The Sneaker Kings

by Eric McLauren

  It was a good pep talk between friends. Brandon nodded and felt better about things. “Thanks, man. But I gotta get some rest for class tomorrow. I’ve been up late thinking too much for the past couple of weeks.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, when is Natasha coming up?”

  It was the right question at the right time. Brandon’s face brightened just thinking about her. “She said this weekend. So, I’m thinking Friday night or something. But she doesn’t know if she’s bringing Adrienne or someone else with her or not.”

  “It would be cool if she came up by herself. I’ve only been around Jinni for a couple of weeks, but it always feels good when she separates from her friends for me. It makes you feel like … you’re the guy. You know what I mean?”

  Brandon nodded. “Of course. Everyone feels that way. You don’t want to be around a group of people all the time. You want your private space.”

  “Why don’t you tell her that?” Simba suggested.

  Brandon took a deep breath and exhaled. “Maybe I will.”

  >>>

  Despite his plans, Brandon remained cautious with Natasha over the phone that night.

  “You weren’t worried about me earlier, were you?” she asked him.

  Brandon paused. “I just wanted to talk to you before I crashed tonight. But I kind of feel like—” He stopped and decided to hold his thoughts to himself.

  “You feel like what?” Natasha pressed him.

  “I just miss you, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” It sounded as if she were searching for something specific.

  Brandon thought about what Simba had told him earlier and went for broke. “I’d just rather you come to New York by yourself to hang out this weekend—if that’s all right with you.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Natasha paused. “Cool. I can do that. But I’m a little tired now. I think I have to get used to getting up early for school again.”

  “All right, well, I’ll let you go,” Brandon said. “I’ll tell you everything else when you get here.”

  HEATING UP

  NATASHA ASKED BRANDON to meet her at Penn Station that Friday evening at eight. He was so happy to see her after a month of phone conversations that he arrived a half hour early with a copy of Slam magazine. He took a seat in the waiting area and marveled at the new sneakers featured in the back of the mag.

  Only two more weeks to blastoff, he thought of their Sneaker Kings of New York event.

  Brandon was thoughtful enough to wear a pair of black and gold Mambas from Kobe Bryant with a T-shirt to match to save himself from too much attention and dirty subway traffic. He would never think of wearing his best sneakers on a New York City subway train, or even to walk through Times Square. There was far too much traffic there to deal with. In fact, Brandon had only allowed himself to bring a dozen pair of his more than sixty boxes of shoes from home.

  As he continued to check his big-faced watch for the umpteenth time, his phone rang. Someone was calling him from back home in Arizona with a 480 area code.

  “Hello?” he answered curiously.

  “Hey, Brandon, it’s Marcus. I just bumped into your uncle in our old neighborhood grocery store, man. He gave me your new number.”

  Brandon cringed. Marcus Graham was the last person he wanted to have his new cell phone number. Marcus was a severe nag.

  “I just wanted to call and tell you guys that I’m flying up to New York for your Sneaker Kings event, Chapter One. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  “What?” Brandon asked. “Are you joking?”

  “No, I just booked my flight today. It’s two weeks out exactly. So, I’ll see you guys in New York on Friday the twentieth to help you set up.”

  Brandon was dumbfounded. Was Marcus serious or what? “Dude, we’re already set up. We have plenty of people here to do that.”

  “I just want to be there to see you guys make history, that’s all,” Marcus insisted. “I think what you’re doing is great!”

  Before Brandon could respond, someone kicked the sole of his shoes. “What the hell?” he barked.

  Natasha was standing there in a floral blouse with a multi-colored flower pen in her hair. She looked like a beautiful peace-loving hippie from the 1970s. But her heels and form-fitting blue jeans were sexy and contemporary.

  Brandon dumped the call. “Gotta go, dude. My appointment just arrived.”

  “All right, man. See you in two weeks.”

  Brandon’s attention shifted to Natasha. “Nice outfit. You got a touch of the old with the new.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I like to mix it up. It’s Friday night. Who was disturbing you on the phone—Leon?” She could tell that he was irritated.

  Brandon shook his head and stood up. “Nah. It’s a long story.”

  “Well, whoever it was, they sure had your attention. You didn’t even see me walk up.”

  “Yeah, I thought you were gonna call me.”

  “I was about to call when I saw you sitting here in your sneakers.”

  Brandon smiled. “These Black Mambas are perfect for nights like these. I don’t have to worry about them getting dirty.”

  Natasha grinned and grabbed his hand to lead him away. “You and your sneakers. Well, I’m at school now, so I get to wear my shoes, boots and heels again.”

  “You mean, you’re not a true sneakerhead?” Brandon joked.

  Natasha laughed as she guided him out of Penn Station. “That was only during the summer while interning with Adidas. But up here, when it starts to snow, you better have some boots—some Timberlands.”

  Brandon shrugged. “All right, I’ll get some.” He stopped her as they walked out of the building. “Wait a minute. I don’t get a hug or anything? I haven’t seen you in a month.”

  Natasha grinned, then wrapped her arms around him. As they embraced, Brandon noticed a young black man watching them from the sidewalk.

  What’s his problem? Brandon mused. I guess I need to watch that guy.

  Brandon walked with Natasha toward Times Square while watching his back for anyone following them. But the guy from outside the train station had disappeared.

  “This is where everyone goes to the movies up here,” Natasha said as they made a right. Theaters spanned the block, flashing lights on both sides like a mini Las Vegas.

  Brandon looked around. “Yeah, I can see that.” There were also table vendors there, selling everything from tourist mementos to sneakers, music and books.

  “I guess everyone’s a salesperson in New York,” Brandon quipped.

  Natasha chuckled. “Just about. So, you’ll fit right in.”

  Brandon only hoped there wouldn’t be too much competition. With so much salesmanship going on, he saw exactly how hard it was to stand out in New York.

  “How are Leon and Simba making out at school?” Natasha asked as they walked.

  “Great! Simba has a cute new girlfriend, and Leon has everyone,” he joked.

  Natasha looked surprised. “Really? Simba has a girlfriend already?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s official yet, but yeah. They hang out and talk every day now.”

  “Is she a black girl?” Natasha assumed. The guys seemed to like an urban crowd.

  Brandon chuckled at her assumption. “It’s funny that you say that. When we were down in Atlanta, this drunken white guy called us all niggers—a half-nigger, a white nigger and an Asian nigger. I had never even heard that before.”

  Brandon felt comfortable sharing his story with her, including the man’s use of the N-word. He and Natasha knew each other well enough to know that Brandon was far from being racist. And his uncle had plenty of close black friends from the NBA whom Brandon had practically grown up with.

  On cue, Natasha laughed. “That’s what happens when you start hanging out with black people and wearing hip-hop clothes, brand-name sneakers and all of that.
I’ve been called everything—nigger-lover, half-breed, mulatto, high-yellow bitch, wannabe white, crossover bitch, zebrahead, you name it.”

  Brandon heard that and said, “Wow. How do you deal with all of that?”

  Natasha shrugged. “That’s why I became a fighter. My mom told me to kick their ass. You know, since she’s from Russia, she didn’t buy into that whole ‘turn the other cheek’ thing. She told me to punch them in the mouth and she would deal with their mothers.”

  Brandon laughed. “She really told you that?”

  “Yeah, my mom doesn’t play that. Wait ’til you get to meet her. You’ll see.”

  Brandon loved the sound of that. But it made him a bit nervous too.

  Natasha read his mind again and squeezed his hand. “Don’t you be afraid of my mother. She’s cool. She’ll like you. Just be yourself.”

  >>>

  Brandon was having the time of his life! Walking around in New York with Natasha was a dream date come true. In the wonderful end-of-summer weather, they shared bites of pizza, enjoyed ice cream floats and people-watching. Tourists were from all over the world in New York. Brandon didn’t want their night to end. He was in seventh heaven.

  “Natasha!” someone yelled angrily. “What are you doing?”

  Natasha and Brandon turned and faced Marcellus, her former track-running boyfriend. He was as tall as Leon, built like a sturdy point guard and brown like mahogany.

  Brandon saw him heading toward them on the sidewalk, and he braced himself for the unexpected.

  “I’m minding my own business,” Natasha told him. “What are you doing?”

  He stared at Brandon as if he wanted to separate them, but Natasha stepped out in front while holding on to Brandon’s hand.

  “Oh, so this is what you want now, a punk white boy?” Marcellus asked her.

  “He’s not a punk, and he’s not a wannabe playboy either,” she snapped.

  Marcellus shook his head in disbelief. “Come on now, Natasha. What are you doing? I mean, really? Come on.”

  “I’m living my life, Marcellus, and you need to go live yours. Come on, Brandon” she said, leading the way.

  But Marcellus wouldn’t let it end. He followed behind them and shouted, “Natasha!”

  She ignored him and kept walking, but Brandon didn’t like the feeling of being followed.

  Just as they reached the corner, Marcellus pushed Brandon in the back.

  “Punk-ass!”

  Brandon stumbled forward and caught his balance. He then spun and stood up straight to face Marcellus. “What’s your problem, man?”

  “You da fuckin’ problem, white boy!” Marcellus cursed him.

  He had Brandon by three inches and twenty pounds.

  Natasha jumped in between them. “Oh, so is this how you want to act, like some common street thug? And you think I’m supposed to come back to that? Really? Grow the fuck up, Marcellus!” she shouted.

  Humiliated, Marcellus responded by pushing her. Brandon exploded, charging the track star and plowing his shoulder into his waist. “Get the fuck off me,” Marcellus cursed him, pummeling the back of his head and neck.

  Brandon wouldn’t let him go and drove him back into the crowd until he crashed to the ground. Just hold on until someone breaks it up, Brandon told himself.

  Before he knew it, two older men stopped to end the fight and separated them.

  “What’s going on?”

  “This guy is acting crazy,” Brandon explained, hoping that someone would call the police.

  Marcellus was enraged, charging Brandon and pushing the two men aside. “What is wrong with you? Get a life!” Natasha yelled at him.

  Marcellus threw a wild punch that slammed into Brandon’s left cheek.

  “Shit!” Brandon snapped, with no chance to retaliate.

  “Punk,” Marcellus yelled as he backed into the crowd. Then he turned and took off.

  “Are you all right?” Natasha asked Brandon.

  Brandon rubbed his face. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  “I don’t believe he fucking did that,” Natasha said, incensed. “Somebody must have told him they saw us out here. He acted like he was looking for trouble.”

  “You think he’s gonna bother you back at school?” Brandon asked.

  “Oh, he knows better than that. He’s not the only person I know at school. But that was so out of character.” Then she grinned at Brandon. “I can’t believe you tackled him like that.”

  “Yeah, he looked like he was about to hit you.”

  Natasha placed her hand on his face and cooed, “Awww, ain’t that sweet. But he was not about to hit me. He knows my father and my mother. And he is so over now.”

  As they walked away from the scene, Natasha looked toward the approaching taxis.

  “Come on,” she said, pulling Brandon forward.

  “Where are we going?”

  Natasha didn’t answer. Instead, she stopped a taxi and they climbed in.

  “Washington Square Park,” she told the driver. She turned and grinned at Brandon mischievously before grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him. “Were you scared?” she asked.

  Brandon smiled and shook it off. “I wasn’t really scared, I was more like, concerned. I just kept thinking about how I needed to deal with him.”

  “So, you fought for me?”

  Brandon shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I had no choice. What else could I do, stand there?”

  Natasha stared into his eyes and kissed him again, passionately. “I know you’re not a fighter. So, watching you do that was crazy.”

  Brandon laughed. “Yeah, the whole thing was.”

  “But I’m not gonna let it ruin our night,” she promised him. Her right hand landed on his thigh, close enough to excite him.

  Oh, my God! Brandon panicked, thinking about his pants as they reached NYU’s campus.

  Natasha dug onto her purse to pay for their ride.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Brandon said. He dug into his pocket for money, but Natasha stopped him.

  “I want to,” she insisted. She pulled out a twenty dollar bill to pay the taxi driver and didn’t request her change as they got out of the cab. “So, which one is your dorm?” she asked Brandon on the sidewalk.

  He pointed to the dorms on the left, fully aware of his anxieties. Oh, my God! Is she coming up to my room?

  “Come on,” she told him and grabbed him by the hand. She headed straight for the entrance, and before Brandon knew it, they were past the security desk and standing at the elevators. “What floor are you on?”

  Oh, my, God! Is this really happening? “I’m on the fifth floor.”

  “Is your roommate in?” she asked as the elevator arrived.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll ask him to leave if you want,” Brandon told her boldly.

  Natasha smiled as they stepped on board. “What if he’s sleeping?”

  “At eleven o’clock on a Friday night? I doubt that. He’s probably not even in.”

  “It’s almost twelve o’clock now,” Natasha said. “And we’re about to find out,” she added as they quickly reached the fifth floor.

  “Okay,” Brandon mumbled nervously.

  When they stepped off the elevator and arrived at his dorm room down the hall, Brandon pulled out his key and opened the door to silence and emptiness.

  “Perfect,” Natasha purred. “Which side is yours? Wait a minute. Let me guess.” She looked for sneaker boxes and neatness and concluded, “This side—the left.”

  Brandon smiled. “I mean, that’s easy.”

  Natasha wasted no time. She pulled him to the bed and fell back on it, pulling Brandon down on top of her. “Are you surprised?” she quizzed him. Her light-brown eyes twinkled in the darkness with just enough moonlight cutting in from the window.

  “I’m very surprised,” Brandon admitted calmly.

  “Good,” she told him. She kissed him again while tugging at his clothes. “What if your roommate walks
in?”

  Brandon shrugged, fully enlivened. “I don’t know. Let me lock him out.”

  Natasha giggled and felt anxious about the idea of being busted. It made their romp seem sexier. And before Brandon knew it, they were halfway naked.

  Oh, my God! I don’t believe this! This is really gonna happen! It’s really gonna happen! he repeated to himself. Please don’t tease me!

  “Do you have protection?” Natasha asked.

  Brandon felt awkward about his answer. “I mean, I have some, but I haven’t used it on anyone or anything.”

  Natasha laughed. “You better not have.” Everything he said in his innocence added to the thrill of the moment. He was so charming with his honesty.

  I’m gonna love this, Natasha told herself. I want it all slow and gentle.

  Brandon stumbled over to his dresser drawer and pulled out a stack of three condoms.

  Natasha laughed again, while tugging her clothes off under the bedsheets. “You don’t plan to use all three at the same time, do you?” she teased.

  “No, I’m just showing you that I have the whole pack.”

  Natasha smirked. “Okay, Brandon, I trust that you haven’t used any. But you could still have another box somewhere—or a whole drawer full of them.”

  Brandon laughed and shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

  “I’m only joking with you. Now come on, get in,” she pressed him.

  Brandon felt awkward about everything. He wasn’t a virgin, but he was nervous about Natasha, like it was his first time. He had never been with a girl of her caliber before. But once he climbed into his bed with her and slid on a condom, his instincts took over.

  “Go slow,” she said. Her beautiful and athletic body was strong and limber as she wrapped her legs around his and guided his speed.

  Brandon still couldn’t believe it. He thought he would wake up at any minute with wet bedsheets. Instead, Natasha pulled him in close and wrapped around him like an anaconda. Their embrace felt warm and meaningful as she kissed him and cradled his head in her arms.

  Brandon moaned uncontrollably while speeding up his pace.