by Maryam Diaab
“You know Claire. She normally gets exactly what she wants, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she came over here with those guys following her like puppy dogs.”
Alexis and Morgan watched Claire pushing the crowd of hyperactive women and stood right in front of one of the players. She shook his hand, said a few words and then pointed over to their table. Four of the five players standing with Claire at the entrance looked to see the women at the table she had pointed out. The fifth was so enthralled by Claire that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Alexis and Morgan looked disbelievingly at each other as their friend led all five men past the underdressed, open-mouthed groupies and over to their table. “I really hope Claire didn’t let them think we were going to do something to them to get them to come over here,” Alexis declared, unconsciously smoothing her hair.
“I don’t even want to talk to them. My man is waiting for me at home. I don’t need any distractions,” Morgan said, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a small compact and checked her makeup.
“Okay, gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to my friends. This,” Claire said, tapping Morgan’s shoulder, “is Morgan.” Morgan put on a smile so big and bright Alexis could practically see her see reflection in it. It seems it hadn’t her taken long to forget about her man waiting at home. “And this is Alexis,” Claire continued with a flourish.
Alexis looked up, way up, and her eyes landed on the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Of course, she had thought the same thing about Kevin the first time she had seen him, too, but this man was different. She thought he was truly a work of art. When their eyes met and he smiled, showing the deepest, most perfect dimples she had ever seen, she thought that she would fall out of her seat. Just looking at him made her panties wet, and it took all the self-control she could muster not to jump into his arms, run her fingers through his curly, tapered afro and proclaim her love.
“Is it all right if I sit here?” the Adonis asked, pulling out the seat next to her and flashing that million-dollar smile at her again.
“Go ahead,” she answered in just above a whisper, trying to regain the composure she had lost the minute this man entered her space. Though she was totally mesmerized, in the background she could faintly hear Claire humming her short lived “anthem” Through With Love.
The other men pulled chairs up to the table and introduced themselves. Alexis failed to hear any of their names, so enthralled was she by the mere presence of this man. The scent of his cologne and the warmth emitting from his body were almost too much for her to handle. So she excused herself from the group and fled for the restroom.
“Alexis?” Claire was at the stall door less than twenty seconds after she had locked herself inside. “Alexis, what in the world is your problem? You act like you can’t put a sentence together.”
Alexis came out of the stall and faced her friend. “Girl, that man.”
“Girl, all those men, but, yeah, I hear you. The one that keeps smiling at you is extra fine with his golden skin and curly hair. Did you hear me humming your anthem? I was trying to say I told you so.”
“There is no need for any ‘I told you so’ because I’m sticking to what I said in the car. I’m absolutely done with men, and I don’t care how good this guy looks or how delicious he smells, I am not falling for it. I’m done.” Alexis slammed her hand on the sink counter for emphasis.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Because to me it sounds like the latter.”
“I’m not trying to convince anybody; I’m simply stating fact.”
“Okay, fine then. If that is the truth, why are you hiding out in here?”
“I’m not hiding. I was refreshing my makeup.”
“For Massai?”
“Who’s Massai?” Alexis asked, baffled.
“The guy sitting next to you. You know, the one who you would never get with under any circumstances.”
Alexis couldn’t believe she had been so awestruck she hadn’t heard his name. “Well, it really doesn’t matter to me what his name is, and no I was absolutely not refreshing my makeup for him.”
“Okay, Alexis, whatever you say,” Claire responded opening the door to the restroom and returning into the main club area. Alexis followed and as she approached the table, Massai favored her with another gorgeous smile. She took a deep breath, telling herself, Do not fall for this man, no matter how fine is.
Claire sat down next to her newfound friend and Alexis returned to her seat next to Massai. Morgan was no longer at the table. Her two friends saw the totally “committed” Morgan dropping it like it was hot on the dance floor. Claire and Malik, along with the other guy who’s name Alexis still didn’t know, took to the dance floor when a Lil’ Jon song began blasting through the speakers, leaving Alexis and Massai alone at the table. Being alone with him made her nervous; she almost didn’t trust herself around him. She decided that the only way she would be able to control her hormones around him was to behave as if he wasn’t sitting there.
“Claire says that you guys are out here for your birthday,” he said, scooting his chair closer to Alexis so he could be heard over the club’s thumping bass.
“Yeah.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And you are going to the Music Fest tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
Massai shifted uncomfortably and signaled the waitress, who was a couple of tables away. “Aren’t you a woman of a thousand words?” he said sarcastically.
Alexis averted her eyes and she, too, shifted in her seat.
“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked, taking a pen and pad from her apron pocket.
“I’ll just have a Corona with lime and—” he turned to Alexis. “Would you like anything?” she shook her head no. Meanwhile, her friends were living it up on the dance floor while she was sitting at this table with a dream of a man, a stubborn ego and a hardened heart.
“Are you always this quiet or is tonight special?” Massai asked after the waitress had disappeared into the crowd.
“I don’t mean to be rude.”
“That’s a surprise.”
Alexis and Massai sat and listened to at least two more songs before exchanging another word.
“So what do you do?” Massai asked as a Luther Vandross song began to play. Alexis watched as his friends pulled Morgan and Claire close and swayed to the beat. She realized that this man was refusing to give up, and she would have to work that much harder to discourage him.
“What do I do?”
“For a living?” Massai clarified, taking a gulp of his Corona.
“I teach fifth grade.”
Whereupon Massai responded, “If I had a teacher like you when I was in fifth grade, I would have gotten better grades.”
“I can’t even count the number of times I’ve heard that,” Alexis said, laughing out loud.
“Okay, so it was a little lame; I was just trying to get you to smile. But the compliment still stands; you really are beautiful.”
Although Alexis tried to fight it, she felt her cheeks heating up and knew that she was blushing. Massai noticed and gave her one of those dimpled smiles.
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon before the concert? Why don’t we get together and I can show you around New Orleans?” He took her response to his compliment to mean he could move forward.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“And why not?”
“Because I just got out of a bad relationship, and I came to New Orleans to hear some good music and shop,” she said, gulping down her drink and feeling a little dizzy as a result.
“It’s just a tour, not hot, butt-naked sex. Anyway, I have a girlfriend.” Taking another sip of his beer, he returned to watching the couples on the dance floor.
“If you have a girlfriend, why are you asking me out?”
“Because I was trying to be nice. You do know what that wor
d means, don’t you? I’m sure you do, even though you are showing me no evidence of such knowledge now. You know what? I think I’ll leave you and your attitude alone. Have a nice evening.” And with that, Massai grabbed his beer, and strolled over to the opposite side of the club. Alexis watched him retreat, feeling confused and alone and hoping she hadn’t sworn off men too soon and wouldn’t live to regret her words. Maybe she had been a tad too hasty.
6
OPTIONS
Massai and Malik took deep breaths and exhaled to clear their lungs of smoke as they came out of the House of Blues and onto the curb at three in the morning. The party was still in full swing, but once Claire and her friends left, Malik lost interest in the club. Besides Massai was his ride home, so he had no choice but to follow. Angelo, Marcus, and Stacey, the teammates they originally had come with, decided to stay, taking a handful of women up to the infamous Foundation Room.
“What’s going on with you and the girl in the orange?” Malik asked, pulling his cellphone from his back pocket and checking the missed-call log. Massai shrugged and handed the claim ticket to the valet. “Well, I’m just asking because since you and Eva have been together I have never once seen you trying to talk to another woman. I thought Eva had you under lock and key.”
“I wouldn’t say all that.”
“I would. You let that hoe spend all your money, stay out all night and you have no idea where she is or what she’s doing. All this and you don’t say one word. Not one! I mean you have the best-looking women dropping their panties for you on the road and you won’t even open the door.” Malik replaced his cellphone and shook his head with disbelief and pity.
“I am not into sleeping around with a whole bunch of women when I’m in a committed relationship.”
“Now you’re just sounding like a woman. ‘I’m in a committed relationship’,” Malik mocked. “Half the team are in committed relationships, and you don’t see them turning anybody away.”
The valet parked Massai’s silver Mercedes G500 SUV at the curb, hopped out and held the door open. He handed him a twenty-dollar bill, slid into the driver’s seat and waited for Malik to slide in next to him. Then they took off down Decatur Street.
“And you think that’s okay?” Massai asked, reaching over to turn on the radio.
“No. Actually, I don’t think it’s okay, but I do think it’s normal. Not only are we men, but we’re professional athletes. We are expected to get ours whether we have a wife, girlfriend, baby’s momma or all three.”
“That’s just not me. I know Eva and I have our issues, but I couldn’t cheat on her. My mama didn’t raise me to treat women that way.”
“Did she raise you to close your eyes to the obvious and get played in the process? I would be willing to put some money on the fact that Eva is probably giving it up to any Tom, Dick and Harry with an AmEx card. I hope you’re strapping up.”
“When would Eva have the time to cheat on me? All she does is shop.”
“And that’s a problem all of its own. I’m almost positive that she is out there doing a hell of a lot more than shopping. That’s all you think she does. And why are you being so naïve about this girl? You act like you grew up in a cave or something. You know most women get dollar signs in their eyes whenever they look at someone like us. Eva is no exception.”
Massai couldn’t comment. Though he hated to admit it, he knew Malik had a point. The longer he and Eva were a couple, the more time she spent shopping and the less time she devoted to nurturing their relationship.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Malik asked, a triumphant smile on his chocolate-colored face. “My point is this: keep your options open. The little babe in the orange is definitely an option.”
“Alexis is hardly an option.”
“That’s her name? Sexy, lexy.”
“She’s one of those bitter-ass women. Fine as hell, but bitter. And she lives in Detroit.”
“No one is saying that you have to marry her. Just take her around town and try to get to know her. Leave Eva’s ass at home wondering where you are for a change.”
Massai came to the end of the long dirt road that led to Malik’s eight-bedroom home and made a left turn.
“I asked her out while we were alone at the table and she said no.”
“Oh, so she is an option?”
“I’m not going to sit up here and lie to you. Yes, I’m interested, but she isn’t, so that’s that.”
“You’re a quitter.”
“I’m not a quitter, and I’m definitely not a beggar. I have too much other stuff going on in my life right now to have to beg some woman to let me show her around.”
“Okay, it’s your choice, but if I were in your position there is no way in the world I would pass up someone who looked like that.” With that, Malik jumped out of the car and jogged up the walkway to his front door.
* * *
Malik had given Massai a lot to think about. They had been friends since they met at a basketball camp in junior high school, Massai in the sixth grade and Malik, being a year older, in the seventh. That was nearly fourteen years ago, and ever since, the two had been the best of friends as well as the fiercest of competitors. Both were signed by different universities in different states; deciding to stay close to home, Massai attended Duke University, while Malik signed with Syracuse in New York a year earlier. The hundreds of miles between them did not end their friendship and they spoke often, sometimes two to three times a week. Their favorite and most intense games were when their schools competed on the basketball court. It was only by chance that the two ended up playing for the same NBA team. Malik left school after his sophomore year to enter the NBA draft. He was picked up by the Memphis Grizzlies and played for them the first three years of his career. Massai, on the other hand, finished a degree in communications before leaving Duke and entering the draft. He was a first-round pick that year for the New Orleans Hornets, and it was during that time that Malik was traded to the same team. That was two years and approximately two hundred serious conversations ago.
In many of those conversations, especially recently, Malik expressed concerns regarding Massai’s girlfriend. He remembered the first time he introduced Eva to his best friend. Malik was very polite and courteous in front of her, but the next day at practice he pulled him aside to tell him exactly what he thought of his new love interest.
“We’ve been friends for a long time, and I’m saying this only out of concern. I think that she is manipulative and an opportunist. I think she’s with you only for the zeros in your bank account, and you are going to end up getting screwed.”
Massai didn’t want to believe it then, but he was definitely beginning to believe it now. During the past six months, things seemed to be changing drastically between the two. When they first began dating a year and a half ago, Eva completely catered to him. After games, she would run his bath and give him long hot-oil massages. Back then she often refused the expensive gifts he tried to shower on her, and opted for shopping trips at quirky second-hand shops rather than at New Orleans’ expensive boutiques. It wasn’t until Massai began his second year in the NBA that Eva quit her nursing job and began staying out all night, spending his money like water. It had become routine for him to receive a massive credit card bill for just one afternoon of what Eva referred to as light shopping. Just last week, she returned home showing off a full-length chinchilla fur coat she purchased with the help of Massai’s credit card. When he questioned her about the cost of the coat Eva asked sweetly, “It was half price at a summer sale and besides, don’t you want me to have nice things?”
There was something about her—the way she spoke with such honey in her voice and the warmth of her body when she pressed it up against him—that made Massai feel powerless. It was as if she had him under some kind of hypnosis that prevented him from thinking logically and clearly.
He steered his SUV into the circular driveway and pressed the garage-door opener store
d in the center console. The door rose slowly, revealing the rest of his automobiles: a candy-apple red Ferrari Enzo and a black metallic BMW 745. A custom-made Ducati motorcycle rounded out his collection of expensive vehicles. The cars were parked there day after day, but they still gave him pleasure each time he saw them. It was hard to believe that a little dusty boy from Charlotte, North Carolina, could grow up to have all this.
Massai parked the BMW and hopped out. Then he noticed Eva’s car missing from its spot. He had surprised her with a custom-made Chrysler Crossfire for Valentine’s Day, but after a fit of tears and door slamming, Massai caved and followed her down to the Lexus dealership and purchased an indigo ink pearl SC430. He sent the Crossfire to his seventeen-year-old sister, Melissa, in Charlotte, calling it an early graduation gift. In hindsight, he should have left her then. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.
His watch read three forty-five. He couldn’t believe that Eva was still out this late. It was not the first time, but it was upsetting, nevertheless. Closing the door behind him, he entered the laundry room. Piles of dirty laundry that Eva promised to wash were still in hampers on the floor, untouched. He went through the kitchen and family room and then took the main staircase up to the master bedroom suite. The normally immaculate bedroom bore a striking resemblance to the laundry room; Eva’s clothes were scattered all the over the bed and on the carpeted floor. He collected the clothes and left them in a pile at the doorway, hoping that when she finally got home she would see the clothes, get his pointed message and do what she had promised.
Stepping out of his khaki shorts and polo-style shirt, Massai made his way to the master bathroom and opened the glass shower door. He turned the spout to its hottest setting. Once the entire room was filled with steam, he pulled off his boxer shorts and white undershirt and stood under the scalding-hot water. Most people would receive third-degree burns from water at this temperature, but he loved the feel of the hot water streaming over his stiff muscles. Especially after a very physical game, he would come home and spend up to an hour and a half in the shower.