A Love of My Own by E. Lynn Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

up on the Upper East Side.”
    I started to apologize, but Davis didn’t give me the opportunity as he began to speak proudly of parents who were second-generation millionaires. He told me they had made their money selling insurance and burial polices to African American families all across the country, but mainly in the South. Davis told me he attended prep school in Boston, then went to Harvard undergrad and Harvard Business School. He created his first business while he was a student at Harvard, a messenger service for students in the Boston area. He described it as a ground FedEx for students at Harvard, Radcliffe, Boston University, and Tufts. After graduation Davis sold the business and bought his first radio station, a country-western station in Huntsville, Alabama, and turned it into one of the top R&B stations in the South. When he talked, he glowed with boundless pride. I wondered how Davis had gone from insurance to media.
    â€œWho did you hire as messengers?” I asked.
    â€œSome black kids from Roxbury. At least it kept them from begging on the streets in Cambridge,” Davis said as he shook his head in a mixture of frustration and disappointment. Then he added, “Our people. Can’t do with them. Can’t do without them. This is a great country. I just wish more of our people realized that.”
    I didn’t have a proper response for Davis’s statement, so again my eyes roamed the spacious restaurant. I was relieved when the waiter returned with my drink and the menus. Davis didn’t look at the menu, he just instructed the waiter to bring him the usual. I knew that didn’t leave me much time to decide, so I just asked for grilled salmon and a vegetable.
    â€œWould you like a salad, sir?” the waiter asked. Before I could answer, Davis told him to bring me a green salad.
    â€œSo, you’re married?” I asked.
    â€œYep, been married more than fifteen years. Some good and some bad. I have two perfect children, Morgan and Logan,” Davis said proudly.
    â€œHow old are they?”
    â€œLogan is thirteen and he’s away at prep school in Connecticut, and Morgan is eight going on twenty-eight and she attends the Chapin School here in the city. Do you plan to have kids? Even though you’re gay? Not that it’s a deterrent, especially in a city like New York,” Davis said calmly.
    I raised my eyebrow in surprise, even though I figured it would come up sooner or later. My sexuality had become public several years before, when I was nominated for a federal judgeship.
    â€œI didn’t realize I’d put that on my résumé,” I joked.
    â€œRaymond, now, you don’t think I’d hire someone for such an important position and not know as much as the best investigators in the world can find out. Besides, I have no problem with it. I think it’s best to tell the truth about yourself so no one could ever blackmail you,” Davis said.
    â€œWas my being gay something you thought about when you offered me the job?” I asked.
    Davis responded quickly, “Hell, yeah. You’re a double minority, black and gay. I get a lot of points for that when I go after government contracts. Now, if I can just find me a handicapped black lesbian, I will have hit the jackpot,” Davis said, laughing. I was shocked by Davis’s insensitive remark and suddenly I felt as if I were being entertained by the devil himself, but instead of challenging him, I decided to change the subject.
    â€œTell me about Zola Norwood, your editor in chief,” I said.
    â€œSmart girl, Zola. I think she’s doing a good job, but she’s made the mistake most women do, she thinks her pussy can take her places in the world of high-powered people, and it’s good pussy, so it can, but only so far. She’ll learn,” Davis said, leaning over the table, whispering as though he wanted to make sure Henri or the other waiters or