My Muted Love (Muted Hoplessness Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  Jones began unwrapping his sandwich. “Ashton, Trisha here, as you know, is an A.A.D. She’s coached soccer for a couple of years and recently moved into boxing. BSU is expanding its repertoire into female boxing, something Gaskin has professional experience in. She took the lead on recruiting Tori McNabb. I believe you’re familiar with her.” His eyes rose to meet my own.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  Jones unscrewed his water then set it next to his sandwich that began to scent the room. That’s when it dawned on me. Jones’ tuna could have been purchased from the small bistro downstairs. He didn’t have to come down to the campus unless it was for another reason. Me. This meeting was just arranged today. Had to be. I’d already had one with him that was supposed to begin in twenty minutes: enough time for him to scarf down his sandwich and be prepared.

  Tori had snitched on me to her A.D.

  “But I’m not sure why I’m meeting with Ms. Gaskin here,” I decided to amend.

  Jones nodded, granting her permission to sic me. Locked and loaded, she didn’t hesitate.

  Trisha turned to me on a hiked breath and let it go. “Your first tutoring session with her, how do you say it went?”

  “It didn’t.” My brows hiked and I tilted my head.

  “Why?”

  “Because she stormed out of the room, refusing to be tutored.”

  “Did you say anything to make her feel uncomfortable?”

  “Did she say I did?”

  So quickly, Trisha needed a deep breath. She peered over to Jones for assistance. “Can he answer my question?”

  Jones’ chin lifted, appearing to be considering his position. I was too anxious for the verdict.

  I shifted to face her. “If I’m going to be called into my A.D.’s office over a complaint, I have every right to know what the allegations are.”

  “No one’s talking allegations, Spence,” Jones tried assuring me.

  “This feels hugely litigating, sir,” I countered him.

  “Ash—” Trisha tried again.

  “What did she say I did?” I demanded, voice controlled, but firm.

  Trisha’s eyes fell, chin lifted as she swallowed. I gave her a moment to come with her shit. “She didn’t. Tori came to my office yesterday saying she no longer wanted to be tutored by you, and I was able to piece together a foul exchange.”

  “On whose part?”

  Her eyes rolled across the office. “Listen, Ashton, I know you’re the—” She used air quotes. “big man on campus—”

  “Nah. A straight A student, academic aid volunteer, and then the starting quarterback of the BSU Panthers.” I interjected. “And not to mention, Wanda Lee’s son. If you’re gonna check me over my behavior with a woman, be clear on your objective and evidence.”

  “Please don’t take that tone with me, Ashton Spencer.”

  “I believe you set the tone by going to my A.D. instead of requesting to speak to Tori and me alone to sort out whatever differences you may feel we have.”

  Trisha, once again, looked to her boss for assistance. Jones nodded with a tilted head, gesturing validity to my point.

  “I didn’t do that because…” She hesitated then shook her head. “I couldn’t do it because Tori didn’t lodge a complaint.”

  “So why are we here?” I asked.

  Jones sat back in his chair, pushing his frames closer to his face.

  “As her point person here, I’m not only responsible for Tori’s trainings and scheduling her fights and arrangements, but I’m also a liaison and advocate for her. I’ve been feeling like the only one on her welcoming committee. My assistant and I have observed how you and your friends tease and taunt her. You’ve been doing it since she arrived. And now she’s saying she doesn’t want the tutoring.”

  “Which is fine.” My plate is full this semester as it is...

  “If she doesn’t get tutored, she doesn’t maintain her academic obligations to the university, which means she’ll be dropped from the program. Is it too much to ask for simple kindness from the straight-A, star quarterback of the school?”

  “Again, it wasn’t me who decided to end the tutoring.” I pressed my fingertips into my chest. “I haven’t said I wasn’t doing it. Clearly, she did.”

  “Why should she want to if all you’re going to do is make her feel uncomfortable?”

  I hated when she stated it as though I’d done some nefarious act of proportions.

  Sitting back, I rested my elbow on the arm of my chair and leaned into my fingers. “What did I do wrong two nights ago other than question her respect for my time when she showed over twenty minutes late for a thirty-minute session?”

  Trisha sat up splaying her fingers and counted off. “You’ve referenced her as tomboy, you and your friends snatched off her hat, playing hot potato with it—”

  “Jesus!” Jones whispered hard, sitting in his seat.

  I tried killing that. “Now, I didn’t participate in that—”

  “And you bark after her, calling her a dog!” Trisha came with the hammer.

  “Now, Ashton!” Jones sat up in his seat. I shrank in mine. “Tell me you didn’t treat a young woman that way.”

  I let out a deep breath. Yes, I’d done that, but Trisha had it all wrong. I was no bad guy. Tori should have showed on time.

  “All I’m saying here, Ashton,” Trisha spoke again when I’d gone so long unusually speechless. “is that Tori may not be glitzy, girlie, and come from generational wealth like so many in your crew, but she does belong here. She brings a special skill set Blakewood would like to highlight in U.S. collegiate athletics. We have the resources; she has the unique skill. She’s poor, Black, and female: I get that makes her unpopular, but it shouldn’t make her a target for being bullied.”

  My eyes popped wide. Bullied.

  Wow…

  We were throwing that word around now.

  Cool.

  Nah. Fuck that!

  It was obvious to me Jones had my back by walking me into the lion’s den. But Trisha flipped it and now, I was in some shit with the top dog of my program.

  “I’m at a loss for words, Ashton. Truly.” Jones’ voice was of that typical patriarchal disappointment, and damn was it effective. “Gaskin, give me a moment alone with Mr. Spencer, so we can discuss his recourse in this matter.”

  Stiffly, Trisha stood from her chair and clomped out of the office, leaving us alone.

  Jones’ and my eyes met each other at the same time.

  I took the lead. “In my defense, I only barked twice—and, again, I did not touch that girl’s hat!”

  He raised a hand, silencing my claims. Then his index finger shot out like a gun. “You mark my words: in the next ten years, it will be the year of the woman. And I mean for the things you’ve not committed at all, but should be aware of. All of the immoral dismissiveness, sexual harassment, innuendos, and discrimination. A shock wave will be sent through the ‘old boys club.’ The slightest ‘lazy’ move of the hand or slip of a word will land a man jobless and wrapped up in litigation, awaiting monetary deductions. It will be a game changer, son. Even what I just did, dismissing a complainant without allowing her to see my course of action, will be no more.”

  “But I’m not like that, Jones. You know me!”

  “I do! Which is why I’m going to propose something that will hurt me just as much as it hurts you.”

  I rolled my eyes, arms swiping the air then landing back on my thighs. “Here we go with the preamble to an ass whooping.”

  “Maybe, but we got to make this right, son! You’ve been the cleanest QB I’ve had in years, even all the coaches say it. I’ll be damned if I’m going to have a millennial woman like Gaskin bring disgrace in my camp this year. So, whatever predisposed feelings you may have in the moment, you’re gonna have to swallow them shits, and real good and fast.” His southern drawl piqued. With flared nostrils, I looked him square in the eyes and waited for my sentence—the damn verdict had already been r
ead.

  Jones sat back in his chair, regard tossed to the window as he thumbed his chin. “You’re going to resume the tutoring. We need McNabb in top academic shape.” He rocked back and forth, thinking. “And workouts. Buddy up with her.”

  I shot up in my seat. “What!”

  Jones nodded. “Making amends goes beyond words of apology. Befriend the girl. You may catch a friend out of her.”

  “Never!”

  “That decision ain’t up to you right now.” He sat up in his seat. “Right now, the Panthers’ rep is in question. It ain’t about you. If we can’t treat our own with dignity and respect, what the hell are we?”

  “What I’m not is an assailant of any kind. I’ve done nothing wrong.” I sat back in my seat to appear relaxed, though in reality, I was all but. The sacrifices I had to make for this shit. I tossed my palms in the air. “But it’s whatever you want to do, sir.”

  I wasted the next fifteen minutes listening to Byron Jones’ plan of action. It was completely painful, but I didn’t part my lips to object. My limbs loosened when the conversation transitioned to my schedule for the next month. I had games, press tours, practices, photo shoots—so much happening this semester that I was unable to oversee the pledgees this year for my frat.

  When he closed the meeting, I stood to my feet, armed with a cool veneer. “Thanks for your time, sir.”

  When Jones gave me the dismissive chin dip, I didn’t hesitate to make it for the door.

  “Spence…” I glanced back his way. “What’s on your underwhelmed schedule tonight?” He was referencing my “lackluster” statement earlier.

  With definitive mind, I answered. “Something that doesn’t involve this campus, sir.”

  Slowly, he gave his second, yet hesitant gesture of dismal by way a nod, and I made my exit.

  5

  -Then-

  “You’ve been on a plane for three days straight, huhn, Vic?” Trisha pointed out to her friend as she forked through her nasty ass Applebee’s salad.

  I could say that and be factual because I ordered the same one. Who can’t get a salad right? Applebee’s! It was the same with the one by my house. Their food sucked. I’d much rather be scarfing down a B-Way all the way right now—or even a salad from them. Even B-Way Burger made better food than Applebee’s. But I didn’t complain. I swallowed the whole plate without a word.

  “Yeah. So, I flew out of Cincinnati two days ago for Atlanta. The CDC has a position in Disease for a women’s program. They just got like three million for a huge marketing push.”

  “So what would you do?” Karen, Trisha’s other friend, asked.

  Why does she care?

  Vic scratched the top of her low-cut fade. “I’d be on the team to help create the language for the promotional materials.” She shrugged. “I stayed down there last night with my old Spelman Jaguar crew.” She stuck out her tongue and shot an air ball above her head. “Then my girl, Ryan, dropped me off at the airport crazy early this morning. I flew into New York for the interview at J.G., Wizer, and Hunter.”

  My eyes scanned the restaurant, bored, as they caught up.

  “That’s the big firm out in New York, right?” Trisha asked Vic.

  “Yeah. One of the partners, Quincy Hunter, is who I was trying to engage while in there this morning,” Vic shared. “They’re doing some dope shit with corporations.”

  “Who are they?”

  Keep up or shut up!

  Not that I had a clue as to who or what the hell Trisha’s tall friend in a two-piece suit with a handkerchief hanging from the breast pocket was yapping about. I honestly didn’t care. Trisha was insistent on me coming out with her tonight to get off campus. I didn’t want to be rude, so I agreed to it. Now, I regretted not being able to come up with an excuse.

  “They’re a public relations firm. Right?” Trisha answered, pushing her plate up, finally done. Vic nodded, confirming. “A friend of my father’s worked there for a few years. He said they’ve been snatching up accounts left and right and the older, more mainstream PR companies hate it.”

  Vic sighed, sitting back. “I need in. The problem is, Hunter is such a fucking playboy, and my pussy ain’t a bargaining tool. If it was and my damn tits were hanging out, I wouldn’t have had to work so hard to engage him.”

  Trisha tossed her napkin in the plate, clearly annoyed. “This is such a patriarchal society, and I hate it.” She gestured over to me. “Got one of the most talented boxers in the country here and the Panthers QB wants to make her his target for harassment.” I wished she wouldn’t have said that. I told Trisha I was good. Those clowns couldn’t beat me. I’d seen tougher ones than these preppy snobs. “So, I go to my A.D. and request a meeting with the little fucker—”

  “That QB ain’t little!” Karen pointed out.

  “Yeah. But his brain still isn’t fully developed. Little fucker. Well, the two of us go at it, and I eventually won. The kid knew it, and so did my boss. But instead of him disciplining the kid in my presence, he dismissed me so they could ‘further discuss it.’ I was two minutes away from sending him an uncomfortable email when I got one from him saying he’ll be meeting with me tomorrow alone to follow up.” Trisha sucked her teeth. “If that ain’t the all-boys club move, I don’t know what it is. I wish I could give you some employment leads in the Athletic Department here at BSU, but this shit has me so vexed.”

  It was obvious that it did. Trisha couldn’t stop rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

  “Wish his father was still around to possibly teach him sensitivity,” Karen hummed, bringing her glass to her mouth with lifted brows.

  “Settling in here at BSU sounds like a beautiful possibility,” Vic murmured and when I glanced her way, I found her eyes on me. Her smile was small, but definitely noticeable.

  Quickly, I turned my head to the other side of the restaurant. My mind began to wander and I remembered my conversation with my mother earlier when I called her from Trisha’s office. She couldn’t send the money again today. I was now starting to believe she didn’t have it. I didn’t want to, though, because believing she used my money again on something other than me when I needed it would piss me off. I was tired of being pissed off. My mother swore she didn’t have time to find a MoneyGram or Western Union. She asked could she just mail it because wiring it would eat up the money I could be using on other things. So, I was still all the way out in the middle of nowhere with no money. I needed deodorant and a bigger sports bra—sneakers, too!

  Maybe I can get a loan from Uppercut…

  “I gotta go,” Karen announced, pushing back from the table.

  She was a round woman with short hair and big teeth. Tonight was my second time seeing her. She worked somewhere on campus.

  “Already?” Trisha asked, looking to be upset. She then stood to her feet, too. “I’ll walk you out. Then go to the restroom.”

  “Nice meeting you, Vic.” Karen offered her hand and Vic reached across the table to meet it in a shake. “See you around, Tori.”

  I gave her a nod, not knowing what to say. Trisha and her big booty friend left the table. I watched them exit the area of the restaurant, too.

  “It’s good to meet my namesake.”

  Huhn?

  I looked over to the Vic lady and, this time, her smile was wide enough not to be missed. Her eyes were low, too. I’d seen that more times than I could count coming up.

  Twisting my mouth nervously, I then asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Namesake. You know. You have my name.”

  My face balled, I was confused. Her licking her lips was the only clear messaging happening at the table. “Wha—why you say that?”

  She leaned in closer, head falling to the side, eyes getting even smaller. “Your name is Victoria, and mine is, too.” She laughed quietly.

  I stared at her, picking up too much from her energy. Then I shook my head. “That ain’t my name.”

  Her face wrinkled. “It ain’t. Your name
’s Tori, right?” I nodded, feeling crazy uncomfortable. “Then what could Tori be short for?” She yanked my ponytail softly.

  I swallowed, knees trembling beneath the table. “Ka—KaToria.”

  “Ahhh!” Her head bounced slowly up and down. “That’s even prettier. You know what it means?” Her eyes shot over to the direction Trisha and Karen had left in. That’s when I knew. I’d been here before. Too many times, but mostly with grown men. I shook my head. “Okay, cutie. Then why don’t you give me your number so I can help you figure out the meaning.”

  She reached inside her suit jacket and pulled out a pen and business card. Vic turned it over to the blank side. “Write it there, KaToria, and I can school you on it.”

  At first, I couldn’t move. I could only stare at the small white rectangle. My number? For what? I decided right away to not upset Trisha again today with anything concerning me. I snatched the pen and scribbled my dorm number. She was reaching for it before I could finish.

  “Is this your cell?”

  “I don’t have one.” My stomach started to turn and throat squeezed at what I’d just done. Trisha would be mad as hell at me. But I didn’t know what to do…didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I needed to go. “Tell Trisha I had to get back to the campus. I’ll get up with her later.” I snatched my jacket off the back of my chair and broke out of there.

  Vic was asking something, but it was behind my back because I was fucking out.

  I watched the table being cleared under the candlelit ambiance. The soft play of a live accordion backed by a baby grand piano filled the restaurant. It was half filled as it should be, I guessed, for a weekday.

  “Can I get you the dessert menu?” the waiter asked; his eyes traveled from me, landing on NormaJean across the table.

  Her eyes sparkled with wanton charm as they always did, riveting men—and sometimes women—unexpectedly. She regarded me, high cheekbones bronzed and sparkling under the soft light. “I don’t think we will. Thanks.” Her voice was melodic and clear.