by Love Belvin
Stenton shook his head. “That’s me giving you access to the channels that I would have to go to for what you need. I’ve cut myself out as the middle man. You’re the mother of my child; you have access to my world.”
“But you haven’t called or stopped by to see me.” I shook my head, trying to shake the pain from the ordeal.
“Because I know you’re still upset by the changes, Zo. You’ve made it clear you wanted distance. I feel like shit. Your world has been turned upside down. I get that. All that’s changed for me is losing my best friend and expecting my first child. You’re getting the shorter end of the stick here. I won’t push you to tolerate me, but I’m not going far from my baby, and I would like to not have you as an enemy. I will always adore you, Niña. I may have made some fucked up decisions, but I’m not shying away from them. I’m not running from you.”
“But sex…” We were here naked, but dancing around the fact that we’re not together. “This can’t be healthy.”
He stood from his kneeling position, bringing up with his stature a glaring erection, casually kissed my forehead.
“It may not be,” he murmured and gently pulled me up from the bed to stand in front of him. He took me at the small of my back, bringing my swollen breasts into his abdomen, his erection stabbing my belly. “But it’s been since last summer, with you, and I’m gonna assume it’s been the same amount of time for you, too. Please don’t say no.”
My lips twitched up into a dirty grin and I shook my head. “I’ve kept company with Palmer.” I lifted my open palm to his face, fighting a giggle.
He took several of my fingers into his mouth and garbled, “Even my Palmela has nothing on my Niña.”
Then on a growl, he used his big hand to cup my sex, erasing my silly grin with just one swipe. My legs quivered and lips parted.
“Now where and how will I take you in a way that will keep you and the ba—”
“Jordan,” I slurred into his chest, but loud enough for him to hear. His fingers continue to play at my sensitive bulb below, making me delirious.
“Come again?”
I placed my chin on his chest, floating in the intoxication of the spell igniting between my legs. “Your son’s name will be Jordan Michael Rogers. My dad would be agreeable to that.”
He lowered his mouth to mine, taking my tongue from my face. We kissed like starved animals. After working me to near explosion, he walked me to the floor-to-ceiling window and pushed my hands against the glass. I looked down over the City of Brotherly Love as he entered me from behind.
“Uhhh…” flew from my lungs at his fullness.
It had been so long and in my state, my walls felt more sensitive, more swollen. My lubrication was even in excess. I felt it in my inner thighs. This is what Stenton did to me. As he thrust I could feel him in places I didn’t recall having him before. Stenton held on to my belly until he developed a rough pace, seeming to lose control in no time. As my moist hands gripped the cool glass, Stenton bit that sensitive spot on my shoulder, driving me up a notch.
“Damn, Zo, I’m not going to last,” he breathed into my ear.
That’s when he used one hand to pinch my extremely sensitive breast and the other to strum my clitoris, spurring me to climax with him. And I did. My whole body trembled, eyes rolled back, and face collapsed as I collided with pleasure far more riotous than any before. My orgasm was so powerful, tears prickled at my eyes as Stenton offered his last two lunges before quivering at the knees himself.
We stayed at the apartment that night, folded into one another. As I laid wrapped in Stenton’s long arms, I studied his heartbeat and breathing pattern. I futilely wondered if that would give me more insight into his enigma as of late. I was so confused about our situation. The only thing clear was that he wanted this baby; probably even more than me.
Another thing that was decided in my heart was that I loved this man and I knew he loved me, too. It was in the way his body covered mine in reverence and adoration. Stenton loved me. But he wasn’t ready for more with me. I wondered if it had anything to do with his inclination to protect himself from the flakiness of human kind. He’d always say people were fickle and they all, in some form, used him. Did he think I’d do the same? Maybe time would prove I was here to stay. To love and provide the reciprocity that no one else had seemed to up to that point in his life.
The next morning, Stenton drove me home. After helping out of the car, he didn’t walk me to the door, claiming he couldn’t greet my parents considering what he’d done with me the night before and just hours earlier that morning. With a heavy heart from parting from him, I told him I understood when I didn’t. I wanted him with me. I wanted to prove to my parents that this baby, no matter how unplanned the pregnancy, was conceived in love, not some May-December romance or summer fling. This was a genuine connection with an unexpected detour.
After kissing our goodbyes, I got out of the car and noticed the Audi. It was black, just like the BMW. Just like my life. My desolate feelings returned in spades. I didn’t understand the new low. I thought I’d hit rock bottom when he broke up with me, then when I learned I was pregnant, but at that point I felt dejected. After making love the way we did, I should have felt refueled and replenished in terms of my disposition. No. My future appeared as black as this shiny SUV that I could see my protruding image in. I walked into my parents’ home with heavier shoulders than I had before Stenton magically appeared and whisked me off.
Chapter 12
Then
Zoey
Time seemed to have sped up rather quickly after that. My due date was quickly approaching. I had so much to do to get ready for this baby and now this huge apartment made it imminent. At first I was overwhelmed at the prospect of furnishing it, but Paul contacted me the afternoon Stenton dropped me off and reminded me that I could hire an interior designer to get the place done before Jordan was due in April.
A designer? What was that?
Then there was Tynisha. She seemed to call more often, offering to assist with shopping for the designer for the apartment and clothes for me. What? I started with soft brush offs, but when she became insistent, I took her up on her offer one day and learned we actually could hit off. She was extremely over the top: high maintenance, unnecessarily loud and ill-tempered, but she really tried to suppress those characteristics when dealing with me. That was until it came to that trifling Alton, who always seemed to be busy getting into hot water behind a woman. She would sound off in front of the Pope when his mess came to her attention. She didn’t care who saw her flip side. I didn’t understand her attraction to him or his drama. That was too much work. That aside, Tynisha turned out to be bearable.
Church was another story. The word had gotten around who his father was. Yup! My parents and I were able to refrain from confirming Stenton’s identity for months. We even threatened Ruth not to open her flap in light of the nasty blathering taking place, but eventually word got out as all gossip does. That’s also when things got really interesting. People began smiling at me more, initiating conversations, offering to make and purchase things for the baby. It was all absurd. That’s when I got a taste of what Stenton went through. People are only good to you when they perceive you as a benefactor. I even had Doris King, a middle aged woman who ran the youth department, ask if I knew any athletes that wouldn’t mind speaking to our teens at their next regional conference. She was the main one on the sit these mothers of bastard children in the back pew committee! I didn’t even dignify that asinine inquiry with a response. I just walked away.
I had no baby shower. I didn’t want the attention. I knew it would primarily be my church family in attendance, and after seeing how they did Karen and Angela at their showers compared to women who were married before becoming pregnant, I decided to spare myself the humiliation of it all. My mother didn’t like my decision on the matter, but respected it. She offered something on a smaller scale to include my friends from school only for me to
decline that, too. Stenton had me draw up a list of the baby’s needs and send it over to Paul in early March. He himself had things for the baby delivered by the day to the apartment in Philly. I had to ask him to slow down. Hence why I explained to my mother, I had no need for a shower.
And then there was Stenton. He was a busy man, closing up the ’07-’08 NBA season. Though we weren’t in touch like we used to be, I could tell he was stretched. One night, I stalked Stenton online. I went to Facebook and Twitter, scouring the happenings of Stenton Rogers and came across a couple of clips of him surprising fans with cars for an endorsement deal he had with Toyota. Then I saw “behind the scenes” pictures he posted of his car giveaway campaign. Underneath them I observed the way the women went crazy over him, even read some comments where fans offered themselves to him sexually. I almost gagged. They knew nothing about Stenton. Sometimes I wondered if I really knew him. Since our time together in the Cayman Islands, I questioned a lot.
The closer I drew to my due date, the more I’d see him, but things weren’t the same. He made each doctor’s appointment he possibly could when his schedule permitted. He’d stop by the apartment in Philly to check on the progress. I chose not to stay there. It was too soon, too big, and every square inch of the place reminded me of him.
We had not been together since my birthday. As much as I needed the connection, I didn’t want the confusion. I had to prepare for this baby. Stenton may not have been decided on his desire for me, but I had to keep my head clear for Jordan.
~~~~~~~~~~
March 2008
Stenton
I rolled my phone in my hand at least fifty times, brooding. My chest was heavy, mind racing. So much shit on me: conflicting endorsements opportunities, disgruntled coaches, angry and fickle-ass fans, pesky-ass managers, shallow-ass friends…and Zoey.
We’d just lost a second game in a row. First to the Bulls and now to the Knicks. Coach was in my face bitching the same tune. Get your head in the fucking game, StentRo! As much as I wanted to provide a rebuttal, I couldn’t because I had no idea where the fuck my head was. I’d only known where my heart was and that was with two human beings in one body. I missed Zoey.
My Niña.
In the short time I’d known her, I’d grown accustomed to having a real friend. Her laughter alone did shit to me. And not to mention my heavy sacs. I missed her touch. Her enthusiasm to please me. Her ability to switch from smart-ass teacher, to eager freak. I longed for her eyes to soften and ask me about me; the real me, not the Stenton Rogers everyone pulled on for their own agendas. At night, when I often craved her, I wondered what she was doing and wearing while doing it. I wondered how many people experienced her smile, or her brilliance. If it were not for her being pregnant and that being a repellent for most men, I’d go fucking crazy about her fucking someone else. But would I still be with her if she was not pregnant? How would our story have played out if things had turned out differently?
I felt so fucking crazy. I couldn’t think most days and even when I did what I loved most, balling, I was in a zone trying to make sense of these feelings I’d had since meeting that smart-mouthed, pretty brainiac last summer.
I knew Zoey was in South Carolina visiting family this week. I kept an account of her whereabouts even though we weren’t exactly in touch. I knew she was hurt by my decision to walk away. I was pretty sure I was the last person she wanted to hear from, so I had my assistant check in with her regularly. I also had Tynisha keeping tabs on her. And if Zoey wanted something of significance, I had Chesney be her first contact. He didn’t like it, thought it was beneath him to be accessible to a client’s baby’s mother, but I paid him enough to change my child’s fucking diaper if needed.
My days were mechanically played out. I’d rise at the same time, eat my first meal at the same hour, train the same time of the day, rest right after, work, interview, meet, and call it a day. I wasn’t living. I was merely floating through life. I could light up the faces, hearts and lives of strangers, but my beacon was miles away, incubating my baby.
It was still early on a Sunday afternoon in spring. Church was over. I turned the phone over and went to dial. She picked up after several rings.
“Praise the Lord. Barrett residence,” her faux high-pitched tone tickled me every time.
“Sarah?”
“Stenton! Hey! How’s it going, honey?” She recognized my voice instantly.
“You can ask your husband about that.”
“Oh.” I heard shuffling around the phone. “Did you play today?”
“Yeah,” I sulked. I almost whined—to a woman.
Goddamn pussy.
“Oh, Stenton, it’s just a game, dear. It isn’t the totality of your existence,” she tried.
“Well, it kinda is, Sarah. It’s what I’m paid to do.”
“But it isn’t what you were created to do, son.”
Son. She called me son. Even with the shit I was putting her daughter through, was putting their family through with all of the calls of disgrace from their church, she called me son.
“So, I take it you’re not going off to celebrate,” she teased gently.
“Nah,” I sighed. “No celebration when you’ve disappointed 1.55 million people.”
“But you’re just one person, Stenton. You can’t please all the people all the time.”
“I try,” I admitted. “I’m going to try harder next time.”
“And how do you plan to go about that, dear?”
“I guess go and practice some more.”
“Now?” she gasped. “At this hour? That’s ungodly. This is the day of Sabbath. You can’t work on the Sabbath…can’t tear your body down.”
I wanted to say, biblically speaking, the day of Sabbath is Saturday, not Sunday, but thought better than to correct her. Then I heard her speaking to someone in the room.
“It’s Stenton. I’ll be right with you. Huhn? No, he just called a moment ago.”
I heard Michael’s rumble.
“Are you out of town, dear?”
“No, Sarah,” Michael answered loud and grumpily. “He just lost to the Knicks!” I winced at the he and lost mentions.
Yeah…what he fucking said.
“Well, if you have time, honey, you’re more than welcome for dinner. I’d rather you do that than tear at your body more than you already have today.” I wasn’t sure which was more soothing: her voice or the invitation. “I mean, I know you’re busy and all,” she was being meek in her approach.
It was odd for her to have me over when things were so awkward between Zoey and me. If I had an honest moment, I would say I knew exactly why I called Sarah when I did: I called for reception. I just wanted to be a part of something, not depended on.
“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.” I may not have been smiling on the outside, but I was happy as hell on the inside.
I heard her sigh. “All right, Stenton. We’ll see you then.”
“Sarah,” I called out to her.
“Yes, dear?”
“Should I bring something?”
“Just yourself, honey. Everything else is already here.”
I did smile that time. I gave the change of destination to the driver and thirty minutes later, I was at the home of the Barrett’s. Michael answered the door and gestured me inside.
“Hey, Stenton.” His tone was wry and I could appreciate why. I’d fucked his daughter, impregnated her, broke up with her, and broke her heart. I was lucky to be invited to his home again.
“Mr. Barrett, thanks for having me by.”
He turned and glared at me. “Sarah has you by. I’m disgusted with my shooting guard.” He took off for the sofa and motioned for me to sit across from him.
I scratched the back of my head, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I knew we were, and may always be, in a precarious situation when together because of my selfish actions.
“Don’t worry; I won’t be killing you thi
s visit either,” he issued with a straight face. “Although you do deserve two bullets. We know what the first one is for. The second is for those missed buckets you’ve been in the habit of shooting.” His eyes shifted to the television.
“I trust all is well.” I tried to steer this conversation. I was uncomfortable already, but what did I expect?
Michael’s eyes returned to me. “How do you want me to answer that? Do you want honesty, or do you want generic pleasantries, son?”
That son was delivered in direct contrast to Sarah’s earlier on the phone. This one was demeaning, leveling.
I opened my mouth, not exactly ready to speak…not knowing how to respond, when Sarah entered the living room.
“Stenton,” her voice was low. “Glad you’re here. Come into the dining room. You must be hungry.” She gave her husband a warning glower.
I followed her sulkily. The delicious smell from dinner hit me when I walked through the front door, but went to a new experience the deeper I went into the house. If I had no appetite earlier, it all changed the moment I crossed over into the dining room.
She invited me to sit at the head of the table and started out of the room as she called out, “Do you eat turkey chops? I fried some up, trying to stay away from red meat for Michael’s sake. I seasoned my greens with turkey, too. Please tell me you eat kale.”
She was out of the room. I didn’t get a chance to answer. If her greens were anything like Zo’s, I’d love them. Damn. Zoey. There went my chest, tightening again. I was in her home and could suddenly smell her. I could never forget her natural scent. Shit, I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to.
Within minutes, Sarah returned with a big ass plate of fried turkey chops smothered in gravy, mixed greens, mashed potatoes, and a big piece of cornbread on a saucer. She left the room again and returned with a tall glass of ice tea. I went in immediately. In no time, I found myself grunting.
“Good, huhn?” She blushed.
As I chewed I attempted, “I didn’t think anybody’s greens or gravy could top your daughter’s.”