by Audrey Drake
This made my job more than difficult to get done. I stayed away from sports, I stayed away from campus, and I stayed away from Latrelle. Not because I wanted to, but because I did not feel wanted. This posed a problem, however. I could not let Coach Bub find out that a relationship inhibited my ability to perform. So I found out when Latrelle was gone for summer workouts, and stocked his fridge with groceries, cleaned his apartment, and left cash on his nightstand for gas once a week. He never thanked me.
Chapter Four
Finally, Latrelle called, crying, broken.
“Olivia, I need you.”
Embarrassed to be so attached to him to even care, my heart immediately felt full just from hearing his voice again.
“What’s wrong?”
“I messed up really bad this summer. Have you not heard what is going on?”
“No. I, uh, have not really kept up with much news this summer.”
“I may be suspended for the first game of the season. Oh God, Olivia. I am so stupid. My dad is will not even speak to me.”
“Talk to me, Latrelle. What happened?”
“Well, I was out with some of the guys, and for some reason I thought it would be cool to take some shoes from Foot Locker. The new Nike Airmaxes, to be exact.”
“Latrelle you know that is what I…”
“I know. I know.” He cut me off. “I know I could have just called you to buy them, and the University would reimburse the purchase. But, that just seemed too easy. I thought that if the clerk recognized me, they would just let me take them.”
“So, they caught you?”
“Well, not immediately. I thought we had gotten away with it until Coach Bub called me into his office to meet with him and the schools’ public relations specialist. Foot Locker sent the security footage to the NCAA. TMZ, ESPN, Huffington Post, Yahoo; they are all posting all kinds of bad things about me. I had to delete my Facebook account from all the crap people were sending me.”
“Oh my god, babe. I wish I could help, I really do. I just do not know how.” I immediately shuddered at the fact that I called him babe. It just slipped out.
“Coach says that if he suspends me for one game, and I make it public knowledge that I am paying Foot Locker back for the shoes that the NCAA will stay off of us. This is my first offense, after all. Listen, I know that my actions have pushed you away recently, and I will never be able to make that up to you. But, I would like to try. Can I come stay with you tonight?”
My heart almost leaped out of my chest. “Of course you can.”
I had not felt the touch of a man in months. I could not say the same for certain about Latrelle, but I did not care. I pulled his body to mine as soon as he opened my apartment door. Just hugging him, feeling him pressed against me released a mass of negativity from my soul. His love was like a long stint in rehab, and I was finally cured.
There was no ripping of clothes. There was no clapping of skin while he penetrated me that day. It was more than that, deeper than lust. Our movements were methodic, and we spent more time kissing than riding or thrusting. I kissed his neck, and ran my fingers along his biceps. He gently coursed his hands threw my hair with my legs wrapped around his waist. Our fingers intertwined when we finally came simultaneously. And our bodies shook to the same beat in that moment, eye contact locked, and both sets of toes curled, grasping at the hope of a brighter tomorrow.
Then November came, again. Latrelle had just left for class, kissing me goodbye on his way out. He had stayed with me every night that week. I was finishing up breakfast, hoping to get it ready before Rachel woke from her slumber. The TV was tuned to ESPN, as it had been every morning since he came back to me. That is when I heard it. The news story that I will never forget.
“Cal-State quarterback and former Heisman trophy winner, Latrelle McKay, is in the spotlight again as an alleged lover reported to TMZ last night that she was four months pregnant with his child. Fellow California State University student says that the two had multiple relations in the summer leading up to this football season, all of which were unprotected. The validity of her claims have not been determined, and Cal-State Head Football Coach Bobby Lindell has yet to comment on the matter.”
To Be Continued…
Loving A Star - Book Two
Chapter One
“Cal-State quarterback and former Heisman trophy winner, Latrelle McKay, is in the spotlight again as an alleged lover reported to TMZ last night that she was four months pregnant with his child. Fellow California State University student says that the two had multiple relations in the summer leading up to this football season, all of which were unprotected. The validity of her claims have not been determined, and Cal-State Head Football Coach Bobby Lindell has yet to comment on the matter.”
“Call me back!” I practically screamed into the phone as it went to voicemail yet again. Latrelle was missing in action. He would not answer my calls, was not at his apartment, and had not been to practice or class since the news broke two days ago. Anger was slowly being replaced by worry as I sat alone in my room.
When I first heard about his mistress and presumed “baby ma-ma” my stomach dropped to the floor along with the spatula from its previous perch in my right hand. Not because his stupidity was a shock to me. Rather, because this was something that I did not ever want to know about. I am not a naïve person. When he won the Heisman and cast me off to the side at his newfound fame, it would be stupid to not assume that he whored it up with other lovers. After all; this man just lead his team to a National Championship, won the biggest individual award in all of college sports, and was the hero to many people across the country. Females throw their naked bodies onto guys like that, not just in college.
But, Latrelle was also young. Arguably, too young to handle such a prompt rise to fame. I saw it early, and made the critical mistake of thinking that I could change him. The correct answer dawned on me just before the ESPN story broke, right as he kissed me and left for class.
It was just a phase. I just had to let it run its course, and he would grow out of it.
In that brief moment of epiphany, I decided that I did not care what he did when he was away. I did not care who he slept with, because he was back with me. Back where he belonged.
The news of an alleged child ripped that idea out of my head and spat in my ignorant face. A kid with another woman would forever link him to her whether they were together or not. Anxiety threw my mind into a future vortex of future problems. If we got married, would she be a crazy ex? How often would Latrelle see his child, and would I be able to look that kid in the eye and not be reminded of the worst despair my life had ever felt?
Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
My phone rang. Too eager to hear Latrelle’s voice, I swiped right on the touch screen without comprehending who was calling.
“Ms. Burke we need to talk. Come to my office immediately.” Coach Bub’s deep voice echoed through the phone.
Worrying about my relationship with Latrelle made my mind temporarily forget about the job I was supposed to be executing.
“Yes, sir.” The only two words I could muster.
The last time my feet touched the pavement in front of the football offices I was apprehensive at what awaited me beyond those doors. I was in a rut, trying to find myself professionally and personally. The only thing that kept me going, was knowing that my best friend was by my side to go on this journey with me.
This occasion was far different. Apprehension was not the emotion that had turned my blood cold as soon as Coach Bub called. It was fear.
“Take a seat Ms. Burke.” Coach Bub sat behind his desk, looking far more stressed than the last time we had seen each other. The fingers of both hands were locked together and rested on the desk in front of him like some sort of jumbo fist, ready to swing a right hook and knock me out.
“Coach… I am sorry. I know I let you all down.” I stammered.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Some skank is ta
king advantage of Latrelle’s situation and is trying to capitalize.”
“Wait. You think that she is lying?”
“Of course. Look at what happened to Kobe Bryant a few years back. It is just another matter of greed leading to false accusations.” I did not catch the reference, but nodded my head in agreement since it did not appear as if I was getting fired. “I put all of my faith and trust in Latrelle. When I talked to him this morning he told me that he barely even knew this broad.”
“You talked to him this morning?!” My heart raced.
“Yes, Ms. Burke. He wanted me to talk to you before he could. And what I am telling you now is what I and the entire University believe. Look, I know what is going on between the two of you. I would be a fool if I did not. Just be aware that we have arranged a deal with Latrelle’s lawyer, and this will all be settled when we see a judge next month.”
“Okay. Is that all that you need from me? I would like to speak to Latrelle.”
“Not exactly. Look, we have already lost a game this year. Our hopes of repeating as National Champions are slim, but not nonexistent. Keep him on track. Make sure that he stays level headed. Court can be a tough thing for anyone to endure, let alone someone in his situation.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And no TV. I do not want him hearing what people are saying about him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Latrelle was waiting at my apartment when I got back home. He slowly stood up from the couch when I entered the door, and began to speak. I did not hear a word he said.
My left hand pressed against his chest, just between the firm pecks behind a dri-fit California State shirt. I put my right index finger to his lips, shook my head, and pushed that incredible body back down to the couch. I straddled his lap and felt all eight inches of excitement.
“Put your hands behind your head.” I said as my tongue made a wet trail from his Adam’s apple to his left ear.
He did not take this demand well. “Baby, let me touch you.” He whispered as his fingers found their way up the back of my shirt.
I leaned back, grabbed his wrists, and forced them behind his head to rest on top of the leather couch. “Don’t move a muscle.”
My shirt hit the front door as I rode up and down on his lap. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face between my bra confined breasts. Like a puppet, I grabbed his hands and relocated them to my spine. Carefully maneuvering his fingers to the strap of my bra, we unhooked it together. I through his hands back behind him and squeezed his forearms. Leaning forward so that my now unhooked bra straps fell to my shoulders, I slowly pulled my hands off of him and pressed the cups of my bra back to my chest to conceal my nipples. I returned to my feet and turned around so that my butt was just a few inches above his knee caps. The bra landed on top of my shirt by the door. My thumbs peeked between the waistline of my jeans at the hip, and I bent over as I coaxed them down; past my thighs, calves, and they nestled around my ankles.
Panties being the only piece of clothing left on my body, I remained facing the same direction as him, and sat back down on his lap. He pleaded for the use of his hands, but my mind was numb. I did not care to deal with begging. The riding continued, which segued to a side to side motion. I felt like a porn star while I grabbed at my chest, touched myself, and then fell backward into his chest. His arms wrapped around me. I did not care that he had broken the rule. It surprised me that he was able to resist this long. His fingertips brought goose bumps to every piece of skin they contacted. I turned around and ripped his clothes off in what seemed like one motion. Naked, he pulled my body to his and we fell back onto the couch together. He positioned his hips and began to put himself into me so I popped up, away from his member. A confused gaze stared at me with bewilderment. Smiling, I stepped up onto the leather so that my feet were on either side of him. I gained my balance, stepped forward and lowered myself to his face. His hands reached parallel with his ears to grab the tops of my thighs. The tip of his tongue tempted me with every touch. I looked down between my legs and could only see the top of his head; the rest was buried in me. Finally, I receded to the other side of the couch and he embraced me. I screamed his name for the world to hear.
“You swear to me that the accusations this girl is making are false?” I said to Latrelle, sheepishly, deep in the comfort of his arms. Lately we utilized after sex time for naked cuddle sessions and Netflix.
“Yes, baby. I have met this girl a couple times at parties, but it never went further than talking. She is crazy.” Latrelle defended.
“Okay. I am going to trust you on this and be there for you every step of the way. When is your court date?”
“December 5th.” That was a little less than three weeks away.
“And what exactly do you hope to prove? Is this going to be one of those cases like on the Maury Show?”
Latrelle laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I just want to prove that this child is not mine so I can move on with my life and get back to football.”
“Can I come?” I muttered.
“Of course. I could not picture going into that battlefield without seeing your face in the crowd.”
The last comment made me feel whole again. Perhaps the phase he was going through was finally over. Now we could truly be happy again.
Chapter Two
Veronica Beachum was the accuser. I knew very little about her prior to the news stories, but in the weeks that led up to Latrelle’s trial I dug as much as I could into her past.
She was not in a sorority, which was surprising given her attractive features. Usually girls with hair that blonde and skin that flawless were sure to be in some version of Greek life. Her Facebook profile had most of the security features set up, and I did not want to interfere with anything by adding her as a friend. I could however see her past profile pictures. Four pictures back, with a time stamp of June 12th was Veronica; dressed in a lime green crop top and white, almost see through, jeans standing next to a tall muscular black man. I would recognize that t-shirt and that smile anywhere: Latrelle.
I decided to just keep that information to myself. Latrelle was under enough stress as it was, and I had seen plenty of occasions where Latrelle made someone’s profile picture in the past. He was a superstar.
They lost the last two games of the season to finish up the month of November. Latrelle played terribly and people were beginning to speculate that he was not ready for the NFL now, contrary to all bets from last year that he would be the number one pick in the draft after he became eligible following this season. I was always there to hold his head against my breasts after each game.
We rode silently back to my apartment when the final game against UCLA came to a close. Cal-State was down three with 1:34 left on the clock. We had the ball, and everyone in the stadium started to chant his name as he walked out to the huddle. It was a surreal feeling for me, watching from my usual spot in our boxed seats. The gossip about who was sleeping with who had ceased from the five of us, as we anxiously awaited a miraculous game winning drive from the love of my life.
He threw an interception on the first play, and that was it. Boos rained down from every section of the stadium. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, watching him silently march off the field; head down, helmet off. The walk of shame. The last time I saw Latrelle McKay in a Cal-State uniform.
There we were. Me; driving left handed with my right gripping his leg to remind him that he was not alone. Him, looking out the window in a depressed sulk.
“I am going to the NFL next year.” He broke the silence.
“You are sure?” I said, a bit surprised.
“Yes. I have to get out of this place. This college, this town, this life. I have to start fresh.”
“What does that mean for us?”
“We can worry about that some other time. I do not want any more stress on me right now. I feel like all of my limbs are being pulled four different directions and I have no c
ontrol over it.”
“Fair enough. But, just know that wherever you go, I want to be with you.”
“Me too.”
We turned onto my street, and Latrelle shook his head.
“Not yet. Can we just ride around for a little while?”
I had no qualms with this idea. He knew how much I liked to ride around and listen to music when life was becoming too difficult. So that is what we did. For hours we just sat in silence watching the streetlights whiz by. I plugged my phone into the auxiliary chord and we let the music wash the world out of our minds. I felt closer to him than I ever had. M83’s “I Need You” pumping out of the speakers. I had the urge to sing along, but my body could not bring itself to speak. The atmosphere was too perfect to disrupt. Like something out of a movie.
Have you ever had a feeling
That we're not alone?
Hold to call the feeling senile
They unearth more
Going down the dusty roads
We are cold and see-through
I need you
There's a reason after all
All the things that I have done
Pump the blood and leave it alone
Anywhere you take me
See it all
Just go and solve it all
We entered my apartment around 2 a.m. A silent darkness was the only thing that waited up for us to get home. I kissed Latrelle’s tear stained cheek as he lay down on my navy satin sheets. Our souls connected as I felt his warm body against mine.
“I love you.” He said, staring into my eyes.
“I love you too.”
The last thing I remember is making passionate love in the blank black void. There was no light penetrating my bedroom. No lamp was lit. The only sense evoked was the way he felt against me, inside of me. The only sounds were the sheets under our protracted movements, and the occasional smacking of our lips to the others’ skin.