Diva's Last Curtain Call (2 page)

“Then I really don’t know what else to tell you, Allie.” We stared at each other for a few minutes before she stood up and grabbed her purse.

“So, that’s it then? You’re really not going to help me?”

“Allie, I—” I began before she angrily threw up her hand cutting me off.

“Oh, just forget it, Kendra. I’ll get the interview my damn self. I can see now that nothing has changed.”

“Meaning what?” I had a good idea what she was going to say, but I could feel myself tensing up anyway.

“Meaning you’re still jealous of me, aren’t you? You can’t stand the fact that I have an exciting career and a bright future ahead of me while you’re stuck in this crappy little town working two dead-end jobs and getting nowhere fast.”

I could hardly speak. How dare she talk about my life like that? I might only be a part-time English instructor with a GED program, supplementing my income hostessing at the very restaurant we were now eating in, but that didn’t give her the right to trash my life. I was a teacher. I helped people get their general education diplomas. To date, her only achievement had been helping to create a goofy dance craze with a bucktoothed one-hit wonder.

“Oh, really,” I said, crossing my arms and forcing myself to laugh when I really wanted to choke Allegra ’til she turned blue. “I seem to remember that
my
so-called dead-end jobs allowed me to loan
your
broke ass money when you were about to have your phone turned off last month. And furthermore—” Before I could finish, Alex walked up next to Allegra and put a hand on her shoulder. His face looked grim, but his voice was soft as butter. Alex never raises his voice, but I could tell he was angry over the scene we were making by the way his nostrils were flaring. He looked like a pissed-off horse.

“Ladies, what’s the problem?” he asked, looking from Allegra to me and back again.

“Sorry, Uncle Alex, I gotta go. I’m a woman on a mission,” Allegra said, giving Alex a quick peck on the cheek and tossing me a dirty look before heading out the door.

“It’s so
moving
to see all the love flowing between my two nieces,” he said sarcastically.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

When I arrived home a few hours later, I saw that Allegra’s stuff was gone. No big surprise. I wasn’t pressed. She’d only been staying with me because Mama wouldn’t give her a key, let her come and go as she pleased and expected her to be in the house by the time she went to bed, which was around ten o’clock. Mama had an excellent memory when it came to the misconduct of her children and granddaughters and hadn’t forgotten the time when she’d caught a sixteen-year-old Allegra dry-humping the captain of the football team on her good living-room couch. Allegra still hadn’t shaken the “fast” label that Mama had tagged her with after that incident, which wasn’t helped at all by the whole “Freaky Deaky” episode, nor had she earned back Mama’s trust enough to be issued a key. So, she’d decided to stay with me. I figured she’d gone back to stay with Mama, claiming that I, her jealous, less-than-fabulous sister, was making life hard for her. But an evening of watching Lawrence Welk reruns with Mama and she’d be on my doorstep once again.

I spent the rest of my afternoon making the final arrangements for my best friend Lynette Martin-Gaines’s bridal shower later that evening. Lynette and her fiancé, Greg Hull, were getting married in a week and I, being the maid of honor, was hosting her shower at the Red Dragon Chinese Restaurant’s party room. I was expecting about twenty-five of Lynette’s friends and family members to show up and prayed everything would go off without any major drama. The source of my concern was three of Lynette’s bridesmaids—Georgette Combs and Celeste and Cecile Warner—whom I hadn’t hit it off with when I’d met them at Lynette and Greg’s engagement party. The three had tried unsuccessfully to stir up conflict in the form of a fist fight between Lynette and me. I was hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be able to make it to the party, but to my extreme disappointment they were the first three to RSVP.

I’d just stepped out of the shower and was lathering lotion on when my phone rang. It was Carl, my sweetie.

“Hey, I just got out of the shower. Why don’t you come over and put lotion on my—”

“Uh, Kendra we need to talk,” he said, sounding serious. Obviously this wasn’t a social call. Carl’s a lawyer and his lawyer vibe was radiating through the phone.

“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling uneasy.

“It’s your sister,” he said simply. Envisioning Allegra lying dead in a ditch, my fingers clutched the lotion bottle so hard that half the contents spurted out onto my leg. I felt my throat start to close up, eliciting a strangled yelp that I barely realized had come from me.

“She’s okay, Kendra,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I got a call from Allegra about an hour ago. She got picked up by the police for trespassing on Vivianne DeArmond’s property.”

“What!” I shouted.

“Yeah. Apparently she was in Vivianne DeArmond’s house, dressed as one of the cleaners, and was trying to interview her. Ms. DeArmond’s assistant called the police.”

“Where is she now?” I said through gritted teeth. I couldn’t believe she’d actually gone through with her knuckleheaded plan.

“Well, I managed to convince Ms. DeArmond not to press charges. The police gave her a strong warning to stay away from Vivianne DeArmond and released her into my custody. An officer escorted us back to Ms. DeArmond’s house, so Allegra could get her rental car, and I followed her to your grandmother’s.”

“Thanks, Carl. I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Kendra. I seem to remember a certain person who’s trespassed herself on plenty—”

“All right, babe. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, hanging up before he could take me on a trip down memory lane.

I finished getting ready for the bridal shower. As I pulled the dress I was planning to wear to the party out of the closet, my hand brushed against the hideous Smurf-blue, sequin-encrusted maid-of-honor dress with the big bow on the back that Lynette had picked for me to wear in the wedding. Usually, I shuddered every time I looked at the monstrosity. But I was too busy fuming about Allegra almost getting arrested, as well as feeling a little hurt that she’d called Carl instead of me. Then another more disturbing thought popped into my head, and I put my thumb clean through the thigh of a brand-new pair of panty hose.

Why in the hell did Allegra have my man’s phone number?

L
ynette’s shower was in full swing by eight that evening. The Red Dragon’s party room was decorated with silver and white balloons, and the tables were adorned with purple silk tablecloths and beautiful floral arrangements of purple peonies and lilies. The guests had cooperated for the most part and were wearing the hats I’d picked up at the thrift store. Instead of the standard goofy paper party hats, I’d opted for vintage ones with feathers and bows. Alex had generously donated hors d’oeuvre trays from the restaurant, and Mama had made an assortment of desserts, including her famous lemon cake. I was pleased with the way everything had turned out. Not that I was getting much of a chance to enjoy it. I’d spent most of my time attending to every detail and making sure the guests and the bride to be were having a good time. Every once in a while I’d glance over at Georgette Combs and the twins, Celeste and Cecile Warner, who were huddled together in a far corner, to make sure they were behaving themselves. Aside from the alcohol-loving twins complaining bitterly to anyone who’d listen that, “It ain’t no real party without liquor,” and Georgette accidentally popping balloons with her freakishly long talonlike finger nails, they seemed to be behaving themselves.

“Where’s Allie, Kendra?” Asked an annoyed voice behind me. I turned slowly, not really wanting to deal with the asker of the question, Mama, whom I’d purposely been avoiding since the party started. As far I knew, she didn’t know about Allegra being picked up for trespassing, and I wanted to keep it that way. I also didn’t feel like getting into why she’d left my place to stay with Mama.

“I haven’t seen her since we had lunch earlier,” I replied truthfully trying my best to look innocent. Mama eyed me suspiciously and I felt myself start to sweat. “You know how Allie is, Mama,” I said quickly. “She probably just wants to make an entrance.”

I sincerely hoped she hadn’t ignored the warning the police had given her and gone back out to Vivianne DeArmond’s house. Surely she wasn’t that stupid, was she? Then I thought back to when Allegra was little and saw
Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
on TV, after which she asked for an Oompa Loompa for Christmas for three years in a row. To this day, she’s still a little fuzzy as to why she couldn’t have one. My heart sank.

“You haven’t done anything to upset her have you?”

“What?” was all I managed to get out.

“I noticed her stuff sitting on my back porch when I left for the party. I hope you two aren’t arguing, ’cause she’s only in town for a short time, Kendra. I hope you’re not ruining her visit.”

I could feel myself start to do a slow burn. Why did she automatically think any problem between Allie and me would be my fault? Unbelievable. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Fortunately, I saw Lynette standing in a corner all by herself looking sad and a tiny bit like Little Bo Peep in her big straw party bonnet. I excused myself, rather coolly, and went to see what was up with my best friend who wasn’t looking anything like a happy bride to be.

“Everything okay?” I asked, grabbing Lynette’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Of course. Everything looks great, Kendra. Thank you so much,” she said, perking up. But her smile looked strained and didn’t reach her eyes.

“Then why are you over here in the corner looking pitiful?”

“Girl, I’m just thinking about all the stuff I have to do before next week and I’m wondering how I’m going to get it all done. India’s dress needs to be altered again. This is the third time. She’s grown two inches and gained ten pounds since her first fitting. Monty’s pouting because he’s going to miss his friend Derrick’s birthday party at Go Cart Land, which happens to be the same day as the wedding. And my mother is working my last nerve as usual. Men have it so easy. All they have to do is show up.” It sounded reasonable enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was bothering Lynette had nothing to do with her kids and mother.

“Oh, is that all,” I said, laughing, “I thought maybe Talon Woman and the Double Lush Twins were giving you a hard time.” She gave me a half-hearted laugh as we looked over to the far corner of the room and watched Georgette, Celeste and Cecile gorged themselves on food. Both twins had crumbs cascading down the front of their shirts and Georgette’s mouth was smeared with cocktail sauce. We both cringed and quickly looked away as the twins took turns taking swigs from what looked like a forty-ouncer of beer that Celeste had pulled from her big purse.

As Lynette and I stood talking, her mother Justine joined us and I noticed Lynette visibly tense up. Justine had opted not to wear one of the party hats and her long, curly, black weave was hanging down her back like a horse’s mane, as usual. She was wearing a tight denim jumpsuit and her feet were crammed into high-heeled, open-toed mules that were too small and left almost an inch of her heel hanging off the back. Her makeup was dramatic and overdone, as was her usual style. Justine was in her fifties but prided herself on looking much younger. She’d been known to tell her boyfriends that Lynette was her sister. Justine was holding a plate of food and eyeing it suspiciously, as though the food was plotting to make her fat.

“Hey, Ms. Martin. You having a good time?” I braced myself for her answer. Justine is moody as hell and you never knew if she’s going to kiss you or cuss you out.

“Doing just fine, Kendra. You really outdid yourself with this party, girlfriend. Everything looks so nice,” she said, a tad too sarcastically for my taste. Upon arriving at the party, Justine had made her distaste over the vintage hats I’d brought known by the way her face frowned up. “No telling whose head those hats have been on,” I’d overheard her saying to Lynette’s future sister-in-law, Liz.

“Thank you,” I replied, ignoring her tone.

“I just hope this isn’t all for nothing. Lynette’s first marriage lasted about as long as it takes a relaxer to grow out of my head!” She threw her head back and laughed loudly at her own joke.

I expected Lynette to be pissed, but instead she looked like she was about to cry. Justine was referring to Lynette’s first marriage to Lamont Gaines. Lynette and Lamont had eloped right after we graduated from high school. The marriage lasted five years and resulted in two children, Lamont, Jr., and India.

“I hope my baby girl has better luck this time around. Greg’s a good man, not like that other rooty-poot Negro she was married to, so maybe she’ll be able to hold on to this one. I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” She flounced off to go bug someone else. Before I could console my friend, who now looked even sadder and more pitiful than before, I heard a loud buzz of greetings and excitement as Allegra made her grand entrance.

Much to my dismay, most everyone in the room had gathered around my sister, who was wearing the hell out of a figure-hugging fuschia halter dress. Her highlighted hair was a vision of poker-straight perfection and fell to her shoulders. Three-inch ankle-strap sandals made her even taller than her normal height of five foot nine. Her makeup was minimal, as she had nearly flawless skin, and only needed a little lipstick to accentuate her full lips. In other words, Allegra was a goddess. I tugged self-consciously at my sleeveless, green silk wrap dress that, until my sister had made her appearance, I’d thought I looked really good in. Suddenly I felt as green as my dress, which bugged the hell out of me. Usually, I’m proud of my sister. But ever since she’d arrived in town I was realizing how much easier it was to be proud of her when she was clear across the country in L.A.

I waited until Allegra had finished her hellos and was putting her gift on the gift table to approach her. She looked less than thrilled to see me.

“Carl called and told me what happened. What in the world were you thinking?” I whispered. Mama was staring at us from across the room so I planted a smile on my face.

“Look, I told you how much I needed that interview. You wouldn’t help me so I did what I had to do,” she replied sweetly. She sure wasn’t acting like someone who’d been picked up by the police and was in danger of losing her job.

“So, what are you going to do now?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, sis, I’ve got it all under control,” she said, smiling. I gave her a doubtful look.

“Please tell me you aren’t going near Vivianne DeArmond again. If she wanted to be interviewed, she wouldn’t have let her assistant call the cops on you.”

“You know, you really need to loosen up, Kendra. That’s part of your whole problem,” she said, walking away from me to congratulate Lynette. I started to follow her, but Mama joined them and I decided to keep my distance. If Allegra thought I was a tight ass now, wait until I grilled her about how she got Carl’s phone number.

“That your sister?” asked a voice behind me. I turned to find myself face-to-face with Georgette, Celeste and Cecile. Great. This was all I needed.

“Yes,” I answered, trying hard to be polite. I just didn’t like these women and, despite all my efforts to exclude alcohol from the party, the twins were noticeably drunk.

“Wow. You guys don’t look anything alike,” squeaked Georgette in her high-pitched Minnie Mouse voice.

“Yeah, y’all got the same mama and daddy?” slurred one of the twins. I couldn’t be bothered to try and tell them apart even though one had red hair.

“That’s usually how it works,” I replied sarcastically.

“Well, we can see who it worked out better for in the looks department, huh?” said the other inebriated twin. All three walked away laughing as I felt my face burn.

Later that night, after the shower was long over, I sat in my apartment with my bare feet propped up on the trunk that served as my coffee table, nursing a glass of wine and thanking God that the whole ordeal was over. I had hired a group of male strippers to perform at the shower as a surprise to Lynette. I should have known not to hire strippers sight unseen, especially ones called O Boys. When a group of five elderly black men dressed in suits arrived, whose combined age had to be close to five hundred, I assumed they’d taken a wrong turn and were looking for the main restaurant.

“Sir, the restaurant is that big building out front,” I said politely to the man nearest me. He squinted at me though his bifocals.

“No, this is the right place. This is the party room and we’re here to party, girly girl,” said the man shaking his narrow hips.

I could do nothing but stare as they plugged in a boom box and started stripping off their suits to the sounds of James Brown’s “Get Up Offa That Thing.” I found out what the
O
stood for:
old
. Apparently they didn’t have enough money for the two extra letters on their business card that I’d found tacked up on the community bulletin board at B&S Hair Design and Nail Sculpture, when I’d gone to get my hair cut a month ago. Each garment of clothing the men shed revealed toothpick arms, spindly legs, wrinkled skin, sunken chests, gray hairs and G-strings exposing flat asses that wouldn’t have held a dollar bill even if any of us had wanted to place one between their saggy butt cheeks. And to top it off, they couldn’t dance, at least not any current dances. We all watched in silent amazement while the old dudes formed a line and started trying to do the Freaky Deaky. The drunken twins decided they wanted to get in on the act, too, and started dancing and stripping, as well. The party quickly turned to chaos. But at least it seemed to bring Lynette out of her funk and she laughed until fat tears rolled down her cheeks. In fact, the only ones who weren’t laughing were Mama, who looked mortified, and Allegra, who probably thought I’d put them up to doing the dance that launched her C-list career. Mama glared at me until Allegra, who was more than happy to leave, led her out of the party room and took her home.

I was half-asleep when I heard a knock at my door. I quickly answered it. It was Carl. He’d called when I’d got home and I told him all about the shower fiasco. He took one look at my face and gave me a sympathetic chuckle. Instead of speaking, he pulled me into his arms and I buried my face now into his chest enjoying his warmth and breathing in his signature scent, Obsession for Men. Then we started kissing and shedding clothes. I shoved him down on the couch, straddled him, and was reaching behind my back to unhook my bra when my door flew open revealing Allegra, with all of her luggage.

“Hey, sis, I’m back,” she shouted and then froze upon seeing Carl and me in a state of aroused undress. We all stared at each other for a few awkward seconds until Allegra mumbled an apology and headed back to my bedroom with her stuff. Her openly appreciative glance at Carl’s partially nude body wasn’t lost on me, especially since he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, either.

The next morning I was with Mama sitting in Cartwright Auditorium, named for Willow’s first mayor, Jacob Cartwright, awaiting the start of the Starburst Film Festival Committee’s Lifetime Achievement Award ceremony for Vivianne DeArmond. I looked around the packed auditorium at the other attendees and was surprised that the crowd consisted of people from all walks of life and spanned many generations. Having been out of the spotlight for over twenty years apparently hadn’t diminished Vivianne’s memory as far as her loyal fans were concerned. We were currently watching a film retrospective of her career which, I was amused to notice, didn’t include any mention of
Demon Kitty
. Before the start of the ceremony, Vivianne had signed autographs for her numerous fans, some who’d come from out of state, for about an hour in the auditorium’s lobby. I didn’t stand in the long line for an autograph, but I did get a good look at Vivianne, or Vivi as she’s known to her fans, and was stunned to see how gorgeous she still was at sixty-five.

She was the epitome of graciousness, dressed in an elegant cream-colored pantsuit that accentuated her caramel-colored skin. Her suspiciously still-dark-brown hair was piled in curly disarray on top of her head with long tendrils framing a wrinkle-free, heart-shaped face. For someone who was known for her diva ways, she was on her best behavior and being quite personable and charming to her fans. The only time she got testy was when a nerdy-looking middle-aged white guy with thick horn-rimmed glasses tried to come behind the table she was sitting at and hug her.