Love in the Lineup

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  As Ming drove them to the center, she was regaling her mother with details about her recent date with one of the center’s volunteers, a college sophomore named Dixon Perry, who her father had taken an instant disliking to.

  “Daddy’s being unreasonable,” Ming said, tossing her mother a quick glance as her attention fluctuated between the road and the conversation.

  “Your father is being protective of you. That’s what fathers are supposed to do.”

  Ming rolled her eyes. “But he won’t even make an effort to get to know Dix.”

  “Ming, your father has very traditional views about relationships and I don’t care how progressive he may want to think he is. Chen isn’t ready for you to be dating at all, let alone dating a boy who’s older than you are. You’re barely out of high school and he’s been in college for two years. Your dad’s just not ready to see you grow up yet.”

  “You don’t have a problem with it.”

  Roshawn chuckled. “Actually, I’m not crazy about it either. But I know you well enough to know that if your father and I were both against you seeing this boy, you’d marry him out of sheer spite.”

  Ming laughed. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “I raised you, remember?”

  “Well, I think I should be allowed to see Dix whenever I want.”

  “What you will be allowed to do is whatever your father decides. You’re living in his house, under his rules, and you have to respect that, Ming.”

  “I could move out.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I could live with you.”

  “You could, but I have rules, too. And one of my rules would definitely be that you couldn’t see this Dix boy or any other boy whenever you wanted. Besides, I’m moving back to Seattle in a few weeks. Do you want to go back to Seattle?”

  Ming tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “You parents are a pain.”

  Roshawn smiled, nodding her head. “It comes with your birth certificate. Once they stamp that seal on it, you belong to us until you’re eighteen. You have a few more weeks to go before the law considers you grown, baby girl, and until then we get to make your life absolutely miserable. It’s our duty.”

  The girl cast another look toward her mother. Roshawn reached out a hand to stroke her child’s shoulder. The space between them went quiet for a brief minute. Roshawn reached to adjust the automobile’s radio, turning up the volume on the local rap station. Ludacris was rhyming a new tune with Chingy and both women were bopping their heads in time to the beat. Roshawn suddenly broke the reverie, turning the radio back down.

  “Ming, I know you like this boy a lot and I hope you’re remembering what we taught you about protecting yourself.”

  “I’m not having sex with him, Mom,” Ming responded, annoyance tainting her words.

  “I’m not just talking about sex, baby girl. I want to make sure you’re thinking about your emotional health as well as your physical health. Yes, if you decide to have sex definitely make sure you’re protected. AIDS is still a major concern for black females as well as herpes, chlamydia and all the other diseases out there. But I also want to make sure you’re using your common sense and ensuring this boy is treating you well and respecting you as a woman. You don’t need any man beating down your spirit.”

  Ming nodded. “I love you, Mommy. And I promise, I will use the good sense you taught me. And if I’m not sure about something, you’ll be the first one I come to talk to. Now can we please change the subject?”

  Roshawn sighed. “I don’t like worrying about you, Ming.”

  “I know. I also know that no matter what I do you’re still going to find something to worry about.”

  “Well, I guess you know me well then.”

  “When are you going to start dating?” Ming asked, turning the tables on her mother.

  Roshawn turned to give the girl a quick look, her mouth sputtering open and then closed.

  Ming asked again. “You do plan to date sometime soon, I hope.”

  “I’ll date as soon as I meet someone I’m interested in.”

  “Why don’t you ask Daddy to introduce you to someone?”

  “I’m not interested in your father fixing me up with anyone but thank you for the suggestion.”

  Ming giggled. “How about Nina? I bet she knows a lot of men she could introduce you to. Maybe one of the ball players?”

  “The ball players are too young for me. Most of them aren’t much older than you are.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  Roshawn shook her head. “Why all the questions about my love life all of a sudden?”

  Ming paused, her gaze dancing around the intersection as they sat in wait at a red light. “Because I’m worried about you,” the girl said, her eyes meeting her mother’s intense stare.

  “Me? Why are you worried about me?”

  Ming paused for a second time. “If I ask you something, promise me you won’t get mad?”

  Roshawn tossed her a look of irritation. “What, Ming?”

  “Are you hoping you and Daddy will get back together? Is that why you won’t date anyone else?”

  Roshawn was thrown by the question, her surprise registering on her face. “No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “I know you and Daddy were still seeing each other before he married Allison. I used to hope you two might get back together myself, but Daddy’s happy with Allison. I want you to be happy, too, and I don’t want you wishing for something that will probably never happen.”

  Roshawn sat back against her seat, her body suddenly feeling very heavy where she sat. Her daughter’s astute candor had taken her aback. She could feel her child waiting anxiously for her to respond. Roshawn’s head bobbed slowly against her shoulders.

  “Your father and I had a very special relationship. I can’t deny that. And maybe there was a part of me that wasn’t ready to let him go, but I have. I know how much Allison means to him. I can see how happy he is with her and I love and respect your father enough to want him to be happy. What I had with Chen has nothing whatsoever to do with why I’m not dating now. I just haven’t found the right man. But when I do, I’ll let you know.”

  Ming smiled. “You’re not being too picky, are you?”

  Roshawn smiled back. “Being picky is why you have such a wonderful father. I will be as picky as I have to be.”

  “You’re waiting for the butterflies, aren’t you?”

  Roshawn’s smile widened. “You remembered that?” she said softly, her gaze searching her daughter’s profile.

  Ming nodded. “Yes. And I understand now because Dixon gives me butterflies,” she said softly.

  Roshawn could feel the tears rising against her eyes. Ming had only been twelve when they’d had one of their first mother-daughter conversations about boys, love and sex. Ming had asked her how she’d known she’d been in love with Chen and Roshawn had told her that when true love touches you, butterflies dance in your heart. She’d told her when the butterflies made her want to dance with them, then she’d know the man who had put them there was a man who was worthy of her love. But these aren’t ordinary butterflies, Roshawn had intoned. In fact, they were special butterflies, winged angels that would make her want to be a better person, that would make her want to do what was right and good. These butterflies would make her want to build dreams and wishes with the man whose own butterflies danced alongside hers. Roshawn had hugged her twelve-year-old tightly. “You’ll know,” Roshawn had said, “because it won’t be about how your body feels when he’s close to you, but how your spirit feels when he isn’t. The butterflies will keep you floating on top of the world because you will have found friendship that will last you a lifetime.”

  Ming pulled into an empty parking space in the center’s partially filled lot. She leaned to kiss her mother’s cheek, saying nothing else as she made her way out of the car. Roshawn sat alone f
or a quick minute before she followed her child through the front doors of the center, thinking that she and Chen would have to have a long talk about Ming and Mr. Dixon Perry.

  Chapter 10

  He should have been packing, getting his mind focused on the task ahead of him. Their next five games would not be easy, the San Diego Padres, Texas Rangers and Los Angeles Angels, giving them a real run for the pennant. Instead, he was navigating his way to some woman’s home in Paradise Valley so that his father could get his hair cut. Angel took a deep breath to calm his annoyance, holding it briefly before letting it ease back out past his lips.

  “What was wrong with the barber at the shopping center, Papí?” he asked.

  Israel shrugged, his gaze focused on the views beyond the passenger side window of Angel’s car. “I am told this woman is much better. She will have us looking like kings when she is done.”

  “And who told you this?”

  “That very nice Señora Tracy.”

  “When did you see her?”

  “After the game the other evening. We were admiring her husband’s new haircut. He looks much better by the way,” the man interjected, cutting an eye toward his son before continuing. “She and I, we were talking together and she told me about this new stylist. She said I would be very pleased.”

  Angel shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Papí.”

  The old man laughed. “What is there to know, hijo? We will still be handsome men when she is done.” He brushed his fingers against his chin, pulling at a nonexistent beard.

  They were both laughing as they pulled into the driveway and exited the car. Both men took in the surroundings, admiring the house and its location.

  “This is a very nice area, hijo. And a very nice house. We should look for a home near this one.”

  Angel nodded. “We just might do that, Papí. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  They made their way to the front door and pushed the bell. The doorbell chimed softly, a low tinkle of bells rippling through the air. A very pretty young woman answered, smiling as she recognized Angel.

  “Hi, may I help you?” she asked politely.

  Angel nodded. “Hello. We have an appointment for a haircut. I think we are in the right place…”

  The teenager nodded her head. “My mom is in the kitchen. Please, come on in.”

  As they entered the room, the girl’s excitement bubbled. “I can’t believe you’re here! You’re Angel Rios, aren’t you? Great game the other night. Mom didn’t say you were her appointment.”

  “That’s because Mom had no idea,” a soft voice said from the doorway.

  Both men turned to see who had spoken and Israel beamed at the surprised look on both her and Angel’s faces.

  “Roshawn, my new friend! How are you?”

  Roshawn smiled. “Very well. How are you, Israel?”

  Israel nodded, looking from her to his son and back. “We did not know our appointment was with you,” he said, his smile and the gleam in his eye saying otherwise.

  Roshawn caught the look he gave her and she shook her head as she walked to his side. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tightly as she whispered into his ear. “You are so bad!”

  The man chuckled as he whispered back. “I can be so at times.”

  Roshawn turned her attention toward Angel. “Mr. Rios, it’s a pleasure to see you again, as well.”

  The man nodded. “You and my father know each other?”

  “We met earlier this week. We had a wonderful time together. Didn’t we, Israel?”

  “Yes, we did,” he said, still beaming.

  Roshawn gestured in Ming’s direction, the girl brimming with excitement. “This is my daughter, Ming. Ming, this is Mr. Rios and his son, Angel Rios.”

  Israel pressed his palms to Ming’s cheeks and kissed her forehead. “She is a beauty this one. Like her mother. John Chen must be very proud.”

  Ming’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Angel said, his tone still overly polite. Curiosity graced his face as he tried to make the connection between the girl, Roshawn and the Titans’ scouting director.

  Roshawn answered as if having read his mind. “Chen is my ex-husband and Ming’s father,” she said.

  He nodded, suddenly connecting the girl’s features to her parents.

  “So,” Roshawn said, gesturing for the two of them to follow her toward the back of the house. “What are you gentlemen having done this evening?”

  “We desire two of your special haircuts,” Israel answered. “We are told that you are the very best. And you also do the shaving?”

  Roshawn nodded. “

  I wasn’t planning—” Angel started before being interrupted by his father.

  “Two haircuts,” the older man stated firmly, “and two shaves.”

  Roshawn reached to pull her fingers through Angel’s thick, black curls. His gaze locked with hers and he held it for just a quick minute before having to drop his eyes to the floor, a current of electricity consuming him. Roshawn felt it as well and pulled her hand back as if burned. She clasped it tightly beneath the palm of her other hand and turned back toward Israel.

  “Why don’t we do you first, Israel,” she said.

  The old man took a seat on the high stool that Roshawn had placed in the center of the floor. A towel across his back and shoulders was followed by a plastic apron over his clothes that Roshawn tied easily at the nape of his neck. She motioned toward Angel with her eyes, gesturing for him to take a seat and relax.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Rios,” she said.

  “Angel,” he answered as he took a seat at the marble counter. “Please, call me Angel.”

  “Are you?” Roshawn asked.

  “Am I what?”

  “An angel?”

  Israel chuckled. “Since he was a baby,” the man responded. “That is why his mother gave him the name. It suited his personality.”

  Roshawn tossed Angel a wry smile. Reaching for a pair of scissors on the counter she began to cut hair, snipping quickly at the man’s excess length.

  “You have beautiful hair,” she said, her fingers gliding through the locks. “It has a beautiful curl pattern.”

  “Gracias.”

  Behind her Angel grunted, a low snarl that caused her to turn to stare in his direction. His eyes skated around the room, focusing everywhere except on her as she stood watching him, her hands and the scissors frozen in midair.

  “Is there something wrong, Angel?”

  He shook his head, glancing down to his watch. “We are just on a tight schedule if you can please hurry this up,” he said, his tone just a shade of gruff.

  “Are you always this pleasant to be around or do you have to work at it?”

  Angel eyed her, taken aback by her obvious sarcasm. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Israel interjected. “My son needs to learn how to relax. He doesn’t know how to enjoy himself.”

  Angel rolled his eyes, biting his tongue not to respond.

  Roshawn turned her attention back to Israel, continuing with his haircut. The two chatted easily as Angel sat stone-faced. He struggled not to stare. The oversize T-shirt she wore draped loosely over her body, stopping just at the bend of her knee. Her legs were bare, short shorts hidden beneath the cotton fabric. Every so often the T-shirt would pull tight against her body and he could see that she wore no bra, her small bustline having no need for one. At one point he detected the slight rise of her nipples and his body reacted without warning, energy surging below his waistline.

  Angel closed his eyes and began to count, Roshawn’s laughter further irritating his senses. When he felt in control enough to open them again, Roshawn was wrapping a plush white towel around his father’s face, the aroma of aftershave filtering through the air. Israel had gone quiet, relaxing beneath the warm, moist fabric. As Angel sat watching her work, his gaze locked with hers and the two stared, neither sa
ying one word. Just as quickly, Roshawn broke the connection, moving her attention back to his father.

  Angel closed his eyes again, the image of Roshawn lost in his arms filling his thoughts. He was suddenly consumed with a desire to feel her against him. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, and as he fell into the fantasy, energy surged. Angel shook his head from side to side and began to count all over again.

  Roshawn watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat with his palms cupped tightly together in his lap and his eyes shut. He appeared completely lost in thought, oblivious to her and everything else around him. At one point he bit down against his bottom lip and then he gasped for air, opening his eyes wide to see if anyone had been watching him. Roshawn fought the urge to blatantly stare but the sight of him was causing her blood pressure to rise, warmth wafting through her body.

  She passed a hand mirror to Israel as the man beamed his approval, coming to his feet. Gesturing, she pointed to the full-length mirror and watched as the old man eased his way to take a look at his reflection.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Angel,” Roshawn said as she stood beside the now empty chair, gesturing for him to come take a seat. Israel stood at the end of the hallway, admiring himself in the mirror.

  Once again her stare was penetrating and he felt his legs quiver as he rose from his seat. Taking two quick strides he dropped heavily onto the seat beside her. Roshawn pulled both hands through his hair, her fingers lightly brushing against his hairline before easing through his thick mane. At the nape of his neck she gently caressed the rise of fuzz with the tips of her fingers. The motion caused him to jump ever so slightly.

  Roshawn reached for a second towel and the plastic drape, wrapping both around him. “Your hair texture is curlier and heavier than your father’s. I would prefer to use the clippers on your head. That way I can clean up your back hairline at the same time.”