CHAPTER TWO
I’m Not Okay
Tracey sat in her car crying for what seemed like forever. She had parked in the back of the Access News building parking lot, where she went on air weekly for almost six years. Now, she couldn’t find it in herself to go in and take her seat in the deejay booth. After avoiding text messages from Renee and Kym, Tracey hit Do Not Disturb on her cell phone and then tossed it into her bag. “This some bullshit,” she said aloud while looking at tears streaming down her cheeks. “My past does not define me. I am uniquely qualified to handle right now and whatever comes next,” Tracey said, with an ounce of resolve, needing desperately to believe it herself.
Eventually, Tracey wiped her eyes and touched up her makeup. After she pulled it together, she slowly slinked through the building. She was oblivious to the security guard who always said hello and others who waved in passing. When Tracey reached her boss’s office, she paused to peek her head in.
“Hello Brian, I got the news this morning. We finally hit one million. Yay,” she said halfheartedly. Brian Mills was white, with thinning red hair and a saggy dad bod. He was a liberal, who sometimes tried too hard to be inclusive, but his heart was always in the right place. Brian was a good man and an excellent station manager. After meeting with Tracey for a show pitch, he took a chance on her concept, which changed both of their lives. His station drew tons of new advertisers because of Tracey’s ratings. She drew closer to realizing her dream, becoming a huge success in the years since her divorce, a major feat for someone whose self-esteem had been completely destroyed by her toxic ex-husband, a former superstar professional athlete.
“Well, I thought you’d be a smidge more excited than that, Super Star,” Brian said thoughtfully, noticing Tracey lacked her usual take-on-the-world
persona. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just a rough brunch with the girls. I’m good, though,” she added. Brian was not buying it. So, she sought to change the subject before her manager had the chance to drill down and dig through her trash encounter that caused her crown to slip a bit. She saw a large manila envelope lying on the cluttered desk, with the words CONTRACT RENEWAL: Tracey Flemming written on it.
“Hey, is that my new contract?”
“Yeah-yeah, let’s talk about the changes in your contract after you’re done this evening.”
“Sounds good. I’ll flip through it during my show to ensure the numbers are right this time,” she emphasized. “Don’t try to stiff me, Brian. I love you like a play cousin, but I don’t trust nobody with my money.”
He handed her the envelope with a pensive smile behind it. “I have no idea what a play cousin is, but it sounds positive. This contract is a good one, Tracey. Trust me.”
“Not even you, Brian,” she said with a harmless sneer. “With my money, not even you.”
“Hey, you missed the show prep meeting, as usual, but I’m not tripping,” he said, butt-hurt about her disregard for team meetings. “Topics for today are on the whiteboard, which you’d know if you bothered to show up on time.”
“Bye, Brian. I’ll be ready,” she replied, then turned to leave. “Aren’t I always?”
“It’s a good contract, Tracey. More than faaaair,” he hollered after she had walked halfway down the hall. “Dammit, I hope she signs,” he whispered nervously.
Tracey walked into the Deejay Den to lock in for the show. Wearing the weight of her woe, she collapsed in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Reggie Foster peered at her through the thick glass separating his sound engineer booth from her den.
“Damn Tracey,” he said, with his smooth Jamaican accent. “You good or nah?”
Tracey heard his voice through the deejay booth speakers but did not respond. Instead, she sat motionless, staring at nothing, caught up and too drained to deny it. Reggie concluded that all was most definitely not good. “I’m going with nah.” At 32 years old, Reggie had already made a name for himself. He was talented and reliable, unlike the last three sound techs Tracey worked with in the past. Reggie had proven to be unflappable. No matter how janky the equipment was at times, Reggie was on top of it. The dark-brown, slim, cocky playboy was all about business when he wasn’t swiping right to view another potential date on one of his many dating apps. “Tracey, we’re on in three minutes,” he warned, “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, put it on the shelf for later. You got a show to do. And a brand-new contract to autograph, so let’s get it.”
As Reggie counted down to starting the program, Tracey’s theme music played in the background. Tracey knew that her lead-in music played for nine seconds. She sprang up in the chair and hurriedly typed a text message to Temeka. “What a fucking fraud. Mr. Possible played me”.
Tracey read Temeka’s response as soon as it flashed on her screen. “Get it together. You’re live on air. Crickets!”
Reggie tapped on the glass to signal for Tracey to start the show on time. When she looked up from her telephone, the bright red On Air sign was lit in the booth.
“Hello, my people; we’re excited about a great show today.” She glanced up at the whiteboard to view the show-topic lineup. Building a Love That Lasts. That’s what I’m opening with, she thought. Damn you, Brian. Not today! I should have made the show prep meeting and scrubbed that shit right off the board.
After Reggie slapped at the glass, Tracey snapped back into reality. She had to be professional and hold it down for her audience, if not for herself, so she took a deep breath and then signaled Reggie to bring on the first caller.
“Heyyy y’all. It’s your girl, Tracey Flem. What’s good?” Tracey listened to the caller while giving Reggie a look that said, “I’m here for this, Bruh. This is that I do.”
“Hey Girl, it’s Shonda,” the caller announced, like an old friend. “Been feeling your show for a minute now. I just wanted to come on and say thanks for being real, every show.”
“Wow, that’s high praise from a regular listener. Shonda, thank you! Have you called in before? I think I remember you from a past show. Let me think back,” Tracey replied with a wandering expression. “Yeah, you had a question about guys who come on super strong at first then go ghost without a trace. That was you, right?”
“Yeah, that was me, and ain’t much changed” Shonda shared, regrettably. “I just can’t understand why dudes do this. Why not be honest from the jump? Let me make my own decision instead of pretending in the beginning and then pulling a disappearing act. It’s ridiculous.”
Tracey smiled awkwardly. “I feel you, Shonda. Been there. Done that. And, I love what you said about letting us make our own decisions. That is spot on. What men like this don’t realize is not all women are looking for a husband. Some women are looking for a playmate too. Things get toxic when a man knows full well the woman he’s been talking to wants more, as in marriage or at least a committed relationship, but blows smoke up her ass with lies when he doesn’t want the same thing. That’s cruel and so damned childish. It’s like you said, Shonda, let us make the decision to continue with the relationship or not. Men take our choices away when they lie.” Tracey thought back on the event that transpired earlier with Mr. Possible. She wondered if he was merely another stereotypical liar, who says the right things while playing games like a pro.
“That makes a lot of sense, but how do you know when to stop protecting your heart so it doesn’t get stepped on,” Shonda asked.
“Well, like the old blues song says, at least take your shoes off when you walk all over my heart,” Tracey joked. “But seriously, protecting your heart is important. It is a fine line to walk though because you can easily become hardened, which we don’t ever want. Truth is, it’s sometimes difficult to know. What’s key is being clear about where you are and what you’re looking for. We also can’t discount our woman’s intuition.” She let out a sigh and then continued. “Listen, ladies. Have fun. Enjoy your singleness. Don’t allow anyone to put you in a box or label you because we have every right to explore our sexuality as men do. Date a lot. Have as much safe sex as you’re comfortable with. Figure out what turns you on. BE FREE. And, while you’re doing all this, also put in the work. Put in the hard work of looking at yourself in the mirror and working on your issues, so that when the universe sends you your person, YOU’RE READY.”
“I know my time is up. Thank you for the words of wisdom. I hope your luck in the dating pool is better than mine. In my last situationship, I damned near drowned,” said Shonda, with a full-throated laugh.
“Girl, that’s funny but I do understand. Trust,” Tracey said. “We got this, ladies. Singleness is incredible and being in a healthy relationship is incredible too. Enjoy both.”
Tracey enjoyed speaking with Shonda, knowing countless listeners were trying to figure out the whole dating experiment too. For many of her fans, not giving up was often just as difficult as waiting on their Forever Mates to come along. Tracey was beginning to discover how they felt, being disappointed after giving their all, only to receive little or nothing sustainable in return.
“Good call. Who’s my next guest on the show?” she asked, signaling for Reggie to send the next caller through.
“It’s me, J.S., long-time listener. First-time caller,” the woman’s voice said in an easy pass-the-butter tone.
“Okay, J.S., I’m Tracey. Thank you for listening and for being a first-time caller. Talk to me.”
“Tracey, you always say there are no perfect people or perfect relationships, but what do you think about cheaters?”
“Cheaters? Could you be more specific?” Tracey asked calmly. She hesitated jumping to conclusions and wasting the caller’s time unnecessarily without getting to the meat of the question.
“Oh, you want specifics? Okay, how’s this, why would any woman or man for that matter continue to listen to a relationship expert who sucks
at keeping her own man locked down?”
“Wait. What? First of all, I’m not an expert at anything but being Tracey Flemming, so I have no idea what you’re getting at. Next caller,” she said into the microphone to alert Reggie to move on to someone else.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me that easy!” J.S. spat back. “Since it looks like you sucked at being Tracey Flemming today.”
“What are you talking about? Who is this?” Tracey asked with an annoyed tone. She read her notepad where she’d written J.S. on it. Tracey had problems with irate and inconsiderate callers from time to time, but this
was a new one.
“I’m just stating the obvious. Why should anyone seriously consider listening to anything you have to say about Building A Love That Lasts when your man was cheating on you today in broad daylight at Babineaux’s with his other woman. Or were you the sidepiece?”
“Listen, J.S., this is a friendly show but I’m about that life so please don’t let the hair and makeup fool you,” Tracey huffed. She was still trying to figure out what was going on, how much this caller knew about the tiff she had with Mr. Possible, and how to get out of it without further losing her cool.
Reggie was clueless, but the sparing session was hot and could be good for ratings, so he motioned for Tracey to keep her on the line. Besides, this caller hadn’t used profanity or broken any show rules, so he shrugged his shoulders for Tracey to hang in there longer.
“Okay, I’ll play along and stay on the microphone. So, what the hell are you talking about?” she answered, feigning ignorance.
“The same thing everybody in Dallas is talking about like you don’t know. Your meltdown at the restaurant went viral. You’re a schemer who can’t hold a relationship together any better than the rest of us. So how does it feel to fail?”
Reggie looked at his phone, searching for the video of Tracey coming apart at brunch. As soon as he typed in her name, the video popped to the top of the list. He pushed play and then held the phone up to the glass. Tracey saw it immediately. She pulled her phone out too. What she saw on TikTok sent a shockwave through her body. “What the Fuck? 10,000 VIEWS!” she shouted with her finger holding down the cough button.
“I’m guessing by your silence that you’re clueless that your midday debacle is trending”, J.S. laughed. “When everyone else has already realized you’re a loser before you do… whew. Greatness!” J.S. laughed even more obnoxiously.
“Wait a minute, Messy Bitch. I let you make it on checking my albeit epic relationship faux pas today. You’re right. I should have handled it privately, but who the FUCK are you to be calling into MY SHOW with this shit? Hey, I don’t come down to Stretchmark Strippers to harass you while dudes are shoving dirty dollars down your nasty ass G-string. Get the fuck off my line, STANK BITCH!”
Reggie banged on the glass to warn Tracey that Brian was headed her way. Just as Brian began to thump on the deejay booth door angrily, she locked it. He dug through his pockets franticly for keys to unlock the door.
“Dammit, open up, Tracey. Unlock this damned door,” he ranted.
“Yeah, you’re so classy… and by the way, you’re STILL trending. Seventeen-thousand views and counting! Hahahahaha.” Click!
Tracey looked to Reggie for verification when her phone line went dead. She sucked in her breath after he nodded reluctantly. When Brian busted in the deejay booth door, Reggie quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. He was gasping for air when he appeared behind Tracey. The station manager was thoroughly disappointed by Tracey’s unprofessionalism. His words came out of his mouth in slow labored grunts. “I. Can’t. Believe. You. I could lose my station over this, that…thing you pulled today!” Brian picked up the contact folder off the desk. When he exited the booth in a huff, Tracey chased after him.
“Whoa, Brian. Hold on. Don’t be like that. It’s just one bad show. I worked my ass off to get where I am. One-million listeners didn’t come easy.”
“And you probably pissed it all away today.” He stepped into his office and then blocked her from entering with him. “Look, Tracey, I put up with your moods. I even learned to tolerate your blowing-off production meetings. I can’t look the other way on this.”
“Brian, listennnn,” Tracey pleaded. “Okay, I’ll take a suspension. This isn’t worth pulling my contract. I admit to getting carried away but COME ON, MAN!”
“I like you and wish I could give you an answer, but what you did was inexcusable. You’ll be lucky to hold on to your job after berating a fan like that.”
“Clearly, she was no fan. J.S. was straight B.S.”
“Don’t fool yourself. Not all your fans agree with your advice. Hell, I hardly ever agree with my doctor. I keep going back because he knows what he’s talking about, and so do you. Don’t you go getting a savior’s complex on me. Not everything you advise is going to work for everybody. You lost your dignity and your damned mind on the show today. Total meltdown.”
“Hold up. Just wait a minute. I know I messed up, but I can make this right.”
“Save your breath, Tracey… and hope I can save your job.”
