Hot Girlz: Hot Boyz Sequel

by Monteilh, Marissa

  “How’ve you been Sequoia?” Mason asked, sitting down only after she sat.

  “Good. Just trying to keep these catering jobs in order, drumming up as much business as I can.”

  “That’s the way. Get that word of mouth going. You got any business cards? I can pass them out to some of my golf buddies.”

  “Okay, cool. I think I have some.” She reached into the side pocket of her purse. “Here. That’s nice of you.”

  He took the cards, placing them in his dress-shirt pocket. “No problem. I got you.”

  “I see that,” she said.

  A group of men walked by looking at Mason. One of them pointed. “What up, Chief?” the guy said, nodding and looking like he saw Michael Jordan.

  “Not much.” Mason just smiled. He then asked, Sequoia, “I know Cedes told you I moved out, right?”

  “She did. I’m sorry. I hope you guys work things out.”

  “Well, it’s funny you should be here, because actually I don’t want to get you in the middle but I just have to ask, I mean, when you were in Vegas. What was up with Ryan Germany coming into the picture? I thought you two went there to work.” He looked at his brother. “Torino, I’m not saying anything happened on Sequoia’s part.”

  “Oh, I know that.” Torino looked certain.

  Mason said, “Yeah, I know that’s right. You went to your room, right?”

  Sequoia took hold of her cup with both hands. “Actually, I did, and then I went back down and lost about five hundred dollars in ten minutes, so I went back up.”

  Torino just listened.

  Mason said, “Torino, don’t act like you don’t know what happened.”

  “Man, my wife and I talk about everything. I knew how much she lost, and I know what she did, and didn’t do.”

  “Okay, then.” Mason looked serious.

  Out of the blue, a couple came up and stood before Mason. A petite woman said, “Excuse us. My husband won’t ask you, but he plays golf and absolutely idolizes you. Do you mind if we have your autograph, please?” She placed a napkin and ink pen on the table. “I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said to Torino and Sequoia.

  “It’s okay,” Torino said.

  Sequoia drank her latte and looked on.

  “Okay, sure.” Mason looked at the lady’s husband, taking the pen in hand. “Hey brotha, what’s up? What’s your name?”

  The man was heavyset, and older than his wife. “My name is Jesse.”

  “Oh, okay. That’s my dad’s name.” Mason wrote him a note and signed it. He handed the napkin and pen to the man. “Here you go.”

  The man took it and grinned. “Thanks so much. Bye.”

  “Take care.”

  They walked away fast, reading what Mason wrote. The man looked back and gave Mason a high-five with his eyes.

  Mason gave one back, and said loud enough for the man to hear, “All right now, Jesse.”

  “That was nice of you,” Sequoia said.

  “It just goes with the territory.” Mason shrugged it off. “You’ve been around long enough to know that.”

  “True.” She then said, “So, Mason. Back to what you were asking me.”

  “What I’m asking is if you and Cedes talked about what she was doing like, you know, before it came to him coming to her room. Did you ask her what was up?”

  Torino interjected, “Man, don’t you think that’s putting my wife in one hell of a position?”

  Sequoia placed her hand on his thigh. “Honey, it’s okay. I mean, as far as I know, nothing happened.”

  “For real?” Mason looked skeptical.

  She continued, “We talked about it, but all I know is what she told me, and nothing was up. I know nothing seemed inappropriate when we were out. And as far as I know, once we got back to our rooms she went to sleep.”

  “Well, then you don’t know, because that’s not how it happened.”

  “What’d she tell you?” Sequoia asked, placing her cup back down.

  He sighed. “She told me she let him in. She told me they kissed.”

  Torino said, “Man, I don’t believe that.”

  “I’m sure you don’t, hell, it’s not your wife we’re talking about. But not only do I believe it, I believe there was more to it than that. But hey, you know, I’m not getting you two involved anymore. But I’m just saying, Sequoia, you’re my brother’s wife. I know you and Cedes have been close since forever, so even if you did know something, with all due respect, I wouldn’t think you’d tell me anyway. But, I’m gonna leave it at that.”

  Sequoia picked up her cup again and nodded.

  Torino said, “You two need to work that out. Bottom line, you guys have been through a whole lot in all this time, raising kids and getting to this point in life. I mean to live under two separate roofs is crazy. Work it out at home, man.”

  “All I know is, I can’t even look her in the face. Actually, I want Mattie with me. I was gonna talk to you and Claude about this. I just think it’s messed up for me to leave Mom there.”

  Torino asked, “Have you moved out and taken all of your stuff?”

  “No. Not yet.” Mason crossed his legs.

  “Are you going to?” Sequoia asked.

  “I don’t know.” He took his phone from the table and scrolled through it. “But anyway, that’s my little corner of the world drama.” He put his phone back on the table and had a look on his face like he had regrouped. “I know you two have enough to deal with, having Colette all up your butts again. I wish you the best with that madness. That’s enough trouble right there. Torino was telling me about Kyle saying Colette is punching him out. That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  Sequoia replied, “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

  “If it is true, getting that boy from her should be just a matter of proving her to be an unfit mother. Kyle stepping up like that is all right with me, especially after all that happened.” Mason eyed a top-heavy woman who walked up. He then looked away. The woman opened the door to go inside and kept looking back at him.

  “You say so,” said Sequoia. She noticed him notice.

  Mason asked Sequoia, “So, how are you dealing with all that baby-momma drama?”

  “Not good. A little anxious. But, we’ve just gotta get through it.” She scooted her chair back and took a long sip. “Listen, I’m gonna get going. By the way, I know you have a book signing later tonight. I heard you on the radio this morning. I’ll be home with TJ. Torino, you’re still going, right?”

  “No, I can’t. I thought I could go in later but we’ve got a security meeting tonight. I need to be there.”

  “It’s cool. Handle your business.”

  Sequoia said to Mason, “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stood and Torino stood. They hugged and had a prolonged kiss. He popped her on the backside, looking like he had it like that.

  She blushed. “By the way, you two need to get in there and order something before they charge you rent for these front row seats.”

  Torino asked Mason, “Yeah, man you want the Macchiato, right?”

  Mason stood as well. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

  Sequoia walked over and hugged him goodbye.

  He said, “You be careful. Don’t be causin’ no accidents walkin’ up outta here.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Torino said, heading to the door to go inside, “Yeah, you. I’ll see you at home.”

  “Okay. And since this is Club Starbucks, I’m gonna tell you both,” she looked at one and then the other, “don’t let the eye candy up in here blind your asses.”

  Mason said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s she talking about, man?” he yelled toward Torino.

  “Bye,” was all Torino said as he went inside.

  Sequoia told Mason as she walked away, “Oh, and good luck with your plans to run for city council.”

  “If I can’t clean up this mess, you best believe that won’t be happening.
”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine. I can just see it. See you later.”

  “Bye, family.”

  Sequoia smiled and walked to her car, looking back for a second to see the top-heavy woman who went in before, now headed for Mason’s table. Sequoia took her phone out of her purse and dialed. After four rings, she heard Mercedes’s voice and then a beep. “Hey, girl. Wanted you to know I just left Starbucks. Mason and Torino are here. We talked for a minute. Mason brought up Vegas. Sounds like there’s something he knows that I don’t know. Call me when you can.”

  As soon as she hung up, a text sounded that read, Babe, now please don’t go telling Mercedes what Mason said. C u later.

  Sequoia got in her car and then replied, Ok.

  16

  Mercedes

  “. . . sneaking a kiss upon Mattie’s nose.”

  The place was abuzz at seven o’clock in the evening. It was standing room only for Mason’s signing at the corner book store in Inglewood. As Mason and the owner walked in, readers had their cameras and cell phones in hand and snapped picture after picture of the superstar. There was a signing table with stacks and stacks of books and a huge poster of Mason.

  Mason sat at the table while the owner spoke to the excited crowd. “Thanks for coming out tonight. As you all know, our own local resident, former golf pro, Mason Wilson is now an author. He’s written Shadow on the Green, and his second title, Grip it and Rip It, comes out next summer. We had him here before but there were so many people, we couldn’t accommodate everyone, so we scheduled this as a part-two a while ago. So, he’s here with us now.” People clapped again.

  “He basically needs no introduction, though you all know he’s been ranked as one of the most successful golfers of all time. A former number one, he’s won ten majors, fifty PGA tour titles, and was honored seven times as player of the year. In 2007, he was listed as one of Forbes’s highest paid sports figure in the world. And now his son Rashaad Wilson is making his way as a pro, following in his dad’s footsteps, being sponsored by Nike. He has won national tours and had six top ten finishes this year already. He’s the youngest person to win a PGA sanctioned event. Surely because of this man who introduced Rashaad to golf at a very early age. So, without further adieu, please welcome Mason Jeremiah Wilson.”

  The audience stood and applauded, and a couple even screamed. Mason stood, shook hands with the owner, and then took the microphone.

  His charm and politician-like presence were on high. “Oh, I’m telling you now, whoever told you my middle name is in trouble.” The audience laughed.

  The owner joked, “Actually, your son Rashaad called earlier today and asked us to throw that in.”

  “I’m gonna get him. I’m telling you, talk about grip it and rip it, he’s in big trouble. Though I will say I’ve gotta have some respect for him. I mean as of last week, already in his young career, he has more birdies in one round than me. He has seven. So, I might need to let him slide on this one. He’s just better than me, and I guess I just have to live with it.” The ladies in the front row smiled and he smiled back.

  “Thanks for coming out. Shadow on the Green is a book I felt strongly about writing because some, not all, of my experiences on the green involved racism. Mostly during the time I played the game it was color blind. But behind the scenes I felt there were times I was labeled too black if I supported certain organizations, like the Congressional Black Caucus, Urban League, or NAACP. Also, I was confronted by someone claiming to want to manage my career, and take me to the next level, a ‘white level’ as he called it, if I would just seem a little less black. If I just moved away from Ladera Heights and found a place in Beverly Hills, or some other city where I would be among fewer people who looked like me. That person went to some pretty interesting ends to try and blackmail me, but, I held my ground and I’m glad I did. I still live in Ladera and I’m just as black as I was when I first picked up a golf club, shadow or not.”

  The audience applauded.

  “But, this book is about more than what happened to me in golf. The message in this book can be correlated into any aspect of life, and I wrote it with that mission in mind. A mission to show how standing your ground can work in your favor. My father always told me that champions aren’t those who never fail; they’re those who never quit. Champions fail sometimes but are never failures, because failure is an event, not a person. Don’t be afraid to dream in life and be brave. Don’t take the least line of resistance. There are great blessings from those stressings. The message in Shadow on the Green is don’t stop, dream big, and never give up, even against all odds. Thank you.”

  The readers stood and put their hands together as Mason gave the microphone back to the owner.

  His eyes made their way to the back of the room, and in the very corner, standing behind a Hispanic man, peering over his shoulder, was Mercedes. Nodding. And applauding.

  ~~

  After a forty-five minute question and answer period, it was time for Mason to sign his books. He was seated at the table while the owner and his wife had everyone line up by the number that was written on their receipts.

  A half hour later, with the line about thirty deep, Mercedes’s phone rang. She quickly turned it to silent and stepped back, facing the wall, trying to look incognito.

  “Hi, Lucinda,” she whispered.

  Lucinda spoke with her Puerto Rican accent. “Ah, Mrs. Wilson, I was just wondering when you’d be back. I need to get home so I can go out with my friends. I need to be there in about an hour.” She rolled the last letter of her last word.

  “Oh, I forgot. I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now.”

  “Gracias, Mrs. Wilson. Adios.”

  Mercedes watched her popular husband greeting, signing, talking, laughing, and taking pictures. She pulled herself away, sneaking out, at least satisfied that he had seen her, but not satisfied in knowing he made a point to pretend that he did not.

  ~~

  A while later, Mercedes arrived home and Lucinda left.

  Twenty minutes after that, Nadia began barking from the backyard like she heard a siren, just as Mercedes walked in Mattie’s room. She tiptoed up to her bed, sneaking a kiss upon Mattie’s nose. Mattie’s nose twitched and she turned her face away. And then, Mattie began coughing.

  Mattie opened her eyes and looked up at Mercedes, gave a smile and coughed again. And again.

  “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

  Mattie still smiled but Mercedes noticed that her skin seemed to darken. The veins of her neck protruded, and her mouth remained open. It looked like she was choking.

  “Mamma!” Mercedes screamed, pulling Mattie up by her shoulders and then crawling in the bed behind her, leaning her forward and grabbing her along her chest, using the palm of one hand making a fist with the other, squeezing intermittently. She gave quick movements inward and upward just below her ribcage. “Cough it out. Cough it out, Mamma.”

  But Mattie didn’t. She began to gag and her head slumped to her left. Mercedes squeezed again and again, and then propped two pillows under Mattie’s head while aligning herself to face her. She opened Mattie’s mouth and pressed on her tongue, reaching back with two fingers. Nothing was in her airway. She then straddled her, pressing the palms of her hands onto her chest. She noticed Mattie was turning purple.

  “Mamma! No, Mamma, cough for me. Breathe. Please breathe. Oh my God. No, Mamma.” Her frantic words were the foreground to the background noise of Nadia barking frantically.

  Mattie’s eyes closed.

  Mercedes hurriedly climbed off of Mattie and grabbed the cordless landline, dialing 911 and pleading as they answered. “I need an ambulance. My mother is choking. She can’t breathe. Please come here quick. On Ladera Crest. Please hurry!”

  The operator said, “Yes, ma’am. Did you try the Heimlich?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you check her throat to see if she’s choking on her tongue?”

  “I did.”
/>   “Is she breathing at all?”

  “No.”

  “Is she on the floor?”

  “No. She’s on the bed.”

  “Ma’am. Lay her flat on her back on the floor.”

  Mercedes dropped the phone and with all of her might she scooped Mattie up, stepping back and placing her along the carpet. She took hold of the phone again. “Okay,” she said, waiting for instructions.

  “Now, put your hand on her wrist and check her pulse.”

  Mercedes said, “I can’t feel it.”

  “Do CPR. Do you know CPR?”

  “Yes. Wait.” Mercedes put the phone on speaker and placed it down on the floor next to Mattie’s head. “Okay.”

  “Kneel next to her and put your hands against the middle of her abdomen. Push down on the center of her chest, pump hard and then tilt her head back. Lift her chin, pinch her nose and cover her mouth with yours. Blow until you see her chest rise. Give two breaths. Then go back to pumping against her chest. Do it again and again.”

  Mercedes did. She was sweating and her skirt had risen up to her waist. She still tried.

  She heard the woman say from the phone, “Hello?”

  “She’s not breathing.”

  “Keep doing it, we’re on the way. They’re pulling up now. Do you hear them?”

  “No.” Mercedes began to shake, and then she answered, focusing on listening for the sirens, “Okay. I hear them. Hurry.”

  “They’re there. You’re doing fine. Just keep it up.”

  No words from Mercedes.

  Nadia barked as though hit by a car.

  The lady said, “They’re at the door. Let them in.” There were three loud knocks, and repeated ringing of the doorbell.

  Mercedes still said nothing. She just pressed on Mattie’s chest.

  “Ma’am, are you letting them in?”

  Mercedes grabbed the phone and hopped up and ran down the stairs to the front door, opening it. The paramedics rushed in and followed Mercedes upstairs. They entered the room and scrambled to attend to Mattie along the floor. Mercedes couldn’t see her mother–in-law from the width of three burly men before her.