Early Sunday morning, before Raymond got to enjoy his first cup of coffee, or even skim the New York Times, his phone rang. When he looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:42, he assumed it was either Trent or his mother.
“Hello,” he said, trying to sound like he had been lifted from a deep sleep. The truth was he had been awake for about half an hour, thinking about the previous evening with Basil.
“Hey, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Naw, Ma. What’s going on?”
“Have you read the newspaper yet?”
“I’m still in the bed. What happened?” Raymond asked as he sat up in the pillow-packed king-sized bed.
“Kirby made a touchdown,” she said proudly.
“He did? That’s great. I can’t wait to read the paper. I wish I’d been there,” Raymond said. He was thinking this was the type of call his pops would normally make. He did it when Kirby was in middle and high school, giving Raymond the details of his brother’s gridiron heroics. His mother’s call was a clear sign his father was still upset with him.
“You could have been here. What did you do this weekend? And when are you going back home? And when is Trent coming home?”
“I just hung out with a friend. I’ll be going home sometime this week, and I don’t know Trent’s schedule.”
“Well, I hope you ain’t going to stay away from your brother’s games because of your father. You and he are so much alike. Kirby misses you. He won’t make you feel guilty about it, but I will, because I’m your mother,” she said.
“So what was the score?”
“They lost, but my baby was so good!”
“Tell Kirbro I’m proud of him, and I’ll try to make the next game,” Raymond said.
“You tell him yourself. You and your father must think I’m some kinda human Western Union,” she joked.
“Is he there?”
“Who?”
“Kirby.”
“No, he’s not here, and I bet his little butt ain’t in his dorm room either.” Raymond smiled at the way his mother still called Kirby little, despite the fact he was now the largest member of their family.
“Is he at Dawn’s?”
“I’d bet my retirement fund on it.”
“So your little boy is now a man,” Raymond said.
“What are you going to do today?” his mother asked, quickly switching the subject. Raymond smiled to himself at the way his mother didn’t want to discuss Kirby’s love life.
“Maybe watch a little football and take in a movie with a friend,” Raymond said.
“With Jared?”
“Naw, he’s in Michigan with Nicole.”
“You going to church?”
“I doubt it,” Raymond said.
“Now, you know you need to have yourself in church—and who is this friend you’re going to the movies with? I hope it’s somebody like Peaches.”
“Mind your own bizness, lady. I said might, and we not gonna get into this church thing. It’s much too early.” For a moment Raymond thought of Sundays back in Seattle where he would be in the bed, reading the newspaper and watching Trent get ready for church. The two of them would talk about how they would spend the afternoon and make plans for dinner.
“You ain’t too old for me to tap that rusty butt of yours,” his mother teased.
“I got to go, Mama. I love you. Tell your husband I said whassup,” Raymond said.
“You know I ain’t tellin’ him that, but I do love you. Save the newspaper with Kirby’s name in it and send it to me. You know I keep stuff like that.”
“I will and yes, I do,” Raymond said as he remembered the memory book his mother sent him. “Tell Kirby I’m proud of him and I’ll call him later.”
“I will. Good-bye.”
“Bye, Mama.”
Raymond jumped up from the bed and had his early morning pee, and then, still nude, quickly opened his hotel door and picked up the thick Sunday New York Times. He walked back into the bedroom and located the sports section. No big headlines with “Kirby Tyler Scores Touchdown” on the front page of the section. On page eight under a column headed “Big Ten Results,” Raymond read in small print, Wisconsin 24 Northwestern 22. He saw his brother’s name and read Kirby Tyler’s 56-yard touchdown was followed by a failed two-point conversion which would have sent the game into overtime. Raymond was turning the pages of the paper to the box score section to see how many yards Kirby had gained when the phone rang again.
“Hello.”
“You thinking about me?” It was Basil. Does this guy ever sleep? Raymond wondered.
“Why would I want to do that?” Raymond joked.
“I was thinking about you.”
“Why would you want to do something like that?” Raymond asked coyly.
“Well, not exactly about you,” Basil retorted. “I was just looking at ESPN 2, and I see where your little bro scored a touchdown. They still lost, but the boy looks good. What speed!”
“Yeah, the boy is fast. I was just reading about it. So they showed him on television as well? I’ll have to tell my folks,” Raymond said.
“So how you feeling?” Basil asked.
“I’m cool. I’ll be better after I shit, shower, and shave,” Raymond laughed.
“I’ll shave you and shower you.”
“I think I can handle it alone.” Raymond wasn’t sure he could handle Basil being so flirtatious first thing in the morning. The previous night the two of them had spent the evening at the gym, then went by Basil’s for pizza, where he had pulled out all the stops. First, after ordering the pizza, he made sure Raymond’s wineglass was never empty. And then, although they had both showered at the gym, Basil felt the need to shower again once he reached his apartment, while Raymond drank wine and listened to Maxwell’s Unplugged CD. After his shower, Basil walked into the living room nude, carrying some lotion and a pair of black silk low-cut briefs. He asked Raymond to rub some of the lotion on his back, and as he bent over and put on the sexy underwear, Raymond stared and stared, thinking nobody could fill out a pair of underwear like Basil.
After he finished with the lotion, Raymond came out of his minitrance and returned the flirt by asking Basil, “Was that all you wanted?”
“That will do for now,” Basil said. Then he asked, “What about your boyfriend? How long has it been since you’ve rubbed him with lotion like that?”
“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Raymond replied, something he immediately regretted saying when he saw Basil’s sinister I-thought-so smirk.
“Just thought I’d ask,” Basil said.
“And I appreciate that,” Raymond said as he leaped from the leather sofa and announced his departure. Basil did manage a full-body brotherman hug in his underwear, but that was as far as he got. Now here was Basil, again with his sex still rock hard, no doubt working him again.
“So are we still on for this afternoon?” Basil asked, bringing Raymond back to the moment at hand.
“Maybe. Let me give you a call after I’ve gotten myself together,” Raymond said.
“All right. If I’m not here, then page me. I gave you my beeper number, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, and your cell phone and e-mail address,” Raymond said.
“I get yo’ point, you smug mofo,” Basil joked.
“Later.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Raymond called room service and ordered a half pot of coffee with low-fat milk, orange juice, and a cranberry muffin. When he hung up, Raymond thought again about Saturday night with Basil Henderson. Was he playing with fire by going to Basil’s apartment and seeing him almost every day? He did enjoy working out with Basil and was beginning to feel like he was losing some of the additional pounds he had gained. Raymond appreciated the time and care that Basil took to explain certain exercises and to give him a list of foods he should avoid until he had lost weight. On more than one occasion he had thought that maybe one night—or two—with Basil might be just what he needed to move on. Sleeping with Basil wouldn’t help him forgive Trent, but it sure would make him forget about him, for a few passion-filled hours at least. Raymond was shocked and touched when Basil told him that he was the only man he’d ever kissed. Raymond didn’t believe him, of course, but he was touched by the sentiment, nonetheless.
He had often thought, more than he wanted to admit, of the nights he had spent with Basil so many years before. The summer night they had made love in a pool under the moonlight was a memory that always moved some additional weight to his sex. Raymond recalled the dinner Basil had prepared that night and served on his wooden deck in Jersey City. When he indulged revisiting that night, he wanted to make it perfectly clear to Basil that he was in a relationship, and if they did do anything it would be mutual masturbation or something safe. No touching. No sucking. No fucking. It didn’t matter how badly each of them wanted more. And even though he cringed at the thought, Raymond bet his father might accept someone like Basil as his son’s partner, rather than someone who had jeopardized not only his dream job but his father’s dream for his son as well.
The night slipped away swiftly, and by midmorning Yancey was awakened by a flurry of soft kisses from Devin.
“Good morning, beautiful lady,” he said. His voice was deep and gentle.
“Good morning. What time is it?” Yancey said as she rubbed her eyes and searched for the clock.
“It’s almost noon.”
Yancey leaped from the bed. “I’ve got to get rolling. The day is half gone.”
“Relax. Did you forget we don’t have a show today?”
“I know that, but I need to get in touch with Nicole so I can get a ride to Grand Rapids,” Yancey said.
“Don’t worry ’bout that … you can ride with me,” Devin suggested.
“Naw, I can’t do that. I promised Nicole and Jared I’d ride with them,” Yancey said as she looked for a robe. She was wearing a taupe-colored silk T-shirt which was clinging to her body like a second skin. Yancey located her robe and sat at the dresser mirror to work on her hair, while Devin sat up in the bed staring at her.
“So you think we got time for one mo’, before we check out of here?” Devin asked with an easy sexual assurance.
“I don’t think so.” Yancey smiled like an annoyed cosmetics consultant. For a moment she studied Devin’s angular, unshaven face, with his well-defined mouth and round, mahogany eyes. He was not handsome, she thought, but interesting-looking in a strong, sensual way. He had a muscular, not massive, dancer’s body. Yancey thought about the night before when her body had arched to accommodate his manhood, as she enjoyed the throbbing warmth between her legs.
“We might not get that many chances in Grand Rapids,” Devin said.
“Why not?” Yancey asked as she started to brush her hair.
“ ’Cause you’re going to be back with Nicole and I’m going to have a roommate. You know how long this show is going to last, and I’ve got to save the Benjamins for rainy days,” Devin said.
“You have a point there, but don’t worry, mister-mister … I can get rid of Miss Pret—I mean Nicole, when I want to,” Yancey said.
“So you ladies got a system?” Devin asked as he watched how Yancey’s arms rose gracefully as she pinned her hair back.
“Yeah, we got a system. I just tell her I’ve got to take care of some personal needs. She might be square but she ain’t dumb.”
“You two get along pretty well?” Devin asked.
“I guess so. It’s not like I’m going to move in with her once we get off the road, but I know I can learn a lot from her.”
“Yeah, she’s been around awhile, and she’s very, very talented. I saw her in Jelly’s Last Jam and in a show that never made it out of workshop called To Tell the Truth.”
“And was she good?”
“From what I can tell. I mean, I think she was nominated for a Tony one year, but she didn’t win. She has the reputation of being a real trouper. The kinda girl who comes in and takes over when the divas move on.”
“How many shows have you been in?” Yancey asked. She thought she might as well learn a little bit more about the man who brought her such sexual pleasure.
“Three Broadway shows—Five Guys Named Moe, Smokey Joe’s Café, and Tap Dance Kid—and the national company of Miss Saigon. Seems like just when the unemployment checks are ’bout to run out, something comes along. What about yourself?” Devin asked.
“I was born to do this. You could say it’s in my blood, and it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” Yancey said.
“I guess you’ve got big plans for yourself. What … winning a Tony and an Oscar?”
“You forgot the Emmy and Grammy, sweetheart. Trust me, I plan to have my name on each one of them before I leave this earth. I’m also going to be on the cover of Essence, Ebony, Vogue, and, of course, on the cover of People magazine’s Fifty Most Beautiful People issue,” Yancey said confidently.
“So Miss Yancey got it all planned, just like the great Miss Dena Jones,” Devin said, referring to the character in Dreamgirls Yancey felt she was destined to play.
“I sure do. But unlike Dena, I’m not going to let a man get in my way. I ain’t looking for a Curtis Taylor, Jr. How did you get into acting and dancing?”
“Literally by accident,” Devin said. He decided he wasn’t going to get Yancey back into bed, so he stood up and searched for his underwear.
“Accident?”
“Yeah, I ran track in high school and played baseball. Got hurt training. Took a dance class as part of my rehabilitation and found out it was a great way to meet ladies,” Devin said. He reached down and pulled his boxers out from under a blue-flecked bedspread.
“So all the gay guys don’t bother you?”
“Not at all. I let them know right up front what’s what, and they leave me alone. I love being one of the few roosters in the henhouse,” Devin said slyly. Yancey noticed the trace of a smile touch his eyes as he pulled his jeans up and moved toward the dresser, where she was still sitting, preparing to put on a rose-colored lipstick. No matter how great Devin was under the sheets, she thought, after his last comment, she would make him wait a long time before he got back into her henhouse.
“I guess you want a kiss before you leave?” she asked.
“Would that be asking for too much?”
“Could be … could be not,” Yancey said with a slight chill in her voice.
Devin rubbed his hands together and asked if that was a yes or a no. Yancey stood up dramatically and said, “I’d love to kiss you, Devin, but I’ve just combed my hair.”
Nicole was scraping seeds off a sesame bagel when she realized that after a weekend of lovemaking and just enjoying her husband’s company, they hadn’t spent much time talking. “Baby, what was the exciting news you had?”
“Damn … I forgot to tell you,” Jared said.
“Tell me what?” Nicole asked, spreading grape jam over the toasted bagel.
Jared took a sip of his orange juice and said, “I got a call from a surrogate agency, and they think they’ve found a match.” His voice was suddenly excited and anxious.
Nicole took a sip of her coffee and asked with a strained smile, “They found somebody black who’s willing to carry our baby?”
“Not exactly. But she’s not white either,” Jared joked. He noticed the stress in his wife’s face.
“She’s not black … not white. What then?” Nicole asked.
“She’s Hispanic, but I think she might have some African-American roots,” Jared said.
Nicole didn’t respond. She took another bite of her bagel as an awkward silence filled the room. Nicole was thinking of some of the beautiful Hispanic women she saw in New York, with their thick, curly black hair, olive-colored skin, and big eyes. Women who were beautiful, but who didn’t look like her. If there was going to be a surrogate, Nicole wanted her black!
“Are you all right?” Jared asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just thinking about how our baby would look,” Nicole said softly.
“It will look like us and it will be beautiful,” Jared said with assurance in his voice.
“But is now the right time? I mean, my career is just taking off again.”
“I know, and I’ve thought about that. But you won’t always be on the road. I mean, if this show doesn’t come back to New York, then there will be other work for you. And if push comes to shove, we could always hire somebody to help out.”
“So you’ve got it all figured out,” Nicole said.
“Now, Nicole, you know for something like this, we have to both agree. I mean, I don’t even know if this young lady is going to work out. It’s just an option. I asked the agency to send me some more information, and when you get back home, we’ll meet her and take it from there,” Jared said. He reached for Nicole’s untouched glass of orange juice and finished it with one long swallow. Nicole was thinking about what to say next when the phone rang. “Hello,” she answered.
“Hey, darling, you been having a good time?” Yancey asked.
“Yancey, are you all right?” Nicole asked. She thought she detected a sadness in Yancey’s normally perky voice.
“I’m fine, but I’ve missed having you as my roommate,” Yancey lied.
“That is so sweet. How was your time alone?”
“I wasn’t exactly alone,” Yancey said.
“Devin?”
“You got it, honey.”
“Is that getting serious?”
“Pleeze … not on your life. I’ve got work to do. Have you guys had your morning coffee?” Yancey asked.
“Yes, darling, we ordered room service. It’s not as good as the coffee you’ve been bringing me every morning.”
“Do you want me to bring you guys some?”
“No, that’s all right, we’ve both had enough. How are you getting to Grand Rapids?”
“That’s why I was calling. Is Jared still planning on driving you?”
“I think so,” Nicole said.
“Can I get a ride? I mean, if it’s not asking too much. If you two want to be alone, I’d understand.”
“Don’t be silly. Jared and I would love for you to ride up with us,” Nicole said as she looked at Jared, who was making a funny face and moving his head from side to side like he was dancing.
“You’re sure now? ’Cause I could ride with Devin or Cedric or I could be really country and ride the bus,” Yancey said. Jared was now putting his underwear on his head and doing his Stevie Wonder imitation, which always made Nicole laugh.
“You’re riding with us. I’ll call you when we decide what time we’re leaving.” Nicole laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Yancey asked.
“You’d have to be here. I’ve got to go,” Nicole said. She hung up the phone and rushed toward Jared, pulled the underwear off his head, and gave him a big kiss that led to another session of passionate lovemaking.