The Blackwoods

by Brandy Colbert

Genres: YA Family

Synopsis

From Boston Globe/Horn Book Award–winning author Brandy Colbert comes the story of four generations of a Hollywood family—an unforgettable tale of ambition, fame, struggle, loss, and love in America.

The Blackwoods. Everyone knows their name.

Blossom Blackwood burst onto the silver screen in 1962, and in the decades that followed, she would become one of the most celebrated actors of our time—and the matriarch of the most famous Black family in Hollywood. To her great-granddaughters, Hollis and Ardith, she has always just been Bebe. And when she passes away, it changes everything.

Hollis Blackwood was never interested in fame. Still, she’s surrounded by it, whether at home with her family or at the prestigious Dupree Academy among Los Angeles’ elite. When private photos of Hollis are leaked in the wake of Blossom’s death, she is thrust into the spotlight she’s long avoided—and finds that trust may be a luxury even she can’t afford.

Ardith Blackwood has always lived in the public eye. A television star since childhood, she was perhaps closer with Blossom than anyone—especially after Ardith’s mother died in a drug overdose. Ever since, she has worked to be everything her family, her church, and the public want her to be. But as a family secret comes to light and the pressures from all sides begin to mount, she wonders what is left beneath the face she shows the world.

Weaving together the narratives of Hollis, Ardith, and Blossom, award-winning author Brandy Colbert tells an unforgettable story set in an America where everything is personal, and nothing is private.  

 

Read more

Release date: October 3, 2023

Publisher: Balzer + Bray

Print pages: 383

Sample

Hollis

Hollis Blackwood hadn’t understood the meaning of fame when she was a little girl—not truly. She’d noticed that, sometimes, people she didn’t know would do a double take when they pulled up next to her family’s car at a stoplight, or start whispering to each other when her father was picking up a prescription from the pharmacy or choosing steaks at the Gelson’s meat counter. The fifth time a stranger had approached their table at a restaurant, asking for a picture as they were digging into their entrees, she remembered wondering why people were so interested in her family in particular. Even at six years old, Hollis suspected that not everyone could know Isaiah Blackwood made the best chocolate chip pancakes on the planet. She’d been sitting in her car seat in the back, on their way home from dinner, when she’d blurted, “Why do people care so much about Dad?” Her parents loved to tell the story to anyone who would listen. The punch line was that they were driving past a billboard for one of her father’s new movies, his supersize face grinning out over West Hollywood.

By the time she was in fourth grade, though, Hollis had completely understood what fame meant. It meant that when people walked up to her father in public, even when he was having a bad day, he would still give them a big smile and pose for a selfie. It meant that, when the release of one of her father’s movies was approaching, her parents would begin leaving her with Grandpa Abe and Taffy when they went out, so they could shield her from the ever-lurking paparazzi. It meant that, despite her parents’ best efforts, Hollis herself was considered interesting enough for the gossip blogs to post the occasional photo or quick write-up, simply by virtue of being a Blackwood.

Today, however, was not about her or her parents—it was all about her great-grandmother. And as she observed all the people who had come together to remember Bebe, Hollis was overwhelmed, just as she had been when she was a little girl, by what fame meant. At ninety-six years old, Bebe had lived longer than many people in her generation, including her Hollywood peers, so there weren’t many of her contemporaries in attendance. Even the sisters she’d so deeply loved had each passed on before her: Marla from natural causes twelve years before, and Sybil eight years ago, from a stroke. But Blossom Blackwood had made such an impact on just about everyone she’d met—and so many she hadn’t—that her family had been forced to trim the memorial’s guest list down to only a couple dozen people, for both privacy and security concerns. They were there because they all loved her, each in their own way, and it was clearly a celebration of life, just as Grandpa Abe had promised. The speakers he’d had installed throughout Bebe’s home a few years ago were playing jazz, the big, brassy kind that his mother had so loved.

Hollis walked down from the second floor, trying not to draw too much attention to herself as she looked for her cousins. She passed a group of movie producers gathered at the base of the stairs in the foyer, holding glasses of dark liquor; Hollis, like most people, might not have even known their names—or the power they held in Hollywood—except for the fact that they were old friends of Bebe’s. They were a stark contrast to the guests she spotted through the doorway on the other side of them, a line of people Bebe had gone to church with. Dressed in their Sunday finery for the occasion, they were gathered in front of the warming trays placed on the dining room table, their eyes darting around as they took in their lavish surroundings. Grandpa Abe was standing by the front door, greeting two people she recognized as the stars of The Incumbent, the HBO political drama Bebe had guest-starred on for a couple of seasons back in the early 2000s. Hollis smiled when anyone made eye contact, but she didn’t stop to speak with them. She wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with strangers on most days, but especially not today. As nice as it was to see so many people celebrating Bebe, she couldn’t help wondering how many of them were actually there for her great-grandmother and how many were more interested in being seen.

She attempted to glide through the living room unnoticed, but before she could make it to the other side, Taffy called out to her from the fireplace. Hollis stifled a sigh and made a detour to her grandmother, whose sharp brown eyes were already roaming up and down Hollis’s knee-length lavender dress. They’d all been asked to wear something purple, which had been Bebe’s favorite color, but from the way Taffy was looking at her, you’d think she had come in sweatpants.

“Yes, Taffy?”

Even when Taffy wasn’t posing, she looked as if she was ready for a photograph, her posture perfectly straight and angled—an instinct left over from her modeling days.

“How are you doing?” Taffy asked, her gaze lingering on Hollis’s chest.

Hollis glanced down, wondering if she’d chosen the wrong dress. It looked okay to her, but maybe her perspective was off so soon after her surgery. She was still getting used to how she looked and felt after the breast reduction.

“I’m fine, Taffy,” she said, her neck feeling hot. “How are you?”

“I’m managing. Have you seen your cousin?”

It was clear to Hollis, from the exasperation in Taffy’s voice, that she was talking about Ardith. She would never dare speak of her beloved Prentice that way. Hollis wondered if Taffy even cared at this point that her grandchildren noticed the way she played favorites. “No, I was actually just going to look for her.”

“She should be in here, mingling.”

Hollis took a deep breath so she wouldn’t roll her eyes instead and said, “This is a memorial, not a film premiere.”

“It’s a celebration of Bebe’s life,” Taffy said, holding up the glass of white wine in her hand. “And she’s the one carrying Bebe’s legacy into the future. What does it look like if she spends the whole time hiding out with you?”

“It probably looks like she’s grieving, Taffy,” Hollis said evenly. “Which she is. Why would she need to mingle?”

Taffy leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, there are some important industry people here. It’s an opportunity. I’m looking out for her.”

Hollis blinked. Never mind that Ardith was currently a series regular on a hit show that had just been renewed for its second and third seasons. Taffy was always this hard on Ardith—especially when Ardith’s career was in a place where her choices reflected on the family.

When Hollis didn’t respond, Taffy pursed her lips and said, “Please send her my way when you find her.”

Hollis turned away and finally allowed herself to roll her eyes. She would do nothing of the sort. Taffy was the last thing Ardith needed to worry about today.

Hollis nodded at one of the staff watching the side door that led to the back patio—which, mercifully, was not part of the gathering—and slipped outside, relishing the quiet that followed. She stopped to close her eyes and take a deep breath. If she was still this shaken by the fact that Bebe was nowhere to be found in the house that had been like a second home to them all, there was no way Ardith was taking this well.

Hollis found her cousins sitting at a wrought-iron table not far from the pool. Prentice’s chin was in his hands, shirtsleeves rolled up and elbows planted on the table. Ardith was curled back into her seat, looking as if she wished she could disappear.

“I thought it had finally sunk in when we were at Forest Lawn, but I woke up feeling even worse today,” she said, toying with the crumpled tissue in her hand. “Like, this is the real goodbye, you know?”

Those were the most words she’d said all day, and Hollis noticed how her voice sounded uncharacteristically croaky. “Yeah, I know,” she responded, and her cousin gave her a small, sad smile.

Though Ardith’s career meant that Hollis didn’t see her as much as she used to, her cousin was still her closest confidant in the family. The two of them were born less than a year apart, and they’d been spending time together at least once a week since they were babies, thanks to Bebe’s No-Excuses Saturday Breakfasts. Hollis was used to being part of a Hollywood family by the time Ardith’s acting career had begun to take off, but it was still strange to see her cousin’s red carpet photos in her news feed, or read a Variety article naming Ardith one of the most talented teen actors of the moment. She’d landed the role of Tinsley on You Can Say That Again when she was only eight years old, catapulting her to early fame. While there had been a brief lull in her career when that sitcom finally came to an end, the Blackwood name meant that she continued to book auditions—and, though that name would get her into any casting room in Hollywood, her talent was what ensured her star would only continue to rise.

At times like this, though, when Ardith’s dress was wrinkled from sweat, her face wasn’t made up for television, and her naturally reddish-brown hair was pulled into a simple Afro puff, Hollis thought she looked like any seventeen-year-old you might pass on the street.

“If I hear one more person from Swanson Avenue tell me Bebe’s in heaven watching over us now, I’m gonna lose my shit,” Prentice grumbled. At fifteen, he was the youngest cousin and yet, somehow, the most jaded. “It’s so clichéd.”

“It’s not clichéd if it’s what people believe,” Ardith countered. She and Bebe were the only religious members of the family, their regular attendance at Swanson Avenue Baptist Church bonding them in a way that no one else understood. Hollis couldn’t decide how she felt about the concept of religion, switching from agnostic to atheist and back again. She and Prentice had visited Swanson Avenue a handful of times, but it had been six years since they’d sat in one of those church pews, for Ardith’s baptism. Though their views on religion all differed, Ardith had never seemed to judge their beliefs—or lack thereof.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Prentice bit his lip and began scrolling on his phone.

Ardith didn’t look annoyed. “No, I get it,” she said. “Some of the congregation can be pretty intense. You should see some of the cards they’ve given me today.” When Prentice didn’t respond, she frowned at him. “For real, though, could you stay off your phone for, like, one minute?”

“Could you stop acting forty-five for, like, a second?” he muttered. But then his eyes widened, and he held the phone away from his face, then close again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Hollis asked, the low level of dread she’d felt all day beginning to rise up in her chest. Things had gone a little too smoothly. So far, there had been no paparazzi outside of the house, which was a minor miracle, as far as she was concerned. No matter how private an event was kept, someone outside the family always managed to leak the location. She hadn’t missed the blurry photos of them at Forest Lawn printed on the front page of the tabloids just days earlier, one with the headline BLACKWOODS SAY BYE-BYE TO BLOSSOM. Her stomach turned over again just thinking about it.

“Some asshole is talking about Bebe.”

“What are they saying?” Ardith asked. But Prentice ignored her, eyes glued to his screen.

When he didn’t answer after another moment, Hollis grumbled, then swiped the phone from him.

“Hey!” he protested, trying to grab it back, but Hollis was too quick. She jumped up and walked a couple of feet away, looking at the gossip blog pulled up on her cousin’s phone.

It was an especially cheap-looking website she’d never heard of, and, as Prentice had said, the article was all about Bebe’s death and the rumor that there was a private memorial gathering today to honor her. But it was what she read a few lines down that must have caught Prentice’s attention.

The site had decided to dig up the subject of who Grandpa Abe’s father was—something Bebe had never revealed to the public or her family. Not even to Grandpa Abe himself. The question was nothing new; hardly a year went by that one of the Blackwoods wasn’t asked about it in an interview, or an article that mentioned Bebe decided to speculate on the subject. But Hollis’s hands squeezed tight around the phone as she looked at the way this blog was writing about her great-grandmother’s choice:

Looks like the identity of Abraham Blackwood’s father will remain an unsolved Hollywood mystery. Whatever it was that Blossom Blackwood was so determined to hide, the Oscar-nominated actress took it straight to her grave.

Whatever Blossom Blackwood was so determined to hide—what was that supposed to mean? Hollis had seen enough tasteless headlines and articles about her family that it wasn’t surprising someone would write this about Bebe. But to imply her great-grandmother was trying to keep some deep, dark secret instead of simply protecting her privacy, and to do so on the day they were celebrating her life—well, it was low even for a blog like this.

Hollis had drifted so far into her thoughts that she didn’t notice Prentice had crept up behind her until he snatched the phone back. He returned to his seat with a smirk.

“What is it?” asked Ardith again, now clearly frustrated with both of them.

“They’re just talking about Grandpa Abe’s dad,” Hollis said, pushing a stray loc behind her ear. No need for her cousin to get upset about this, too.

Ardith shook her head. “Ah.”

“It’s fucking gross, but . . .” Hollis spread her arms wide as if to say, Comes with the territory. She glanced at Prentice, hoping he would take her cue to drop it.

But when Prentice spoke, it was clear that same line in the article was bugging him, as well. “Why do you think Bebe never told anyone about Grandpa Abe’s dad?”

Ardith groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Maybe because it’s not anyone’s business?” Hollis said. “Besides hers? And maybe Grandpa Abe’s? Come on, Prentice.”

“Yeah, but Grandpa Abe was born, like, a million years ago,” he pressed. “If it wasn’t a big deal, she could have just told someone, and then everyone would stop asking about it all the time.”

“That’s not how it works,” Ardith said quietly.

“Yeah,” Hollis agreed, trying once more to end the conversation. “And maybe it was just something Bebe didn’t want to talk about, for whatever reason. I don’t know, maybe he was abusive, or an addict, or—” She stopped abruptly, looking at Ardith again. “Sorry. Not that being an addict is bad, I just meant—”

“Hollis, it’s fine,” Ardith said. “I know what you meant.”

And her cousin didn’t look upset, but Hollis felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. All these years after Ardith’s mom’s death, and Hollis still didn’t quite know how to navigate that topic.

“Okay, but for real,” Prentice said, leaning toward Ardith. “You were closer with Bebe than anyone. She really never told you anything about this guy, whoever he was?”

Hollis’s mouth dropped open. “Prentice, I swear to god—”

“No, she didn’t,” Ardith said firmly, and her cousins fell silent. “But she did always tell me that it doesn’t matter how much of yourself you give, it’s never going to be enough for some people. And that if you don’t give them what they want, they’ll probably just make up something anyway. She told me we have to go on living our lives the best we can even when that happens, because there’s nothing we can do about it.” She paused, then softly repeated, “Nothing.”

No one spoke for a moment. Prentice shifted awkwardly in his chair.

“I’d better go inside,” Ardith said, wiping underneath her eyelids with the edge of her pinkie to catch the smeared mascara.

Hollis took a breath, wondering what it must be like to not have to discuss public musings about your family’s private life anytime something important happened. “Careful. Taffy is looking for you. She thinks you should be mingling.”

“That’s why I’m going inside.”

“Seriously? To ‘network’?”

“Of course not.” Ardith pushed her chair back from the table with a loud scrape. “I’m going to talk to all the people from church instead. Just like Bebe would.”

Hollis grinned. Taffy may have been hardest on her, but Ardith knew better than anyone exactly how to piss her off.

When the food had all been picked over and the last few stragglers had made their way out the door, Hollis’s parents invited the family back to their home to keep the celebration going. Her father, Isaiah, wanted them all to watch one of Bebe’s films to close out the day. He said this with heavy-lidded eyes after polishing off his second piece of one of the church ladies’ pies.

“Couldn’t we just watch it here?” Uncle Clarence asked. “We haven’t packed up her things yet.”

“Come on, man. You know it’ll be better at our place.”

Hollis closed her eyes just as her uncle rolled his. Her father was obnoxious about their home theater. He always referred to it as his screening room, and he refused to watch movies on a regular TV or laptop like a normal person.

“Darling, that’s a lovely idea, but your father and I are going to head home,” Taffy said, resting a manicured hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “Perhaps we can do it again soon.”

Grandpa Abe nodded from across the room. He was sitting in the flowered armchair, looking exhausted. “Sorry, son. It’s been a long few weeks.”

“Of course, you guys. I get it.” Hollis’s dad reached up to squeeze his mother’s hand as he looked around the rest of the room. His eyes landed on August. “How about it?”

Uncle August shook his head. “I’m out, too. I have to put in some serious hours before Monday on this contract.”

“Looked to me like you already put in some serious hours today,” Clarence murmured. His husband, Evan, nudged him in the ribs.

“August, is that true?” Taffy asked with a frown.

His silence was her answer. He at least had the good sense to look guilty.

Taffy sighed. “How could you do that? Look at your father, how important today was to him. You—”

“I’m sorry,” Uncle August said, throwing his hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to disrespect anyone. But maybe some of you have forgotten, I actually go into an office every day.”

“Oh, now I don’t work because I don’t sit behind a desk and push contracts around?” Isaiah said, even though his brother hadn’t been looking at him as he spoke.

“I didn’t say that, Isaiah. What I’m saying is, I don’t have the luxury of making my own hours. I took time off last week for the funeral, I took time off today. I guess you’ve also forgotten I’m working out Bebe’s estate? I’m sorry my schedule doesn’t fit into your artist’s lifestyle.”

“You selfish—” Hollis’s father began, but he was interrupted by Grandpa Abe, who stood up and commanded in a loud, booming voice, “That’s enough!”

The room went completely silent. Hollis, Ardith, and Prentice exchanged looks from the love seat they had all crammed onto. Grandpa Abe rarely raised his voice.

“This day is about Mama,” he continued. “Shame on you for fighting. Shame on you for being anything other than kind to each other on a day when we’re celebrating what she meant to us.” Grandpa Abe made eye contact with each of his children before he began walking toward the foyer. “Taffy, I’m ready.”

Isaiah and his brothers went after their father, apologizing over one another as they followed him to the front door. Taffy stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips and blew air from the side of her mouth. “I swear, sometimes they’re more immature than their own children.”

Hollis wasn’t sure if Taffy had meant for them to hear her, and she was too tired to point out that they had. She felt Ardith bristle next to her.

“Want to ride over with us?” Hollis whispered to her cousin, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind about coming now, too.

“Yes, please,” Ardith whispered back, her eyes grateful.

The ride back to Pasadena was, thankfully, uneventful. Hollis’s mother drove while her father spent the ride staring out the passenger window, the cool evening breeze gliding over his face. Hollis was glad to have Ardith next to her, though her cousin seemed even sadder than before.

When they were home, the two went straight upstairs to Hollis’s room, where Hollis pulled out her favorite yoga pants and hoodie, and let Ardith grab something for herself. It felt good to change out of their dresses; lighter somehow, as if they were shedding the weight of the past few weeks. Ardith went to the bathroom, and Hollis lingered in front of the full-length mirror, staring at herself. She’d been afraid to look too long in the days immediately after her surgery. Her chest had been all bandaged up, and she was worried she’d made a huge mistake going through with the breast reduction. But now the bandages were off and she was almost completely healed, just in time for the first day of her senior year on Monday. And looking at her new self, she was glad she’d had the surgery. Her surgeon had promised it would help with the back pain she had noticed increasing over the years, and for the first time since she was twelve, she’d be able to wear clothes that hugged her body without covering her chest in shame.

The bathroom door opened, and Ardith emerged wearing Hollis’s mother’s old Spelman T-shirt. Being up here with her cousin reminded Hollis of the sleepovers they used to have when they were younger, when Ardith would often spend a weekend—or, sometimes, longer than that—with them. Aunt Kimberly had been in and out of rehab back then, so Hollis’s parents had offered to let Ardith stay with them whenever they’d needed it. They’d needed it a lot during Aunt Kimberly’s last few years, but Hollis wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It felt like having a sister, and even though Ardith had been working on You Can Say That Again, she was still very much a little kid who loved ballet class and playing video games and debating the merits of her American Girl doll versus Hollis’s. They didn’t get to see each other as much now that they were older and Ardith was working more, but when they did spend time together, Hollis was relieved that Ardith was still the same cousin and friend she’d always been.

“You go back to school on Monday, right?” Ardith asked, her folded dress tucked under her arm.

“Yeah.” Hollis paused, leaning against the doorway of her walk-in closet. “I’m nervous people are going to notice, but is it weird that I’m also worried they won’t notice?”

Ardith perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you still glad you did it?”

“For sure. It’s different, but not in a bad way. Just, like, a new and improved me, I guess.”

Ardith smiled. “Definitely. And are you and Dwayne . . . ?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” Hollis swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Every time she thought of what had happened with her and Dwayne, she felt like it had all been a dream. She’d wondered if things would just go back to normal after that night. But when he’d stopped by to check on her a few days after her surgery, she’d been surprised to feel a persistent flutter low in her belly. Nothing about Dwayne had changed, but she couldn’t deny the new energy that pulsed between them. “We’ve been texting, and everything seems like it’s the same, but it’s obviously not.”

“Do you want it to be the same?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, I like Dwayne,” Ardith said. “And you guys could be a total power couple.”

Hollis raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, a Lipscomb dating a Blackwood? People would eat that up.”

“No way. Who am I? The only thing people know me for is my name.”

“Um, yeah? That’s, like, most famous people these days.”

“Well, Dwayne is more than his name. He’s going to be pro in two years, no doubt.”

Hollis’s best friend was the son of Kenley Lipscomb, a two-time NBA All-Star whose decades-long career had finally come to a close last year when he retired from the Clippers. But Dwayne had only ever known his father as someone who showed up on ESPN more often than he did at the dinner table. Dwayne knew what it meant to be part of a family like theirs, to be someone people already had opinions about before they’d even met you, but he was also an all-American basketball player whom colleges had been scouting since he was in middle school. Hollis didn’t have any aspirations to go into the industry—not even an industry-adjacent role like Uncle August, who was an entertainment attorney—but Dwayne had been preparing to go into the family business since they were in elementary school.

“You’re more than your name, too, Holl. All I’m saying is you would be cute together. And you’re lucky you get to be around people our age all the time.” Ardith sighed, tracing her finger along the pink linen duvet. “I spend about ninety percent of my life with adults.”

“You could always take a break and go back to acting in a few years.”

“What’s the point? I know my set teacher better than any of the teachers at my actual school.”

“Yeah, and you have another whole two years of high school to change that if you want. And then college. Actors do that all the time. You can go to Yale or Harvard or wherever and then come back.”

Ardith looked as if she were pondering this idea, but she shook her head. “I’m already signed on to the next couple of seasons of the show, and . . . I guess I don’t really want to leave acting, you know? Not even for a little while. Sometimes it sounds amazing to just go be a regular person who’ll get a regular job someday, but I feel sick if I think about it too long.”

“So you were born to do it. You just need to make more actor friends your age.”

Ardith stared at her.

“Okaaaay. Church friends?”

“Maybe. ...