Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [89]
“I got to, dude. People can’t fuck me over and expect me to just walk away. You know that’s not how I roll,” I said.
“Would you do it for somebody who cares a great deal for you?” Raymond said.
“Who?”
“Me.”
I thought about what Raymond had asked. The sincerity and concern in his voice were powerful, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Bart. I pictured him and Yancey celebrating as they completed each call. Finally I said, “Naw, Raymond. I know you’re right, but I can’t do it. Not even for you.”
I’m a Survivor
So, Bart, are you really going to move down here?” Yancey asked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I need to do. I really don’t have much of a choice,” I said. Yancey didn’t respond as she took a bite of the salmon omelet we both had ordered. We were having breakfast on a deck near the hotel pool. With the state of my finances, I realized the three-egg omelet with skillet potatoes and onions might be the last decent meal I was going to enjoy.
I had spent the previous evening trying to reach Ava, without success. I tried her cell phone number when I woke up, but a recording told me the number had been disconnected. Ava had pulled a fast one. I was very depressed, and I was overdrawn by $33,000. I figured I could buy a little time by not returning to New York right away. With all the criminals in New York, I didn’t think my bank was going to send the police to South Beach to get me. Besides, they couldn’t prove that I was trying to defraud the bank. I deposited the check from Ava in totally good faith. I decided to move into one of the cheap hotels on South Beach and try to find work as a waiter and model.
The only saving grace was that I had paid my Visa down to a zero balance, and the $7,500 check had cleared. After a few bites of my omelet, I looked over at Yancey and thought how wonderful her life must be. Adored by fans both male and female, she was most likely blessed with a big bank account as well.
Yancey was wearing all white, a sleeveless sweater and capri pants. Her face was beat to perfection, like she was getting ready for a photo shoot. She had her hair styled in a long sophisticated ponytail fastened with a tortoiseshell clip. Her eyes were a warm brown, with little flecks of gold and long lashes. Yancey stopped eating and looked over at me. Her smile was soft, like she was watching a newborn baby sleep. She touched the top of my hand and offered, “Cheer up, Bart. Things will work out.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” I said. “I guess I’m getting what I deserve. I did a horrible thing.”
“Are you sorry for going after this guy?” Yancey asked.
“Should I be? I mean, is he sorry for what he did to me? I doubt it. He’s probably lying up in his fabulous apartment, in his big king-size bed, with someone else,” I said. I was so mad at Ava that I had forgotten about Basil in the last twenty-four hours. I wondered why Yancey was so concerned about the feelings of his bisexual ass. Maybe she was thinking about the man who had dumped her. Maybe it was a good thing I had added a little twist to my story by telling Yancey the guy was sleeping with both Ava and me at the same time. Women hated that. Besides, now I wasn’t so certain Ava was telling me the truth about why she hated Basil so much.
“You must have really loved him,” Yancey said.
“As much as I’m capable of loving. I do think I learned something from this.”
“What’s that?”
“I think I fell for this guy, like most of the men I fall for, because I know deep in my heart they’re unattainable. These men are never going to be involved in a faithful relationship with another man no matter what. Maybe that’s why I love and hate bisexual men with such a passion. They don’t think they deserve love, and I know I don’t,” I said, suddenly wondering if my pineapple juice had some type of truth serum in it.
“Do you think Ba—I mean the guy—loved you?” Yancey asked as she coughed like she had something caught in her throat.
“Are you all