Chapter 7

Tamara

On the meter of pissivity, I was beyond my max!

"Where have you been, Maury?" I asked my agent as I walked from one end of the hotel's driveway to the other. At the first break, I'd cut out of the conference room, rushed outside of the hotel and called Maury the way I'd been calling him for the last three days. And the way I'd started calling him again this morning. "I've been trying to get in touch with you."

"I was asleep, Tam. Have you forgotten you're three hours ahead of me?"

I hadn't forgotten, but that didn't matter. He was my agent, he was supposed to take my calls even if it were four or five in the morning.

"I'm not just talking about today. I've been calling you since Monday."

"And you must've forgotten that I was away. I told you last week that I wouldn't be back in the office until Thursday."

I wanted to ask him what did his being away on a short vacation have to do with returning my calls? Surely, he had his cell phone with him. But instead of focusing on what had passed, I kept my attention on the present. "Well, we have a problem." I didn't even take a breath. "Gwen cast Donovan Dobbs as my love interest in this god-forsaken play."

"Donovan who?"

I frowned. Okay...why was Maury playing brand new? He'd been my agent since before I'd even graduated from Yale. In our final year, all kinds of agents came to the school to sign that next superstar.

You've got the look, kiddo, was what I remembered Maury saying to me. You look like Muhammad Ali's daughter, you know, the boxer, only not as muscular.

It had been a strange compliment, but one I'd taken right along with his contract. So Maury had been with me from the day I'd worn that Yale blue cap and gown for the second time. And he'd been there through my love and my loss. Through the tears that I'd shed, through the jeers that I suffered. He'd come to my townhouse too many mornings, rescuing me from drowning in my humiliation. He'd put me back together, then convinced me that the massive success I was about to achieve would leave Donovan the one in his bed crying.

"Hello?" I shouted into my cell. "Are you still asleep or something? I'm talking about Donovan, my ex-dog-of-a-boyfriend."

"Oh! That Donovan. So, he's in the play?"

"As my love interest. And I'm not happy about it so, I've been thinking about it and I want out."

"Now, Tam."

I recognized that tone, the tone a father (or what I imagined a father would sound like if I had remembered mine) who was about to chastise his young.

"Don't 'now Tam' me," I shot back.

"I'm just sayin', you have to play that whole video through. First of all, you have a contract and...."

"There has to be some grounds for breach or something. Remember, I was supposed to approve who was playing opposite me."

He kept on like I hadn't even interrupted his sentence. "Then, you need the money."

I sighed. Well, there was that fact. It wasn't like I didn't know that my bank account was dwindling with each bill that came due.

Maury changed up his tone, sounded more understanding when he said, "Plus, Gwen's production company has spent all kinds of money on advertising you as the star. You don't want that kind of a reputation. You don't want it to become known that you're willing to break a contract because of a personal issue."

This was far more of a personal issue, but Maury was right and I knew that, even before I called him. I just needed to vent, I guess and I sighed, a long release of breath that came out in a moan. Sinking onto one of the benches in front of the hotel, I bit my lip, focusing on that pain instead of the ache that throbbed in my heart.

"I know it's gotta be hard," my agent continued, "but you're a professional, one of the best in the business."

Another sigh.

"And you've already almost made it through the first week."

One more elongated sigh.

"And, I have some good news."

I didn't even bother to ask him what he was talking about because nothing he could say would pull me out of this misery.

"Diana Delaney called."

I shot straight up.

"She's considering you for her next movie."

"What?" I lept into the air, not at all concerned about my stilettos. Then, I lowered my voice when I saw a few folks turn to me with that-was-so-ghetto glances. I began pacing again. "Why didn't you tell me? What did she say? What movie? What role?"

It was only when I took a breath that Maury explained how one of the hottest new directors in the business wanted me for her new movie “Girls Night Out.”

"She's on fire right now," Maury said when he was finished talking about their discussion of me.

"I know!"

"So, this is good!"

"I know."

"And she really likes you."

"Oh, my God, I can't believe it."

"She thinks you're so strong because of what you went through...and what she had to go through, too."

Yes! I knew all about that. Everyone did.

Diana had lived out her personal drama in the tabloids, too, only hers was worse. Last year, paparazzi had climbed atop the roof of the house across the street from hers and taken zoom-lens photos of her husband and her cleaning lady going at it, not only in their home, but in their bed. After those photos had been published everywhere, it had gone down and had gotten dirty when Diana threw her husband out of their home, filed for divorce and then, her husband began giving interviews.

The interview that everyone remembered appeared in the Daily Intruder with the cover headline: My Cleaning Lady - The Best Sex I Ever Had. That headline and story became fodder of late night comedy and I couldn't even imagine Diana's pain. I had cried right along with her when she gave that one interview to Barbara Walters and said that women needed to think about the pain they caused other women.

"No wife should ever have to go through what I went through, " she'd said. "From now on, I know that I will suffer with all wives who have to live through the pain of adultery. And I will always side with the wife against any home wrecker. Even in my movies, even in my scripts, I will not support this kind of thing."

"This is her comeback movie," Maury said, though I didn't know what that meant.

Her last five films had all been not only box office smashes in this country, but they'd played and paid well internationally, too, which to this point, had been unheard of for black films.

My agent kept talking. "You know she's good friends with Angela. I think Angela put in a good word for you."

"This is amazing." There was nothing else that I needed to say.

"It is. So, I need you to put your head down and make it happen with this play."

I inhaled.

"We don't need any bad press. Don't need any rumors that you didn't fulfill your contractual obligations."

"Okay." I nodded and since he couldn't see me, that move was more for me. I could do this! I had to do this. This was my hope. This was my future.

"The only thing Diana needs to hear about you is that you're a professional and you killed it on that stage."

"So, being in one of these plays won't hurt me with her?"

"Nah," he said, "everyone understands actors working. Everyone understands actors doing whatever they have to do. She's impressed with that, especially since I told her that you're singing in the play. She said the stage is the best training and that actors never sharpen their skills by sitting around passing up roles."

"Oh, my God. This is huge. Thank you so much, Maury!"

"Just doing my job, kiddo. Always looking out for you. So you think you can make it through this now?"

"Yes, whatever I have to do. I'm gonna work this."

"Okay. Well, I'll keep you posted on how the negotiations are going."

"Whatever you have to do, Maury, make it happen because I want this role, even if I have to take a cut. Whatever!"

"You won't have to do that, but I'll do my part. I always do for you."

"Thank you, Maury. Thank you for this."

When I hung up, I had to repress a squeal. I'd heard about Girls Night Out, but never thought I'd be considered. What was being said among the circle was that the four roles were going to more established, even older stars - like Angela Bassett. Maybe Angela was going to be in the movie, too. Maybe I'd get to work with her again.

Now, I wanted to squeal and jump up and click my heels together, but what I did instead was return to the bench. As cars moved before me, and people scurried around me, I lowered my head. There were a few things I needed to say to God - one of them being an apology.

Here I was complaining, so sad and so unhappy - to be working! How many other actors (African American or not) could say that they'd had the steady work that I had? And if I had to be in one of these plays, wasn't it best to do what Diana Delaney had said and work to sharpen my craft? And wasn't it best to be doing this in a play with Gwen Tanner?

Gwen Tanner.

Diana Delaney.

Life couldn't get any better than this!

I closed my eyes. "Thank you, Lord," I whispered. Then, I opened my eyes, glanced up.

And looked right into the eyes of Donovan Dobbs.

****

"Are you okay, Tammie-Poo?"

I sighed. My day that had just been made with that news from Maury, crashed with these words from Donovan. "I was okay until you came into my life."

"Why all the hostility?" he asked in a tone that made me think he really didn't know.

Except I knew for sure that he did know. He'd been there. He knew what he'd done. But there was no way I was going to waste my breath on him. Instead, I just stared straight ahead and tried to bring back the thrill of victory that I'd been feeling just moments before.

With unsure motions that made him move like a robot, he finally sat down next to me. I was sure that he expected me to jump up and run away, which was what I'd been doing and what I should have done, but I really wanted to stay in this spot and savor for just a little while longer, the talk with Maury. Because it was that chat that was going to give me the strength I needed to make it through.

My hope was that if I remained silent, Donovan would catch the hint and leave me to my solitude. But as people scooted in and out of cars and strode in and out of the hotel, Donovan sat, though like me, he didn't say a word. For long minutes, we sat together as Atlanta life played out around us.

It was hard for me to return to the place where I was with Maury with Donovan so close to me and smelling like I remembered. Tom Ford's Tuscan Leather - the first gift I'd ever bought him. The fragrance that he promised to wear forever. I guess that was one promise he was able to keep.

I inhaled the scent of leather, jasmine, suede...and remembered.

And then, he interrupted the good parts of my memories. Made me fast-forward through all of that pain I'd had because of him and he brought me back to now when he said, "I wasn't sure if I'd ever have the chance to see you again."

I said nothing.

"That was crazy, though. I should've known that we'd meet up again. We had to. This world is so small and this industry is even smaller."

I kept my eyes on the sights of the cars rolling by and my ears on the music of a workday in downtown Atlanta. I focused my attention on all that didn't matter. I focused on everything that wasn't Donovan.

But even though I wanted to pretend he wasn't there, I still felt him, exactly the way I used to. And I felt when he turned toward me, I felt his heat. "You never took any of my calls?"

He stated that fact as a question. Like a question he wanted answered.

"I really loved you, Tammie."

This time, I had to answer, but I didn't look at him when I said, "I could tell by the way you left me just week s before our wedding."

"It wasn't because I didn't love you."

I had to swallow my response or else my words would have come out shaky. And then, he would've known that he'd gotten to me.

He said, "I loved you then, and I love you now."

I could not believe he said that. How could he? When he'd left me?

There was no need to sit in this space any longer. The place where I'd been after Maury's call was good and gone and now, I wanted to be gone from Donovan.

I stood and rushed toward the hotel's door.

"Wait!" Donovan called behind me.

I pushed through the revolving glass, but I wasn't fast enough because Donovan went inside through the side door and met me just as I took that last turn. He stood, blocking my way.

"Leave me alone," I said, hating that there were tears in my voice and now, probably in my eyes, too.

"I can't. Because I always wanted to tell you that I was sorry. I always wanted to explain what happened."

"You should've sent me a text."

He shook his head. "No, I wanted to talk to you in person."

I glared at him. "You must have forgotten that you did talk to me. You told me everything that I needed to know. You told me that you got some...chick pregnant!"

I spoke too loudly because faces began to turn and eyes began to pry. It was only because I was whipped up into this frenzy that I let Donovan take my hand and move me to the side. I needed a moment anyway. I didn't want to stumble my way through the lobby.

With a lower voice, he said, "You never gave me a chance to explain it all. It wasn't you, Tammie. It didn't have anything to do with you."

I blinked because I was in a battle with these tears that were trying to seep from my eyes.

"You know how it was with us. It was wonderful," he said. "I wanted you and I couldn't believe God felt I deserved the incredible gift He'd given me in you."

He stood so close that when I lowered my head, my forehead touched his shoulder and I stayed there. Just for a moment, I let my face rest against his chest.

"What the hell is going on?"

The voice startled me, made me look up, made me wonder who was this woman glaring at me and Donovan? But in the next second, I answered my own question. Because once my eyes cleared, I could see her. And I recognized her. From the wedding picture in the tabloids. The woman who I'd always thought was pretty in a plain-Jane type way.

There was fire in her eyes when she hissed, "What the hell is going on," again.

"Latrice, wh. . . what are you doing...back here?" Donovan stammered to his wife.

I took a step back because this was his drama, not mine. Really, I should have taken several steps back and then the fifty or so that would have taken me to the elevator and back up to the conference room. But I stayed because I was curious. I stayed because I wanted to see more and hear more from the woman who'd stolen my heart.

Donovan grabbed her arm and tried to tug her away, but his wife stood like a tree, and would not be moved.

"Answer me!" she demanded of him, though she had turned her glare to me.

I glared right back. Like I said, she was pretty, at least that was what I kind of believed before. It was hard to tell now with the severe chignon she wore and the flowered (yes, flowered) dress that fell right below her knee.

When his wife wouldn't budge, Donovan backed up. Stood next to me. "Nothing's going on, but what are you doing here?"

Now, it was Latrice who was blinking back tears and I wondered if Donovan noticed this sick effect he had on women. And then, I wondered, how in the world had Donovan left me for her? I mean, yes, she was attractive in that what-is-that-librarian-wearing-under-her-ugly-dress kind of way, but I couldn't imagine her laughing with Donovan the way I had, or cheering at football games the way Donovan and I had, or the two of them working out together - in and out of bed.

She finally answered Donovan's question. "I came here to surprise you." She sniffed a couple of times and that made me want to step away for real now. Because though I was sure she was aware that he and I were together when they hooked up (we were all over the media!), I wasn't going to do the same thing to her. No one would ever be able to brand me as that kind of woman.

But just as I began to back away, she said, "What are you doing here with her!" She pointed at me as if she was accusing me of something and I stopped, pivoted, and gave her my woman-you-better-back-up stare.

"What do you mean what am I doing here with Tammie?" he said as if he had no idea what she meant.

"Tammie? You call her Tammie?"

I folded my arms and planted my feet, settling in for the show. It was the first time in the days since we'd been here that I was glad he called me that.

"Look, Latrice, you knew she was in the play weeks ago."

Ding! Ding! Ding! Donovan had just given me proof that Gwen hadn't told me the truth about Jamal, and what I wanted to do was march right up to her and call her a liar. But after my call with Maury, that would have been the only thing that I could do. I couldn't leave this play. And I couldn't do anything about the fact that everyone, including Latrice knew what was going on before I did. Everyone knew, except for me and Maury.

"But you promised that you were only going to be around her on the stage."

That whiney voice brought my focus back to this present-drama.

"And so, what do you think this is? We rehearse in this hotel."

"You didn't look like you were rehearsing anything!"

"We were just down here talking."

Her eyes became slits. "It didn't look like you were just talking."

"I don't care what it looked like; that's all we were doing."

"Then, why is there lipstick on your shirt?"

Donovan glanced down, but from where I stood, I couldn't see what she was talking about. I replayed the moments in my mind and I guessed a bit of my lipstick had brushed against his shirt. But it couldn't have been much. I had only leaned in for a moment.

"How could you do this when you promised?" she cried.

Okay, it was definitely time for me to exit stage right. Her voice had raised and people had slowed as they passed this little trio of a show. I didn't want to be in the middle of any drama that might show up in a video on social media.

"Look, you can't come to my job trippin'," Donovan said. "I'm just working."

I turned, and then, she spat, "I'm tired of skanky heffas like you."

I stopped...again. Pivoted...again. Stared her down...again, to give her a chance to back up. "Excuse. Me?"

She may have looked like a librarian, but she didn't have the brains of one because she took a step forward. "You heard me." Then the widget had the nerve to get closer and threaten me with, "Stay away from my man or I swear you will regret it."

I'd given her a chance for this not to flip sideways. But she had mistaken my grace for weakness. So I gave her a stare that was designed to melt whatever courage she thought she had. "What you need to do is tell your man to stay away from me. Because I don't want him. At least not anymore." And then my stare, turned into a smile that I knew would piss her off. "I've been there, done that, remember? He was my man first."

This time, when I turned, I was going to keep going. Except behind me, someone grabbed me. Actually tugged and twisted my hair!

"Ahhhh!" I screamed.

I was jerked around and couldn't believe it was Latrice who had me in her grasp. How had she even reached high enough to assault me like this? But I guess jealousy gave way to super-midget strength because before I could get in a single punch, she had me on the ground, straddled me, and began pummeling me in my face.

I screamed, I punched back, and then I grabbed my own handful of hair and yanked so hard that the girl in Asia who originally owned the hair had to feel it.

"Latrice!" Donovan screamed and with a couple of tugs, pulled her off of me.

I was still on the ground when Gwen rushed over to us. "What in the world is going on here?" she asked as she reached down and pulled me up.

Behind her, a crowd had gathered with a few faces I recognized: Camille, Randy.

Ugh! I could not believe this! And I just prayed that this didn't end up trending on Twitter.

"What in the world?" Gwen said again as I straightened out my top and then fluffed my hair with my fingers.

I guess Donovan couldn't speak because he was too busy holding back his wife who was wiggling and waggling like she was still trying to do something.

"I think Donovan's wife caught Donovan and Tamara together," Camille said so matter-of-factly anyone standing there would have thought what she said was true.

I glared at her, but didn't have the chance to say anything because Latrice screamed out and co-signed that lie. "That's right, she was with my husband and I'm gonna teach this heffa a lesson."

"Donovan, get your wife under control!" Gwen barked.

He did as he was told and dragged that crazed woman, still wiggling and waggling, toward the hotel's front door. The air filled with obscenities that were way over the top for what had actually gone down between me and Donovan. It was almost like she had snapped and she was cursing out a year's worth of jump-offs.

But once Latrice and Donovan were gone, the crowd realized the show was over and they dispersed like church-goers at the end of a five-hour service.

Camille, Randy, and a couple of the other cast members lingered until Gwen barked, "Everyone get back upstairs so we can get back to work."

They all moved slowly, though I stayed in place and Gwen did, too. Once we were alone, she asked, "So what happened? She caught you and Donovan?"

"No!" I snapped. "Donovan and I weren't doing anything. I was outside talking to my agent, Donovan came outside, we walked back into the hotel together and the next thing I knew, that maniac attacked me!"

"She must have thought that something was going on."

"I don't care what she thought," I shouted and then rubbed my jaw. I couldn't believe Latrice had gotten all those shots in on me.

"Well, I'm sorry that happened, Tamara. But you're gonna have to stay away from Donovan."

I was pissed on so many levels and for so many reasons. And now, Gwen was going to get the brunt of my anger. "I don't want that man; I don't even want to be in this damn play. But like you and my agent reminded me, I have a contract. And I'm going to fulfill my contract. But if anything else happens to me, I'm walking. And I will tell the world how unsafe it is to be in one of your productions."

Then, I stomped away, sure that behind me Gwen was rolling her eyes and thinking that I was just one of those overly-dramatic actors. But I wasn't playing with this. In the four days I'd been here, I found myself in more drama than Gwen had written into her play. She didn't know about Randy, but she knew about Latrice. And if one more person came after me, I was going to break this contract, sue Gwen, and let the world know Tamara Collins didn't do ghetto-fabulous.

I wasn't worried about the opportunity in front of me. Even Diana Delaney would have to agree with that.