“Mom isn’t going anywhere, Marcus,” she says. “At least not yet. Maybe in a few years, but for now she wants to stay right here.” Macie is twenty-one and in her junior year at Berkeley. She also benefitted from Mom’s strict schoolwork policies and got a partial scholarship; I’m covering the rest of her expenses. “She’s overjoyed to have you home for a while, though. Just by being here you’re helping her through the worst of it, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I’m here, too. I haven’t spent this much time around you two since I left for college.”
“The family is back together again,” she smiles, then the smile goes crooked. “Well, almost. But you remember what Dad used to always say about family...”
I finish the sentence with her. “If you ain’t got family, you ain’t got nothing.”
He did say it, all the time. I’d forgotten about it.
When I’m not distracted by workouts, I think a lot. I spend quite a bit of time remembering everything I can about Dad and wondering what he really thought of his only son. I know he was proud of my basketball accomplishments, but I wonder if I was living up to his expectations of me as a man. I decide that while I may have to some extent, there are some things which need changing or improving.
That becomes my motto: Change and improve, every day.
In mid-summer, I decide I need to get Mom out of the house a little more. I contact the Golden State Warriors front office in Oakland and ask them for some local charities the NBA works with, and they’re nice enough to point me toward the Oakland Volunteer Food Bank. The group provides free groceries to families who otherwise might go hungry. Food stamps only go so far.
When Mom balks about getting out, saying she’s not quite ready this soon, I tell her that’s nonsense and agree to volunteer with her. Two afternoons each week we go down to the food bank and work for a few hours, her in the kitchen and me handing out bags of groceries to the recipients. Some of them recognize me and are surprised to see me there, but I do my best to be friendly, posing for pictures and signing autographs. Our time there helps me to realize how very fortunate I am when it comes to the absurd amount of money I get paid. Hell, even growing up I was fortunate to have a father who worked hard and never needed to take advantage of services like the food bank.
One night as I’m watching SportsCenter, I’m stunned to see a picture of me handing a bag of groceries to someone. The smartass anchor says, “Lastly tonight, here’s a picture of selfish Lakers’ stud Marcus Jennings taking a bag of groceries from an old lady.” I’m instantly furious, until he continues. “Just kidding, of course. Marcus is apparently volunteering at a food bank this summer in his home town of Oakland. Marcus is handing that food to the woman, not taking it away. Kudos to him for spending his off-season helping in the community. You’re a good man, Marcus.”
Over the summer, I think about Rashida and Jayden every day. Sometimes every hour. I miss them both tremendously and it pains me not to be able to even talk to them. As the weeks go by, I gradually come to understand the entire situation better from her perspective. I was so busy patting myself on the back for not fucking Lexi Snow that I didn’t think about how any transgression at all would feel to Rashida. It was totally irresponsible of me and I have only myself to blame. Hey, some guys need to get whacked on the head before they get it.
Now that I know, every day my resolve to find a way to mend that situation grows stronger. First things first, though, and my sabbatical isn’t over yet. I’m still working out the bugs on Marcus v2.0.
Change and improve, every day.
28
Rashida
My split with Marcus has been long and difficult, but now three months down the road I find myself feeling better about what I did. Doing the right thing is never easy, but I couldn’t continue to be intimate with a man who had no qualms about playing so loosely with my emotions, not to mention Jayden’s.
That said, I still miss him terribly and have had trouble getting him off my mind. The long phone calls we had while he was on the road during the playoffs were wonderful, though now I’m haunted by thoughts of what he may have been doing before or after those calls. Maybe even during.
I keep telling myself it’s time to move on, but doing so has been more difficult.
I consider calling Ronald, the insurance agency owner I’d slept with. Ronald wasn’t a great lover, but with each passing week I feel more and more like I need a naked man in my bed, just a hard penis to distract me and help me forget about Marcus. As long as I tell Ronald that would be the extent of the relationship, he’d probably be okay with it. I mean, what man wouldn’t want to get an offer of sex with no strings attached? In the end, though, I don’t pick up the phone. I’m not sure what holds me back—either Ronald simply doesn’t interest me enough, or I’m still hung up on Marcus. Probably both.
Jayden also missed Marcus, but he’s a resilient little guy and has bounced back. Occasionally he’ll still say, “I wish Marcus could take us to the zoo today,” or something along those lines, but he’s mostly moved on. For his birthday, I’m having a big party at the clubhouse of my condo complex, with two dozen of his friends. My parents flew in from New Orleans for the week and my mother has been helping me with the preparations while Dad spends time with Jayden. As we talk throughout the week, Mom senses something is wrong, but I tell her only that I’ve been through a recent breakup with a man who proved to be too “high-profile” for me. She can tell I’m not ready to talk about it and doesn’t push me on the matter.
The party is loud and colorful, with screaming kids running around playing games in the balloon- and streamer-filled room. Jayden is having a wonderful time—so good, in fact, that he doesn’t notice that his father hasn’t shown up. David had told me he’d “do his best” to be here. Evidently his best didn’t include visiting his son on his birthday. When Jayden finally realizes it later, he’s going to be crushed.
Mom and I are getting the cake and ice cream set up when she says under her breath, “Oh, my. Who is that?”
Before I can even wonder who she’s referring to, Jayden screams at the top of his voice, “Marcus!”
I look, and standing in the clubhouse doorway with a gift and a big smile on his face is Marcus Jennings. My heart practically stops as Jayden bounds across the room and Marcus kneels to wrap my son up in a big hug.
“This is my birthday party! I’m seven years old now!” Jayden squeals.
My mother looks from Marcus to me, then quietly asks, “Mr. High-Profile?”
I gulp and nod as Marcus scans the room, finds me and smiles warmly. My head is suddenly buzzing and my pulse racing. After he hands Jayden his gift, he walks right to my mother.
“You must be Rashida’s mother. That beauty is definitely inherited.”
Mom blushes and I introduce them, then Marcus leans in and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. He smells good enough to eat.
“Hi, Rashida.”
My father approaches and I introduce the two men. “I know who he is,” Dad says with a grin. Of course, he does. Dad is a huge NBA fan and has been watching the Pelicans for years, so he sees Marcus on TV every time the Lakers play in New Orleans. “How do you know Rashida?” he asks Marcus, oblivious to the pain that question holds for me.
Marcus looks at me, then says, “Your daughter helps me plan charity events.” Dad lets him leave it at that, but I know my father well enough to sense he understands there’s more to the story.
Jayden takes Marcus by the hand and walks him around the room, introducing him to his friends as “my friend Marcus of the Lakers.” It’s a sweet image, this giant of a man holding hands with my tiny boy, but I force myself not to fall for the charade. I’m irritated by his unannounced presence. I really have nothing to say to Marcus and do my best to avoid him. When he does manage to get a moment alone near me, our conversation is brief.
“Jayden seems to be having a great time,” he says.
“What are you doing here, Marcus?�
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“I was invited by the birthday boy. Don’t you remember? I couldn’t disappoint him by not showing up.”
I know I should be touched by the gesture, but I’m aware there’s more behind it. “This doesn’t change anything,” I say before walking away.
Marcus stays for a while, talking basketball with my dad and about the 4gotten Kids charity with my mother. After nearly an hour, he tells Jayden he must be going. They share another hug, and I tear up a little when he kisses my boy on the crown of his head. The irony of Marcus being here today when Jayden’s actual father couldn’t bother to show up isn’t lost on me.
After a polite goodbye to my parents, Marcus kisses me on the cheek a second time and whispers, “Walk me to the door.”
In the doorway, I say, “Thanks for coming today. For Jayden, that is.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Then he gives me a serious look. “Rashida, we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I’ll call you,” he says, ignoring my remark.
“No, don’t. It’s over.”
Marcus simply smiles, then walks away. I watch him as he goes.
Holy shit, that body. What am I doing?
A few hours later, an exhausted Jayden is sound asleep as I relax with my parents in front of the TV. My phone dings and I look to see a text with Marcus’s name. I haven’t yet managed to remove him from my contacts list.
I’m out front. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
He’s here? At my building?
I have nothing to say to you.
A second later his reply arrives.
Either you come out to meet me or I’m coming up. Your call.
I know I need to be strong.
I’m sorry, Marcus. Maybe some other time.
That doesn’t sound as resolute as I’d hoped.
Has to be now. I’m flying back to Oakland tonight.
As I’m thinking of a response, another text comes in.
Don’t make me come up there.
Shit. I really don’t want to have a personal discussion in front of my parents.
I’ll be down in five minutes.
I’m not sure whether I’m doing this to avoid a confrontation around my folks or because some part of me wants to see Marcus again, to hear some plausible explanation for his actions in Houston that night. I go to my room and change into some jeans and a sweatshirt, but take the time to touch up my hair and makeup. I tell my parents I need to talk to someone downstairs for a few minutes, and as I walk to the door I see my mother giving me a knowing look. I never could put anything past her.
I step outside into the cool Los Angeles night and see Marcus’s car parked right in front of my building. That obnoxious yellow Lamborghini is impossible to miss. I look inside and he signals me to enter the car, so I open that damn vertical door, take a breath, and climb in.
“Thanks for coming down,” Marcus says, smiling. That resonant voice of his travels right into the pit of my stomach.
“You left me no choice.” I’m trying not to look at him. “You have five minutes.”
“Then I’ll get right to it. Rashida, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I know what a serious mistake I made. I was in a weird place just after my father passed away, and then got caught up in the whole playoff atmosphere, and on top of everything else— “
“This is pointless, Marcus.”
“… I was totally falling for you.”
What? Uh-uh. “And you fell right into Lexi Snow’s arms.”
“Because my strong feelings for you confused me.”
My mouth falls open.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It makes zero sense.”
“Of course, it makes sense, because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. This is new territory for me, Rashida. And to be totally honest, it scares the hell out of me.”
He looks sincere. I remind myself that Marcus is a player and that players are experts at saying all the right things.
“Yes, I was stupid that night,” he continues, “and I acted carelessly, especially when it came to your feelings. But I swear to you, Lexi and I did not have sex. That night or any other night. Had I never met you, I’m sure I would have done it. I didn’t because of you. Because of us. I knew I already had something better.”
It’s all sweet talk, but it means nothing unless it’s true. I force myself to turn toward Marcus. His dark eyes, his handsome face, his full lips, all taunt me. I need to force his hand on this idea that he’s somehow been loyal to me.
“Will you agree to answer one question honestly for me?”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, Marcus. Full honesty.”
“I swear to you.”
“It’s been four months since we were together,” I say. “How many women have you fucked?”
Those sensuous lips slowly form a smile.
“This is not funny!” I half-shout, starting to lose it.
His expression turns serious. “I haven’t been with anyone. No sex, no dates at all. I haven’t even returned phone calls and texts from women. I’ve spent the entire off-season in Oakland at my mother’s house.”
I still don’t believe him. “But you obviously came back to LA at some point.”
“Yes, I came back three times to take the kids to Disneyland, and then I came back this morning for Jayden’s party.”
No way.
“Are you trying to tell me you flew here from Oakland just to go to a child’s birthday party? And now you’re flying back tonight?”
“It wasn’t just any child’s party. It was Jayden’s party. It was your child’s party. I promised him I would be there, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
Well, shit. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? Right on cue, my eyes start tearing up.
“Baby, I’m— “
“I am not your baby,” I growl.
Marcus sighs. “Rashida, after what happened between us, I needed time to sort all of this out. I decided to spend the summer focused on working out with a trainer in Oakland and keeping my mom company as she adjusts to a life without my father. I did that, but I also thought a lot about what you said, about growing up, about becoming a responsible man. And I knew deep down that you were right. It was time. With Dad gone, I’m not a kid anymore.”
He pauses, but I have no response. I can’t believe this is the same Marcus Jennings who behaved like such a spoiled brat at times before. He does seem very… different.
As if reading my mind, he says, “I’m not the same man who was so careless that night in Houston. And I’m definitely not the same man I was the night we first met.”
My mind flashes on the two naked women, and naked Marcus strolling into the room, then propositioning me.
“I’m returning to Oakland to wrap things up this week, then I’m coming back to LA for the last six weeks before the start of the new NBA season.”
“What are you going to do in LA?” Furthermore, who will he be sleeping with while he’s here? I’m not convinced by his claims of celibacy. Not Marcus Jennings.
“I’ll keep up my training for next season. I have a lot to prove. I also am going to work on my music project.”
“What music project?”
“My own album. I’ve been working on it for two years and I’m almost done.”
He played me one song that time I visited his house. I was duly impressed by his talents, but I thought it was just a little hobby, something he did to pass the time. He never mentioned anything as ambitious as a full album of his own music.
“I didn’t know you were planning an entire album of your songs.”
“There’s a lot you never learned about me, Rashida. But I could have worked on the music and continued my training in Oakland. I’m coming back to LA because I need to see you again.”
What?
My mind is spinning. If Marcus weren’t so handsome, so charismatic, so goddamn
ed sexy, this might be easier.
“I’m truly sorry about what happened,” he says softly, taking my hand, “and I want you back.”
I look at Marcus and suddenly find it hard to breathe. I know if I stay in this car another minute, I’ll give in. A huge part of me wants to be wrapped up in those strong arms, our bodies pressed firmly together, his betrayal forgotten. He says he wants a relationship with me and claims he’s been celibate all summer in anticipation of us getting back together.
What do I do? My heart has been aching for Marcus for months, and now all I need do is forgive him and we’ll be right back where we were.
And then what?
Even if it works for a while, it can’t last forever. Deep down, Marcus is that same spoiled jock. Eventually, he’ll end up with somebody other than me in his bed just because he can. The temptations are too frequent and too easy, and I’m not convinced he’s the strong man he thinks he is.
“Rashida?” He wants an answer, wants to know whether we can pick up where we left off. But I just don’t know if I can go through that heartbreak again.
A voice deep in my brain screams at me.
But he came back just for Jayden’s birthday!
Marcus reaches over to take my hand. I feel myself on the verge of giving in. I want to so desperately.
Then I quickly pull my hand away, reclaiming it along with my heart.
“No!”
Marcus opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head.
“No, Marcus, don’t. This is already hard enough.” The tears start falling now.
I look into those eyes and know I must tell him the truth.
“Do you know why I can’t be with you, Marcus?”
He stares at me earnestly, waiting for me to continue. I gather my courage and come out with it.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 3: Marcus Page 19