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Authors: E. Lynn Harris
Tags: Fiction
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insisted that I have dinner with him and his wife very soon. There was something warm and humble about Chris. I found myself drawn to him and agreed immediately to meet for dinner. I thought it was interesting that the only person I enjoyed conversing with was the lone white guest.
When Mathis cornered me as I was getting ready to leave, I was thankful I had given my last business card to Chris.
----
From
Bling Bling
Confidential
Davis didnât have any African Americans as members of his household staff or as executive assistants. He was concerned that the lines between professional and personal were so easily blurred when it came to his own people. Besides, he knew if they saw how he and his family lived it would breed jealousy and contempt.
----
7
__________________
âZola, Iâm sorry Iâm running a little late,â Kirsten Dawson said as she sat down at a corner table at Judson Grill in midtown.
âThatâs all right. I know youâre busy. Thanks for agreeing to have lunch,â I said as I took the last sip of my club soda. Kirsten was a tall and lean brown-skinned sister with beautiful locks down her back. She was wearing a thin peacock-blue sweater that was filled to capacity and a shapeless black skirt. She had earrings in both her ears and her nose and wore very little makeup. She had a delicately pretty face, but I wondered why it had never occurred to her to pluck her eyebrows.
I had arranged the lunch with Kirsten, who was one of the cityâs top freelance celebrity writers, to convince her to do a rewrite of a cover story on Halle Berry that we had pushed back several months. Her name alone on the cover of a magazine could mean at least an additional twenty thousand in sales. Still, she had the reputation of being notoriously late with stories, was resistant to being edited, and always required final approval on her stories. Perfect for Yancey B., I thought. You had to handle Kirsten with kid gloves like she was more important than the talent. Cross Kirsten, and she and her agent might disappear for months, holding the story hostage.
âYes, I am. I just left a meeting with
Vibe,
and when I leave here, Iâm headed for
In Style.
Bringing in the benjamins,â Kirsten said as she grabbed one of the menus standing on the table.
âWhatâs good here?â I asked.
âEverything. I love the shrimp and avocado salad. Delicious, and the onion rings are the bomb,â Kirsten said.
The waiter came over and asked Kirsten what she wanted to drink, and she ordered a martini. I never understood professional people who could cocktail during lunch and then expect to be productive in the afternoon. It was an off-the-record policy at
Bling Bling
that staff members didnât drink during lunch. I knew I couldnât expect the same from freelancers, even though I was paying the bill.
âSo, how much time do we have?â I asked.
âIâve got a couple of hours. What do we need to talk about? I know you loved the story,â Kirsten said confidently.
âYeah,â I said softly. How was I going to tell her the feature needed some major work? This was one of the reasons I didnât really like hiring the heavy hitters, but they could get to the major celebrities that neither I nor any of my staff writers could snag for a one-on-one interview. The best some of my staff writers could get was a phone interview. Kirsten was the type of writer who was regularly invited to the sets of movies and into the homes of stars. Her access really allowed the readers to feel like they were there at the interview.
âWhen will the article run?â Kirsten asked as she removed the martini olives and laid them on her bread plate. She finished the drink with two long gulps while waiting for me to answer.
âWell, weâre still waiting for some pictures. Do you think thereâs any way we could get some pictures of Halle and Ericâs wedding? No
When Mathis cornered me as I was getting ready to leave, I was thankful I had given my last business card to Chris.
----
From
Bling Bling
Confidential
Davis didnât have any African Americans as members of his household staff or as executive assistants. He was concerned that the lines between professional and personal were so easily blurred when it came to his own people. Besides, he knew if they saw how he and his family lived it would breed jealousy and contempt.
----
7
__________________
âZola, Iâm sorry Iâm running a little late,â Kirsten Dawson said as she sat down at a corner table at Judson Grill in midtown.
âThatâs all right. I know youâre busy. Thanks for agreeing to have lunch,â I said as I took the last sip of my club soda. Kirsten was a tall and lean brown-skinned sister with beautiful locks down her back. She was wearing a thin peacock-blue sweater that was filled to capacity and a shapeless black skirt. She had earrings in both her ears and her nose and wore very little makeup. She had a delicately pretty face, but I wondered why it had never occurred to her to pluck her eyebrows.
I had arranged the lunch with Kirsten, who was one of the cityâs top freelance celebrity writers, to convince her to do a rewrite of a cover story on Halle Berry that we had pushed back several months. Her name alone on the cover of a magazine could mean at least an additional twenty thousand in sales. Still, she had the reputation of being notoriously late with stories, was resistant to being edited, and always required final approval on her stories. Perfect for Yancey B., I thought. You had to handle Kirsten with kid gloves like she was more important than the talent. Cross Kirsten, and she and her agent might disappear for months, holding the story hostage.
âYes, I am. I just left a meeting with
Vibe,
and when I leave here, Iâm headed for
In Style.
Bringing in the benjamins,â Kirsten said as she grabbed one of the menus standing on the table.
âWhatâs good here?â I asked.
âEverything. I love the shrimp and avocado salad. Delicious, and the onion rings are the bomb,â Kirsten said.
The waiter came over and asked Kirsten what she wanted to drink, and she ordered a martini. I never understood professional people who could cocktail during lunch and then expect to be productive in the afternoon. It was an off-the-record policy at
Bling Bling
that staff members didnât drink during lunch. I knew I couldnât expect the same from freelancers, even though I was paying the bill.
âSo, how much time do we have?â I asked.
âIâve got a couple of hours. What do we need to talk about? I know you loved the story,â Kirsten said confidently.
âYeah,â I said softly. How was I going to tell her the feature needed some major work? This was one of the reasons I didnât really like hiring the heavy hitters, but they could get to the major celebrities that neither I nor any of my staff writers could snag for a one-on-one interview. The best some of my staff writers could get was a phone interview. Kirsten was the type of writer who was regularly invited to the sets of movies and into the homes of stars. Her access really allowed the readers to feel like they were there at the interview.
âWhen will the article run?â Kirsten asked as she removed the martini olives and laid them on her bread plate. She finished the drink with two long gulps while waiting for me to answer.
âWell, weâre still waiting for some pictures. Do you think thereâs any way we could get some pictures of Halle and Ericâs wedding? No
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