After All Read online

  AFTER ALL

  LYNN EMERY

  All names, characters, stories, and incidents featured in this novel are imaginary. They are not inspired by any individual person, incidents or events known or unknown to the author. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is coincidental. AFTER ALL was originally published by Kensington Books in 1996. This is a reprint.

  Copyright 1996 Margaret Emery Hubbard

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Visit me on the web at:

  www.lynnemery.com

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  In 2000 Black Entertainment Television (BET) produced a moved based on this novel. After All starred Holly Robinson Peete.

  Chapter 1

  Michelle watched the blinking red light in fascination. Years of hard work and sacrifice had lead to this moment. She thought of her days slogging away at a small town newspaper editing copy; the day she finally got a byline; then the first time she went on the air at a local radio station reading headlines fed from a news service. Every step she had taken in her career was with an eye on one goal, television news reporting. Still, her stomach muscles tightened as the camera moved closer. Was she ready for this?

  “Just got a hot tip from my source at the police department. Councilwoman Wilson's son just got arrested for possession of pot. At least we've got something hot to lead with now. So dump that snoozer on the new community center opening.”Jason Brett, the producer's assistant, spoke in rapid fire delivery as he lifted the top sheet from the neat stack in front of her.

  “Give me that back!”Michelle snatched the paper from his hand.

  “Thirty seconds,” Bob, the cameraman, barked at them. You kids play nice now.” Even with most of his face hidden behind the camera, his impish grin was visible.

  “What do you think you're doing?”Jason's face turned several shades of red.

  “Those people sold chicken dinners and washed cars to get that center open and I'm going to see that they get recognized.”Michelle's large brown eyes glittered with ire as she stared him down.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Bob called.

  “Why you--”

  “Ten seconds.”Bob stuck his head clear of the camera. “You planning to make your debut on the six o’clock news, Jason?”

  A fuming Jason scurried out of view but stood glaring at her. Bob raised his hand as he silently counted down. Within a split second, he pointed at Michelle. The red light winked out and a green light came on.

  “Good evening. Welcome to Channel Twelve, the News Leader. I'm Michelle Toussaint filling in for Steve Stroder who's a little under the weather. Leslie Gravier has the night off. Among our stories tonight, through hard work and without government assistance, folks in the crime ridden community known as Easy Town provide an alternative to the streets for neighborhood kids. And our school board grapples with a serious budget shortfall. But first, our lead story. Randall Wilson, son of local councilwoman Hazel Wilson is again in the news--”

  Michelle concentrated on her delivery and poise, determined to appear as though she had been born reading the news in front of thousands of television viewers. Yet when Fred Cambre began his weather report, she couldn't refrain from taking a deep breath. It was as if she had been under water for the first fifteen minutes of the broadcast. The rest would be easier than having to carry the whole load. Just her luck the chance she finally got to co-anchor in Leslie's place, Steve came down with the flu.

  “And that's it for sports. Join us later tonight for Sports Spotlight at eleven. Michelle.” Gary Twill, dapper in his deep green jacket, nodded crisply. The former college football star flashed his famous smile at her.

  “Thanks, Gary. Finally, a grassroots effort by parents and several small churches pays off. After a lot of hard work, residents in one of the toughest neighborhoods here in Baton Rouge finally opened the doors of renovated house that had been a haven for drug dealers and users. Now that house will provide services to uplift young people. Channel Twelve salutes the Highland Street Community Center as the newest beacon of hope in place that sorely needs it.”Michelle rapidly read the story omitting several lines since time was short. Bob even rolled twenty seconds of the video tape.

  “That's it for the news at six, join us at ten o'clock for a complete update on these reports and more.”Michelle felt comfortable and relaxed.

  “Smooth, Michelle. Real smooth.” Bob winked at her. All three cameras went off. “Uh-oh, shark approaching,” he said in an undertone.

  “Jason tells me you have the idea that you decide what stories get on.”Weston Lockport, tall with gray touching the temples of his black hair, walked up close to Michelle as she stood sipping from a tiny paper cup of water.

  “I read the story on Randall Wilson.”Michelle knew better than to smile or make excuses. Fighting the urge to step back, she merely tilted her head up to gaze into intense black eyes.

  “But you don't argue with the news producer.”

  “I didn't argue with you.”

  “Jason acts on my instructions, something you know very well.”

  “I didn't refuse to do the story. Do you think I'm crazy? I just told him I had enough time to do the community center piece, too.”Michelle kept a straight face. She knew that an anchor had little if any say so in what stories got on and to buck the producer or news director was professional suicide.

  Lockport arched his thick eyebrows at her. “That's not exactly how he described it.” The studio went quiet while he studied her for several moments. “Solid presentation though.”He nodded curtly before he strode off. That was high praise indeed from the usually taciturn producer.

  “Whew, you dodged that bullet.”Kate, the short, plump production assistant, waited until Lockport was off the set before approaching Michelle. They walked to the newsroom together.

  “I know. That little weasel Jason really grates on my nerves. Every time I've tried to get on a story that's positive about our community, he slams it with Lockport.

  “Listen, I'm just a lowly production assistant, but I say be careful. Jason can be a spiteful weasel, and Mr.

  Lockport listens to him for some reason,” Kate warned.

  “Yeah, well. It was worth it to see him change more colors than the fall leaves in New England,” Michelle snickered.

  “He was so steamed. I swear he was whistling like a tea kettle.” Kate covered her mouth to smother a giggle. The amusement left her round face. “Uh, I gotta go. Hello, Jennifer.”She hurried off.

  Jennifer Callaway, tall and blonde, never even glanced at Kate let alone acknowledged her greeting. Ruthless in her pursuit to win more awards than any other reporter, she had little time for those who could not further her career. Wearing a blue pant suit that showcased her fabulous figure, she did not enter a room as much as she took possession of it.

  “Well, you didn't screw up. This time.”Jennifer gave her a frosty smile.

  “So gracious in defeat. An attitude befitting a former Miss Dunghill, 1984.” Michelle made a small curtsy.

  “Miss Springhill,” Jennifer hissed at her with a scowl.

  “Whatever. And no, according to Mr. Lockport I definitely did not screw up as you so delicately put it.” Michelle strolled to her desk.

  “Don't get too u
sed to it. I mean affirmative action can only take you so far.”Jennifer followed her.

  “What?” Michelle whirled around.

  “You heard me. Lockport has his marching orders,

  sugar. Having you on screen is politically correct. But that's only a fad. Real talent and ability will win out.” Jennifer tossed her hair.

  “You're right. So where does that leave you? I know; Bingo the clown is up for grabs on the afternoon kiddy show. You can handle that. They print his cue cards in words of three syllables or less.” Michelle's eyes smoldered with anger.

  “Ha-ha. We'll see if your smart mouth doesn't get you in big trouble. If that stunt you pulled tonight is any clue, all I have to do is wait until you self-destruct.”Jennifer flounced off.

  “Damn her.”Michelle slammed a desk drawer. Hard as she tried, the suggestion that she was being given breaks for anything but her ability really touched a nerve.

  “I heard. She's just green with envy and willing to say anything to hurt you.” Gracie gave her shoulder a pat.

  “But she could be right. For years this station has been lily white. With all the industry emphasis on diversity, token gestures are being made all over the country.” Michelle stared at the computer screen in front of her morosely.

  “Listen, you're good. We know it and they know it. So what if their motives aren't pure. Success is the best revenge I always say.”

  “You know, for a red-head you're all right.” Michelle smiled mischievously.

  “Hey cuz, us Irish gotta stick together.”

  “Shoot, I never should have told you about that distant branch of my family tree.”

  As Michelle joked with her friend, she began to wind down from the tension of her debut. Though they rarely saw each other after work, she and Gracie were close colleagues. With her easy going style, Gracie was a perfect balance for Michelle who tended to take herself too seriously. Though only four years older, Gracie had more experience under her belt and none of the ego usually found in the business. She had helped Michelle with valuable advice during her first year at the station.

  The news room still hummed with activity as the evening shift of reporters bustled in and out gathering material for the late newscast and stories to be presented on Monday.

  “Look who's here.” Gracie tapped Michelle on the shoulder and pointed.

  Michelle felt a hard thud in her chest. Even six years later, the sight of Anthony Hilliard made her heart beat faster. But now she was twenty-seven and should have better since. Still, Anthony the man brought on the same reaction now as he’d caused when they met at age fourteen in the lunch room at Glen Oaks Junior High.

  “Mr. Hilliard, it's so nice to meet you.”Jennifer purred as she held the hand of the tall handsome man in a somewhat less than businesslike handshake.

  “This could be a new horror movie, Lizard Man meets the Incredibly Annoying Woman,” Michelle snorted in disgust before turning back to her computer.

  “With that face and body he could stick his tongue out at me anytime.” Gracie sighed.

  “Take a cold shower,” Michelle retorted. “ Thought you were so in love with your husband, Hal the hunk.”

  “Just 'cause my plate is full don't mean I can't look at the menu.” Gracie winked.

  “I ought to call your reverend daddy. And a Black man at that.” Michelle shook a finger at her.

  “Now, daddy has mellowed these past few years. Why he even invited a Black pastor to worship at his church. Hello, good-looking man at two o'clock,” Gracie whispered.

  Anthony Hilliard moved across the room with the same agility he was famous for on the basketball court and the track field. His six foot two frame formed a triangle, with broad shoulders narrowing down to his trim waist. Though clothed in an expensive brown suit, it was still easy to see that his arms and legs were thickly muscled. With skin the color of brown sugar and dark brown hair, he caused female heads to turn. Anthony flashed a winning smile that melted almost everyone. Michelle folded her arms. Her expression meant to convey she was not bowled over by his mere presence.

  “Hello, Michelle.” His deep baritone voice rolled out like a velvet carpet. Anthony extended his hand.

  “My, my,” Gracie breathed.

  “Oh, grow up,” Michelle hissed in her ear. “Hello, Anthony.” Michelle gave his a hand a weak shake before pulling hers back.

  “Congratulations on a fantastic job. You haven't lost any of your style when it comes to public speaking. You didn't ace Speech class in our senior year for nothing.”

  “Thanks. Oh, this is Gracie O'Hannon. Gracie--” Michelle began to straighten the teal jacket then stopped. Why should she care what he thought of her appearance?

  “I know,” Gracie broke in.”Pleasure to meet you Mr. Hilliard.”She pumped his hand all the while grinning widely.

  “Good meeting you, Ms. O'Hannon. That story you did on our church last week was outstanding.”

  “Gee, thanks. It was great learning its history. A hundred and twenty-five years and still going strong. Christ the King Baptist Church is something you can all be proud of.”

  “We are. And thanks to your story, we've gotten more support to expand our after school programs for kids.”

  “Oh, wow. That's just wonderful.” Gracie blushed.

  “So, what brings you here?” Michelle tried not to make a face at her friend. She would not to be taken in by his cheap attempts to win brownie points.

  “I'm being interviewed for the Sunday Journal show.”

  “Really? Isn't that-- nice.” Michelle kept shifting her gaze from those intense dark brown eyes. But she found herself staring at his shoulders, then his broad chest.

  Finally, she decided she was better off looking at his face. She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other.

  “I... just thought I'd say hello since I saw you.”Anthony's eyes held a question.”I've been back in town almost two months now, you know.”

  “Yes, I knew.” Michelle had spent those first weeks taming the urge to call him. But she had been determined not to give in.

  Looking from one to the other, Gracie began to back away from them. “Goodbye, nice meeting you, Mr. H--.” She bumped into Kate who was startled out of staring at the scene before her.

  “Anthony, please.” Anthony's smile lit up his handsome face.

  “Anthony.” Gracie gave a short laugh. Turning she bumped into Kate again. “Isn't that your desk over there? Move.” She spoke through tight lips as she pushed Kate ahead of her.

  Anthony turned back to Michelle. “Like I said, I've been back home for awhile now. Working in Atlanta was a great experience for me.”

  “I heard you were working for Darryl Beshears. Pretty impressive learning from one of the top African-American architectural and construction empires in the country.”Michelle was sincere. Darryl Beshears was as famous for building community centers and youth sports gyms for a song as he was for making million dollar deals to build large corporate structures.

  “It was invaluable. I learned more about the business than I could ever learn in a classroom. But it was demanding. I had little or no social life.” Anthony raised his left hand to smooth his hair, even though it was perfectly in place.

  “Really?” Michelle noticed that he wore no wedding ring. Her pulse quickened.

  “What about you? I suppose your career has kept you very busy, too.”

  “Pretty much, yeah.” Michelle was careful to keep her face blank, her arms still folded.

  “But I guess you have to eat dinner sometime, right?”

  “Mostly on the run.”

  Michelle allowed herself to take him in from head to toe for the first time. Being this close to Anthony again brought back a rush of memories and, disturbingly, old feelings. Their separation and the demands of her career had done much to dull the ache caused by their breakup. But now, with him so near she found it hard to feel the rancor that had sliced through her six years earlier. Here he was, just as handsome
but with a confidence that made him even more attractive. She smiled in spite of herself seeing his tie a tiny bit crooked.

  “Pull it a little to the left.”Michelle tugged at her own collar.

  “Still happens from time to time. You always did have to get me straight.”Smiling, he arranged the silk paisley tie.

  “How's your mama?” Michelle asked. Unfolding her arms, she leaned against her desk.

  “Better. She's taking her medicine now. I see to that.”Anthony's face softened into an expression of tender affection.

  “That's good. High blood pressure is nothing to play with, especially for us. And make sure she eats right.”

  “I do. Speaking of eating, maybe we could grab a bite sometime. Lunch or dinner?”

  “I don't know. I keep really busy and--” Michelle looked down at her pumps.

  “I would very much like us to get together. Please, Chelle.” Anthony moved closer.

  Michelle felt a rush of warmth hearing him use her nickname in a way only he could.”Wednesdays I finish up early, around four.”

  “Anthony, here you are. Sidetracked by a beautiful woman, eh? I understand.” Ike Batiste strolled up.

  Michelle stiffened at the appearance of Anthony’s uncle. The thud of her heart now signaled a very different reaction, one of loathing and suppressed wrath.

  “Uncle Ike, you remember Michelle Toussaint. We went to school together. McKinley High and Southern University.” Anthony placed a hand on the arm of the tall man who joined them.

  “Ah, yes. Our star reporter. How are you, honey?” Tall and distinguished, Isaac Batiste was handsome in a hard way. His hair was a salt and pepper gray. His tan brown skin shone as if polished. Leaning forward to kiss her he blinked when she stepped back.

  “Mr. Batiste. Of course you remember me. I'm sure you remember my father, too.” Michelle's expression hardened.

  “Of course. Well, Anthony they're waiting for us, son. Hurry along. Bye, now.” Ike smiled at a point over her shoulder before walking away.