Mama Dearest by E. Lynn Harris Page A

giggling, laughing, listening to iPods and practicing dance moves, Ava thinks about possibly waiting her turn in line. But then tells herself no way. If she believed in waiting her turn, Ava would never have reached her social standing.
    She moves past the line and takes purposeful steps to the front door of the record store. She reaches out to grab the handle when a well-built man in a white shirt and black tie says, “Excuse me, ma’am, but you’ll have to wait in line for your turn like everybody else to see Madison B.”
    The man looks like he is in his thirties, which makes him young enough to be her son, but Ava doesn’t care. She enjoys the company of younger men.
    Ava eyes him up and down while licking her lips lightly. “Young man, does it look like I’m here to see, who did you say, Madison B.?”
    “I’m sorry, ma’am. It doesn’t matter, you’ll have to wait. We don’t want the fire chief to close us down.”
    “It’s that many people in there?”
    “Yes, ma’am. We haven’t had this many people since Hannah Montana. Madison B. is huge.”
    Stronger measures were clearly called for. “Oh shit!” Ava faked, grabbing her stomach with both hands. “You have to let me in.” She balled her face into a grimace.
    “What? Is there something wrong?” the man asked.
    “I’m in pain,” Ava said, not knowing exactly where she is goingwith this, but hoping it will work. “I’m having female problems and I need to get to the ladies’ room so I can take my … my injection. Please be a doll, young man.”
    The man looks over his shoulder, then into the store, as if he is uncertain of what he should do.
    “I’m on your property, young man,” Ava said with attitude. “If I collapse, I’ll sue, and you’ll be the first one they fire. Believe that.”
    “Okay, okay,” he said, concern now on his face. “Go and come right back out. Besides, you’re too old to be a Madison B. fan.”
    “You don’t know how old I am,” Ava muttered, still holding her stomach as the door is opened for her.
    The store has the atmosphere of a high school pep rally. Girls, a few boys, and mothers and daddies packed in, all holding copies of Madison B.’s new CD.
    Ava sidesteps gleeful, excited fans, heading toward the rest rooms. She looks over her shoulder at the man at the door until he is out of sight. When she is sure it’s safe, Ava turns left and heads straight for the customer service counter, where she sees a graying, smart-looking woman wearing a dark blue blazer and an earpiece.
    As she pushes her way through a throng of bubble gum–popping teens, Ava is able to spot a long table with a huge banner over it reading Welcome to New York, Madison B.! Ava guesses that’s where her alleged granddaughter will be greeting her fans and signing CDs.
    Madison B. hasn’t arrived. Ava assumes she is in some back room, surrounded by flunkies of every sort, plotting the grand entrance the teen star will make when the time comes.
    Ava approaches the smart-looking woman. “Excuse me, are you the manager of this store?”
    “Yes, I’m Mrs. Sutton. How may I help you?”
    “Hello, Mrs. Sutton,” Ava said, extending her hand, a bright, confident smile on her face. “My name is Ava Middlebrooks. Maybe you remember me from some years back when I signed my CD here.”
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’ve only been manager a year or so,” Mrs. Sutton said sharply. “But Ms. Middlebrooks, as you can see, we’re very busy. So how can I help you?”
    “I need to speak with little Miss Madison B. I’m her grand … I mean, we’re related. I haven’t seen her since she was this big,” Ava said, holding out her hands like she was holding a loaf of bread.
    “Do you have a card? I can give it to her people. I don’t think she can be bothered right now. She’s getting ready to meet her fans.”
    “Surely you’re kidding me. Are you saying relatives have to take a back seat to these people?” Ava said as she