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Philly to stay with my aunt Pattie.
    So, for the rest of my days in L.A., I worked hard on being the best personal assistant to Tracy that I could be. I took mental notes on what she liked and didn’t like, where and what she liked to eat, who she wanted to talk to and who not. I cleaned and organized the house. I collected her news and magazine articles and filed them alphabetically in folders. I met her business associates, publicist, hairdressers—you name it. And I listened to and tried to understand her every complaint and suggestion. I basically forced myself to map out my cousin’s entire psychological profile, all so she would allow me to stay with her for as long as I wanted. I had to allow her a chance to see that I would be more of an asset to her than a hindrance.
    In the meantime, Jason had worn out his welcome with more than a few California girls, who began to realize that his slash-and-burn attitude was counterproductive to a meaningful relationship with them. The reality was that if he was so set on only a temporary stay in L.A., then what was the point of getting too close to him? And once they began to figure him out, Jason felt less opportunistic about his chances.
    â€œAw, man, I’m about to get up out of here,” he complained. “Y’all jinxed me. Ever since that day we had that argument, these girls’ve been acting funny on me.”
    I smiled and said, “You had it coming. You were just a little too cocky.”
    He said, “Aw’ight, well, you’re about to get your wish then. I’m about to start getting ready for school now. But what about you? You gon’ go to school out here?” he asked me.
    I said, “I want to.”
    Jason nodded. “Good luck then.”
    It was the only time he said anything of encouragement to anyone outside of himself since he had been out there in L.A. Too bad it was only because he was leaving. But I’d take it however I could get it.
    â€œThanks,” I told him.
    *  *  *
    As soon as Jason took that plane ride back home to Philly and left me all alone with Tracy in L.A., I became more nervous about what her verdict would be with me.
    I attended a wrap party with her for Road Kill in Santa Monica with the intention of being as perfect as I could. Most of her new Hollywood friends were there, and I wanted to make a great impression.
    â€œSo you’re the infamous Vanessa Tracy Smith?” her lawyer friend Yolanda Felix asked me with a glass of wine in her hand. I had heard about her, but I had not met her until then. From what I had heard about her, Yolanda Felix was a hell of a character. She had the golden-brown, Hollywood skin, the long dark hair, the fancy clothes, the slim physique, the expensive jewelry, and the twinkle of a high-class and viperous woman. I figured I needed to be as forward with her as I could to keep her from intimidating me. She was definitely the intimidating type.
    I said, “And you’re the infamous Yolanda Felix?” just to throw her comment about me back in her face.
    There was no mistaking who she was. Some people will always stand out in a crowd. I knew that from high school, and Hollywood was only the tenth degree of the same process.
    â€œSo what did you hear about me?” Yolanda asked me.
    I kept my guard up with her. I had too much to lose if I didn’t. She was the kind of in-your-face sister who would figure you were weak if you let your guard down with her.
    I asked her, “What did you hear about me?”
    She smiled. She said, “You’re Tracy’s cousin all right. So how long will it take before you’re in movies?”
    Her question threw me for a loop. I wasn’t thinking about movies for myself. I just wanted to be behind the scenes.
    I said, “I think you’re more of the movie type than I am.”
    â€œNot from what I’ve heard,” she insisted.
    I became nervous for a minute. I started