Mama Dearest by E. Lynn Harris Page B

cool?”
    I was happy for a chance to change the subject. “Do you really think we can get them interested in me?” I asked, having a moment of insecurity. This incredible man had thrown me a lifeline, but as hopeful as I’d felt, I’d seen similar prospects come and go.
    “Girl, if they are foolish enough to pass on this, then I’ll take my own money and make it happen. I haven’t known you but a little over a week, but I’m already a big fan.”
    “For real? You would do that for me?”
    “What did I say?”
    All of a sudden I was so excited I wanted to burst. No, cry. No, jump on top of this man and fuck him like he’d never been fucked before, but I didn’t have any more energy. All I could think about was if this god, in the mortal form of S. Marcus, delivers on what he’s saying now, I won’t have to live in damn near poverty anymore. I won’t have to worry about the money to pay my mortgage, voice and acting lessons, eat and get new headshots. Life will be the way it once was, the way it is supposed to be.
    I threw my arms around S. Marcus, pulled him down on top of me, gave him a long, passionate kiss. “You just met me, and I don’t know how I will ever repay you.”
    S. Marcus smiled slyly, his dimple showing deep in his cheek. “There will be ways.”

CHAPTER 6
    It was day three and Yancey still had not come back home, nor had Ava had any luck in trying to contact her. She knew from the yearly letter Yancey sent her that she might be doing a bus-and-truck Broadway show but couldn’t remember which one.
    Ava sat at the bathroom mirror, in a thick white fluffy bathrobe, and applied more of the aloe vera–cucumber facial cream to her cheeks.
    It was midafternoon. She had taken another long, warm bubble bath, complete with a glass of wine, classical music playing softly throughout the house.
    This had been Ava’s life in the days since she was released from prison. Not rushing, not worrying, just taking time to pamper and treat herself to all the comforts that she had been accustomed to in her previous life.
    What else was she expected to do? Ava thought, turning on the warm water in the bathroom basin. She hadn’t money to do much else but occupy her time with leisurely, in-house activities. And since Yancey was probably traipsing about some white Mediterraneanbeach, or some European countryside, enjoying the spring with some rich young millionaire, Ava would just enjoy her time here till her daughter decided to reappear or the money ran out.
    Ava lowered her face into the bowl, cupped the running water, and splashed it on her face, washing the cream away.
    As she pats her face with a white face towel, she is happy that prison had not aged her as much as she knew it could have. On the day she had arrived, she took a look at the women with their split ends all over their heads and their bad haircuts and dye jobs. Many of those girls were Ava’s age, but with their skin wrinkling like the leather on an old Coach purse, and them carrying weight like a head chef of a Fifth Avenue restaurant, Ava was determined not to allow the same fate to befall her.
    Looking at herself now, she faked a smile, which became a real one when she noticed the very few smile lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth. Her skin was still relatively tight.
    Sure, she had put on fifteen pounds, but she wasn’t worried about that. Ava knew she could drop those. But you can’t drop age, and today she realized she needed her youthful appearance now more than ever. She had to get back on a twice-a-week facial regime once she got some money.
    Pulling a bath towel that matched her robe from the rack, she wrapped it around her still damp hair. Ava grabbed her half glass of wine from the vanity and headed into the living room.
    This morning, Ava had woken up with purpose. As much as she had enjoyed the last three days of watching soaps and relaxing, she could not escape the reality that her money was running out. Ava had a