Any Way the Wind Blows Read Online Free

done to me.
    The plan was to shoot me all dolled up, in fabulous gowns, with a large canopy bed in the background. When I hit the final note, I was going to turn with a forlorn look on my face toward the bed and discover two well-muscled and good-looking men going at it, while tears rolled down my face.
    I didn’t know if I was ready to talk about my personal life and would have preferred that the company make my cover of “I’m Not in Love” the first single, but it was their record company. I just hoped the world, and especially Basil, was ready for the way the wind was about to blow.
    • • •
    M y ringing phone awoke me from a sweet dream. I was dreaming that I was at the Grammys receiving an award for Best New Artist from Lenny Kravitz. Just when I was about to make my acceptance speech, the phone rang.
    I rolled over and picked up the phone. “Hello,” I mumbled. I figured it was Malik trying to get a little sumthin’ sumthin’ early in the morning, but then I remembered that he had a key and his wife was in town.
    “Do you miss me, Mommy?” the voice of a little girl asked.
    “Who is this?” I asked as I sat up straight in my bed.
    “Do you miss me, Mommy? I miss you.”
    “Who is this?” I demanded.
    There was silence for a few moments, and then an adult female voice came over the phone and said, “I’m sorry. My daughter is playing with the phone.”
    I was quite relieved. “You need to keep your daughter under control!” I said as I hung up the phone.

Drop ’Em, Bart
    T he third week of January was proving to be much better than the first. I had been able to pick up two night wait shifts and had two “go sees” in one day. I knew that didn’t mean I was going to get the job, but at least I was getting in front of clients.
    I showed up ten minutes early at CBS Music on Avenue of the Americas, where I was welcomed by a lobby of good-looking black men. The same ones I saw on most calls. From the look of the lobby, the client hadn’t specified light or dark, since the room was filled with men with skin tones that ranged from vanilla-yellow to chocolate fudge. I nodded and gave my fake glad-to-see-you smile to a couple of guys I always saw on castings. I checked in with a receptionist who seemed to be enjoying all the male company, took a seat and pulled out
USA Today
. I had just finished the Life section and was looking over the front page when the receptionist announced, “Bart Dunbar! You’re on.” I grabbed my bag and rushed to the desk.
    “Someone will be out here in a few seconds,” she said. A few moments later, a short black girl dressed like a boy said,“I’m Audrey. Come with me.” I followed Audrey down a long hallway and then into a conference room.
    “This is Bart,” Audrey said to a tall, thin white boy with slouching shoulders and a big-boned, brown-skinned sister with an auburn pageboy wig on that didn’t fit her round face.
    “Come on in, Bart. I’m Steven, the casting agent.”
    “Nice meeting you,” I said as I shook his frail hand.
    “This is Suzy, the casting assistant,” Steven said.
    “Nice meeting you, Suzy.”
    “Have a seat. Did you bring your book?” Suzy asked.
    “Sure,” I said as I pulled out the large black binder filled with pictures of yours truly. I passed the book to Suzy, and she and Steven began to look at my photos.
    “Oh, that’s a nice one. Great-looking body,” Steven said to Suzy. They both were acting as though I wasn’t there. When they finished they looked at me like I was a piece of prime sirloin hanging in a meat freezer.
    “We’re looking for someone to be in a music video. Can you dance?” Steven asked.
    “I do all right,” I said. Great, I thought, a video, which meant if I wasn’t cast as a principal, I would end up making about two hundred dollars for unlimited hours of work.
    “You’ve got to have a great body,” Suzy said.
    “No problem,” I replied quickly and confidently.
    “Do you mind standing up,