Chapter 19

Jill Barnes awakened with Susie stirring in her arms. Since she found that her hand was still covering the angel’s very firm tit, Jill gently pulled on Susie’s nipple and then pinched it. Susie let out a little shriek that was loud enough to awaken Caitie. Turning her head toward Jill, Susie was about to protest but Jill kissed her first, preventing her from saying a word.

When their lips eased apart, Susie moved a bit and moaned. “Good grief,” she murmured, “I’m hurting in muscles I never knew I had!”

“Golly, Susie,” Jill whispered in her ear, “it can’t be as bad as what the North Vietnamese did to you.” With that she blew into the angel’s dainty ear and then nibbled on it. Even after a full night’s sleep Susie was still so sensitized even that triggered an orgasm. But even hours later her muscles could barely respond.

The sprite screamed, or tried to. What was intended to be a scream came out as more of a loud croak. “Don’t be so darned sure about that,” she was finally able to squeak out.

Fully awake by then, Caitie commented, “Golly, Susie Sloan, I would have sworn you were in better shape than that. How do you feel, anyway?”

“This is just awful!” Susie replied. “I’m never going to live this down. I’ll ... I’ll be a laughingstock up there.” Looking upward she added, “And it’s all Your fault, too. When I tried to get away, nothing would work. You just made me lie there and absorb punishment!”

“Punishment?” a disembodied Voice asked. “That was punishment? It didn’t look that way to me.”

Susie just sighed. Finally she admitted, “That was the most incredible night of love-making I’ve ever experienced.” Then she tried to glare at Jill as she said, “All right for you, Barnes. Just for that I’m going to do for you what I’m doing for Caitie: I’m going to be your children’s guardian angel! Now how do you like them apples? Huh? Huh?”

“Children?” Jill replied. “I have a child — a son — and that’s singular.”

“Jill Barnes, I’ll tell you this right now: You’re going to have grandchildren significantly older than some of your own children. You’ve heard Caitie complain that a woman’s work is never done? Well, you’re going to learn the truth of that statement, and in spades. You’re going to have babies nursing at these luscious tits for years!”

They eased out of bed, showered, bathed and then went to the kitchen where Jill insisted on making breakfast.

Since it was only Tuesday and the selection of fashions and models had gone so much faster than anyone had expected, there was nothing on the schedule to do. As a result, Jill had a very quiet day. After breakfast, she took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather: It was in the upper 40s. She and Susie swam in the pool and then Jill took Pasha and Shari over to Central Park.

After running a few miles with the two tigers, she ran them side by side while she practiced dance exercises on their backs. When she returned to the penthouse, she found that Susie had disappeared so she spent the rest of the day playing with baby Andy and reading.

She and Caitie had a marvelous dinner and then Caitie insisted on working on Jill. “Among the three of us,” she insisted, “you, Jill Barnes, got the least out of last night. And besides ... If I don’t get a lot better soon, when Tanya Harding gets back with Bill, she’ll beat me within an inch of my life.”

“And you’ll love it, too, won’t you?” Jill noted perceptively.

“That’s beside the point,” Caitie sniffed. “Most women hate it.”

“But you’re not most women.”

Although Caitie lacked Jill’s experience, she was a very fast learner. The result was that Jill ended the night unconscious on the bed looking very much like her two friends had on the previous night.

She was awakened by the phone the next morning at almost nine o’clock. Caitie was no longer in bed — she could hear the sound of the shower — so Jill answered it.

“Oh, shit! It’s happened again,” were the first words out of Nita’s mouth.

“What’s happened?”

“Remember Adrienne saying that Charlene Davis is — among other things — a klutz?”

“I guess so. But so what?”

“‘So what’ is that she tripped over the coffee table in her own apartment and probably broke her ankle,” Nita Lucas Johnson replied. “I said ‘probably’ because they don’t yet know for sure. But it doesn’t really matter. Right now she’s in the hospital and, best case, she’s got a severe sprain. But in no case can she possibly model tomorrow.

“What are we going to do?” Nita wailed.

“We’re going to get another black model,” Jill replied calmly.

“But there aren’t any!”

Seeming to change the subject, Jill said, “Am I correct that this fashion show is vitally important to some pretty important people?”

“You sure got that one right! If this show isn’t perfect, both my mother and my mother-in-law won’t be speaking to me. And that’s assuming I’m still alive for anyone to be speaking to me.”

“So this is an all-stops-out operation?” Jill persisted.

“Anything you want, you get,” Nita replied. After a slight pause she added, “It sounds like you have an idea. Do you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I almost suggested it on Monday when Adrienne said what she did about Charlene.” Jill hesitated and then continued, “Look, when I first glanced at Charlene’s picture, I immediately thought of a girl I know in Lexington.” Then her voice fell as she added, “But I have no idea if she would even be willing to do it.”

“If there’s any chance at all, go for it!” Nita said. “What do you need?”

“If it works, I’ll need a plane to go down to Lexington today. And I may need some high-powered help.”

“The plane’s no problem, but what about the help?”

“Before I answer, please answer a question for me: I understand that your mother, Andy Taylor, has given millions over the years to the United Negro College Fund. Right?”

“Yes, she certainly has, but so what?”

“I’ve gathered from both you and Caitie that your mother is averse to publicity regarding her charities. But the question is: Has any word of her generosity gotten out to the black community?”

“As a matter of fact, it has. Some months ago there was a cover story in the UNCF’s alumni publication. Mom was able to keep the mainstream media from picking up the story, but I gather it’s now pretty widely known among the blacks.”

Jill grinned and said, “That may be all I need. But would your mother be willing to fly down to Lexington with me? And would you? Would Adrienne?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. What now?”

“Why don’t you alert your mother and Adrienne while I make a few phone calls.”

Using her remarkable memory for numbers, Jill called Memorial High School and asked for the principal, Ed Brennan. Even though school was closed for the holidays, he was in his office. She told him that she needed to get in touch with Deann Washington but didn’t know where the girl lived.

“I could get you her phone number, but as a matter of fact she’s here at school today making some money with the work crew.”

“That being the case, could you have her paged to your office? I need to talk to her right now! It’s most urgent.”

Ed Brennan immediately agreed and Jill told him she would just hold on the line. Some minutes later, Deann breathlessly picked up the phone.

“Deann,” Jill began, “how would you like to be a fashion model in New York?”

“Let’s see...” the girl mused. “I guess that was when I was about eight years old. It was after I was going to be a movie star, but before I was going to be a singer like Whitney Houston. Actually, except for a face with all the beauty of a grocery sack and a body that’s a straight stick, I’m all set. But why do you ask, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Do you have any interest in the United Negro College Fund?”

“Not much, but again, why do you ask?”

“Because I would like you to come to New York and model in a fashion show tomorrow. It’s a major benefit for the College Fund. Would you do it? Would your parents let you do it?”

“I can’t,” the girl protested. “I’m certainly not intimately familiar with airline schedules, but I don’t think I could get there in time.”

“That’s not a problem,” Jill responded. “I’ll be picking you up in a private jet and bringing you back to New York the same day. Mr. Brennan tells me you’re working at school over the holidays. I’ll cover any lost wages. Now what about you? And, more importantly, what about your parents?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m going to go to the same school Tank goes to,” she asserted. “I don’t know what school that is, but it’s very unlikely to be a UNCF member school.”

“And your parents?” Jill prompted.

“That’s a different story,” Deann replied dejectedly.

“Why do you suddenly sound so dejected?”

“Do you know anything about my family?” Deann asked.

“Not much. Why?”

Deann giggled and replied, “Dad is vice principal, would you believe, of Henry Clay High School, our archrival. Mother is an associate professor of classical civilization at the university. I’m the eldest of four girls, and...”

“And what?” Jill asked. The girl had just run down.

“Dad graduated from Tuskegee University and Mom graduated from Spelman College in Atlanta.” Deann paused and then added, “They’re both UNCF member schools. And as far as my parents are concerned, with respect to anything that will help Negro colleges, their answer is an automatic yes.”

While she had been talking with Deann, Jill had noticed lights on two other phone lines lighted, but they were lighted no longer. “Hold on a minute, Deann. I have to make another call.”

Using another line she called Nita. “It’s a go with Deann,” Jill reported. “Now how soon can we get out of here?”

“You really kicked over the ant hill,” Nita giggled. “As we speak an EA jet is being ferried from Teterboro over to LaGuardia. It’s being brought over against the outside chance you could make this happen. My mother, Adrienne and I will be waiting on the plane in 90 minutes. Is that good enough?”

“That’s great!” Jill replied. After switching to Deann’s line, she obtained the girl’s home address and told her they would meet her there at three.

“But I can’t get home by three,” the girl insisted. “I’m working—”

“Just leave early,” Jill interrupted. “And call your parents and see if they could get home by then, too. Be sure to tell them it’s for UNCF!”

Before she could even get the receiver back on its hook, Caitie was in the room going through the array of clothing Jill had acquired on Monday. Jill found herself caught up in a whirlwind as Caitie took her into the shower, then the bathtub, and emerged to find a hairdresser setting up in the bathroom.

Caitie had selected a blue suit for Jill in a color that was an exact match to her eyes. As she was being pushed out the door, Caitie held a Russian sable coat for her.

Jill’s eyes widened. “Where in hell did this come from?” she demanded.

“Oh ... Tanya Harding picks them up,” Caitie replied blandly. “Of course, when you get back we’ll have to have it monogrammed for you. But there’s no time for that right now.”

The same Rolls limousine was at the curb waiting for Jill. And, as had happened on Monday, when they arrived at the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia, they were waved through to the apron where the same Gulfstream was sitting with its starboard engine turning over slowly. Jill climbed the boarding stairs and entered the cabin. As soon as she was clear, the stairs were retracted, the door closed and the port engine was lighted off.

Back in the cabin, she was introduced to Andy Taylor and was stunned. She knew that Andy Taylor was a mother, a grandmother and a great-grandmother. Her son, John, and her daughter-in-law — and granddaughter — Caitie, already had a handsome son and, according to Nita, Caitie was expecting again. But Andy Taylor was a blue-eyed blonde who looked to be scarcely 21!

As the aircraft neared Lexington, Jill checked her watch. The timing was essentially perfect. They would be landing at about two-thirty and would arrive at the Washington home by three. The service aboard was impeccable; the four enjoyed a marvelous lunch in flight.

On landing, they found not one but two Rolls on the apron waiting for them, and a truck was already moving into position to refuel the aircraft. When Jill asked why there were two Rolls, she was told that since they hoped to be returning with another passenger, five would be too much of a crowd.

The cars pulled up together in front of a lovely house. Jill smiled to herself as she realized that it was located just over the attendance boundary for Henry Clay High School in Memorial’s territory.

Jill led the way up to the door and rang the bell. Almost immediately it was opened by a very tall and very beautiful black woman. It was easy to see where Deann’s beauty had come from. “Good afternoon,” the woman greeted Jill graciously, “I’m Donna Washington, Deann’s mother. Won’t you please come in?”

They were ushered into the living room and introductions were made. Donna introduced her husband, Jim, and then proudly introduced her other daughters, Sueann, Leann, and Amyann. Sueann, who, Jill learned, was 15, was already six feet tall like her older sister. The younger two looked like they would eventually be as tall.

When Jim Washington was introduced to Andy Taylor, he bowed and kissed her hand. “Mrs. Taylor,” he began, “I graduated from Tuskegee University. My roommate was in New York a few years ago at the UNCF convention. That was the convention at which you and your sister, Allison Clifford, donated tens of millions of dollars to the Fund.

“This morning when I got Deann’s call, I called him and told him I might be seeing you. Do you know what he told me? And I mean he told me!”

Andy just shook her head.

“He said, ‘Whatever Mrs. Taylor asks for, Jim, there’s only one possible answer: Yes! Clear enough?’ So, Mrs. Taylor, the Washington family’s answer is yes. Now to what question is that the answer?”