day, but I just want to do the best work I can and not worry about the others,” Desmond said confidently.
“So how does your better half handle