came from. She stimulated his mind, he supposed.
“What about black filmmakers today?” he asked. “Do you think they’re doing everything they can do to bring accurate depictions of blacks to the silver screen?”
Patrice pursed her lips and squinted at him. “Don’t get me started on that subject. My actor friends say my opinions are unusual to say the least.”
“Go ahead and shock me,” he coaxed. “This goes no farther than this table.”
“All right,” she said, leaning toward him. “I won’t name names because you already know them anyway. But I don’t think a certain director should be throwing stones at another one simply because they make different types of films. So what if the newcomer’s films are sometimes over-the-top and melodramatic? Hollywood has been producing melodramatic films for ages. One of the most beloved films by black folks, Imitation of Life, is extremely melodramatic. But that doesn’t mean we don’t watch it, raptly, whenever it comes on Turner Classic Movies.”
T.K. laughed. “You’re right. The scene where the daughter barely makes it to her mother’s funeral on time and makes a spectacle of herself is a seminal scene. And I believe, to this day, that Juanita Moore should have won the Oscar for her role.”
“She was robbed,” Patrice agreed heartily. “I can’t watch her final scenes without crying.”
“Okay,” T.K. said, “we agree that the way blacks were depicted in the past was largely not their fault. And Tyler Perry is definitely doing something right.”
“We said no names,” Patrice reminded him, pretending to be scandalized that he would name one of the parties they were discussing.
“No harm in acknowledging someone who’s making a difference for black actors in the industry. Critics might not get him, but I assure you out-of-work actors love him.”
“T.K.!” exclaimed a booming male voice as a tall, slender black man approached their table. Patrice peered up—and up—at Los Angeles Lakers forward Farrell Faison. Farrell was six-seven. T.K. stood up and shook his hand. “Hello, Farrell, how are you, man?”
“Cool, cool,” said Farrell. He looked at Patrice with interest. Patrice smiled up at him. She admired his skill on the court. When she was in town, she tried to go to all the team’s home games. It was the off-season now.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked T.K.
“Why don’t you sit down first,” T.K. joked. “I’m getting a crick in my neck from having to look up.”
Farrell laughed and took the seat closest to Patrice’s. He didn’t even glance in T.K.’s direction anymore, just looked at Patrice with a smile on his face.
“Farrell, I’d like you to meet—” T.K. said.
“Ms. Patrice Sutton,” Farrell said with a contented sigh. “I just saw you in She Fell. Wow, not only was the science-fiction story line kickin’, but you were awesome as Victoria.” He shook his head as if he were amazed that he was sitting across from the warrior-woman Victoria. “How long did it take you to get in shape for that role?”
“Six months of grueling aerobics and weight-lifting,” Patrice told him, happy to meet someone who had enjoyed She Fell. It was the film she was proudest of. A friend who was a writer had specifically written the character of Victoria for her. In the story, Victoria was sent through a man-made black hole to a warlike planet by her evil but brilliant physicist husband who got rid of all his enemies by sending them God-knows-where via the black hole. He had drugged and sent Victoria through because she was going to divorce him for infidelity. The film follows Victoria as she rises in power as a warrior. In the end, she returns to Earth and exacts revenge on her husband.
“Who’s your trainer?” Farrell asked.
“Jose Baltodano,” Patrice happily supplied. She was always willing to refer anyone who wanted to get into shape to her friend.
T.K. cleared his throat and playfully glared at Farrell. “Let me get this straight, you came over here to monopolize my date’s time?”
Farrell grinned at him. “Turnabout is fair play, my brother.”
Patrice smiled at that. T.K. had obviously flirted with Farrell’s dates in the past. Then it hit her: T.K. had referred to her as his date. She looked into his eyes. He winked at her.
“I have to protest, my brother,” he said to Farrell. “I just met Patrice myself. You could have at least given me a twenty-four-hour head start before you began poaching on my territory.”
Patrice laughed and rose. “I’ll let you fellas figure out the proper poaching etiquette while I visit the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”
She overheard Farrell say, “She’s too young for you, old man. She’ll give you a heart attack.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” said T.K.
Smiling, Patrice kept walking.
In the ladies’ room, a feminine room replete with a settee, she sat down and dialed Blanca’s number.
Blanca answered right away. “Well, how’d it go?” she asked breathlessly.
“It went very well,” Patrice said as she crossed her legs and got comfortable on the plush covered settee. “They want me.”
“I knew it!” cried Blanca, sounding happy and calculating all at once. “You didn’t accept, though?”
“No, I told them I would let them know tomorrow.”
“Why do you keep saying they and them?” asked Blanca curiously.
“Because T.K. sat in on the meeting, too,” said Patrice, calmly dropping the bomb and waiting for the explosion.
“What?” yelled Blanca. “Mark must have really liked you. This is fantastic. I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait until tomorrow for you to give them a yes.”
“Are you saying you’re going to break your cardinal rule?”
“Rules are made to be broken,” said Blanca. She laughed softly. “Patty, do you know what this means? Forget about working for two years on the sitcom and those really fine movies you’ve done that brought you a little bit of fame. They were dues you had to pay to get here. You’ve arrived!”
Patrice was laughing, too. “It feels good to be wanted.”
Blanca took a deep breath. “Where are you now? I promised a celebration, remember? Where do you want to go tonight? Anywhere you want to go, it’s my treat.”
“I hate to be a party pooper, but I’d prefer to spend a quiet evening at home. Thanks for the offer though. I’m having lunch with T.K. right now,” Patrice told her agent. She explained about having to phone a taxi and T.K.’s offer of a lift.
“His parents raised him right,” Blanca said of T.K.’s being a gentleman. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Before you two part, assure him that you’ll be delighted to work with him, and I’ll give Mark a call about the contract.”
“Will do,” Patrice promised.
“Congratulations,” said Blanca sincerely. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Blanca.”
After hanging up, Patrice rose to check her makeup in the wide mirror over the double sinks. A woman walked in and hurried to a stall.
Seeing nothing wrong with her face, she left the bathroom. When she got within sight of her table, she saw that Farrell had left.
T.K. got up and pulled her chair out. “Farrell remembered a previous engagement.”
Patrice met his eyes. His look was enigmatic. She wished she could have heard their conversation in her absence. “Too bad,” she said. “I’d never met him