Going in a Different Direction
GOING IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION
Chris: I hope you’re practicing.
Bobby: Practicing?
Chris: Your Lindy.
Bobby: What?
Chris: Jive? Charleston?
Chris: Don’t tell me you’re a jitterbug kind of guy.
Bobby: I’ll jitterbug when you learn how to line dance.
Chris: Challenge accepted.
I snorted when Bobby sent a photo of himself, his fingers hooked in his jeans and his feet in the middle of a shuffle. I thought he had been joking, but it appeared my man might have some moves after all.
“What has you grinning like an idiot?”
Rita set a coffee down on the table. She had brewed it strong enough that my pulse quickened just from the smell. I showed her my phone and now two of us were grinning.
“You two are going to give me a cavity.”
“Yes. Yes, we are.” I didn’t care who knew it. I had heard enough people say Bobby was happier since I arrived. If they had known me before setting foot in Firefly, they’d be saying the same about me.
I had told nobody about Bobby, not yet. I wanted to keep him all to myself. The moment I posted a photo of us on social media, the speculation would fly. When it happened, I wanted them to have something to talk about. If the world didn’t love Bobby as much as I did, that’d be their loss. I suspected he’d win them over as quickly as he did me.
“Christopher.”
Rita looked up from my phone to the doorway. I didn’t need to turn to know the source of the voice. Only Tessa and my mother called me by my full name. The time she came over for Thanksgiving, I realized how much alike they sounded. I’d never make that mistake again.
“Remember the phone call when I was in here?”
Rita nodded without speaking. She watched as Tessa approached, one loud clack of her heels after another.
“This is the woman on the other end.”
Tessa held out a hand. “Lovely shop you have.”
“Thanks.” I could tell Rita didn’t know if the newcomer was friend or foe. It had been similar my first few weeks here.
“Rita, can you get Tessa a fancy coffee?”
Rita gave me a pat on the shoulder. As she walked behind the counter, she didn’t stop staring.
“It takes a while for them to warm up. They’re like this to everybody.”
“I assumed I was the first black woman ever to set foot in Firefly.” She pulled out a chair and sat across the table. When I said nothing, she laughed. “I am the first black woman, aren’t I?”
“Firefly could use a little more of your fierceness.”
“If you think I’m going to chop wood, you’ve got another thing coming.” When I started to reply, she held up her finger. Outside the coffee shop, two gentlemen walked by. “Though if they want to chop it for me...”
“Tessa finally admits she has a lumberjack fetish.”
“We’ve got that in common.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. I was surprised to see she had dressed down. By down, I meant she was in a turtleneck with a cutout just above her chest and pants that hugged her legs and showed off her ass. When she crossed her arms, I prepared for the lecture.
“The studio called.”
“About that…”
I had stayed up far too late reading Amanda’s comic. The story about a teenage kid rising above the bullies and saving the town from a super-powered villain had spoken to me. I could see a younger version of myself in the pages of her story. When I finished, I flipped back to the start and read it a second time.
“They’ll only delay for so long.”
“They don’t need to.”
“Oh good, they’ll be relieved?—”
“I’m turning it down.”
Behind the counter, a mug smashed against the floor. I glanced to see Rita and caught her eavesdropping. Tessa, however, wouldn’t be distracted by smashed porcelain. Her entire body tensed, but otherwise, she held still. When she moved a hand to the table, her blood-red nails clacking against the surface, I knew I was in trouble.
“Help me understand.”
“If I say yes, I’ll be playing the same character for the rest of my career.”
“If you say yes, you won’t have to worry about your career.”
“Tessa… this isn’t about money.” She would knock down walls to give me what I needed. When her expression didn’t change, I threw my heart on the table. “I’m miserable.”
Rita set a cup of coffee in front of Tessa and cautiously backed away. The smell from her cup was bold enough to make my nose twitch. Rita listened to every word. I only hoped I could ask her to not share the information before she texted Gladys.
“I’ve been playing the same character over and over again. Nobody in Hollywood thinks I can do anything that doesn’t involve a high-speed car chase. I’m basically a high-paid, pretty face. I go out on a limb and try something different, and it tanked.”
“Chris—”
“Why?” I continued. “Because I wasn’t playing somebody they wanted." The trolls destroyed me online while the newspapers dragged me through the mud to sell papers. If I went back now, I'd be proving them right. "I’m tired of doing things that make other people happy. The next role needs something with substance. I want characters with more depth than a parent killed by the mob. If I say yes, then I’m putting another nail in the coffin.”
“Chris—”
“I know you’re pissed. It’s the chance of a lifetime. It’s not just money, it’s stupid money. I could buy a small island with that kind of money. But it’s not going to buy me happiness and?—”
“Are you done with your monologue?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She texted at the speed of light and then set it down on the table.
“I…” Tessa stole my thunder and left me deflated. “I guess I am.” I had said everything that needed saying. Our friendship would survive her dropping me as a client. She’d need to make way for a fresh wave of upstarts. It’d be a change, but we’d weather the storm.
Her face hadn't changed since I started speaking. Tessa had mastered the ability to hide her thoughts. Even her eyes held fast. I could only imagine she flipped through a mental Rolodex, trying to find somebody to replace me as her client.
“I understand.”
Those are not the words I expected from Tessa. Her demeanor softened, at least for her. With a massive payday on the horizon, I thought she’d try to bend my arm, convincing me I could do something big with the money. This wasn’t the shark who negotiated contracts with a room full of lawyers.
“I’ve thought long and hard?—”
She laughed. Not her real laugh. That usually involved snorting like a pig. This was that calculated guffaw. Just enough humor to be disarming but laced with calculated intensity.
“There’s no going back now.”
I raised my eyebrow. She pushed her cell phone across the table, tapping the screen. I glanced down to see the last text she sent.
“We appreciate the offer, but we’ve decided to go in a different direction.” I reread her text a second, then a third time. Before I explained myself, she had turned down the role.
“Yes, you’re my client. Yes, you cost me a buttload of money. I’m talking, so so so much money.”
“Tessa.”
She held up a finger. “I’m talking money like whoa. But I’ll cry myself to sleep about it later. You’re my client, but more importantly, you’re…”
I leaned forward as she cringed, refusing to say it. I jumped in. “My friend.”
“Oh, thank God. I couldn’t do it.”
I snorted. Tessa had just admitted that our relationship transcended work. She got an A for effort. I’d take the victory and run with it. I was already thinking about putting it on a sweater for her birthday. Maybe a coffee mug?
“But we ain’t leaving this table until you tell me what you’re looking for.”
If I told her the type of character I wanted, she’d have half a dozen scripts within a week. Whatever ones she thought would see the light of day, she’d pitch in my direction. This time, however, it was my turn to pitch an idea to her.
“I know the script I want.”
Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Christopher Wilde, are you going to make my job easy?”
I laughed hard enough the table shook. If turning down the biggest contract of my life wasn’t enough of a stretch, I wanted to knock her out of her seat. Reaching into my jacket, I pulled out Amanda’s comic. I set it down and pushed it across the table.
“This.”
“A comic? Didn’t you just?—”
“I promise you, it’s worth reading. They want superheroes. Let’s give them a story with depth.”
“Chris, you know you can’t just hand me a comic, and it turns into a movie, right? You’re not a studio. It’s impossible to?—”
“Prism said they’re interested.”
Tessa picked up the comic, flipping open the first page. With just a glance, her eyes widened as they darted from panel to panel. “We’ll have to talk to the creator about licensing. Then we?—”
“I knew you’d be up for the challenge.”
Tessa leaned forward, flipping the page. Sipping her coffee, she ignored me. Tessa hadn’t backed down from a challenge since a boy in second grade swore he could swing higher. She had the scar on her knee that proved her uncanny drive to win. With her on board, I bet this project had a future.
“Rita,” I said, turning to see her leaning on the counter. She didn’t try hiding her nosiness. “Can we keep this a secret until I can talk to Bobby?”
She frowned. “Fine.” I knew it killed her on the inside. “But I want a role in your movie.”
If this went how I imagined, there’d be plenty of roles for the people of Firefly.
While Tessa downed her third fancy coffee, I still needed to get ready for my date with Bobby. It wasn’t enough to just show up—not after my performance at the Legion. No, I needed help, and there was only one woman up to the task.
As I crossed the street, I recalled my first excursion downtown. The people hadn’t been cold, but they had treated me cautiously. Would I turn into one of the flatlanders they were so quick to tease? Or did I have some potential to integrate into the town? I needed the help of the first woman I won over.
Reaching for the door, I flung it open. “Gladys!”
The bell rang, and she popped up from behind her counter, holding a candelabra. Her bun had fallen out, her hair cascading past her shoulders. I walked to the counter on a mission. She hadn’t stopped polishing the silver when I reached her, leaning on the counter with a mischievous grin.
“Looks like somebody’s got a bee in their bonnet.”
“Gladys, I have an emergency.” She didn’t seem intrigued. “A clothing emergency.”
The cloth dropped from her hand, and she set the antique candle holder to the side. “I’m listening.”
“The jazz concert. I need a suit.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of nice suits.”
“Sure.” I couldn’t hold back the grin. I knew the moment I spoke the words, I’d be entering into a chaotic afternoon. “I need an antique suit. Something?—”
“Jazz worthy!” The fire had been lit. She shot upright, glancing back and forth around her shop. I could almost see her flipping through the mental inventory. They might not be her best sellers, tucked away somewhere in a trunk, but darn it, she knew exactly where to find them.
“I have just the thing.” She started down the aisle, where she found my jacket. “No. Those won’t do. What about…” She spun about and headed toward the other wall. “Follow me.”
Gladys moved with purpose. She shimmied past two bureaus, climbed over a wooden bed frame, and reached a wall lined with old trunks. By the time I caught up, she had already pulled out clothes. The smell of old wood and dust-covered garments nearly made me sneeze. There wasn’t a nook or cranny in this shop that didn’t hold repurposed treasures.
“So, you’re going all out on your date?”
“I am.” It wasn’t enough to ask Bobby on a date. He needed to see the lengths I’d go to make every moment with him a memory worth recording. “I’m going to need something for him as well.”
“Couples’ outfits?” Gladys all but swooned at the idea. “I’m thinking Bobby might be the lucky one.”
“I assure you… that’s me.”
She pulled out a plastic bag and unzipped it. “Here. This. I don’t even need to see it on you. It’s perfect. But for Bobby…” She hemmed and hawed as she thought about the conundrum.
“Go try it on. I have an idea.”
“Gladys, I knew you’d deliver.”
“I always do!” She shoved the bag into my arms before bolting to the back of the store. She swung open a door, and I could hear her sneakers thumping up the stairs. There was another level? What else could she possibly have that she couldn’t fit down here?
I walked to the changing room, pulling the curtain closed. With the bag on the hook, I opened it and inspected the outfit. I shouldn’t have doubted her. I stripped and pulled the pants on. Tight but doable. I pulled the suspenders over my shoulders, locking them into place. The knot in the tie vexed me until I gave up, leaving it hanging around my neck.
I grabbed the jacket and stepped into the store, staring at the full-length mirror. It was damn near perfect. It far surpassed anything I would have been able to get from the costume department.
“Who taught you how to dress?”
Gladys hung a garment back on the changing room rack and came back to me. Personal space be damned. Gladys reached into my pants, tucking in my shirt. When she finished there, she started in on the tie.
“I bet you have an assistant who ties your ties.”
If she looked at the photos of me in every magazine, I always opted for an open collar. I’d lie and say it was for comfort, but to this day, I had never successfully managed a tie. They were evil devices that never laid flat or hung at the right?—
“There you go.”
She gave me a shove toward the mirror. “Gladys, it’s perfect.” I’d let the tightness in the waistband go, especially with how it framed my ass. She held up the jacket, sliding it over one arm and then the other.
“You two are going to be adorable.”
Had she found an outfit for Bobby? “Did you find another suit?”
She grabbed the second bag and handed it to me. “I didn’t have anything else in the store.” She rested her hand on the white bag, a sad smile appearing. “It belonged to my father.”
Oh! “Gladys, I can’t take?—”
“It’ll look wonderful on Bobby.” My chest tightened as I realized the trust that came with her gift. Another story would live on. She reached up, wiping a tear from her eye. With a steadying breath, she nodded. “He loved a good night out. It'd make him happy to know somebody continued making memories in it.”
I finally understood. Every item, every piece of furniture, every quilt—they all had a story etched on their surface. Gladys had made it her mission to ensure their stories didn’t stop there. She had become the steward of folks long since passed. They’d be remembered as each piece found a new lease on life.
I wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
“Could you do me a favor and deliver it for me?”
When she pulled back, she wiped both cheeks. “Look at what you did. You got me all worked up.” Grabbing the bag, she hooked it over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Staring in the mirror, I couldn’t wait to see his face. Was I going over-the-top for a high school jazz concert? Quite possibly. Would we be the talk of the town? Yup. Firefly deserved no less.