“I see you ladies are representing the Wilson men well,” Torino complimented.
“Thank you,” said Colette all by herself.
Sequoia approached. “Hey there you all. What’s happening?”
“Hey, Sequoia,” said Mercedes.
“What’s up Torino?” asked Sequoia. Her low waist pants and cropped top matched her skin color exactly.
Torino looked surprised. “Oh, you’re speaking to me tonight, huh?”
“I’m fine thanks,” she said, being facetious.
Colette inquired, looking puzzled, “You two weren’t speaking before?”
“No, he’s tripping. Where’s Kyle?” Sequoia asked.
Torino asked back. “Why?”
Sequoia explained. “I need to check with him about the guest list for Wednesday night, that’s all.”
“I’m the one who approves the guest list. Not Kyle.”
“Well, approve me on that list with two of my girls. Please?”
“I’ll think about it.” He turned to face Colette.
“What’s with the attitude, Torino?” asked Sequoia with a sour look.
Colette peered around her man. “What’s with your attitude with my guy, Sequoia? You’re trippin’ and then acting like he should do you a favor.”
“Nobody was talking to you.” Sequoia informed Colette.
“Well, I’m talking to you.”
Torino turned to face Sequoia and blocked Colette with his back. “Cool it now. I’ve got you for Wednesday.” He turned to Colette. “I’ll be right back, baby. I see Cicely.” He walked away without looking back.
“I’ll come with you,” said Colette, keeping one eye on Sequoia.
“Who made her his watchdog?” asked Sequoia as Colette switched away.
“Sequoia, ask yourself why you talk to him like that,” said Mercedes.
Sequoia reached in her purse for a stick of Juicy Fruit. “Oh, he loves it. I’ve known that booty since I was in middle school. He can handle it. Want a stick?” she offered.
“No thanks. Maybe that’s what you really want, is for him to handle it,” said Venus. “Did you ever think of that?” Venus looked around to check for Claude’s whereabouts.
“Yeah, right. That skinny little dude. I likes my men four inches taller than me and six inches wider. I’d hurt him.”
“Please, Torino towers over you by a foot,” Mercedes commented. “Either way, when Colette’s around, nobody gets anywhere near Torino’s butt. That girl is on him like white on rice.”
“I noticed. When did that start?” asked Sequoia.
Mercedes glanced over at them. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember her being like that before either. Maybe something happened to damage the trust, who knows.”
Sequoia guessed. “Maybe she just knows what a dog he is.”
“You don’t know that,” Mercedes replied.
“Oh, please. I see him up in here running his game in the name of promoting. That boy gets coochie like Oprah gets paid. And with Kyle by his side, they are double trouble.”
“If you say so,” said Mercedes.
“So where is the man of the hour anyway?” Sequoia asked, smacking the sweetness out of her gum.
Venus answered. “He’s over there, surrounded by the cheerleader-looking women and the businessmen.”
Mason peeked over the heads of a few of his guests and pointed at Mercedes, giving her a just-one-minute gesture.
Mercedes nodded to confirm. “He’ll make his way over soon. He’s just doing what’s required of his profession—being sociable.”
It was time for the emcee to speak to the club goers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome me in honoring a man who is gifted beyond imagination. A man who excels in a sport rarely thought of as one that African-Americans could or would succeed in. He has, to say the least, succeeded.
“Mason Wilson started his life in Houston, Texas, living in a rural area surrounded by acres upon acres of land. His dad took him out into the fields where he practiced putting with a baseball bat and tennis ball. When his family moved to Los Angeles, Mason asked his father if he would take him to the driving range to hit some balls. After five or so buckets, his dad was tired, but Mason was not. Not being able to afford lessons at the time, his dad taught him all he knew. After a while, Mason was eating up the game of golf, and his dad had to admit that he did not know enough about the game to teach his son any longer. By the age of ten, Mason was playing eighteen holes like it was nothing, sometimes beating grown men.”
Mason stood next to his wife looking humble.
The emcee continued, “One day, Earl Woods, Tiger Woods’s own father, caught a few of Mason’s strokes and suggested that he call one of his instructors to be evaluated. The result was that Mason Wilson had a gift. The fourteen-year-old dazzled the instructor, almost to the point of reminding him of the talents of little Tiger Woods at that time. The instructor contacted PGA scouts who tracked Mason’s progress for the next five years.
“After graduating from high school on a golf scholarship, Mason attended the University of Southern California, where he met Mercedes, who he later married just as his career was starting to take off.”
“Who wrote this bio?” Mason whispered to Mercedes. She grinned.
“For the next fifteen years, Mason Wilson set records and excelled at a level that stunned the golfing community. Even some who had downplayed Mason’s potential as a minority golfer soon had to give it up to him and his A-class game. Mason has won just about every title there is and he’s still going strong.
“Children of all ages, races, and faiths know of Mason Wilson’s accomplishments and his motto of striving for greatness. Mason speaks at schools and churches and is a true example of a man who has made it, against all odds, with determination, practice and focus. Mason Wilson lets all of us know that whatever our skills in life, goals in life or trials in life, we can make it with determination as long as we have faith and we believe. His hard work has paid off and we want to thank him for showing us that we, too, can excel with hard work. Mason Wilson, the African-American Role Models Association would like to honor you with our humanitarian award in the field of athletics. Mason Wilson, we present you with the Arthur Ashe award of excellence.”
“Finally,” Mason said out of the corner of his mouth.
The club members clapped and whistled as Mason approached me stage. The head of the AARM Association gave Mason the twelve-inch statue of Arthur Ashe and handed him the microphone.
Mason looked it over, and then put his mouth to the microphone. “Wow, who is that man you speak of? I’d like to meet him.” The crowd laughed. “I’d like to thank the AARM Association for this honor. It has been a long road, and yes it has taken a ton of faith to stay on this road. But I could not have done it alone. As for my parents, I pray that all young people have a special parent or parents that they can look up to. I thank Jesse and Mattie Wilson for making me feel as though I was good enough to be somebody. They took the time to teach me and encourage me and love me and I appreciate that. To my dad, who is looking down from heaven not only now, but every time I step onto the fairway. Thanks, Dad. Everywhere I go, I take a piece of you with me.
“And to my brothers, Claude and Torino Wilson, who are here tonight, thanks for the love,” Mason said, nodding to them. “They are my best friends and confidants. There is nothing like the bloodline that exists between family. I’d do anything for you two.” His brothers nodded back.
“And last but surely not least, to my beautiful wife, Mercedes. None of this would have been possible without you. You stood by me, forgave me, loved me, inspired me, had my babies, Rashaad and Star who I love so much. And you had my back so many times I can’t even count. Thanks, baby, for standing by my side no matter what. And I do mean no matter what.”
Mercedes blushed and blew him a kiss.
“Now I say we get this party started and fill these walls with the sounds that this club was built for: partyin
g. Thanks again, everyone, and thanks to my fans. Good night.” The crowd put their hands together and showed their love as he handed over the microphone.
“Shake it Fast” by Mystikal started to play just as Mason made his way off of the dance floor, with antsy couples exchanging places with him to get their groove on. Mason went over to his wife after shaking hands with a few more people.
Mercedes gave him a huge hug and kiss. “That was great, baby. Speaking of writing, when did you write that acceptance speech?”
“I didn’t. I just said what was in my heart.”
“Mason, that was wonderful,” Cicely said, leaning into Mason’s ear and grabbing onto his left arm.
“Yes, it was. Very nice speech,” said a woman standing behind Cicely.
“Thanks, Heidi,” Mason replied.
Heidi extended her hand, “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said to Mercedes. Heidi’s tongue was pierced with a gold stud.
Heidi was no baby. She looked to be in her late thirties and was thick and curvy. She had a butterscotch complexion and long, Cherokee red hair, all one length that hung midway down her back. Her keen features and golden brown eyes added to her striking aura. Her ginger lips looked as though they were painted on with precision. Her previous coworkers at Ladera Realty called her Miss Beverly Hills because she exuded such class. Some of them even teased her and called her Beverly. She’d say, “Miss Hills to you,” just to play along.
Mason did the honors. “Baby, this is Heidi Hamilton, the realtor who works for Claude.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Mercedes replied. Mercedes put her hand behind Venus’s back. “And this is my sister-in-law, Venus.”
Heidi greeted her. “I know Venus. How have you been?”
“Fine, Heidi. Good to see you.”
“Hello, Mercedes,” said Cicely. “How’s your mother-in-law doing?”
“She’s fine. All of that drama over her getting lost is behind us now. Thanks again for all of your help.”
“No problem. I’m just glad everything turned out okay. Mason still needs to come and get his briefcase. In all of the confusion, we forgot what you came over for in the first place. Well, we’ll see you later. Have a great night. And Mason, save a dance for me, okay?” said Cicely, walking away in her conservative black pantsuit.
“I’ll remember that.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Mercedes,” said Heidi, following Cicely wearing all white.
“And you as well,” Mercedes said.
Heidi turned back, remembering Mason, “Good-bye, Mace.”
Mercedes watched her walk away.
Heidi seemed to follow Cicely’s every move, allowing her to lead the way tonight, walking behind her and peering over Cicely’s head due to her own six-foot stature with heels. She nodded to each group of guests as though she’d rather be in the background. Yet, she managed to turn her head to check out the scene behind her and to each side, just to take in her surroundings.
“You never told me about her,” Mercedes said to Mason. She looked at Venus. “And you either.”
Venus replied, “She’s just one of Claude’s realtors at his office. I saw her at one of his office parties a couple of times.”
In deep thought, Mercedes said, “She sure looks familiar. That’s all I know.”
Sequoia was seated at the bar chatting it up with one of the bartenders. Colette managed to find an available seat two bar stools to the right of her just as the bartender was bringing a small bottle of Bollinger champagne over to Sequoia.
“Ma’am, this is from the manager,” he said, placing the ice-filled chrome bucket and a glass in front of her.
“Oh …” Sequoia began to say.
“From who?” asked Colette, banging her thick beer mug on the bar, springing to her feet and standing behind Sequoia’s stool.
The male bartender spoke. “Excuse me, Colette. It’s just a drink from Mr. Wilson.”
“Where is he?” Colette looked around.
“He’s right over there.” The bartender pointed as Torino was coming around from the other side of the bar.
She yelled, “Torino, what is your problem?* Buying her a bottle of champagne. What is that all about?”
“Colette, come with me.” Torino forcefully took her by the arm.
“Ouch, let go of me, that hurts,” she complained.
Torino tried to speak quietly. “Shut your mouth and come with me.”
Colette looked back at Sequoia, pointing in her direction, “You’d better not drink that or your ass is mine.”
Sequoia pulled the bottle from the ice bucket, poured the bubbly into her fluted glass and held up the glass in Colette’s direction. And then Sequoia looked at Torino. For the first time, her eyes sparkled back at him. She then started a conversation with the bartender as if nothing ever happened.
Colette spoke within two inches of Torino’s face. “I’m not going anywhere, Torino. That was so damn obvious it’s not even funny. And you want to make it seem like I’m trippin’. That was disrespectful.”
“Woman, it was no big damn deal. I just felt bad for being so abrupt with her earlier and it was a gesture of peace. But you had to blow it way out of proportion as usual.”
“Please, you never send me a damn glass of water.” She rubbed her upper arm where he’d grabbed her and made a pouty face.
“Colette, you know that you can have anything you want in this place. Everyone knows you. But you came up here tonight on my brother’s big night just looking for a fight. I’m sorry but you can’t start anything tonight. I’m not having it, Colette. Now go home.” He pointed toward the door.
“No.” She put her hands on her hips.
“Colette, I will have someone drive you if you’ve been drinking.”
“Drinking? I haven’t had a sip yet. But I’ll start up in a minute. Besides, you can’t just make me leave. Is this how you handle misunderstandings with your main woman and your peripheral ho’?”
“Peripheral?”
“You make the main one leave so you don’t run off your safety net. Because I guess you think I’m so in love with you that I’ll just forgive you and hang around, huh?”
“Forgive me for what?”
“For trying to kick me out tonight.”
Torino looked around as he felt people’s stares. “Fine, don’t go. But if you so much as blink wrong, I will leave with you and then it will be on, do you understand me?”
“Oh, it’s on now anyway. But I’m not even tripping over your triflin’ ass ho’. Sequoia is not half the woman I am.” She smacked her own self on the ass and stared him down.
“Colette, just find a seat and chill out. I’m about to go check on my family and make sure they’re okay. And I’ve got some serious VIPs here tonight, rappers, producers, and investors. So don’t blow it for me. Now can you please go somewhere and just chill out?”
“I will do just that, Torino. You just go do your work. But do me a favor. Don’t buy another woman a drink while I’m here, please?”
“Just go, Colette.” Torino walked away toward the VIP area and left her standing there.
Colette kept an eye on him for a minute and then she spotted Kyle chumming it up with Cicely and Heidi. “Yes, it’s on all right.”
Mercedes and Venus sat in a cozy VIP area on a leather sofa, eating appetizers and drinking Merlot.
“I haven’t seen you drink in a while, Mercedes.”
“I try not to. But tonight is a special night.”
“That Mason is so damn fine, I can’t stand it,” a group of girls said walking away from Mason and his agent.
Mercedes continued talking to Venus. “So, I figure if I limit myself to a thousand calories per day…”
Venus interrupted. “Did you hear them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Venus, you know me better than that. Those young girls don’t threaten me in the least. Mason gets that all the time.”
“But
after a while it has to wear on you,” Venus said.
“No, after a while you start to get used to it. I used to be just like Colette when it came to Mason. Always wondering what he was doing and why the women in the mall were staring at my man. I don’t have time for that. If he wanted to leave me, he’d have left a long time ago. The years make you more secure, not less secure. Especially those young and skinny ones. They don’t even faze me.” She took a sip of her wine with one hand and dipped a French fry into some catsup with the other. She then looked over at Heidi.
Venus spoke. “You deserve an award. No wonder he hasn’t left you for anyone else.”
“I spend more energy trying to make him happy and trying to support my black man. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, girl. I support Claude all right. Maybe too much actually. I need to really get on him, though. He undermined my authority with Cameron the other night. Things won’t get any better if Cameron thinks Claude and I aren’t getting along.”
Mercedes gave her the hush look as Claude walked up.
Venus had to ask, “Hey baby. Where have you been?”
“I was at the bar sipping on some orange juice and making my way around a bit. Hey, Mercedes. You look nice tonight,” Claude commented.
“Thanks Claude. So do you. Nice suit.”
“Thanks,” he said, tugging on his lapel.
Mercedes asked, “I met your realtor, Heidi. Have I seen her before?”
Claude took a seat as Venus scooted over. “I’m not sure. She’s been working at the office for a couple of years now. She’s one of my top sellers.”
“And how does she know Cicely?” Mercedes asked.
“She’s Cicely’s sister, I think.”
“Oh, that’s right. That’s where I know her from. I saw her picture at Cicely’s house.”
Claude’s eyes got slightly bigger, but not much. “At Cicely’s house?”
“Yes, you know the day Mattie got lost. I was picking up Mason’s briefcase from her house.” Mercedes looked at Venus. “I can’t believe she said that briefcase is still there. Mason said he was going back over there the same day to get it, remember?”
Hot Boyz Page 12