Preseason Love

by Ahyiana Angel

  Once inside the small cramped space, I held the phone in my hand staring at it with disbelief. Ivan had impeccable timing. He didn’t leave a message. I called back.

  “Scottie, I’m so glad that you called me back.”

  “What’s up, Ivan? Why are you calling?”

  “Look, I won’t bullshit around. I want you back.”

  The sounds of the music rumbling in the distant background invaded my mind. I couldn’t comprehend what was being said on the other end of the phone. I had a moment of disarray.

  “This, this is not a good time for me. I’ll call you back.” I hung up my cell phone before Ivan could respond. I looked in the mirror covered with graffiti to try and compose myself. I couldn’t let him continue to manipulate my world. I was no longer within his grasp and I had moved on.

  When I came back from the restroom, Kari was sitting on a bar stool and he signaled for me to come to him. I was smitten with his sexy aura. He still gave me butterflies. I sauntered over to my handsome date and when I got close enough, he lightly grabbed my wrist and pulled me in to him. I was standing between his legs. I could feel my knees becoming a little weak and shaky. We were eye level with each other. He grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a passionate kiss in the middle of the pool hall. His breath was giving me hints of spearmint and his lips, soft and sweet to the taste.

  “You look really sexy tonight,” Kari confessed after our kiss.

  I blushed. “Thank you, babe,” I responded in my sweetest I-like-you tone.

  “You know that I really like you, and that you’re special to me, right?” Kari said.

  Generally I wasn’t good with expressing my feelings or talking about them. I was one of the most talkative people ever. But when it came to topics of the heart, I would get lockjaw and my lips would clamp shut. That had always been a challenge for me, but I had been working on doing better. Writing was my thing. I could pen my feelings via text, email or even old-fashioned pen and paper with minimal effort. That’s probably why Aaliyah’s song “4 Page Letter” spoke to my heart. In any case, I saw this as my opportunity to try to step it up.

  I worked up a nice big smile to mask my trepidation and went for it. “I know, Kari, and you’re special to me too. I really enjoy the time that we spend together and how supportive you’ve been throughout everything.”

  Kari smiled like a Cheshire cat and kissed me.

  “I realize how hard it is for you to express your feelings sometimes, so thank you,” Kari said. “Look at my baby growing up.”

  Moments like that endeared me to him. He made it easier to open up because I felt the sincerity in his words and actions.

  “There’s one more thing that I want to say,” Kari declared, appearing more serious now.

  My heart started to race. I had no clue what he planned to say, but the whole scene was now feeling a little too dramatic for me to remain calm.

  “Okay,” I responded.

  “I want to see you and only you from now on,” Kari announced, with a look that was now as serious as a Catholic priest at confession. “We have only been casually dating up until now. But you are the only one that I think about, dream about, and crave. You are the only person I want to spend time with every day.”

  All that I could manage to utter was, “Wow.”

  “So what do you think? Can it be me and you? You and I? Us?” Kari asked. “Can we agree to only kick it with each other?”

  I was happy with where the conversation was going. I liked Kari a lot, but I was also a little shocked at the timing.

  “Okay,” I said after a moment. “Me and you. I like it.”

  • • •

  Prior to my move from Los Angeles, I had been growing out my hair. Ivan would fawn over women with long hair so he begged me to let my hair grow. My grandmother always teased that I had hair like Pop Malveaux, dark and beautiful. I liked my natural soft curl pattern, and my hair was manageable so I didn’t mind the length. However, after everything that had transpired since my move to New York, I needed a change. I got a pair of scissors from the hall closet and I walked into my bathroom and started snipping. My hair had grown well past my shoulders, essentially to the middle of my back. So once I made the first cut, I had to commit. I started cutting more and more chunks, and big, brown curls fell all over my shoulders and covered the bathroom floor. Normally, a neat freak, I felt like fuck it, I’m doing me and I love it! It was freedom.

  Once I finished trimming a little more on the sides, I swept up all of the hair from the floor and hopped in the shower to finish washing my troubles away, along with any stray hairs. I felt so light and free. I had never in life had hair that was less than seven inches long. It was a foreign feeling yet just what I needed. It was springtime and this was my way of spring cleaning and refreshing my spirit. I hoped that my new boyfriend would like my new Halle Berry-inspired look.

  Chapter 9

  Back in the Saddle

  I received an unexpected call to go back to work for one night. One of my PR friends from Los Angeles needed me to cover her client, Romero, at a Jay-Z and Diddy party. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.

  I arrived at the party early to check out the scene and tackle any unforeseen circumstances. Romero was a Brazilian model and pretty low-key. I was relieved that I would not have to deal with a crazy entourage. I called his assistant to make sure that they were en route and on schedule. As I figured, they were not. People think that the role of a publicist is expensive lifestyles and glamorous friends. No, that’s the role of the star or celebrity. One aspect of my job, especially when dealing with “talent,” was usually glorified babysitting.

  The red carpet was set to shut down in less than ten minutes. Romero’s tardiness had me on edge. The plan for having him attend the party was branding and building his profile as a man on the scene. He needed to be photographed partying at the right places with the right people.

  I introduced myself to the frumpy young lady in all black running the carpet. I asked if Jay-Z and Diddy had arrived. Sometimes it was like a crap shot with girls like her. I towered over her with my four-inch, metallic heels asking questions on her red carpet. She could have easily thrown shade and not offered any assistance. Lucky for me, she was cool and dished that she was expecting the music moguls at any moment.

  Everyone knew that Jay-Z did not really do a lot of media, so I wasn’t expecting him to hang out on the carpet long. Best-case scenario, Romero would arrive around the same time as Jay and Diddy, which would make for the perfect photo opportunity. The photo would get picked up by all of the urban media and blogs, and that would make the night a success.

  If only things could always work out in real life how they played out in my mind. Of course this dude showed up after the red carpet was finished and well after Diddy and Jay’s arrival, which was so quick that if you blinked, you would have missed it. I wanted to pop Romero upside his gorgeous head, but he was the client and not my little brother. I had to explain to him that since he’d arrived late, we had missed an opportunity.

  The scene inside was a combination of industry executives, music heads, and party people in their flyest weekday wear. Once we entered the main level, I spotted the VIP section.

  “Look to the left,” I instructed Romero. “That’s the VIP area and that’s where you are going.”

  He responded with a simple, “Okay, cool.”

  Romero was one of the sweetest guys ever who had a very genuine sort of nerdy quality about him. He was relatively easy to work with, too. It seemed like he’d fallen into modeling by accident. His true passion was acting and he planned to use modeling as his segue.

  We walked over to the VIP entrance and I made sure that he got in and got settled before I dipped off so as not to be a lurker. I wanted him to do his thing and enjoy himself.

  His assistant, on the other hand—who I took to calling Slick—must have found himself taking a liking to me because he managed to track me down in the party. At first I th
ought that they needed something work-related, but I quickly realized that Slick wanted to be in my face.

  He was cute, but I already knew the type. He was the childhood best friend slash assistant who probably took himself way more seriously than his boy who actually made crazy sums of money from his natural talent. However, since he was relatively handsome, with decent conversation, he used that to get the ladies. Well, not today, not tonight, and surely not with me. At some point he realized that I wasn’t feeling his game as he wandered off to find some unsuspecting breezy.

  By night’s end, I was tired and ready to go. I did not have to stay the whole time with Romero, but I felt that I should since I was filling in for someone else. I did not want any issues.

  As we were walking out of the party, Romero asked me if I wanted a ride. It was only he and Slick rolling in this seven-passenger SUV, so I accepted. My girl Sydney, from The Clique, was in town for work, and I had plans to meet up with her. A ride was what I needed.

  When we approached the exit to the club, I looked around to see where Slick was, but I could not spot him. I asked Romero where he was and he had no clue. I told him to hop in the car. I would look out for Slick.

  After standing around for a few minutes, I spotted him—he was cupcakin’ with a groupie. I should have known, so disrespectful. The way I looked at it, if you were not financing anything, then you made moves quickly and you kept up with the program and you definitely didn’t keep people waiting.

  He and the groupie girl walked in my direction. They were laughing and carrying on like two teens after the prom. She had on a hot-pink spandex dress with a head full of synthetic black extensions and uncontrollable boobs spilling out of her dress.

  Slick walked up to me. “This is Keisha. She’s rolling with us.”

  He almost said it as if he expected me to challenge him. His tone said I dare you, but my facial expression said I don’t care.

  Romero must have connected with his late-night lady friend and decided that he wanted to get dropped off at her place. We dropped him off first. Now it was only the lovebirds and me. Spectacular! They actually seemed to be quite familiar with each other like this was not a first-time encounter. Pink dress was polite but did not say too much.

  My stop was next. I planned to meet Sydney near where she was staying at the Hotel on Rivington on the Lower East Side. She was hanging out with some peeps at a dive bar close to her hotel. I wasn’t exactly sure where the bar was, so I instructed the driver to drop me off at the corner closest to the hotel.

  Slick had to get out of the car in order to let me out. As I climbed out of the farthest backseat, I said good night to Pink Dress. I bid Slick a good night as well. When I pulled away from the hug, he whispered, “Can I call you sometime?”

  I laughed and shook my head. This guy was pure comedy. He already had my number from coordinating arrivals earlier in the night, but now he wanted to see if he could use it for purposes other than business. I thought not.

  Chapter 10

  Baller Times One

  The holiday weekend had arrived and Nikki was flying in from Los Angeles. I hadn’t seen her since the day she’d dropped me off at the airport in Los Angeles, but it was nothing for Nikki to book a last-minute trip for a visit. She consistently had a plethora of guys in rotation to occupy her time and finance the collection of her frequent flyer miles, luxurious hair enhancements, and designer handbags.

  To join in the fun, Sydney extended her work trip through the long Memorial Day weekend. That meant the majority of The Clique was assembled. It was bound to be a weekend of major fun.

  The girls arrived at the apartment Saturday evening. Dev and I were ready and waiting to start the weekend festivities with a few cocktails at our place. Nikki and all of her luxurious hair came right in and made herself at home in the kitchen mixing up some specialty drinks while Sydney, Dev, and I all sat around the kitchen’s bar sipping on lime-colored, salt-rimmed glasses.

  Sydney did not waste any time. “So everyone knows about Ivan calling Scottie, right?”

  I looked up from my glass and shook my head. I knew where this was going.

  “She’s happy with her new boo. Do we really even care that Ivan wants to come crying back now?” Nikki asked.

  “Maybe he really realizes that he messed up,” Sydney said.

  Dev set her glass down and held her hand up. “He wasn’t all bad. I definitely liked him as a person. But will Scottie or should Scottie entertain him, that’s totally up to her.”

  “Well, Scottie?” Sydney asked.

  “I haven’t even called him back yet. I really don’t have much to say. I cared deeply for him at one point, but now I feel like he is trying to get me back because I’m trying to move on. It’s like he can sense that I have someone else.”

  “That’s probably true,” Nikki said.

  “I don’t want whatever he has to say tainting my relationship with Kari. He is a great guy.”

  “Then don’t call him. Move on,” Nikki said, making the conversation final.

  Once we were all feeling nice, it was time to head into the city. Before we hit the streets, I tipsy-texted Kari to say hi and to let him know that I was thinking about him. I wouldn’t really have time to see him throughout the weekend, but I wanted to show him a little attention. He liked that sort of thing.

  It was already after midnight, so the group consensus was to keep it low-key. We headed to Pop Burger where we could get food, drinks, and even mix in a little scene.

  Surprisingly, Dev did not arrange to have us meeting up with Mel. She seemed to be getting a little annoyed with him. Maybe it was his lack of effort to incorporate her into his real life. Although he’d said that it was for her own good, she expressed how she felt disconnected from him after the whole arrest ordeal. My advice was to simply let her gut be her guide and only do what felt right when it came to Mel. He seemed to have some dangerous secrets and that wasn’t cool.

  Dev’s phone rang as we walked out of the train station, and she jumped before scrambling to grab it out of her purse. We all watched her answer. She had just told us on the subway ride downtown that she had still been receiving prank calls. The calls had not been enough to make her change her phone number, but apparently, they were becoming threatening now and she seemed a little on edge.

  Sydney said, “Is it the crazy person? Give me the phone, Dev. Let me answer.”

  Dev happily handed the phone over.

  Sydney was a gorgeous pint-sized ball of fire. Her silky, black, bone-straight hair flowed down her back and swayed from side-to-side when she walked. But her mesmerizing hazel eyes could definitely be deceiving since shutting down bullshit was her specialty.

  “Hello?” Sydney said in her raspy Cali accent.

  The line was silent. “Who is this?” the person on the other end of the phone asked in a muffled tone. You could tell that this individual was an amateur but had definitely tried to take precautions and hide her voice.

  “Look, you little cunt, nobody has time to play childish games. If you really want to speak to Devin, then come holla at her face-to-face and stop the dumb shit!” Sydney exclaimed. “She’ll be at Pop Burger on Fifty-eighth Street tonight. Don’t be a punk. You keep hiding behind the phone, but why don’t you come out and play?”

  Click. Like that Sydney hung up the phone. Instantly, the chatter started and everyone was firing questions at Sydney. Even I would not have gone that far.

  “Are you insane?” Dev screamed as she snatched her phone back. “Who knows what that idiot is capable of doing,” Dev said as she continued to flip out. “You just potentially threw us straight in harm’s way!”

  Sydney tossed her silky tresses over her shoulder and calmly turned to Dev. “Look, if you want this to end, then we call her bluff, simple as that. If this bitch really wants it—’cause you know it’s a woman—with you, then we are all here and we have your back. At least it’s a public place.”

  “Should we call the pol
ice for backup?” Nikki asked, waving her crystal-encrusted phone case.

  We looked at her and rolled our eyes.

  My gut was telling me that somehow Mel had something to do with the whole strange situation. My intuition was normally on point, but I did not want to start anything so I kept quiet. The person on the phone would not show up to Pop Burger. That was not a part of her plan. If she wanted to actually confront Dev, then she would likely do it on her own terms and that was the scary thing.

  The girls were all worked up. We were a collective ball of chaos walking down the street, Sydney and Dev still yelling at each other while Nikki and I were trying to decide if we should be scared or not.

  Out of nowhere, Nikki declared, “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m looking way too cute to fight or be involved in a murder. Call that crazy fool back, Sydney, and arrange this showdown for another night, okay?”

  Sometimes she could be so extreme. We were all silent for a moment, digesting the random admission of vanity. Then the roar of laughter ensued. We all laughed uncontrollably at the seriousness with which Nikki made her statement. Even Dev and Sydney had to stop bickering to laugh. By the time we walked up to Pop Burger, everyone had calmed down. We all decided that we were not about to be punked out of continuing our plans for a good night. However, I did text Kari and tell him the situation to put him on alert in case we needed some male backup for the night.

  When I asked Dev out of curiosity if she had mentioned anything to Mel, like the phone calls, she said no. I wasn’t sure why, but I assumed that she had her reasons.

  We walked into Pop Burger like we owned the spot. It was clear that we were all on the same page. If some shit was about to pop off, then we would be alert, confident, and ready to do what we had to do. Either way, Dev would not be in it alone and she knew that.