Catt Chasing

by Shana Burton

  Catt’s heart broke for him. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Jamal.”

  “Don’t be. I stopped being hurt over the marriage a long time ago. Losing Kennedy is going to always be with me.”

  “Is that when you left for Paris?”

  “There was nothing left for me here except memories. My little girl was gone, my marriage was over—I just needed a fresh start.”

  “But don’t you see what you’ve done instead? You don’t let anyone get close to you. Jamal, that’s no way to live.”

  “This’s how I like it—no strings. Nobody gets too close, and nobody gets hurt.”

  “You could have so much more than that. The God I serve is so much bigger than anything you’ve had to go through, even the death of your little girl.”

  “God and I don’t really see eye-to-eye these days,” he admitted. “After watching my child fight for each breath, then die, everything changed for me. I mean, I know there’s a God, but I’m not so sure He knows there’s a Jamal Ford.”

  “Of course He does! Without God, we have nothing, Jamal. You can’t turn your back on the one person who can help you no matter what.”

  “He turned His back on me first. I know that God works for some people. I don’t happen to be one of those people. After losing my wife and my child, money and sex became the saving grace that I once believed the Lord to be,” he confessed. “Whatever desire I had to believe, love, or be loved was burned out by heartbreak and disappointment and was replaced with ambition and a string of one-night stands.”

  “He’s still there for you, Jamal. God never turns His back on us. In His Word, He says, ‘I’ll never leave you nor forsake you.’ You’ve got to trust in that; trust in Him.”

  “He took my child away from me. How am I supposed to put my trust in a God who’d do that?”

  “God didn’t take her. Furthermore, Kennedy probably knows more about God now than any of us down here on earth will ever know. Heaven’s not a bad place to be, Jamal.”

  He shook his head. “All this talk about heaven and God ain’t doing me a bit of good here on earth,” he stated bitterly. “Kennedy is gone, and she was my reason for living.”

  “God should be your reason,” Catt informed him. “We can’t make idols out of people, not even our children. Another person can’t fill the place in your heart where God is supposed to be. He’s the only one big enough to fill it.”

  Jamal turned over in his bed. “You have your beliefs, Catt, and I have mine.”

  “Jamal, we need to talk about this some more,” pushed Catt.

  “No, you need to talk about this some more. I need to get some sleep.”

  Catt gave up and turned off the lamp. The conversation was dead for now, but she had every intention of a resurrection before the week was out.

  Catt was awakened from her sleep by Jamal crying out in his sleep and thrashing about in bed. His machinations were enough to set her heart racing in fear.

  She rushed to his side to rouse him. “Jamal, wake up!”

  Jamal gasped and sat up in the bed. He looked around frantically, briefly not remembering where he was.

  “Are you okay? You’re sweating,” she said, wiping his forehead. “You were talking and tossing in your sleep. You scared me.”

  He broke away from her and stood up. “I’m all right,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  “Wow, that must’ve been some dream!” she exclaimed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “What for?” he asked gruffly. “It was just a dream.”

  “I heard you call out to your father,” whispered Catt. “Is there something going on with you and him?”

  Jamal grabbed his shirt, which was hanging from the back of a chair. “I’m going out.”

  “At this hour?”

  “At any hour I want to. I’m a grown man.”

  “Jamal, I can tell something is bothering you. Maybe it would help to pray . . .”

  He stepped into his shoes. “Praying is your thing, not mine.”

  “Then I’ll pray for you. Just don’t go.”

  “I need to get out of the room. It feels like I’m suffocating.” He snatched his room key from the dresser and marched toward the door.

  “Jamal, wait,” cried Catt. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, God can lift that burden. Turn it over to Him. He’ll see you through.”

  Jamal opened the door. “Tell God thanks but no thanks. I’ve seen what He can do. I’m better off taking care of myself.”

  Chapter 21

  Catt covered her head with her pillow and tried to ignore the door knocking that had stirred her out of a deep sleep.

  After spending a rough night at the Sunlight Inn, driving four hours that morning, and spending all day working, she was exhausted. She and Jamal both agreed that they deserved to splurge on an upscale hotel and to take the next day off.

  “Go away!” she moaned, rolling over. She had already settled into bed for the night and had no intentions of getting up before noon. The knocking continued. “Go away!” she called louder. Now the person began pounding on the door.

  She unwillingly threw off her blankets and dragged herself to the door to see who it was. Peering through the peephole she saw Jamal waving at the little hole in the door.

  Catt unlocked and opened the door. “Jamal, what are you doing here?” she asked, yawning.

  “You look like hell,” he observed.

  “Really?” she replied dryly. “That’s better than I thought.”

  “Come on,” he said, beckoning her with his finger.

  She noticed that he was wearing a sweat suit and clutching a basketball. “Do you know what time it is? Shouldn’t you be in your own hotel room asleep?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about you saying that you sucked at basketball, so I decided that it was time that you didn’t suck at it anymore.”

  “Jamal, it’s almost one o’clock in the morning. I don’t think I’ve had more than three hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours. I’m sleepy, it’s cold out here, and I’m going to bed. Good night.”

  She proceeded to shut the door, but Jamal propped it back open. “Not tonight! Come on—grab your sneaks and your game face. Let’s go.” He made his way inside the hotel room.

  “Jamal, I’m tired,” whined Catt.

  “So was I when you tried to talk my head off last night.”

  “Did you have another nightmare?” she asked, suspecting that might be the reason he couldn’t sleep.

  “You ask too many questions.”

  Catt was too tired to pursue it any further. “Just come back in the morning.” She lay down on the sofa and began dozing off again.

  “It is morning.” Jamal rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a navy blue hooded sweat shirt and pants.

  “Here.” He nudged her to wake her up. Catt groaned in protest. “All right, then, you just sit there, and I’ll do all of the work.” He crouched down and slid the pant legs over her feet. “I always thought I’d be taking your clothes off, not putting them on,” he mentioned, lifting her by the waist to pull the pants over her hips and pajama shorts. “You can keep your T-shirt on. We’ll just put this on over it.” He put the shirt over her head and pulled her arms through the sleeves. He then slid socks over her feet and tied her shoes. “Okay, you’re set now—come on.”

  Catt grudgingly stood up but instead of walking toward the door, she turned in the direction of her bed.

  “Wrong way,” said Jamal, grabbing her and ushering her toward the door. “Here, hold this.” He secured the basketball under her arm. She was still half-asleep when he led her out the door.

  “I think we should start with shooting. That’s probably where you’re having the most trouble,” said Jamal as he dribbled the ball down the court, which was illuminated by light posts and the full moon. They were at a vacated basketball court near their hotel that they’d driven to.

  “Are you ready?” he asked eage
rly. She yawned and stood akimbo. He passed the ball to her. She let it drop at her feet.

  “You’re not even trying, Catt. I know you’re not that sleepy.” He picked up the ball and tossed it to her again. This time she caught it.

  “Good, you’re waking up. Now let me see you shoot.” She made a paltry attempt at shooting the ball. It stopped several feet short of the goal.

  Jamal retrieved the ball. “Your handling is all wrong,” he noted. “Look, you hold the ball like this and kind of bend your knees this way,” he said, demonstrating. “Then let go.” He flung the ball and sank it into the hoop. “Here, you try,” he instructed after getting the ball back.

  Catt tried to emulate what Jamal had done, but the ball wound up behind the backboard. “This is stupid,” she complained.

  Jamal clapped his hands to encourage her. “Okay, that was better. Try again.”

  She made another attempt. This time, the ball ricocheted off of the rim and to the gravel. Catt smacked her lips in disapproval. “Jamal, I told you I can’t do it. I’m no good at this. If I haven’t learned in thirty-one years, I’m not going to learn in one night.”

  “Stop being so down on yourself. You almost got it. Let me help you a little.” He positioned himself behind her to assist her. He was close enough to smell her shampoo and feel the heat from her warm body. Her behind was pressing against his groin, and, for a moment, basketball was the furthest thing from his mind.

  “Don’t get ideas back there!” she warned with a laugh. “Come on, let’s do this.” With his hand cupped around hers, they tossed the ball. It bounced off the backboard but didn’t go into the basket.

  “Dang it!” screeched Catt, frustrated. She jogged to retrieve the ball. She resumed her position and aimed the ball carefully.

  “Bend your knees a little,” he coached. She obeyed and threw the ball. It swirled into the basket. She squealed gleefully.

  “That’s it!” praised Jamal. On impulse, he outstretched his arms to her to give her a congratulatory hug, and she happily slid into his embrace. They exchanged awkward glances afterward. Catt broke the tension by attempting another shot. She missed but sank the three following that.

  “All right, Miss WNBA, let’s try a half-court shot.” They moved a few feet down the court. Catt shot and narrowly missed. They both winced. Jamal seemed to be as disappointed as she was.

  “Try one more time,” he urged. That time, she made it. In their excitement, they ended up back in each other’s arms.

  “Maybe we should go back to the hotel,” suggested Jamal.

  Catt released herself from his grip. “Are you kidding? I’m on fire now!” She took another shot.

  “All right,” said Jamal, forcibly shaking himself from his amorous mood. “How about a little twenty-one?” He stole possession of the ball from her, and she attempted to block his shot, which toppled into the basket.

  “You’re no match for me, girl,” he taunted, dribbling the ball around her. He ventured a layup, which missed and was rebounded by Catt. She jumped up to make the shot but came down hard on her foot. It twisted beneath the weight of her body. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground.

  Jamal raced to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “It hurts,” she groaned while trying to massage the foot.

  Jamal examined her foot and ankle. “You probably just sprained it a little. You’ll live, though. Come on, let’s get you back to the room and off of this foot.” He helped her up and held her by the waist for support as she limped back to the car.

  When they reached her hotel room, he helped her ease down on the couch and propped her foot up on the sofa pillows.

  “You stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back,” he ordered. He disappeared into the bathroom while Catt continued to nurse her injured foot. Some minutes later, he returned.

  “What were you doing back there?” she asked. “And I don’t recall giving you free reign of my room either. You can do your business across the hall in your bathroom.”

  He smiled mischievously. “Just shut up and take off your clothes.”

  “Do what?” she balked. “Here I am over here in excruciating pain because you decided that you wanted to play basketball at one o’clock in the morning, and you have the audacity to try to turn this into some kind of seduction! You’re sick, Jamal; please leave!”

  “Why would I try to seduce you now?” he asked, kneeling down beside her. “If that was the case, I would have done it when I had you half-naked and asleep.”

  She immediately tensed up. “Don’t joke like that!” she said gravely.

  “I was kidding, Catt.”

  “Just don’t play like that!” she reiterated. She still looked upset.

  He cocked his head to the side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she replied angrily, then calmed down. “I’m all right. I know someone who that actually happened to, and there was nothing funny about it.” She changed the subject. “Now, you never did answer my question about what you were doing back there.”

  “How about I show you instead?” He swept her off of the couch and shooed her down the hallway. True to form, she protested the entire way. Jamal ignored her and opened the door to the bathroom.

  Catt was speechless once they entered. Jamal had drawn a bubble bath and had lit the complimentary candles from their posh hotel room around the garden tub. The aroma of lavender and chamomile radiated from the candles and lingered in the room.

  “What’s all this?” she asked stunned. He released her, and she sat on the rim of the tub.

  Jamal sat down next to her. “It’s for you. This was your first basketball injury, so I thought that the treatment should be done up right.”

  “Aw, Jamal, that’s so sweet,” she gushed, then thought for a moment. “You’re not going to try and get in here with me, are you?”

  “No, although I’m sure that’s really what you want me to do on some subconscious level.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me see that foot of yours.” She extended her injured leg. He put her foot into his lap and gently massaged it, lubricating it with the warm, soapy bath water. Catt closed her eyes and relaxed.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Uh-huh,” she moaned.

  “There’s still a little bit of swelling, but it should be gone by tomorrow.” He gave her foot a few more deep caresses and set it back down. “Now, you go on and enjoy your bath. I’ll see myself out.”

  “You’re leaving?” she asked a little disappointed.

  “Yes, you need to rest, and I need to think of what sport I’m going to whoop you at next.”

  “I guess you do. Anyway, thanks for everything, even for dragging me out of the bed tonight.”

  “Anytime.” He brushed her hair back with his hand. “But you still suck at basketball,” he chided. They both chuckled.

  “You know a part of me really wants you to stay,” she said softly.

  “And a big part of me would rather stay here with you than go back to my own room.”

  “But we know that we can’t do that,” she reminded. “You better go.”

  “I can stay a little longer. What difference will another hour make?”

  He tried to touch her, but she pulled away. “You know me and my Christian values.”

  He nodded and stood up. “Yeah, I know. I wish . . .” he began and his voice trailed off.

  “Yeah, me too,” she lamented. He didn’t have to finish the sentence; she already knew what he was feeling. The mixture of anxiety, wonder, lust, and longing had made its way into her system as well.

  “I’ll call you in the morning to check on that foot.” He turned to leave. She abruptly called his name, and he turned back around, hoping that she would ask him to stay.

  “What’s up?” he asked anxiously.

  She bit her lower lip and seemed to be struggling with what she was going to say next. “I’m . . . I’m really glad we’re friends, Jamal. At least, I hope we are now.”


  “Is that all you called me back in to say?”

  “No, but it’s the right thing to say, so please leave before I stop caring about doing the right thing.”

  “I’ll leave but not because I want to. It’s because I want you to know that I value our friendship, and I respect your decision to stay platonic. So . . .” he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He left with both of them wondering if they were in deeper than either of them was ready to admit.

  Chapter 22

  “How’s the foot?” asked Jamal the next morning, noticing that Catt was walking with a slight limp as they made their way down the elevator to check out.

  “It’s stings a little, but I’m okay.”

  “No doubt it hurts too badly for you to drive,” he added sarcastically.

  She thrust her luggage at him. “Or for me to carry my own suitcases.”

  The elevator released them.

  “Just go to the truck,” Jamal huffed, gripping both her luggage and his. “And you’re driving all day tomorrow, no excuses!”

  After loading the car, the two were en route to Milwaukee.

  “Heaven . . . I wanna go . . . heaven,” sang Catt along with Mary Mary as the up-tempo track poured in from Jamal’s speakers.

  Jamal raised his eyebrows. “Sure, everybody wants to go to heaven, but you know what they say.”

  She stopped singing. “What’s that?”

  “Everybody talkin’ about heaven ain’t goin’ there,” he quipped.

  “Well, I’m going, I know that,” boasted Catt.

  “How can you know that, Catt? How can anybody know that?”