Getting to the Good Part Read online

  We both nodded.

  “All right, ladies!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s make moves!”

  I breathed in and out deeply, three times. Tamara stood there beside me, checking me out like I was crazy.

  The music began, and my body begin to move.

  This was my moment. I wasn’t going to even think about it.

  I was just going to let loose and do my thang.

  And, like I always say…

  Let the chips fall where they may.

  Thirty minutes into things, I was singing my heart out, kicking my legs around, cabaret-style.

  “Black Barry’s Pie has a wonderful taste! Come on inside and just check out the place! You’ll dig the sights and the people you meet! Just take a bite, ooh, this berry’s so sweet!”

  It’s funny, but from the very opening of the show, I’d never really paid attention to the lyrics as Rowena sang them. I had been so excited about being a part of the whole theater experience, that I hadn’t taken the time to dig into the minutiae.

  I mean, I knew the songs by heart because I’d watched her rehearse so much, but I’d never really noted (as in, examined) the actual words.

  For some ridiculous reason, in the thick of this grueling audition, I examined them now.

  “Black Barry’s Pie, get your slice à la mode! We’ll heat it up, take this show on the road! This dish is hot, baby let’s shake it loose! Why don’t you try some of this tasty juice?”

  If those weren’t some of the cheesiest lyrics I’d ever heard!

  What’s strange is that when you’re watching the show, or when you’re performing, the energy is enough to sweep you up and draw you in.

  That song was a freaking lyrical atrocity!

  I wondered who the songwriter was. I’d be willing to bet that he was somewhere tropical right now, laughing his ass off, marveling over the fact that he had gotten paid for that shit.

  And that it was going over big, to boot.

  The critics seemed to love it. Since it opened, the show had gotten nothing but rave reviews. Black Barry’s Pie was pulling in mad loot.

  There was even a buzz in the air that a couple German investors would be coming around to give the show a look-see.

  They had apparently financed quite a few successful Broadway productions. Word was, if they liked what they saw, these superrich muckety-mucks might even be considering taking it to the Great White Way.

  All that hype made me realize that it wasn’t so much the songs as it was the person singing them. That made all the difference in the world. When Rowena performed, you didn’t want to take your eyes off of her. She was electricity incarnate.

  All the more reason that the role of Mimosa be cast just right. Whoever got it had to really be able to set it out for the people.

  Tamara and I sang in unison, although, admittedly, she did flub a couple of words.

  But she more than made up for that, because girlfriend could move!! She was all over that stage, matching me lick for lick and kick for kick. I tried not to focus on her too much, because the thought of how good she was truly made me nervous.

  We shimmied across the stage and around each other, singing and dancing like a couple of savages. I could hear my voice resonating around the theater. It was almost like having an out-of-body experience.

  I sounded damn good. For a minute, I had to wonder whose voice it really was coming out of me.

  Tamara didn’t have the best singing voice. I mean, she could hold a tune okay, but she wasn’t necessarily all that captivating.

  But Tamara could dance her ass off! As I did my thang, I secretly wondered why Julian didn’t shower all the attention upon her that he gave to me.

  Tamara’s footwork was lightning fast, and she was so limber, she was almost liquid. As much as I was trying not to be distracted, I couldn’t help it. She was fantastic.

  My voice cracked a few times, from paying too much attention to her. And then, I messed up a couple of the words.

  I saw her shoot a look at me, her eyes narrowed mockingly.

  In the audience, I could see Julian stirring uncomfortably.

  I kept dancing, trying to recover.

  Sweat began to run down my back. My coochie was itching, but wasn’t no damn way I could scratch it.

  Tamara looked dry as a bone, maintaining her damn cool.

  As I tried to dance and check her out at the same time, my shit began to get a little raggedy. Okay, a lot raggedy. At one point, I tripped over my own ankle kinda funny, and almost fell.

  Tamara danced right around me, like I wasn’t even a blip on her radar.

  After a few more moves where I was miserably trying to recover my grace, Julian yelled up at us from the audience.

  “Okay, ladies!” he shouted. “Very good! Let’s take five! And I mean only five!”

  We stopped, and I leaned forward, hands on my knees, panting.

  Tamara walked real close to me, so only I could hear her, and hissed, “You need to go somewhere and sit your tired ass down!”

  I looked up at her, and she glowered at me, as if she dared me to say something back.

  She even had the nerve to have one of her fists clenched, like she was getting ready to wax dat ass.

  Before I could respond, Tamara walked away.

  Within seconds, Julian was up on the stage. Ostensibly, I suppose, it was just to give the both of us a little praise and encouragement.

  But I know he came up there expressly to see me.

  He walked over to Tamara and gave her a pat on the back.

  “Nice going so far,” he said with a smile.

  She grinned at him like the cat that ate the canary.

  Julian sauntered over casually to me.

  “Good job,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.

  Then he leaned a little closer to me and whispered sharply, “Stop trippin’ on her and pay attention to what you’re doing!! You know this part like the back of your hand!!!”

  “Okay,” I mumbled. “But she’s good, ain’t she?”

  “You’re better, dammit!” he said. “Don’t embarrass me now and let that heffah beat you! I recommended you for this, after all!”

  He patted me on the back again and casually walked away.

  Tamara shot me another one of those I’ll-coldcock-you looks.

  It finally dawned on my dumb ass.

  She was trying to scare me out of the competition. All those mean looks and comments were meant to make me nervous and just plain screw up what I was doing.

  And I was falling for her little ghetto tactics, hook, line, and sinker.

  Not this go ’round, I thought to myself. She wants to see an ass-whooping I’m about to show her one, right here on this stage!!

  Julian disappeared back into the shadows of the audience.

  “Five minutes up!” he called, once he settled into his seat.

  I walked back over to center stage.

  I could feel Tamara staring at me once more, ready to dish out one of those intimidating looks, with a side order of balled-up fist.

  Not this time. This time, it was all about me and getting this role.

  I stood there, panting, wringing wet, in the middle of the stage.

  I was exhausted, but energized.

  Tamara stood a few feet away, still trying to get me to look at her. She was breathing just as hard as I was. I was pleased at that.

  The fact that I had tuned her ass out for the rest of the audition made that heffah have to work harder than a pack mule.

  I sang every note, hit every high, shook every shimmy, and busted every move right on time.

  I didn’t know how I looked compared to her, but I didn’t give a shit. All I knew was that I gave a thousand percent of myself out there on that stage, and that’s all that mattered to me.

  I could walk away feeling good about my performance.

  They couldn’t get anything better because there wasn’t anything extra inside me to give.r />
  A few times, while I was up there doing my thang, I thought I saw Julian’s teeth. Looked like he was grinning like it was going out of style. Rowena even had an impressed smile upon her face.

  Now, I’m not saying they were smiling at me. But what I do know is that I was up there, working that role like my life depended on it.

  I didn’t know what the hell Tamara was doing, nor how good she was at doing it.

  My mind had totally, completely, blanked her out.

  “Great work, you two,” Julian said, coming up to us.

  “Bravo!” the other four yelled, clapping from the audience.

  “Take a chill pill.” Julian smiled, putting his arms around both of us. “Go home, relax, and shake this off. You two were fantastic today.”

  “When should I be hearing something?” Tamara asked, batting her eyes at him, like that shit was going to work.

  That let me know right then just how clueless she was.

  Every damn person involved with the show knew that Julian was gay. He was quite up front about it. He had no interest, whatsoever, in what was between a woman’s legs.

  Julian stared at her blankly. I could tell he was amused that she was attempting to flirt her way into his good graces.

  Tamara rubbed her sweaty palm across her breasts, leaving a streak that made her nipples more pronounced.

  Julian was not moved. His ubiquitous bulge did not get bigger. As if it could anyway.

  “You should hear something by late this afternoon,” he replied. “Before tonight’s show.”

  “When is Rowena officially leaving?” I asked, hoping I could see, in his expression, some hint of whether my performance had redeemed itself.

  “In a couple weeks. She’ll work with whichever one of you gets the part up until her last day.”

  His face was poker. For once, since we’d become friends, I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on in his head.

  Tamara smirked, knowing, I guess, how unnerved Julian’s distance made me. It was common knowledge to everyone in the show that he and I had become pretty tight.

  I was, admittedly, nervous. Julian didn’t raise his eyebrow, twitch his lip, wiggle his nose, nothing, to let me know if I had done all right. If I had really been as good as I felt like I was during the last part, he would have winked or grinned, or something.

  “See you two ladies later,” he said distantly, dismissing us both.

  “Okay,” Tamara replied, cutting her eyes at me to see what my next move would be.

  I watched Julian closely, wondering if he would give me some signal to hang around.

  He didn’t.

  In fact, he just turned and walked away from us both, leaving the two of us standing there on the stage, looking a tad bit silly.

  “Kee-kee-kee-kee-kee,” Tamara cackled evilly under her breath.

  Her eyes were locked onto mine.

  I gave her my friendliest smile, and said, “Well… gotta go meet Donovan!”

  Her face drew up like a sphincter.

  That oughta fix her ass.

  I turned and walked away, heading for the exit that emptied out into the alley. I hated alleys. It was a new phobia I’d earned since my arrival in New York. From when I danced at that spot in Times Square and had such a bad experience there.

  As I walked toward the train station, I was seriously worried about the look, or lack thereof, on Julian’s face. This was beginning to feel like when I first tried out for the show, only worse. I didn’t know what to think. No expression from Julian could be a good thing, or something terribly bad.

  Instinctively, my heart sank as I deposited my token, passed through the turnstile, and waited for the train.

  As soon as I got home, I went straight to the bed and lay down.

  I didn’t even take a shower. I just kicked off my Nikes and crawled in.

  I was so depressed, all I wanted to do was hide under the covers and shut my eyes. I wanted to lose myself in the world of sleep and act like none of this had just happened.

  I had more to lose this time than when I first auditioned for Black Barry’s Pie. This time, not just the role, but my ego, was at stake.

  You see, if Tamara got the part, not only would I have to live with seeing her play the lead. I could deal with that. That’s one of those I-just-wasn’t-meant-to-have-it kind of things.

  But it wouldn’t end there with Tamara. She was a straight-up bitch. She would go around and tell everybody how she whooped my ass and made me look stupid on stage.

  Tamara would brag at my expense. Every time I turned around, I’d be running into her, and she’d be giving me those looks. And she’d stay huddled up with the other chicks in the show, talking about me in front of my face.

  My stomach was hurting.

  I curled up in a fetal position, feeling miserable and sorry for myself.

  I should have never even tried out for that stupid role. I was nuts for letting Julian make me think I was good enough to get it.

  To make matters worse, I had let him down. Julian was barely able to look at me when I left. If I had done well, he would have called by now, telling me that I had bagged the part, no problem.

  But he didn’t even call me to tell me that I sucked.

  I kept picturing his expression. Julian had looked at me as if I was an absolute stranger.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Grandma Tyler. I needed someone close to me to hold my hand.

  The phone rang and rang and rang. It had rung about ten times before I even noticed that it was still ringing.

  I let it ring some more.

  Grandma Tyler wasn’t home. And she didn’t have an answering service, or even an answering machine to pick up her calls. Either you got her, or you didn’t.

  And that’s just how Grandma Tyler liked it.

  I lay there, balled up in the bed, moaning. My stomach felt like it was tor’ up. My bowels made rumbling sounds like I was about to have the shits.

  I got up and went to the bathroom, but all I managed to pass was a puff of nervous gas.

  I sat there, trying to give up the goods.

  No dice. All that happened was that my bowels bunched up tighter.

  I fired a flurry of rancid poots, but that was it.

  I needed someone to talk to. I needed a friend.

  (I needed some air freshener.)

  The one friend I had become accustomed to talking to of late, Julian, was off-limits. I couldn’t call him until he called me.

  Of course, there was one more option.

  I was trapped. I had no recourse. And right now, I needed her more than I’d ever needed anyone in my life.

  I raised my raggedy ass up off that toilet full of rotten airballs and walked back into the bedroom.

  I sat down on the side of the bed, contemplating.

  Then, I did it.

  I picked up the phone and called Miss Divine.

  “Misty Finéis office,” Mare answered.

  What was Rick’s secretary, Mary, doing working for Misty?

  Damn. I didn’t want her to recognize my voice.

  Mare (her nickname) and I had gotten a little tight, right before I left. But our friendship was limited to our time together at Burch, and when I split from the company, I left my connection with her right along with it.

  “Is Misty available?” I asked, trying to deepen my tone.

  Mare seemed suspicious. I heard hesitation in her voice.

  “May I… ask… who’s… calling?” she replied cautiously.

  “Is she available?” I repeated.

  “Who is this?” she probed.

  “It’s me, Mare,” I sighed, giving in.

  Her voice went up a notch.

  “Me who?” she asked excitedly. “Is this Reesy? This most certainly is not Teresa Snowden?!”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice monotone. “It is.”

  “Heeyyyyyyyyy, girl!” she squealed. “How’s it goin’?! Whatcha been doin’ these days?!”

&nbs
p; I really didn’t have time for this. I was not in the mood for her and her white-girl antics. That tell-me-all-your-business-and-I’ll-tell-you-all-of-mine shit.

  Besides, white women always confided way too much information. Told you personal shit that you had no business knowing about. Sometimes, only five minutes after meeting you. Like how they just went to the doctor for their herpes medication. Or that they finally bought a bigger, better vibrator.

  Shit that sistahs just didn’t talk about or do.

  I wasn’t up for that. Not right now. Actually, not ever.

  “Sorry to cut you off, girl,” I replied anxiously, “but this is a bit of an emergency. Is she there? I reeeeaaalllly need to speak with her.”

  Mary sighed.

  “Well,” she said, drawing the conversation out, “she’s not here this afternoon.”

  Her voice dropped into a whisper.

  “Neither is Rick. He’s got a surprise for her.”

  “Oh really,” I responded dryly.

  I couldn’t care less about whatever it was.

  “Yeah,” Mary replied, still speaking in hushed, conspiratorial tones. “You know they’re dating, right?”

  So much for Misty thinking she was keeping that situation under wraps.

  Mare giggled.

  “Of course, you know they’re dating! Silly me! You’re her best friend!”

  This was getting stupid. I had to cut this fool off at the pass.

  Quick.

  “So you work for her now?” I asked.

  Despite everything, I was mildly curious as to why she was answering Misty’s phone. Mare was working as Rick’s assistant when I was with the company.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, “I do. I work for her and Rick now.”

  “Hmmph,” I managed to snicker.

  “I know.” She giggled again. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  Mare mistakenly thought that I was laughing with her. But I wasn’t. I was merely thinking how cute that whole setup must look.

  The only two black faces in the house happen to have the same assistant, and also happen to be dating. The fact that Misty was the boss only made matters worse.

  And Mare was doling out Misty’s business to anyone who didn’t ask like it was Halloween candy.

  This was a Human Resources disaster waiting to happen. I didn’t even want to dwell on it anymore.