Getting to the Good Part Read online

  “You act like you’ve been waiting on something to happen to take me out of the show!” Rowena kidded me a couple of weeks before, during one of the last rehearsals we had together.

  “I think I just knew my time was coming,” I said with a smile. “Like they say, When opportunity knocks, you’d better be dressed and ready to go.”

  “Who says that?” Rowena scoffed. “I ain’t never heard that phrase in my life!”

  “Somebody,” I mumbled. “I heard it somewhere once.”

  I knew where it came from. It was one of Grandma’s Tylerisms. She had a million of ’em, I swear. Her twisted isms, in one way or another, had populated my life for years.

  I pulled open the stage door and rushed to dressing room.

  Tyrone and Tyrene were going to be in the audience. I had finally called them and revealed everything—all in one fell swoop.

  They were loaded down with so much information at once, they couldn’t process it all quick enough to grill me thoroughly over the phone. But the grilling was inevitable. It would happen at dinner that night, after the show, for sure.

  Grandma Tyler was out there, too. She hated flying with a passion, but she got on a plane, just for her Tweety, and was going to be there in the crowd, with Tyrone and Tyrene, to show me love and moral support.

  Rick and Misty, too.

  And Dandre. Dandre was going to be front and center, waiting for his baby’s entrance. I was his baby now. The object of his untiring adoration. He professed it endlessly, hopelessly, every possible moment of the day.

  Brother was pussywhipped lovely. For him to be such a major mack, I was amazed at how quickly he’d submitted.

  The rich perfume of roses filled the room. An enormous floral arrangement sat on my dressing table, in front of me now. A gift from my indefatigable swain.

  Dandre wanted to be the first to give me flowers.

  He was.

  And, as was his flair, his bouquet was, by far, the largest and the most exquisite.

  I stroked the petals of a pink rose as I sat at the table, checking myself out in the mirror. I sat there like that for a minute, letting it sink in that this little kingdom was now officially mine.

  I had inherited it all from Rowena. And while no one except Julian, and maybe Gordon, would have figured me to be her heir apparent, I’m sure all of them were out there now, wondering if, indeed, that’s what I was really destined to be.

  Even I wondered. I had no idea, one way or another, how I was going to pull this thing off.

  It’s amazing… Sometimes you think you know the stuff you’re made of. You think you know all that you possess inside. Then there are moments like this, when you’re standing on the verge of whatever, and you wonder just what the hell it is you’ve got within.

  I knew that, for me, the question wasn’t whether I could do it or not. I definitely had the skills. Everybody knew that by now, without a doubt.

  No… the real question was Does Reesy Snowden have star power? Was I big and bad enough to be leading a well-known off-Broadway production?

  Hmmph!! I guess I’d know the answer to that by the end of the night.

  Hell, by the end of the night, I’d probably know the answer to a whole lotta things.

  I sat there, trying to redirect my jitters. I played with my nails. They were painted a rich royal purple. The color was stunning against the tone of my skin.

  Purple was Mimosa’s signature color. No matter what she wore, purple was always present on her in some way or another.

  Ironically, though, none of that really mattered. All the pretty colors in the world wouldn’t make a difference if the audience didn’t get fired up from my performance tonight.

  I stared ahead, studying myself in the mirror. My face was painted to perfection, and the clingy, royal purple evening gown with its spaghetti straps and thigh-high slit hugged my body like a glove.

  My skin was silky smooth, a beautiful golden hue that was radiant under the light.

  I looked fantastic, and that was the straight-up truth. Even I had to give myself props on that.

  My braids were pulled back in a tight, severe bun. I didn’t even have any tendrils hanging. It was all face, all me. No hair to act as a buffer. No tendrils to distract.

  The goal was to make these people look at REESY. To have them get a load of THE NEXT BIG THING.

  At least, that’s how I saw it.

  Let’s just hope that I was right.

  • • •

  “Two minutes, everybody! Places!”

  I could hear Dreyfus walking around backstage, announcing the curtains.

  When the band/orchestra began to play, I stayed planted in my chair, in my dressing room, still doing my breathing exercises and trying to focus my thoughts.

  Mimosa didn’t make her entrance until the dancers finished their opening number. I had about six minutes to wait.

  My left leg was moving like a jackhammer.

  I let it do its thing. It was a way to let nervous energy escape.

  There was a quick knock at my door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened partway, and Julian stuck his head in.

  “How you doin’?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” I answered with a smile, trying to appear confident.

  He nodded, appraising me.

  “You look terrific.”

  My smile widened into a genuine grin.

  “Thank you, Julian,” I replied, grateful for his encouraging words. “To tell you the truth, my heart’s going a mile a minute.”

  “Scared?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Nervous?”

  “A little. Nervous good, though. I’m realizing that my whole life may be about to change within the next few hours.”

  Julian pressed his lips together, thoughtfully, nodding his head in agreement.

  “Yes, Miss Thang. You’re absolutely right about that.”

  I sighed heavily.

  “But don’t let that scare you,” he added quickly. “Just concentrate on the show, and don’t think about anything else. Become Mimosa. Let her spirit take you over when you hit that stage.”

  “I am Mimosa,” I breathed. “Right now, she and I are one and the same.”

  “Good!” Julian exclaimed. “That’s the way I like to hear you talk! Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He opened the door wider and held out his hand to me.

  I carefully pushed up from my chair. Heat raced over the surface of my skin as I grew flush from the thought of finally going on stage.

  It was happening. My God, it was happening. I was about to go out there, front and center, with no surrounding dancers for me to blend into and get lost. This time, it was all eyes on me.

  My heart was going thunkety-thunkety-thunkety-thunk. I gave myself a quick check in the mirror.

  “You’re beautiful, lady,” Julian assured me. “Perfection can’t get any better than that.”

  I walked over to him, grabbing hold of his still-outstretched hand. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “If this goes well, I have you to thank, ya know.”

  “Then start thanking me now, heffah!” Julian laughed. “Your undying gratitude has been long overdue!”

  I smiled broadly at him as he pulled my dressing room door closed. Still holding hands, we walked toward the stage.

  Actors were rushing about, changing into and out of costumes and putting on makeup. A few people stopped and watched as Julian and I walked by.

  “Lookin’ good, girlfriend!” one of the stagehands, a sistah named Trina, whispered loud enough for me to hear.

  “Thanks!”

  The dancers on stage were wrapping up their opening number.

  Dreyfus was beckoning frantically to me.

  “C’mon, Reesy! You’re about to go on!”

  I glanced quickly at Julian. He smiled and gave my hand a firm squeeze.
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  “Knock ’em dead, Miss Thang!” he uttered softly, his mouth close to my ear. “Show ’em some of what you whipped on us, way back when you first tried out for the show!”

  I nodded, hurrying over to Dreyfus. He caught me by the waist, positioning me close to the stage, just inside the curtain.

  I raised my arms, readying my pose. I entered singing “Pie in the Sky,” an upbeat tune, full of gusto and bravado, that established Mimosa as a woman of fire and vigor.

  “We’re all behind you now, Reesy,” Dreyfus whispered. “Go out there and bring down the house!”

  I nodded again, blood rushing hot hot hot through my veins. I was burning up from the inside out. So hot that I felt I could have fainted.

  I heard my cue from the band.

  I opened my mouth and began singing from offstage, surprised to hear my voice soaring, so loud and crystal clear.

  Arms outstretched, I strutted confidently, my hips swaying with mad exaggeration, out onto center stage. The other dancers whirled away, disappearing into the shadows. The theater grew dark and a spotlight focused on only me.

  I looked up and out, right into its brilliance. Every hair on my body, except for my braids, was standing on end.

  As I danced across the stage, the light followed me. It dipped and dived, mirroring my every action.

  The more I moved, the more I became caught up in the heat of the song. The feeling I had from being out there was electric.

  As I pranced around on that stage, singing my song, I was becoming quite hot and hellafied horny.

  I stared out into what I knew was the audience. But I couldn’t really see any of them. Julian, Rowena, and Gordon had assured me that the lights would be so bright, the last thing I had to concern myself with was the look on folks’ faces.

  They were absolutely right.

  For once, though, I kinda wished they weren’t. I would have loved to lock onto the individual faces of the people in the audience. I was good at that. It was an art I had perfected as an exotic dancer. If I were able to look into the eyes of my prey, I knew with certainty that I could captivate them with my singing and movements until I felt them sucked in by my spell.

  I’d have to wing it the best way I could. My imagination would have to get me through.

  In my mind’s eye, I drew imaginary faces. Complete with Grandma Tyler, Rick and Misty, and Tyrone and Tyrene.

  Most of all, I pictured Dandre’s face. The sexy image of him turning to putty as he watched me strut my stuff in front of God and everybody.

  Something was happening to me. I was consumed with the lust of being the absolute center of attention.

  I knew the faces were fixed upon me intently. All of them. I could feel the vibes they were sending out as they ricocheted all around the theater.

  As I neared the end of the song, I moved closer to the edge of the stage. I got down on all fours, and crawled toward the audience.

  The person crawling toward the edge of the stage had a mind of her own. Inside, I watched, horny and horrorstruck, as she lowered her voice with every gesture she made.

  The band director quickly adjusted, directing the band/orchestra to play softer, so as not to drown out the singing.

  This person, the one who was now crooning to the audience so provocatively, leaned up on one arm, her finger crooked. Her body slithered liquidly as she sang the very last lines of the song.

  She ended with barely a whisper, on her belly, both elbows on the stage, her face in her hands. The orchestra had faded to silence.

  The audience broke into a roar. A deafening cheer.

  The woman at the edge of the stage smiled seductively.

  I watched it all with disbelief.

  That woman wasn’t me!! At least, not the me that I knew myself to be.

  I knew I had a lot of nerve, but I was pretty sure that I didn’t have enough nerve to go out and try to rework the show’s already successful formula.

  I stared at the woman long and hard. Finally, I realized who it was.

  It was Mimosa Jones.

  On stage, beneath that riveting light, I had become Mimosa Jones.

  And ol’ girl wasn’t about to take the conservative route this time around.

  No way.

  This new incarnation of Mimosa was ready for her close-up.

  And she wasn’t about to wait on Mr. DeMille to give it to her, either.

  • • •

  The rest of the show was just as dramatic, with Mimosa reworking each version of the songs she sang.

  Everyone in the show, although thoroughly surprised, happily followed suit.

  For a little while, through the first couple of songs at least, I was puzzled about why this had happened with me.

  Then, suddenly, it all made sense.

  You see, it was one thing for me to learn the part from Rowena. Instruction is instruction, and that was what she gave me.

  But my natural rhythm was so innate and my personality so defined, there was no way I could have just done the part and not put my own physical spin on it.

  If I’d really thought about it, I would have realized that long before. But I just got so caught up in rehearsing with Rowena, I never even considered what might happen once I had taken from her all that I needed and was ready to fly on my own.

  When I dashed backstage to change costumes for the first time, Julian rushed into my dressing room, nearly catching me unclothed.

  He closed the door behind him.

  I was so horny and excited from the high of my performance, that I would have considered fucking him. I didn’t have time, though.

  Besides that, it would have been a lost cause.

  Right in front of Julian, I stripped off the purple gown and snatched the red sequined number from the rack. I knew my lack of modesty was of no concern to him.

  “What did you just do out there?!”

  I glanced up at him as I squeezed into the dress.

  “I sang the song. Why? Did I not do okay?”

  “You were unfuckingbelievable!!”

  I plopped down in the chair, touching up my makeup.

  “So, is that a good thing?”

  I dusted my face with a fresh coat of powder.

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Quit bullshittin’, Julian,” I said. “Just give it to me straight.”

  He came over and stood behind me. I could see his face in the mirror as I continued to apply my makeup.

  “Reesy, you were incredible!! You must have been practicing that for weeks without anybody knowing!! I’m the damn choreographer!! You ain’t told me shit!!!”

  I shook my head as I smoothed my eyebrows.

  “Tonight was the first time.”

  “No way!!!” he snorted. “That shit was too tight to be spontaneous! You can’t just pull a move like that out your ass!”

  “Calm down, nigga, calm down,” I said quietly, looking into his face through the reflection of the mirror. “You forget, I know this show inside out.”

  I pushed back from the counter and rose from the chair. Julian backed up, getting out of my way.

  I smoothed down my dress and walked across the room to the shoe rack.

  “It’s such a risk, Reesy,” he replied. “Suppose someone else is thrown off by what you’re doing?”

  I slipped my feet into a pair of red satin pumps.

  “Has that happened yet?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “No.”

  I ran my fingers casually across the top of my hair.

  “So I looked good out there, huh?”

  “I told you, girl—you were da bomb!”

  “Good!” I said with finality. “Then I’m not gonna stop. I’m just gonna let Mimosa do her thang.”

  I walked over to him and squeezed his chin between my fingers.

  “Don’t worry… I won’t screw anybody up. I know exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  I let go of his chin and peered into his face.

  “
Damn, Vm horny!” I added, for no reason other than the fact that it was true.

  Julian just stood there, shaking his head.

  “You are something else, Miss Thang. It’s like I don’t even know you. I thought I did, but it looks as though I haven’t even scratched the surface.”

  I rushed past him, about to exit the room.

  “Then that makes two of us,” I commented, as I headed back toward the stage.

  He stepped out of my dressing room, into the bullpen area.

  “What are you talking about?!” Julian asked with surprise. “You know practically every damn thing about me!”

  I still had about a minute before it was time to go on. I stopped in my tracks and waited for him to catch up.

  “That’s not what I said,” I replied when he was finally beside me.

  “Then what did you mean when you said that makes two of us?”

  I stood there, staring into his eyes, contemplating just what it was I had meant by the statement.

  “Well?” Julian persisted.

  I glanced over toward the stage. Dreyfus was beckoning to me.

  “I meant that I’m just as in the dark as you are, Julian,” I replied hurriedly, racing over toward the stage. “I haven’t figured me out yet, either!”

  Suddenly, Dreyfus caught me by the arm and pushed me out onto the stage.

  I disappeared among the lights and let Mimosa Jones handle her business.

  The crowd was on their feet, screaming, as I came back for my second bow. Five different men walked up front and handed me bundles of roses. My arms were filled.

  I bowed again, and disappeared backstage with the roses.

  I tossed them into a nearby chair and rushed back over to the curtains, sneaking a peek into the audience.

  The stage lights were down and the house lights were up. I could see everybody and everything as the crowd got up and made their way out of the theater.

  There was Dandre, standing next to Misty and Rick. He was beaming at them like a happy little schoolkid.

  Misty and Rick were all teeth and grins. Rick was pumping his fist in the air. Misty was hanging on to his arm like a piece of Velcro.

  I scanned the room in search of the obvious.