CHAPTER 39
Adrienne
“Good morning, this is Angela Ramirez, a nurse at the Psychiatric Center of Century City Hospital. You are the contact person for Morgan Coleman?”
“Yes, I am.”
“She is being released at eight and she will need to be picked up.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear to see what time it was. It was almost seven. I sleepily told her I was on my way.
I didn’t know what to expect when I picked up Morgan. Who was going to come out of the seventy-two-hour hold? Would it be the nice lady, crazy lady, or just a manic mess? Better yet, maybe she invented someone new while she was in there.
When I got in front of the facility, she was already waiting for me. She jumped in, took her hoodie off, and said, “I’m so hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”
I turned onto the highway and handed back her cell phone.
“Did my baby call?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered. No one had called her, but I didn’t want her to have a relapse if I didn’t say the right thing.
We went through the Burger King drive-thru, stopped at the Rite Aid, and got her prescription filled. Then she told me that the doctor had told her that she experienced some mental stress brought on by RJ getting married, and if she took her medicine she would be able to cope better.
Once we were home, she showered and changed her clothes. So far, she seemed like the nice, calm Morgan.
“That medicine they gave me is working. I feel a lot better. Thank you for taking me. Now I am ready to finish planning my party. Here, I want this. Look. This is who Morgan Tucker was. I want my hair done just like this. The makeup, everything.”
The picture was of a thinner, younger, happier Morgan with box braids, a cropped shirt with her abs exposed, and a smile.
“This picture is right before I met him. I want to be her again. It is more than a name-changing party. It is a reinvention party. I am going to pursue my dream as an actress. That revelation came to me when I was away.”
She handed me a folded piece of paper.
“Here, I wrote down my guest list. I want everyone to wear white and I’m going to wear a stand-out color, like gold, red, or purple, because I’m a star and there is no one else like me.”
Morgan’s name change party was only weeks away. She hired a publicist named Terrance, who worked for Halle Berry in the nineties. She also hired a party planner, who hired a decorator and caterer. The party was easily costing around a hundred thousand dollars. Morgan didn’t even blink. I just hoped there would be someone in attendance I could slip my script to.
We were on our way to meet her wardrobe stylist, Roosevelt, at the Shoppes at Beverly. He came from the back of his studio door, twirling, with two assistants.
“So what are you doing? What’s the look you are going for, M?” She pulled out her picture and they were not impressed.
“This is okay, but I thought you wanted a fiercer look. We can put the box braids back in, but I want to reinvent you. Why don’t you become my painting and let me paint you.”
“Okay.”
“I have some looks I want you to try on.” He pulled out an off-white pant suit, sheer blue dress, and a silver mini dress. Everything she tried on was hideous, but that didn’t stop him and his team from applauding and screaming, “Yes, honey. Work, boo. You’re giving me life.”
Morgan turned to me and asked my opinion: “Adrienne, what do you think?”
“They’re okay dresses . . .”
Roosevelt looked at me with his jaw dropped, like how could I disagree with him and his staff.
“What else do you have?”
He rolled his eyes at me and said he would pull a few more things. I walked back to the dressing room. This time, he pulled a black dress with a long slit up the side, a pink halter mini, and a gray, ankle-length pant suit. She tried on the black dress and turned side to side in the mirror.”
“Do you like this one?”
“Yes, it’s very feminine and elegant. Sexy but classy and it will stand out since your guests are wearing all white.”
“You think so? I guess . . .”
“Yeah.” This was my perfect opportunity to tell her that Poetic Justice braids weren’t going to achieve the glamorous look that she wanted. “I think you should get the black dress. And I also I think you should wear your hair out and get Chike to give you curls for your reinvention party.”
“All right. Well, I can’t decide which one I want. I’ll just buy them all. I’ll get a chance to wear all of them eventually. I mean, I am going to be walking red carpets solo now.”
When we arrived home, Alexandria was there. She ran up to Morgan, hugged her, and said, “Mommy, I missed you!”
“I missed you, too. How was the wedding?” she quizzed.
“Mom, somehow the paparazzi found out where Daddy’s wedding was. Daddy was so mad. He fired all of his security team. He thinks one of them leaked the information.”
“Wow, that’s a shame. How was everything else?”
“It was nice, but mostly they argued because Daddy made her sign a prenup right before the wedding. I think you are right. It might not last.”
“Well, hopefully it will.” Morgan cracked a grin at me, and I just turned my head.
* * *
The day had arrived, and everything was in order for Morgan’s party. The setting was perfect by the pool. Her vision had come together. The DJ was spinning old-school and current hip-hop and the table across from him was an assortment of Asian cuisine. Long tables were set for her guests. The tables were adorned with white tablecloths and mirror tops with cascading light pink and hot pink flowers.
Everyone was in all white, so when Morgan entered the party, she truly made an entrance: a drama queen in a pink halter dress. Her hair and makeup were on point and she looked stunning as she worked the room by double kissing and air kissing her guests. I saw her take two drinks in fifteen minutes. I was concerned, but I didn’t want to say anything. She had been taking her medicine and it had been working well.
The party was filled with a bunch of D-list celebrities and their lesser-known friends. We used every contact she had left. They mostly were people who were hoping their picture would end up on a blog.
After all her guests had arrived, Morgan stood in front of the pool with a lit candle and a big picture of her and RJ. She grabbed the microphone and gave a speech. “Thank you all for coming. A lot of you know me as being the wife of a certain person who will remain nameless, but I wanted to let you all know she is gone. No more Mrs. Coleman. Tonight I am going home. I’m Morgan Tucker, motherfuckers,” she screamed, then set her wedding picture on fire. She looked like a madwoman in front of the flame. Then she threw the picture into the pool. Everyone applauded and she worked the room some more.
She ran over to me excitedly and whispered, “He’s here. Oh, my God. He came. That’s Warren Michael Joseph. Terrance invited him, but I didn’t think he would show up. How do I look?” She pointed to a handsome man with an athletic build in a nice fitted white suit.
“You look fine. Who is he?”
“He’s my future costar and hopefully husband number two. He is retired from the NFL and in the new movie with Gabrielle Union, Crossing Hearts. Go up to him and tell him I want to meet him.”
I walked over to the handsome brown-skinned man wearing a tailored suit and illuminating smile. “Hi, I’m Morgan Coleman—I mean, Morgan Tucker’s assistant. She would like to meet you and asked if you would be able to meet to discuss her acting.”
“Give her my card and tell her to call me. I might know of a role that she can audition for.”
I took his card and instantly knew that I would be contacting him, too.
I took his information down and then gave his card to Morgan and told her he said to call him.
I wasn’t sure how successful Morgan’s name change party would be. She was hoping that it would tell the world she was Morgan Tucker. In actuality, I don’t think anyone really cared.