by Love Belvin
“Fuck, bro, them squirters be the shit!” one of the two random guys, whose name I just learned was Travis, chimed in excitedly.
I had no idea what a squirter was. In fact, there were lots of topics they discussed that I had no clue of. It was as if we weren’t there. I thought the purpose of going out with them was to interact with them—well, at least for Angela. We all sat in the same seats for the most part. Only today, Alton sat right next to Angela. Something was in the air.
“That bitch had me screaming when she was coming in my face,” Alton croaked on a laugh, as did his friends. Stenton even chuckled at that comment. Alton tried to come up for air. “I…c-couldn’t…keep…up, my dude!”
Angela and I gave each other quizzical glances. What in the world was a squirter and how could a woman do it in his face?
“So,” Angela twirled her hair as she smiled sheepishly. “What’s a squirter?”
The whole table went up in laughter. Even Stenton bashfully laughed and tried to hide his face. From the second of it I caught, I could see the sun shine through his smile. It was the most surprising thing I’d experienced. The camera guy, Drew, started banging the table and had the dishes clanging. Once again, Angela and I glanced at each other gravely confused.
“You must not be one,” Drew choked out.
“Either that or you’ve been fucking jackasses,” Alton plugged, sobering. “I can show you better than I can tell you. Holla atcha’ boy.”
They were like a bunch of twelve years olds at the table. Whatever a squirter was, it was a sexual reference and I didn’t want to take part in a conversation like that with these clowns.
“Aye, Tiger,” Alton called over to me, referring to my school’s mascot. “I do twinsies. I can assess your squirting capabilities, too. I won’t even charge you.” He could no longer hold on to his mirth. He laughed until tears dripped from his eyes.
There was another bout of laughter. My eyes darted over to Angela, who was giggling herself. I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t sit there and be demeaned by a pint sized jock. I promised Angela I wouldn’t come back for him, but I didn’t say I would stay and endure it. I peeled my last twenty from my purse, slapped it on the table and left the booth. This time I didn’t give a bathroom excuse.
I went straight for the bench in the waiting area and parked it there. I must have been out there for almost ten minutes when I noticed Stenton Rogers coming through the double doors that let out to the waiting area. He stood by one of the doors, facing the glass. He wore army fatigue carpenter shorts and a salmon, V-neck cotton t-shirt with white Converse sneakers and a baseball cap. His style of fashion was…eclectic. I was not the one to critique fashion; I had not an ounce of creativity in me as far as that was concerned. This look worked for Stenton Rogers and his tattoos.
Those tattoos…
I was growing captivated by them once again and caught myself. I took a deep breath and shook my head, remembering why I was at this diner in the first place. My phone chirped an alert from Facebook. I checked to find a message from Notnet Srego. I’d totally forgotten about getting back to this “anonymous” new friend. I’d hoped it was a tutoring prospect. I could sure use the money.
The message read:
You never got back to me about the philosophy class.
I returned: That’s because I don’t know who you are.
The phone chirped. You accept requests from random people?
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I didn’t like how this jerk was questioning me.
I do it because I get a lot of requests for tutoring this way. You mentioned philosophy. What about it do you want to know? I tried being more direct.
I looked up, absentmindedly glancing over to Stenton’s back, which was facing me. His head was still down, zoned into his phone. I diverted my attention to the other side of the area. I didn’t want to get caught gawking at him—not that I was—but I just didn’t want to give him or Angela the impression that I wanted him.
As I waited on Angela to finish up, my phone chirped again:
Is it true that we have no perfect idea of anything but of a perception?
Huhn?
I typed back: David Hume? What about it? Do you need help building an argument… Pro or Con?
Then the doors opened and Angela was the first to come through, wearing a conspirator’s smile. Strangely, I was relieved. That meant I wouldn’t be getting told off for walking out again.
“Ready, StentRo?” Alton called out.
Stenton turned to the crowd. I noticed his eyes glided over me briefly before facing Alton. His messy brows narrowed as he clapped hands with Alton.
“Yeah, man. I got shit to do. Gotta get across that bridge,” Stenton murmured.
“Cool, man. I just got into something. I may be crashing at your place tonight,” Alton spoke in a low tone.
I didn’t hear much after that because I’d begun my trek out of there, but I noticed Drew was filming Alton again.
On our way to my campus, I discerned Angela wasn’t as talkative as usual. Although I was grateful to have missed her wrath, this was strange for her.
“Everything all good?” I probed tepidly, not wanting to open Pandora’s Box.
“Yeah,” she let a long sigh escape.
My brows hiked. “You sure? You look like you were just charged with cleaning the sanctuary for a month.”
“Yeah…” she sighed again, but more audibly behind the wheel. “I guess I’m feeling a bit blue because I’m finally convinced that I won’t have Stenton.”
“Why? Did something happen?” I was eager for answers now.
Is that why he came out in the waiting area before everyone else?
“Yeah,” she sighed again, this time her shoulders sunk. “I’ve decided to mess around with Alton.” Her eyes never left the road.
I almost gagged. “Why? How?”
“You were right.” She shrugged. “He’s been throwing hints since yesterday…well, actually all week. I guess I was so set on Stenton Rogers that I never paid much attention. And when Stenton tried to go all one-woman-man on me, I just gave up. Hey, if you can’t have Prince Charles, Henry is always a viable stand in, right?”
Ang’s voice was soft, dreamy even, which meant she’d given this some thought and there was no changing her mind, even if I mentioned the Tynisha woman to her. I knew this and I still attempted it.
“But Alton is still involved with the Tynisha Lang girl. Do you want to get into bed with a man with baggage like that, Ang?”
This time Angela did look at me. Within seconds, she exploded in laughter; her face turned red and all. “Zoey, I told you they all cheat. This is par for the course for Tynisha just as much as it is Alton.” Her eyes went back to the road. “But damn, I sure had my heart set on Stenton Rogers.”
My phone pinged again. I opened the Facebook app and saw there was a new message from the anonymous philosophy inquirer.
I’m asking because I have no idea why someone like you hangs out with a girl who throws herself at men. I’ve been trying to figure it out. This time ol’ David had it wrong. Not even my perception is perfect.
I dropped the phone like it burned my hands.
“What’s wrong with you, Zoey?” Angela sounded alarmed next to me.
Is that—
I scrambled to get my phone from in between my seat and the door. I tapped the screen until I got to the profile of Notnet Srego. I mouthed the name until it clicked.
Notnet Srego is Stenton Rogers spelled backwards without his first initials!
Chapter 2
Stenton
So fucking pretty. That was the only way I could described the girl. Fucking pretty. I could use the adjective beautiful, but it wouldn’t accurately describe a female of her age. Of course she was beautiful, but there was something innocent and unblemished about her persona that kept her in the pretty lane. Maybe it was her untarnished honey skin that she wore naturally. Perhaps it was her long hair that was
so natural and unkempt, but went with her style so well. It could have been her thin frame that was always covered in loose clothes, even when she wore short shorts.
I had no intentions of contacting her, or seeing her beyond the hours of my pre-season training. She was cute, but so were millions of women I’d encountered in my life, like her friend. I could never remember her friend’s name, but her name I did. She had two: Zoey and Elizabeth. I didn’t get the correlation, but couldn’t forget them. On Facebook she was Zoey B. It wasn’t until the dude at the club gave her whole government that I knew her formal name must have been Elizabeth Barrett. Maybe Zoey was just a middle name. Either way, it was a perfect name for her. It was innocent and carefree.
She was tight almost every time we got up after training that first week. Alton begged me to stick around while he pursued them, or let them catch his sloppy ass. I didn’t want to. I wanted no parts of that type of energy. Not anymore. Her friend was aggressive as hell. I appreciated the ambition, I just wasn’t interested. Alton was all for it. He enjoyed that fanfare. And me, from the moment I saw Zoey’s eyes when I’d busted her ass on the phone, I enjoyed the intrigue. I’d been over to the beverage cart once or twice before then, but I never paid attention. When I’m training or practicing, I’m in a zone. The last thing I’m thinking about is ass. And from what I saw of both girls, they were young.
I didn’t do young girls anymore. Contrary to what many think, young girls aren’t the best fucks. When you reach a certain age, you realize the best sex is with a woman who knows how to use her body to bring you both pleasure, not just you. The ones who attempt to just bring you pleasure are empty. What makes you feel like the shit is a woman who is fucking your brains out while you’re giving her the best dick she’s ever had. Years ago, when I’d entered the league, I didn’t get that piece of significance. I do now. And that young friend of Zoey’s could offer me nothing more than decent head if she had skills. I had fuck partners. Those with talents I was guaranteed and discretion that I’d pledged years ago.
As I sat in the back of the Jeep, I waited for an answer from Zoey about my question of her hanging out with the likes of her friend. They were obviously not of the same agenda. I’d spent several days with them, eaten out with them the last two and it was clear that Zoey didn’t want to be near me or Alton. But why the fuck did she sign up for the program? I’d only known about it because the director of the country club asked our permission for them to work around us, for privacy reasons. I didn’t have a problem so long as they didn’t take pictures or talk to the press. They were signing the same confidentiality agreement as the rest of the staff, so that area was covered.
When I realized she wasn’t going to respond right away, if at all, I got out of Facebook and went about my day. I had a busy schedule ahead, which wasn’t anything new. My fucking summers never belonged to me. Of course with work, neither autumn, winter nor spring belonged to me either. It was just my busy yet mundane life.
As we pulled up to my ride, I grabbed the handle to get out. “Let me holla at you for a minute,” Alton called from the front seat.
As we neared my car he murmured, “Listen, man, I appreciate you for hanging close these past two days.”
“Ain’t nothing, man.” I went to give him some love.
He took it, but his face was balled up, he was struggling with something. I knew Alton. He was a fucking man in heat with a heart. I knew he’d be speaking about how he flirted with the young jawn over the past two days.
“Nah, man. I just appreciate you for not judging me. It’s just that things with Ty and me are complicated, man. You know how that is,” he attempted an alliance.
Never once when we agreed to off-season training together this summer did I imagine getting into sticky shit with him. We’d had a mediocre season and didn’t make it to the championship, so we vowed to bring our best game next season. That preparation started just a couple of weeks after we were done with the previous season. We took no extended vacations. I’d barely celebrated my birthday. We kept our focus, but then there was this.
“Look, Al, what goes on between you and Ty is between the two of you. I know that you love her—and shit, the whole world knows she loves the fuck out of you. I’ve not been in your shoes. I don’t know what that commitment shit feels like. My only advice to you is to be smart about this shit. That Tynisha is a rider. It ain’t too much of that around and it damn sure ain’t in those young ass girls. Just be careful. Be safe.” I extended my arm and shoulder to buffer my sermon.
He took it with a wry smile. I knew Al. He was an emotional man; one that couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. And because of this, Tynisha’s hands always stayed in his pockets. They were three kids and six years in and still couldn’t get shit right. When he fucked up—and that was a lot—his apology would always involve an insane expense. His lawyer always stayed in his ass about the sports cars, vacations, homes, shopping sprees, and jewelry he’d apologize with. Seemed to me it was cheaper to be single if you preferred variety like he did. But I knew there was something deep within that had committed and connected him to his lady that was not the case with any of the other women he fucked.
“I’m gonna get my shit together, man,” he whispered, I was sure, so no one could hear his crying ass.
Alton had a gregarious and crude sense of humor, but his personality was far more sensitive. Very few saw that if they weren’t paying attention. Al was good peoples. Many couldn’t stomach him because of the crass. I saw straight through that shit. It was something he did to appeal to others or to ward off threats. I didn’t need the appeal, neither was I a threat to him.
“You all right with me, man. Don’t sweat that shit.”
“I’m gonna get that Angela. Give me to like tomorrow. She with it,” he gloated. That Al could sure switch it up. He couldn’t help himself.
I laughed at his silly ass and checked my watch. “I gotta get outta here, man. Got shit to get into.” I hopped into my truck and took off to Philly.
I headed straight to my place. I had an apartment in Bala Cynwyd, not too far from the job. I had paperwork to go through before meeting with my attorney the following day. I had to be on top of my game for that shit. I knew he’d grill my ass for facts that would be found in these documents he had sent over a couple of days ago.
~~~~~~~~~~
That Friday, I found myself at lunch with Zoey. It was somewhat coordinated seeing that Alton was finally fucking her girl, Angela. We sort of ended up waiting on them and had to preoccupy ourselves, and why not over food. I was sick of the diner. That was Al’s speed. I’d had too much of that shitty food. We ended up at a Sergue, a restaurant I had my assistant arrange to open early so I could eat somewhere decent. It wasn’t the fanciest of places; I wasn’t on a date. Just somewhere I could have privacy and use as an alibi in case Al got caught again with another girl. One armor went with Al and the other stayed with me and sat at a nearby table.
Zoey sat across from me, just as irritated by the idea of having to wait on her girl to get fucked as I was. She was so damn pretty though. Her hair was straight today, but still unstyled and she wore small gold stud earrings, making me wonder how her understated look would pair with diamond studs instead of the beads of gold. She still had on her club uniform shirt and little khaki shorts that showed off her slender yet long legs. And although I was grateful to not be with yet another eager individual who wanted to put me on the running wheel, under the spotlight to perform, I couldn’t help but notice her less than appealing disposition.
I had to spark up a conversation or I’d bail on Al’s trifling ass. I couldn’t lie, as much as I wasn’t 100% decided on her motive, Zoey still intrigued me. She was like a closed book and I figured I could use her as entertainment while I did this childish ass high school cover up shit with Al.
“So,” I started, not knowing how to initiate a conversation with this young girl.
A young girl who I oddly found attractive.
>
“So,” she parroted.
That tickled me.
“So,” I sat up in my seat. “…you never answered my question.”
“What question is that?” Zoey plucked at the table cloth.
“Why is it that a girl like you hangs out with a girl like Angela if you guys don’t have the same agenda?”
I took notice of the ice on my Audemar. It’s time to have it cleaned.
She sighed, “Well, that girl is my cousin.”
My eyes rolled over to her. “Really?” My face fell towards the table. “So we have another set of young girls claiming to be related, thinking it’s a way to express allegiance to one another. I’m from Newark, heard it all before.”
Zoey rolled her eyes, “Try my mother and her father are blood siblings kind of cousins.” She shook her head like she was frustrated and let out a breath. “Listen, I know Angela can be racy; I view it as charm, but she’s a good person. We’ve been close since we were little and she’s the realest person I know. She has a really good heart.”
I snorted, “She has proclivities for chasing ballers with paper is what she has.”
“No. That’s not it. She’s just been obsessed with ‘Stenton Rogers,’” —she used air quotations—“…since we were in grammar school is all. She was excited when she learned you’d be local in Jersey this summer and could meet you.” Zoey shrugged her shoulders. “She jumped at the opportunity. Proclivities…no. Overzealous fan, perhaps.”
I motioned the space between us. “Being an overzealous fan will get you this: An opportunity in the program you’re enrolled in this summer. A chance to chat. A proclivity will get you in a hotel room where she is with Al, doing exactly what they’re engaged in right now.” I pointed behind me towards the entrance of the restaurant. “So, you’ve explained to me how you’re hanging out with the likes of Ms. Angela. What you’ve yet to share are your motives for tagging along.”
Her head jerked. “Listen, I don’t have ulterior motives. I simply won’t leave my cousin hanging while she’s with a man who could take advantage of her. And while I don’t share the same desire to do what she’s doing now, because I actually only allow men who give a crap about me to touch me, I don’t judge her.” Then her head cocked back and eyes squinted. “And if I recall, you have no room to pass judgment either. Every woman on the planet has seen all of your tattoos!”