Chapter 12

Tamara

The four thousand people were on their feet and the seven of us bowed together. Then, we stepped back and Donovan, Camille and I moved forward. I was in the middle, holding both of their hands and as the audience roared their approval, I gave Camille a hug. I kept my smile the whole time, making sure that none of the people, especially none of the reviewers, saw on my face what was in my mind - how I wished I'd had that knife from my first movie....

The three of us bowed and then stepped back, but then, the audience began chatting, "Donomara...Donomara...Donomara."

I hated that name. Hated it when the world had blended me with my boyfriend as if we were one and I hated it, no, I despised it now. I didn't want to be blended, didn't want to be connected in any kind of way with this dog of a man.

Donovan grinned, reached for my hand, and for a moment, my mind tripped - took me right back to our kiss last night. But then with the deft of a professional, I slid into my actor's persona. And with as coy a smile as I could give him, I took his hand and we stepped forward for a third ovation.

Then a roar that made the theatre's walls rumble began, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Even though I wanted to keep my smile, I couldn't. Because the frown was so deep on my face. Why would people be chanting for us to kiss? Donovan glanced at me and together, we bowed. But this time, I couldn't move quickly enough. I wanted to get off that stage.

That was weird, though I figured it was probably something that happened at these kinds of venues. Black audiences always connected with their artists, as if we were family.

So by the time we were backstage, I'd pretty much forgotten about that rude chant and was into the celebration with my cast members. We all cheered and hugged (though Camille passed by me as if I were a ghost). Then, we moved as a group through the halls. We had to go meet the public - a time for autographs and photographs.

After that, "Donomara," chant, along with the, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" I wasn't excited about being among the ticket buyers. What if they started that again? I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't shout out, "I don't kiss dogs!"

But it was in my contract to meet and greet, mix and mingle. And since I was still on best-behavior-mode (my eye remained on my “Girls Night Out” prize) I was going to go out there and chat and smile for the hour I was supposed to do it.

Right before we got to the exit that led to the lobby, the door busted open and Ted, one of the sound engineers, came in from the outside, stepping in front of us.

"Whoa," Ted said, though it didn't seem like he was talking to anyone because his glance scanned all of us. "I guess none of you know."

"What?" Donovan and a couple of others asked at the same time.

That was when Ted turned his eyes to me as his hands moved to his pocket in the back of his jeans. "I guess no one has seen these." From his pocket, he pulled what looked to be a tabloid magazine. And then, when he unfolded it, I was sure it was a copy of the Daily Intruder. He handed the magazine to Donovan and when I peeked over his shoulder at the cover, I wanted to faint.

"What the hell?" Donovan said.

Camille snatched the magazine from Donovan's hand and gawked at the picture that I'd only glimpsed for two seconds. But I'd seen it long enough. I saw the photo splayed across the cover...me and Donovan...kissing...no, not kissing. That was a tongues-tied, lip lock!

"Oh, my God," Camille squealed. "Secret Lovers Rekindle their Flame on the Set of the Hit Stage Play ‘It Should Have Been Me’." She sang the headline, then asked, "Are there any more pictures?" turning the pages as if she were on a treasure hunt.

I wanted to sit down right there and cry.

"This is some bull," Donovan said as he grabbed the magazine back from Camille. "Where did you get this?" He made that demand to Ted.

Ted's eyes were sad as he shrugged and said, "From the convenience store across the street. But they must be everywhere 'cause people are out there lined up waiting for you and Tamara to sign them."

Oh, my God! How had a night that had gone so well have turned into this? As my cast members stood and gawked at the other pictures, I closed my eyes. That photographer had captured everything. Of Donovan and I kissing like we were in love. Or lust. It didn't matter, we were kissing like we meant it and now the world would see it.

Ted touched my elbow as if he knew I needed the support. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded my lie. "I just need...Gwen. Where's Gwen?" I turned to my left, then my right. For the first time, I noticed that she wasn't there. I'd expected her to come out for a bow when we had ours. But she hadn't, and I hadn't noticed because I was caught up in the excitement.

"Excuse me," I said pushing past my cast mates so that I could make my way to Gwen's office. She had to do something about this. At best, she had to get those pictures pulled or at worst, she had to make sure they were limited to just the ones in the Daily Intruder .

Her door was slightly open, but still, I knocked. The pressure pushed the door back just a bit and I saw Gwen on the phone.

"This is way better than what I expected," she said as she swung her chair around. Her eyes lifted, she saw me, and she told the person on her phone, "Let me call you back."

When she clicked off her cell, I stepped all the way inside, "Gwen...." Then, I looked down and saw the tabloid spread on her desk.

I frowned and her eyes followed my glance. She closed the tabloid, turned it over and said, "I was hoping you didn't see this."

My frown deepened. "Did you know about this?"

She shook her head and sighed. "I just found out. While the show was going on and I was so upset...I knew you would be upset and I was seeing what I could do to handle it." She pointed to her cell. "That's what the call was all about."

I remembered her words as I walked in: This is going better than I thought.

As if she read my mind, she said, "I was talking to my publicist. She's trying to track down the origin...."

"We know where the pictures came from," I interrupted her. "That photographer. Who was he?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Tamara. I am so sorry about this, but I want you to know that we're out there doing damage control."

"What kind of control can you do now? Can you limit it to the Daily Intruder ? Because if we can stop them there, then maybe...." I paused when Gwen's cell vibrated again.

She frowned, glanced up at me, then took the call. "Hey, Maury, I'm here with Tamara now. What's up?"

I frowned. Why was my agent calling Gwen?

"Oh, she doesn't have her cell with her; she just got off the stage, but you can talk to her on my phone." She handed me her cell, then whispered, "He wants to speak to you."

My stomach did one of those Simone Biles sky-high triple flips.

There were only two reasons why Maury would be calling me now: one was good, he could be congratulating me. And the other could make this the worst night of my life.

Gwen said, "I'll give you some privacy."

I nodded, took her phone, waited until she stepped out of the office, and then said, "Hey, Maury, what's up?" I was praying that he was calling for the good reason.

"What the hell is going on?"

That wasn't any kind of congratulatory comment.

"Maury...." I sank onto the sofa.

"Tamara, this is not good. This is not the reputation we're working on for you."

"I know; I don't want those photos out there. I don't want to live through this again."

"I get that, but I'm not talking personally. This is a disaster for you professionally." I frowned, but he told me what he meant before I could even ask. "Do you know how hard I've been working to get you that role in Diana's movie?"

His words made my heart stop.

"Well, this might even kill the deal."

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew the reason. Diana and her own drama...with her husband...and the cleaning lady.

My Cleaning Lady - The Best Sex I Ever Had.

Maury interrupted my pain, but he didn't help. He just piled on. "You know how she has publicly stated her disdain for home wreckers."

"But I'm not a...."

"It's not going to matter; I'm telling you, this isn't going to go over well with her."

I moaned.

"Hell, it might even kill the deal."

I groaned.

"I'm sorry to be so rough, but I'm just telling you the truth. What were you thinking?" Again, he gave me no room to respond. "Are you having an affair with him?"

"No! Of course not. I can't believe you asked me that."

"Why not? Have you seen the pictures?"

I closed my eyes, squeezed the bridge of my nose and wished that I could click my heels to travel back, then take back that kiss. "I saw them, Maury," I said, not able to keep the defeat from my tone. "It was just one kiss."

"It must've been one long kiss 'cause they got plenty of pictures."

"I don't want to talk about the pictures anymore. I want to know how we fix this. I want to know how you will still close the deal with Diana."

"I don't know, I don't know how to clean this up."

"Well, maybe it's not gonna be an issue. Gwen is going to try to limit their distribution," I told him, hoping that was what Gwen would do. "So maybe Diana won't see the pictures or maybe she won't care."

He released a long breath. "Do you know how I found out about the pictures?" Again, it was rhetorical because he went right on to the part that broke my heart. "Diana called me."

This time, I moaned and groaned at the same time.

"Yeah, she wanted to know what was going on and if the pictures were legit."

"Oh, God!"

"When I told her I didn't know anything about any pictures, she emailed me a picture of the pictures in the Daily Intruder."

"Oh, God!" That was all I could think of to say because I was afraid to ask the real question. But finally I conjured up nerve that I really didn't have. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. I didn't let her say anything. I just told her I'd get back to her after I found if the photos were real or had been photoshopped."

"Maybe we can...."

"Don't even think about it, Tam. I'm not going to say they're fake if they're not. My reputation is on the line."

"Well, maybe there's something that we can say, some way to explain this."

After he exhaled his frustration, he said, "Well, I'm willing to listen to any explanation you have...."

Then, he went silent and I leaned back against the sofa, silent, too. Because I didn't have an explanation.

"So...." He finally spoke.

Still, I kept quiet.

Maury's voice became softer. "I'm not going to give up, Tam. I'll talk to Diana." Behind his frustration, I heard his disappointment. "I'll talk to her and then, I'll get a PR firm to help us spin this."

"Gwen said that she has someone working on this."

"Yeah, for herself. You need someone working for you." He paused. "I know you don't want to spend the money."

I thought about that designer purse that I'd bought with that little bonus. Wondered if I could dump everything out of it and return it to the store.

"Look, Tam. Go on back to your hotel. I'll handle this and get back to you. I'll let you know how much the publicist is gonna charge you, too."

I nodded because I didn't want to open my mouth and wail into the phone. But Maury was the one who hung up without saying goodbye, and that was when I knew for sure this was trouble. Either he was so distracted or he was so mad - I hadn't experienced either with Maury before.

For awhile, I just sat in Gwen's office. I didn't want to run into anyone, didn't want to deal with the sneers, didn't want anyone to see my tears. And I certainly didn't want to go to the meet and greet with the fans. Fans who would shove those pictures that were death-kisses to my career into my face.

I sat and sat, grateful that Gwen had left me alone. I sat wondering where did this leave me? Was my comeback over before it had started? Would I be limited now to only doing these kinds of acting gigs?

I sat because I was so, so tired. But then, I didn't want to sit anymore. I wanted to lie down, in a bed. I wanted to get to my hotel room and crawl under the sheets. Enough time had passed; the fans should have all been on their way home by now.

Leaving her phone on the desk, I peeked into the hall. There was only a little sound, like a muffled conversation in the stage area and I figured it was Gwen speaking with one of the production people. That meant everyone else was gone, probably out celebrating our opening night and laughing it up about my pictures.

Everyone had probably crowned Donovan as the king and I was labeled a slut because wasn't that the way it always was? A man was a player, a woman was a whore - that was the way of the world.

I was drunk with sorrow and humiliation as I stumbled down the hall and by the time I got to my dressing room, a tsunami of tears blinded me. Right outside my room, I leaned against the wall and slid down until my butt hit the floor. I was just so tired and so afraid that this was the end for me.

How had this happened? Why did I allow it to happen? I didn't even like Donovan. I hated him!

"Tammie?"

It was a whisper and I knew that now, along with everything else, I was losing my mind. Here I was thinking about Donovan and his voice sounded so real in my head.

"Tammie, are you all right?"

Again, it was a whisper, but it wasn't in my head. I looked up, but I had to blink a couple of times to push my tears aside.

"What's wrong?"

I looked up into the face of the man who I had once loved so much. The man who I once thought was my beginning, but who had turned out to be the end for me in so many ways.

Shaking my head, I lowered it again, so that my tears could rain freely. I couldn't see him, but I felt him as he slid down the wall the way I had done just a few minutes before and he sat right next to me.

I sobbed, but Donovan didn't say a word and didn't try to touch me, which pleased me because if he had, I would have hit him. No, not hit, I would have beat him. Right into the ground.

It wasn't until my cries became a whimper, that Donovan spoke. "I know how you feel."

I wasn't even going to answer him because he had no idea how this had ruined me. So instead I said, "I thought everyone was gone. I thought you were gone."

"Everyone else is, but I wanted to wait for you because I knew you wouldn't be all right."

I'd thought my tears were over, but fresh ones were fighting to come through. "I can't believe this has happened."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

I sniffed as I turned to him and cocked my head. Here I was in the middle of this breakdown and that was what he wanted to know? "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you're really upset. Like I was. Because when Latrice sees these pictures, she's gonna blow a freakin' gasket. So I figured you were upset because...your man would probably do the same."

"Oh." I shook my head. "I'm not seeing anyone."

"What about that guy - the football player on the Jets."

I shrugged. "We saw each other off and on...for a while...but I was really trying to put my focus completely on my career. I figured once that was in place...."

"Oh." There was no kind of smirk in his voice. Good. Because I would've gone right back to thoughts of that beatdown. He said, "I thought that's why you were so upset."

"No. It's something more important."

His glance shifted from the floor to me.

I said, "I'm up for a pretty major role."

"Really? What?"

Most actors didn't talk about things like this, not until the papers were signed, and even then, everyone waited for the official announcements from the production companies and the studios. I wasn't sure if it was because actors were just being professional or if we didn't want to jinx it. For me, it was both.

But I told him about Diana Delaney and “Girls Night Out”. I told him how she had come after me for the part and how she was excited and I'd been thrilled. "That role could revive my career." But when I told about the trauma that she'd been through, I couldn't hold my sobs back anymore. "She doesn't like women who did to her what her cleaning lady did." I looked at him when I added, "She doesn't like women who did what Latrice did to me."

"Oh, Tammie," Donovan whispered.

He twisted, rested on his haunches and then with his fingertips, lifted my chin. "I'm so sorry about this. It was my fault."

I swallowed my sobs, nodded, and then said, "What did you tell me yesterday? You weren't the only one in that kiss."

Though his eyes were still sad, he cracked a smile. That smile that I loved only second to his kisses.

His eyes were intense as he leaned so close to me. As if he really wanted me to hear what he had to say. "I don't want you to worry. Because I'm going to pray that Diana Delaney kicks all of this stuff to the curb because she knows how wonderful," he got a little closer, "and special," he came even closer, "and magnificent you are." There wasn't a gap between us. His lips brushed mine as he said, "I'm going to pray that you get everything you want because you deserve that and so much more."

When he pressed his lips against mine, it was so soft, at first. And everything inside of me wanted to protest because this was how we got in all this trouble in the first place.

But I was so tired - of struggling, of almost hitting it big, of all the questions I had between gigs.

And this felt so good.

And I was tired of the drama, the fights, the being alone.

And this felt so good.

That was the only way to explain why when he pushed his tongue against me, my lips parted like yesterday. When he took my hand, I gave it to him. When he led me into his dressing room, I went. Willingly.

I was the one who closed the door to his room behind us. I was the one who pushed his jacket from his shoulders and I was the one who leaned back onto his sofa, so ready for each and every part, each and every inch of him.

Because I was just so, so tired.

And this felt so, so good.