“But I’m still saving myself. I mean, I haven’t done anything else with her,” I lied. “Plus, oral sex isn’t really sex,” I said defensively. I decided not to tell him about Naomi. I also didn’t tell him that Chloe had taught me how to please her, and that she said I was a very good student. One confession for now would have to do.
“Hmm, well, that’s a bit Clintonian of you, but I don’t know if Carmyn would feel that oral sex isn’t sex,” Lowell said, getting up to walk around the room. “How can I help? Do you want me to go and talk to this woman?”
“I don’t know if that would help. Maybe I should just keep doing it to save my career and any chances I have for the Heisman. I don’t want Barrett to find out. This is my first serious relationship, and I want it to be an honest one,” I said.
“So right now all she’s threatening to do is to release the photographs,” Lowell said.
“Word’s out that there are photos on the Internet of a member of our football team. I don’t think it’s me, but I could be next. She said she would take them to the press and then the coaches. It would be a disaster for me. Everything I’ve worked for would just be thrown out the window. She paid me for the photos, and even though I doubt she has ever been to a game, I think the NCAA would consider her a Jaguar booster,” I said.
“Don’t you worry about this, Brady. Just concentrate on football and this new girlfriend. I’ll talk to this Chloe woman. Two can play this game. I’m sure if the president of the university knew about this, Chloe would be out of a job,” Lowell said. He patted me on the knee, then rose and said, “Stand up and give your godfather a hug.”
So I did. While we hugged, I thought how lucky I was to have Lowell in my life. Then I thought of all the young men who were lucky enough to have not only a godfather but a real father, as well.
I did a double take when I looked at the balance in my checking account. I’d stopped at the bank on the edge of campus to withdraw twenty dollars so that I would have some cash in my pocket.
The receipt read $25,359.43. This couldn’t be right. My mother hadn’t won the lottery, so something was wrong.
I clicked open my phone, looked at the log of missed calls, and saw that Barrett and my mother had called. I pressed my mother’s number as I walked back toward my truck. She answered after a couple of rings.
“Mom, I just left the ATM and there’s over twenty-five thousand dollars in my account!” I said.
“Then you must have a fairy godmother, because I didn’t do that,” my mother said.
“I guess the bank must have made a mistake,” I said as I pulled out of the bank parking lot. I started to turn back to notify the branch of the mistake, but when I looked at my dashboard clock, I realized I had only ten minutes to find a parking spot on campus and get to class on time.
“Maybe they did, but don’t worry about it. They’ll catch it and work everything out. Just don’t spend any of it. That’s not your money,” my mother said.
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too, baby. Oh, before I forget, I’m meeting with Basil Henderson of XJI. He’s sent me a lot of information and is flying in from New York. I will keep you posted.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mom,” I said before hanging up the phone.
I took Barrett’s hand as we strolled out of the Blockbuster near campus. I had been excited when she suggested we rent Spike Lee’s Inside Man. I much preferred to see a crime thriller than one of the chick flicks Barrett loved. But even with two of my favorite actors sharing the screen, Denzel Washington and Jodie Foster, I couldn’t focus. Not with the way Barrett put her head on my chest as we lay on her bed, and the way the fragrance of spring rain settled around her from the lotion she wore.
“I was thinking how I want you and my mother to be closer,” I said as I wrapped my arm around Barrett more securely. “You are my girl.”
“I don’t think your mother likes me,” Barrett said.
“Why would you say that? You’ve only met her one time.”
Barrett sighed. “I’m a woman. We know things like that. I’ve dealt with women not taking to me all of my life, so it’s really no big surprise.”
“But my mother isn’t like that. I mean, give her a chance to get to know you like I do,” I said.
“I guess I understand, with you being her only son, but you should have seen the evil eye she gave me when I walked up to you after the game and held your hand. If looks could kill, then we’d be having this conversation with you looking over my tombstone.” Barrett laughed.
“I bet your father is the same way about you.”
“But he knows I’m no longer his little girl,” Barrett responded.
“Because you’re my girl,” I said as I leaned over and kissed her deeply.
“Do you want to spend the night?” she asked seductively, her warm, sweet breath all in my face.
I thought for a few minutes about how wonderful it would be to wake up with Barrett in my arms. I could play with her hair and inhale her body’s tantalizing scent and feel the amazing smoothness of her skin. I wanted to know what it would feel like to take my manhood and go inside her, knowing that it would be tight and wet. And then I saw Naomi’s sad face when she told me that she was pregnant. I knew I could use a condom with Barrett, but I also knew they didn’t always work. I wanted Barrett bad, but I told myself I could wait.
I held Barrett tight and whispered, “You don’t know how much I want you, but I think I better bounce before I do something we might regret tomorrow.”
CHAPTER
11
Barrett Meets Her Match
Barrett came out of the shower, her body moist and smelling like the lavender perfume she would spray into the air and then walk into nude, like she was walking toward the heavens.
She picked up the phone and called Brady.
“Hello,” Brady said.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Just thinking.”
“About me?”
“You know I’m always thinking about you,” Brady said.
“Are you ready for the game this weekend?” Barrett asked.
“We’re playing Kentucky, so we should be okay. I’m more worried about what to get my mother for her birthday,” Brady said.
“What did you do this evening?” Barrett asked, ignoring Brady’s mention of his mother.
“I had an interview with ESPN,” Brady said.
“With who?”
“Stuart Scott,” Brady said.
“The black guy?”
“Yeah, he was real cool.”
“Have you decided who you’re going to sign with? You need to make that decision soon, don’t you?” Barrett said.
“My mom is meeting with one of the agents, Basil Henderson.”
“Oh, so will your momma choose your agent for you?”
“Well, why don’t you choose for me,” Brady said.
“Are you serious? You would trust me with that decision? What if I picked somebody that neither you or your mother liked?”
“You want what’s best for me, don’t you?”
“Now, Brady, you don’t even have to ask me that,” Barrett said.
“I know. You make me so happy,” Brady said.
“That’s my job,” Barrett replied.
“Good! I gotta go, Barrett! Talk to you later.”
Barrett hung up and smiled as she read the interview “Brady Jamal Bledsoe—Heisman Contender.” She’d purchased Jaguar Illustrated when she saw Brady’s picture on the cover.
When she finished the article, she stood up, still naked, and glanced down at the photo of Brady on the magazine’s cover, and smiled.
“You’re going to go crazy when you get a piece of this,” she said to the picture. Then she turned and sauntered into the bathroom.
Barrett picked up her cell phone and hit #1 on the speed dial. After a couple of rings, Nico picked up.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said.
“Hey, Nico. Mi
ss me?”
“You know I do. Now, what’s going on with our boy?”
“He’s fine, but it looks like his mother is meeting with some guy from XJI,” Barrett said.
“It better not be Basil Henderson,” Nico shouted.
“I think that was the name Brady said. Where have I heard that name before?”
“Oh, hell naw! You heard it from me. That was the faggot I used to work with. I think now’s the time for you to close this deal.”
“I don’t know if he’s ready,” Barrett said.
“Make him ready,” Nico demanded. His anger-laden voice seethed through the telephone; Barrett held her breath.
“Don’t worry,” she said finally. “I’ll deliver.”
Dear Diary,
I was expecting a cleaning lady courtesy of Nico, so when the doorman called to say that a woman was here to see me I told him to send her up. I didn’t even bother looking through the peephole but when I opened the door, there stood Maybelline, making a wet, gray day even drearier.
I should have slammed the door in her ugly face. She walked into my condo like she owned the joint, checking out my fabulous furniture with an envious, evil eye. She was dressed tacky as usual—looking like a retired stripper, which I guess made sense, since that’s exactly what she is. Maybelline or May, as we called her back then, was one of my mother’s friends, and that certainly fit the saying “birds of a feather flock together.” I didn’t know if Maybelline had ever worked as a hostess, but I knew she was slutty like Lita and the rest of my mother’s friends. When I was younger, they would sometimes spend the whole day just sitting around our kitchen table, drinking, smoking, and talking loud.
Maybelline told me she thought it was me when she saw me at the football game and asked what type of scam I was pulling by acting like a college cheerleader. I told her she needed to keep her weak little mind on her damn own business.
I asked her how she found out where I was staying and she told me Lita told her. I bet if I stopped those checks Lita’s tongue wouldn’t give out information so quickly.
She had the nerve to ask me why I didn’t take better care of my mother and then the bitch called me “Raquel.” I had to tell her that I don’t go by that name anymore. Sick of this charade, I asked May why she had darkened my doorstep. She told me she was here checking on her son, who was going to be a big-time professional football player real soon. As she sat her fat ass on my sofa, May said he was going to take care of her when he got his signing bonus. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out that she’s the mother of Brady’s thug roommate, Delmar.
I lied and told her I was happy for her and then literally lifted the bitch off my sofa and led her to the door. Right before I pushed her out, she warned me she would be watching me.
She had me so flustered that I went straight to the kitchen and made myself a stiff drink.
CHAPTER
12
Carmyn’s New Play
I hear you want to talk to me,” Maybelline announced as she walked into the shop wearing skintight double-knit slacks stuck in boots with three-inch heels.
“Yeah, I do,” I said as I went over to greet her. I knew I hadn’t been nice to her at the football game or when she came to the shop. Calling myself a good Christian woman while acting like a snooty bitch wasn’t for me, so I decided to offer the olive branch of friendship, but I knew Maybelline wouldn’t make it easy.
“Well, get to talkin’! You think I got all day to be standing up in this joint with all you uppity bitches and bastards?” Maybelline said as she eyed Zander. He put down the hot curling iron he was handling and started over toward the two of us.
“Who in the hell do you think you are?” he demanded.
“I’m Maybelline, May-Jean for short. Who in the hell are you?”
“Carmyn, you betta tell this woman she fucking with the wrong one.”
“You tell me. Aren’t you man enough?” Maybelline said.
“I didn’t know they still made double knit,” Zander said as he turned his nose down toward Maybelline.
“I bet there’s a lot you don’t know. You just jealous ’cause you ain’t got none,” Maybelline retorted.
Before Zander could reply, I put my arms around both of them and said, “Why don’t we take this into my office?”
“Why? You scared somebody might see me in this joint?”
“Carmyn, tell me this is not the Greta Ghetto you want me to work with,” Zander pleaded.
“Greta? That ain’t my name. Work with me how? I don’t know nothin’ about doing no hair. That ain’t my field. Is that why you called me? To offer me a job? Well, honey, I ain’t looking for no job. In case you haven’t heard, my boy is going to be a millionaire very soon,” Maybelline said.
“Let’s go to my office,” I repeated.
Maybelline and Zander followed me into my office, both acting like young children in the back of a car during a long road trip. I could hear them calling each other names in whispers, and I thought maybe this wasn’t going to work out.
“Have a seat,” I instructed.
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Maybelline said.
“Aw, crazy woman, just sit your ass down,” Zander said.
“Say one more word to me and I will teach you the manners your mama didn’t,” Maybelline said.
“Don’t you use my mama’s name in vain,” Zander screamed.
“Children, children. Both of you sit down.”
“I’m going to act like you asked me nicely, like a lady should,” Maybelline said as she sat down and crossed her legs.
“Now, I have an opportunity here. The local ABC affiliate wants to do a makeover show using different salons. Both the stylist and client will be featured on the show, and I think it will be a great opportunity for both of you. Zander, you will get even more exposure, and Maybelline, you’ll have the benefit of a super stylist like Zander and a new wardrobe.”
“Who said I need new clothes?”
“Obviously, you don’t have any mirrors in your house,” Zander said, and laughed.
“Punk ass bitch,” Maybelline retorted.
“Come on, folks,” I said, now wondering if this was going to be worth it.
“So will I get a new weave?”
“Zander, what do you think?”
“I don’t think Greta needs a weave,” Zander said, looking at Maybelline as if for the first time. “I think we should cut it and layer it, giving focus to the face.”
“You think my face is cute?”
“I didn’t say that,” Zander said.
“But that’s what he meant to say,” I interjected.
“She’s all right. I might put some highlights here,” Zander said as he touched Maybelline’s hair. I was saying a silent prayer that she wouldn’t pop him, and then her body language softened. Zander continued, “I’d like to bring down the makeup and go with a more natural look, highlighting her full lips and these eyelashes. Honey, are these real?”
“They sure are. I can’t tell you how many times people ask me that,” Maybelline said proudly.
“I know some bitches that would sell body parts to have these.”
“I heard that! I’ll sell body parts to have my hair a little longer with blond streaks,” Maybelline said.
“We can do the blond streaks, but I tell you short is in, you know, Toni Braxton–like. That look is back.”
Maybelline looked at Zander, smiled and slapped him on the knee, and said, “Maybe you ain’t a punk ass after all.”
I took this as a sign that maybe everything would work out, and I excused myself as two new friends got acquainted.
I broke into tears after the Jaguars crushed the hapless Kentucky Wildcats 63–13 and Brady put in a herculean effort of 206 rushing yards in the first half alone. With that done, he was able to rest on the bench for the entire second half. I was upset the coach took him out, because Brady would have had the chance to add to his statistics and kee
p up with Darren McFadden from Arkansas, but I also understood that the coach didn’t want to risk injury with big games against Arkansas, Florida, and Georgia Tech upcoming.
It was not the Jaguars’ rout and Brady’s success that had brought on the tears, but what happened after the game. I stood at the locker room door, waiting to greet Brady and that girl Barrett. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to celebrate my birthday with Brady’s new friend.
When Brady emerged from the complex, Barrett was not hanging on to him as she had in the previous games, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Instead, his teammates, still in their uniforms, followed him like he was the Pied Piper. Each of them was carrying a single red rose. They all came toward me, surrounding me, and then when Brady signaled, they began singing “Happy Birthday.” The thirty-eight football players each presented me with a rose until I stood there in tears, holding thirty-nine roses after Brady gave me the last one.
After a few seconds of total silence, Brady hugging me tightly, I looked toward the crisp, blue sky and said a prayer of gratitude. After all the trials and tribulations I’d experienced during my teenage years, God had seen fit to give me the most perfect son.
I thought for a second about the call from Daphne, but then thought that as the years had passed, my memory had been layered by the wonderful events of Brady’s life. To me that was nothing but a blessing from God.
“I got you this time, didn’t I, Mom?” Brady whispered.
“Yeah, baby, you got me,” I said. I looked up, smiling into my baby boy’s eyes just like I had the first time I laid eyes on him.
CHAPTER
13
Brady for the Heisman
It was one of those perfect days when I felt the world was at my feet. It was the beginning of October, the CGU Jaguars were 4–0, and coaches and fans alike were telling me to get my tux and speech ready for the Heisman Awards. The team was two games away from being bowl eligible for the first time in school history.
I had gained over 200 yards in the last game and was over 1,500 all-purpose yards for the season with over eight games left, plus a possible bowl game. The Wildhog formation allowed me to pass the ball, something I hadn’t done since I played quarterback in middle school. With me throwing the ball the defense couldn’t put nine men in the box to try to stop the run. Not only was I being heralded as a superstar, but so was Delmar for his blocking and running ability. Professional scouts were saying we were both certain to be first-round draft picks and instant millionaires.
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