Chapter 22 Chevy
Chevy
“Guess where I am,” I whispered happily into my headset.
“Who the hell is this?” Crystal responded, as if I’d woken her from a deep sleep.
“It’s me, Chevy—now guess where I’m calling you from!”
“Chevy?”
“Yes, Crystal! I’ve got gold fixtures in my bathroom—gold fixtures!”
“Wh-what are you talking about, Chevy?”
“I got the job at La Fleur!”
“Oh, oh, that’s nice, Chevy.” Crystal didn’t sound excited for me at all. Bitch.
“And Crystal, I’m going to Siboney tonight.”
“Really, um, that’s nice.”
“Anja is hosting a party there and I have to assist her,” I nearly screamed with joy.
“Yeah, yeah. Look, Chevy, I took some—”
“That place is supposed to be amazing. I heard that Denzel Washington is a regular.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, but—”
“Hey, why aren’t you at work?”
“Oh, is it my turn?” Crystal said spitefully, sounding fully awake now.
“Can’t I just have my moment, Crystal? Damn. You always raining on my parade.”
“I don’t mean to, Chevy. It’s just that I took some Tylenol PM, and I’m really only half hearing what you have to say. You know, the way you do all the time.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny, Crystal.”
“Okay, I’m happy you got the job.” Crystal yawned. “Just try to hold on to this one, okay?”
I could tell this was going to lead to a lecture, so I said: “Got another call, gotta run,” and pressed the end button on the phone.
***
It was already after ten and I hadn’t even signed on to the computer. I was too busy flipping through fashion magazines, dog earring pages of outfits I planned to purchase with my first paycheck.
“Okay,” I said out loud as I finally turned on the computer, “let’s get down to work.”
I signed on and was surprised to see emails from more than a dozen people. All of whom worked at La Fleur and wanted to welcome me to the family. Most of them said they were looking forward to meeting me at lunch.
When I opened Anja’s email, I almost fell off my seat. It was a three-page detailed letter, instructing me on all the things that I needed to take care of. Most of which were supposed to have been done by nine a.m. I looked at the clock; it was ten twenty.
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled as I heard Crystal’s warning reverberating at the back of my mind.
***
Ten things were supposed to be taken care of by nine. Three of them I was able to get done quickly. Call Marcia Platt at Interscope Records to confirm that 50 Cent would be at the party tonight and then call Peter Rodgers at Interscope to make sure that the Game wouldn’t be.
I then had to contact Myles Coshi at Emblem Entertainment to secure Venus the snake dancer. Myles was out of his office, so I blew up his cell phone until some out-of-breath woman answered, “Who the fuck is this?”
“Um, this is Chevy Cambridge. I work with Anja, and I’m—”
“You done called here thirty fucking times, don’t you get it? Leave a message, and he will call your impatient ass back when he—”
At that point there was a grappling sound and a sleepy voice came on saying, “Yeah, this here is Myles. Whadya want?”
In the background the woman was still ranting and raving, “I hate them damn queens over there.” She was yelling loud enough for me to hear.
Queens?
Maybe she thought she was talking to Dante. I shook away the insult.
“I say, who dis?” I looked at the phone. Surely this wasn’t Myles Coshi. Not the Myles Coshi?
“Mr.Coshi?”
“Yeah, speak, man, damn.”
“Um, this is Chevy Cambridge. I work with Anja, and she wanted me to confirm with you that we had Venus the snake dancer for tonight.”
“Mm-hmm,” Myles hummed, and then sucked something out from between his teeth. I heard the woman chuckle loudly in the background and then say something like, “You so nasty.”
I didn’t want to imagine what he’d removed from between his teeth.
“Yeah, well, I told Anja that she couldn’t have her for less than five Gs and I ain’t seen no five Gs, so I guess Venus won’t be bringing her python tonight.”
My lips flapped and my eyes darted to the email I’d printed out. All it said was to reconfirm. It didn’t say I had to negotiate a price. What to do?
“Can I put you on hold, Mr.Coshi?” I said quickly, and pressed the button before he could respond.
Then I hit the button above the white label that said DANTE and tapped the table nervously with my fingertips while I waited for him to pick up, but his phone just went into voice mail.
Panicked, I jumped up from my desk, swung my door open, and dashed out into the hallway, nearly bumping into Dante.
“Dante, thank goodness,” I said, never so happy to see someone. “I have a situation and I—”
“Handle it,” Dante threw at me without looking at me. “I’m late for a meeting.” He swished his way down the hallway, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.
Fucking Jekyll-and-Hyde motherfucker.
I slowly moved back into my office and stared at the blinking hold light on the phone. It was my first day, and already I was going to lose my job.
I had to think fast.
I took a deep breath and took my seat again. I pressed the receiver to my ear and released the hold button.
“Mr.Coshi?”
“Yeah, I was about to hang up on your ass.”
“Sorry about the wait. I’ve consulted with Anja, and she said that if you don’t stick to the terms that you originally agreed to, then she would have to, well, you know, do what it is she does best.”
“What?”
“Mr.Coshi, you and Anja have a long history together, and I don’t think you’d want any of it aired on national radio, would you?”
Now I didn’t know Coshi from a hole in the wall, but I figured that Anja had dirt on everybody, so why wouldn’t she have some on a lowlife talent agent like Coshi?
I held my breath, crossed my fingers, and waited.
“That’s low. She said that?” Coshi sounded wounded.
“So will Venus be there tonight or not?” I said in my most pleasant tone.
“Yeah, damn,” Coshi said, and the line went dead.
My hand was shaking by the time I hung up. Thank God I could think on my feet.
Now on to the other tasks at hand.
***
By the time Dante knocked softly on my door, I was halfway through with the morning emails. Since then, Anja had sent three more emails with instructions, each one as detailed and as lengthy as the last.
I’d spoken to so many people that my voice was hoarse.
“Come in,” I croaked.
“Are you ready for lunch?” asked Dante.
I was still wounded from his reaction this morning and really didn’t much feel like dining with him. But my stomach was growling, and I was so hungry, I didn’t think I could even muster the strength to go outside and look for something appetizing to eat.
“Sure,” I said as I pushed my chair back from my desk.
***
The cafeteria was on the twenty-fifth floor. It didn’t look like any cafeteria I had ever been in. I expected nice, but this was luxury.
There were chandeliers, and white-gloved waiters waiting to pull out our high-backed, red suede chairs. Linen tablecloths and silk napkins. Silk!
There was a grand piano in the corner that was currently being played by an elderly white gentleman.
“Sit down, Chevy,” Dante coaxed as I stood ogling the room.
“Oh,” I finally said, my trance broken. The waiter pushed the chair in beneath me, took the silk napkin up from the table, and placed it in my lap.
“I know it can be a bit overwhelming at first,” Dante said as he lifted his menu.
I nodded and reached for my own.
“Today,” the waiter began, “our specials are potato-leek soup à la Thailand and sweet potato–filled ravioli with a cucumber-cognac sauce as well as a poached lobster with down-home collard greens and pecan rice.”
Was he serious?
“Thank you, Craig,” Dante said without looking at the man.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waiter asked.
“I’ll have a Perrier,” Dante said. “And you, Chevy?”
What I really needed was vodka on the rocks after the morning I’d had. I looked across the room and saw that there was a bar and there were people seated at the bar, so that meant there was liquor.
“A white wine, please,” I said quietly, then looked at Dante to see if there would be a reaction, but there was none. He just kept perusing the menu.
“I think I’m going to keep it simple,” Dante started as he closed his menu and laid it down on the table. “What about you?”
I made a face as I allowed my eyes to continue to scroll through the list of appetizers and entrées. There were no prices alongside the offerings, so I assumed this was another perk to working at La Fleur Industries.
“Uhm, I think I’m going to have the steak and potatoes au gratin,” I said, flipping the menu closed.
“Good choice,” Dante said as the waiter returned with his water and my white wine. “The steak here melts in your mouth.” He leaned in and whispered, “The chef has been a visiting chef at the James Beard House as well as at the Ritz in Paris and Le Sirenuse in Positano.”
“Really?” I said, very familiar with all of the establishments.
Dante was right, the steak was out of this world; it had melted in my mouth like butter.
After I’d finished two glasses of wine and had had more than a dozen introductions to other members of the La Fleur family, Dante stood up and announced that it was time to get back to work.
When I entered my office, there was a silver pot of what I knew was green tea resting on the side table near my chaise lounge.
My head was swimming from the wine, and the steak and potatoes au gratin had brought on niggeritis, so I flipped on the plasma television, stretched myself across the chaise, and promised myself that I would allow myself only twenty minutes.
That was at one twenty in the afternoon.
***
At four o’clock my eyes flew open. I looked at my watch and it told me that I was a dead bitch.
“Oh, shit!” I yelled as I leaped off the chaise.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” I screamed, wiping the drool from the corners of my mouth and the crust from my eyes. I turned on my monitor and saw that there were now twenty more emails from Anja.
I scrolled through them as quickly as I could, trying hard to pinpoint which ones were priorities and which ones could wait until the next day.
There were none that could wait.
Shit!