I admired Phyllis not only for her talent. In television interviews, she had spoken out about racism in the music industry and the price she had paid for being a black woman and telling it like it is.
Phyllis was not a belter like me; she was softer and quieter but still very powerful. Most important, she had achieved the success that I dreamed of. Watching her sing was a rush because it was proof that my dream was possible; through my eyes that was me on the stage. Her performance and mastery thrilled and excited me to the point that I couldn’t get to sleep until eight the next morning, which caused me to sleep right through our matinee show. But I was willing to take the hit of losing a day’s pay to experience the great Phyllis Hyman.
During the weeks on the road, it seemed like I always had a cold. No surprise, considering my diet consisted of chips, pickles, and Manischewitz wine. I ate lots of cheese, which I now know puts mucus on the vocal cords. I also had no clue that a steady diet of Kentucky Fried Chicken and doughnuts wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t surprising, then, that midway through the Detroit run, I had to have my costume let out a full inch. Maxie, the head of wardrobe, looked me dead in the eye and gave me some of the best advice of my life. She had spent years in the theater and witnessed numerous svelte entertainers bloom beyond the point of no return. “Don’t do it, Jenifer,” she said sternly. “You will never be able to get it off.” Her advice has stayed with me and is one of the reasons that thirty years later, I am still in pretty good shape and still cute, thank you very much!
After Detroit, there was a short break in the tour, so I flew back to Manhattan for a couple of weeks. Landing at Kennedy, I took a bus to Columbus Circle. It was in the midst of the great transit strike of 1980, so I had to roll my suitcase the few blocks down 8th Avenue to my apartment. It felt good to be home, to feel invigorated by New York City’s unique pulse.
I walked to Colony Records and bought the new Dionne Warwick album that included “I’ll Never Love This Way Again.” I couldn’t wait to wrap my vocal cords around those high notes come the next audition. Despite my resolve to watch my weight, I treated myself to a sundae at Howard Johnson’s. I started to crash from having been on tour so long. I found it very difficult to adjust after the excitement and elevation of performing every night. My solution was to blast Ethel Merman until the wee hours. My poor neighbors!
Come the next morning, I was back into my routine of dance classes and voice lessons every day. I was hanging tough with Terry Burrell and Shirley Black-Brown, who would always bring the weed (I never bought it). Then we’d go shopping—you do not want me shopping while I’m high! After dropping serious dollars at Bergdorf and Saks, we spent a good hour in Ray Beauty Supply on 8th Avenue getting every product needed to maintain our diva-ness! Hanging with the girls was great, but you can best believe I always had calls out to a couple of my men.
Within a day or so of arriving back in the city, I was having phone sex with Ken around one in the morning when someone buzzed from downstairs. To my surprise, it was Gregory Hines, who had just returned from the Continent. He was a bit tipsy and had brought over some African wine from his trip. I suspected that he didn’t realize I was back in town and that it was Debbie Burrell whom he was really looking for. I had sublet my apartment to her while I was on the road.
When Gregory and I performed together the previous year, our flirtations were pretty minor, and I was among the few women on the Broadway scene with whom Gregory hadn’t had sex. Allllthoughhhhh—there was that one time after the first act in Eubie! We came off stage exhausted from the last number, an uptempo piece called “Jazz” that ended with about fifteen roundhouse kicks. The dressing rooms were several flights up and I just couldn’t make it. I sat on the stairs and as Gregory climbed toward me, I made a request:
JENIFER
[heaving to catch her breath]
Gregory, I am sooooo thirsty, but I am just too tired to go all the way back down for some water. Could you go get me some?
GREGORY
[sweetly]
Jenifer, I’m tired too.
JENIFER
[in joking whisper]
Gregory, if you go get me some water, I’ll let you suck my ti-
Schwinggg! Gregory took off like the Road Runner! In a matter of moments he was back with a cup of water. When I finished drinking Gregory stepped toward me. I said, “Gregory you know damn well I was playing!” He smiled and said, “A promise is a promise, Jenifer.” And with that Gregory gently lay me backward on the floor, opened my robe, revealed my right titty, and proceeded to suck it vigorously for at least a couple of minutes. I squirmed in protest (hey, I had to act like I didn’t like it), but I probably came twice in that brief session. A few of my castmates saw what was going on and shook their heads, but I didn’t care—they were probably as turned on as I was.
When Gregory showed up at my apartment with the wine, there was no hesitation on either of our parts and we quickly took our relationship to a new level on the kitchen counter. We were pretty wild and somehow wound up naked, with me riding piggyback and shushing Gregory from making so much noise as he trotted out of my apartment and down the hallway, singing loudly. Like bare-ass fools, we hopped into the elevator to the lobby and Gregory galloped around the concierge desk a couple of times before we made it back to my apartment without being seen by anyone. Oh, to be young, silly, and free! Years later, I started to regale some friends with my Gregory story. My good friend Lorraine Fields stopped me cold. “Oh, Jenifer, Gregory told everybody that story the day after it happened!”
During my break from the Eubie! tour, I enjoyed dates with several guys from the corral of men I had assembled in New York. Besides Ken, there was Ron and Patrick. But then I was forced to go to Roosevelt Hospital with a raging yeast infection. The burning was terrible. Fortunately, it cleared up by the time Miguel called. He was back from the Dominican Republic and invited me to Brooklyn. When he opened his apartment door, we fell upon each other and I sucked his entire body. I loved him so much. No other man got this kind of attention from me. Here he still wanted to marry me, yet he knew I’d been with other men while we were apart. I didn’t mean to treat him badly—it’s just how things had been between us for years.
The first night back on the Eubie! tour in Kansas City, I met a conventioneer named Nick at the hotel bar. A day later, we had sex. I felt terrible; how could I have sex with a stranger right after sharing such a beautiful time with Miguel? He deserved better from me. Nick showed me a picture of his girlfriend back home. Her name was Becky, and she was a home economics teacher. He called me from the airport.