Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3)

by Christina C Jones

  “What, a baseball bat?” Cole asked, incredulous. “Ain’t nothing in that man’s shorts but dick,” she laughed. “You see how he grinned at the camera in the end? That, my friends, is expert level panty-wetting. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Of course he did.

  The posting of the video only served as a – sometimes necessary – reminder for me that although Ramsey was my friend, he was still a man. Often, when I was still with Darius, I found myself regarding him as this asexual being. I didn’t really think about his intimate life, or sexuality, even though it was pretty well-known, since no one minded their business these days, that when the switch was “off” in Ramsey’s on-again-off-again with Lena, he was not shy with the ladies.

  Hell, his friendship with Jordan Johnson was born in Arch & Point, a high-end strip club in Connecticut, and his adoration for one in particular, a chick who called herself “Southern Comfort” was well-documented too. So it wasn’t that Ramsey playing into being a heartthrob, or having a sex life, or whatever, surprised me.

  I’d just never really… paid attention before.

  “That’s the kind of dick that makes you pay attention,” Naima mused, as the video played again, making my eyes go wide. Was she reading my damn mind? “I don’t want shit to do with a man, but… Ashley we might have to go to the store.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Girl, the way you scream over that little medium strap back there, ain’t nobody taking you anywhere,” she laughed. “Wil, you aren’t scared now are you?”

  As I watched his dick bounce hard enough against the front of his shorts to let me know it had to be heavy, my answer to that question was a firm “maybe”. But still.

  “Why would I be scared, when I don’t plan to sleep with him? Why are y’all doing this?” I laughed. “It’s been a whole what, five or six weeks since I got my heart ripped out of my chest? Had to uproot myself from my home. Just got fired without technically getting fired. I have enough upheaval going on right now – I really don’t need to add screwing my friend to that mix. I appreciate your encouragement of hoe-tivities though.”

  “You know we’ve got you girl,” Naima said, giving me a quick hug before she went back to her apples, dropping slices into an already-simmering pot full of butter, cinnamon, and sugar.

  Cole put a glass of wine in front of me. “I’m glad you’re here tonight, actually – I wanted to ask if you’ve thought about what you’ll be doing if you’re not on the show?”

  “Well, I didn’t think not being on the show was a serious consideration, so I didn’t have anything in place, but… I’m thinking about branching out on my own. People know me, I have a good social following, and a pretty decent nest egg – especially now that I don’t have a reason to pay New York rent prices. That will help a lot. I’m in a position to take a risk, you know? I’m starting over.”

  Taking a seat beside me with her own glass, Cole nodded. “I think you’re right. You’re well-known and well-respected in the sports news industry. And besides that, people really like you. Think about the fact that when this Darius and Jessica thing blew up, you never got turned on. I mean, the “mainstream” media outlets tried to make something of your verbal altercation with Jessica, but there wasn’t too far they could go with that. You didn’t have any old homophobic tweets to bring up, none of your nudes came out, there was no big reveal that you’d fucked a teacher or something. You are an honest-to-goodness television sweetheart, and that is… rare. And valuable.”

  “I’m so not a sweetheart though.”

  “Oh please, you’re so damn warm and fuzzy I could package and sell your personality as teddy-bears,” Naima teased from the stove. “Sure, you talk shit with the rest of us, and you’ve got some claws under there, but you have a good heart, Willy. It’s not something to act shamed about.”

  “Right,” Cole agreed. “But, I bring all of this up for a reason. I know before all of this happened, Ramsey was trying to get access to the Kings for From the Sidelines. Well, that access was granted, but before I could get back to you guys about it, I heard from a little bird that there were major changes coming for WAWG, so I hesitated. Above all, my job is to act in the best interest of these players, and I was not about to have them signing anything related to their interviewing rights with a network who was in limbo.”

  I shook my head. “In limbo?”

  “WAWG’s executive board is looking for a buyer, but the only interested parties with the capitol to support it, are looking for… let’s say a little more milk in their coffee,” Cole said, then pretended to sip from a tea cup. “Many of their current investors aren’t happy about it, but… network execs don’t care.”

  “Is that why Nubia Perry ended her show there, and started NuMedia?” I asked, and Cole slid her gaze away from mine.

  “You didn’t hear any of this from me,” she said, then took a long sip from her wine. “In any case, again, I have a reason for all of this. The Kings offer of access to our roster was always more about you and Ramsey than the network. Those interviews were going to be a way for us to introduce the public to our players to create a controlled personal connection. We still want to do that – with you.”

  I almost choked on the wine I’d just sipped. “With me? As in, just me?”

  “Well, Ramsey seems to be pursuing other options, so we didn’t think he would have time. But, I talked to the club’s publicity team, and of course the team owner, and all parties are on board… if you’re interested, that is.”

  “If?!” I put a hand to my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart. “I… Cole, I don’t know what to say! So… what is this? Would I be employed by the team, or…?”

  She shook her head. “No, not exactly. There are two options here – one where you can be employed by the team, we would cover the expenses for sound equipment, a film crew so that the interviews could appear online, makeup and hair for you, if you wanted that. But, the Kings would have full rights to any content that you created. Or – and this is something that I pushed for consideration, based on having gotten to know you a little better in these last few weeks… you work for yourself. The Kings are willing to provide some funding through a sponsorship, and you’ll have access to our players – all players. You would be responsible for your own marketing, you have to hire your own crew, take care of your own expenses. But your content would be yours. And not that the Kings have an expectation that you subvert your journalistic duty to make us look good, but… still. Having it be yours gives you freedom.”

  “Right,” I half-whispered, as I nodded. “I… thank you.” I reached out for a hug and she let me pull her into it, even squeezed me back.

  “You’re so welcome, and honestly –it’s nothing. I love having the opportunity to put another Black woman on in this industry. There are so few of us that we have to look out for each other.”

  “So… are you gonna do it?” Naima asked, speaking up for the first time in several minutes.

  I looked up at where she was standing at the stove, stirring the apples she’d be pouring into glass jars for preservation once they were done.

  “I… need to think about it, but yeah, probably so.” I chewed at the lip for a second. “It’s a really great opportunity, but I have to think through the logistics and everything before I make a decision. That’s okay, right?” I asked Cole, who looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Girl, duh. I absolutely do not expect you to give me an answer on the spot. We’d like an answer pretty soon, because we want to start with having you talk to our incoming rookies get some film on them, stuff like that. And we want to do that before their training camp starts. That’s saying that we want that interview live by mid-July.”

  “That’s definitely enough time,” I told her, and smiled. “Again – thank you, so much.”

  She shrugged. “Like I said – pulling another sister up is never a problem.”

  “Let’s toast to that,” Ashley said, approaching with a freshly unco
rked wine bottle. “And once Mimi finishes getting her Martha Stewart on… I say we hit a bar or something. Feels like we should be celebrating.”

  “Celebrating?” Naima said, holding out her glass. “Wil doesn’t need a celebration, she needs a vacay-tion.”

  “Mmm! Speaking of – I forgot to tell you, the resort in Bali called. They’re going to honor my reservation – as long as I go within ninety days of the scheduled time.”

  Naima’s eyes bugged out. “Seriously?! So when are we going to Bali?!”

  “I was actually thinking I would go by myself, you know? Get re-centered, purge all this negative energy, and just… be, for a few days.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Fine, don’t nobody want to go on vacation with your sad ass anyway.”

  “Oh my God, that is so—”

  “You know damn well I’m playing with you,” she interrupted, laughing. “If less-melenated women can go on foreign adventures and shit to reclaim their lives, hell, so can you. I think going by yourself is a good idea. But… I think taking your “bestie” is an even better idea. Think about it – your very own personal on-demand dick in paradise. Tell me it doesn’t sound amazing.”

  “It sounds like craziness,” I insisted, shaking my head. “Ramsey is my friend, and that’s that. Leave it alone, please.”

  I think Naima could tell I was serious, because instead of arguing, she pushed out a sigh, and changed the subject. The conversation continued around me, but my mind was buzzing with more thoughts than I could even sort through.

  One kept coming to the forefront though, no matter how hard I tried to tamp it down.

  I wonder what Ramsey is doing right now?

  I tried my best not to grin at the woman in front of me, but she was so damned cute it was hard not to. She was speaking so passionately that her accent had gotten thicker, and she kept having to brush her bangs out of her eyes. Her presentation was on point though, and I was trying to be respectful, not interrupting to pull her into a hug like I wanted.

  As if she’d read my mind, she stopped mid-sentence to cross her arms, glaring at me from across the table. “Ramsey…,” she warned, and my grin broke free as I held up my hands in defense.

  “I didn’t even do anything!”

  “You’re looking at me like I’m a damn four year old saying their alphabet.”

  “I’m just listening, I can’t help my facial expression.”

  “The hell you can’t,” my kinda-ex- sister-in-law – it was complicated – Chloe snapped, glaring at me. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

  “So am I, but it’s hard,” I laughed. “Damn, I already told you the job is yours if I get the position. I don’t understand why you insist on doing this formal presentation shit anyway.”

  She pushed out a sigh. “I do this with every client Ramsey. Your being family doesn’t make it different. I want to earn your business, not have it handed to me.”

  I tamped down the urge to tease her further, sitting up in my chair to help set the impression that I was ready to pay attention, instead of purposely getting on her nerves. “My bad Chloe. Tell me that last part again?”

  “Thank you. I was saying that I had a relationship with Ase Garb clothing brand. You wear them often enough that I know you’re familiar – you always show their socks and ties on your social media when you’re wearing them. I can get you paid for that, create a link where you’d never have to pay again. You wouldn’t even have to do anything differently – you’ve been doing great free advertising for them so far.”

  I frowned. “So like an endorsement deal? I thought you were public relations, not an agent.”

  “Sometimes there can be an overlap, but no, I’m not talking about endorsements. I’m just letting you know – this is a perk. I have important relationships.”

  “I already knew that about you,” I told her, shaking my head. “Chloe, seriously, just tell me where to sign.”

  She stared at me for a second, then sighed. “You promise that you aren’t doing this solely because of Reginald?”

  I fought a smirk. It was funny to me that even though the rest of us referred to him as Reggie, Chloe usually gave the full “Reginald”, just like Aunt Phylicia did with Reginald Sr, his father.

  “Why do you automatically jump to something being about him, like you aren’t the only reason I have my niece and nephews? And besides that, you’re one of the dopest PR reps in professional athletics, and you came highly recommended.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “By who?”

  “Jordan Johnson – who doesn’t know about Reg, by the way, just like the rest of the world. He doesn’t know we have a connection.”

  She let out a little huff. “Like the rest of the world? Is that a jab?”

  “Do I ever throw jabs at you Chloe?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “It’s just stating a fact, and I’m not mad at you for it. Nobody is mad at you for it. You’ve done what you had to do to be okay… and you know how I feel about that.”

  She pressed her lips together, staring down at the papers spread across the tiny restaurant table. We were at Afro-French fusion place she loved, and dinner had been long gone before she got down to business, which we’d been at for about twenty minutes. She stared at those papers for a long moment, and when she looked up, her eyes were glossy.

  “Yes, of course,” she told me. “I know. I’m sorry for getting snippy, I just…”

  I nodded. “Yeah. You don’t have to explain. Aunt Phylicia called me too. Early release, huh?”

  She snorted. “If we can call twelve years of a fifteen year sentence “early”… then sure.”

  “That’s a fair point,” I grinned. “So… you think you two are going to try to work it out?”

  “I don’t know, Ramsey. We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see isn’t “hell no”, so hey, I’m excited.”

  Chloe shook her head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, cousin. People change.”

  “For the better, in this case. You know I’ve never been anything but real with you. I wouldn’t lie about this. He misses you. Misses the hell outta you.”

  “Just because you miss someone, doesn’t—”

  “He loves you too. Still. You’d know that if you’d go see him, but…”

  She glared at me. “Ramsey…”

  “I know, I know. Married folks’ shit is complicated, I get it. You’ll see him once he’s out though, right?”

  “Of course I will, he’s the father of my children.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Finally, a hint of a smile cracked her lips. “I do. And not that it’s any of your business, but since I’ll know you’ll relay it to At mean really, at minimum, we have children who need him, who know he’s coming home. So we have to be able to come to some sort of… something, right?”

  “Right.” I was silent for a moment, considering my words before I spoke again. “You know I’m just giving you a hard time don’t you? As far as I’m concerned, like I said before, you’re family, and I love you like such, alright? You and Reg have your shit that isn’t my business, but seriously… I want to see you two work it out. Not that what I want matters, but y’all were my favorite damn people to see together. Seeing y’all together gave the whole hood hope for love,” I told her, making her laugh.

  I was playing, but… I was serious.

  Reg was older than me, but never treated me like I was just some little kid, getting on his nerves. As sisters, our mothers were close, and together all the time, so that naturally led to us growing up like brothers, even though “cousin” was our actual title.

  I was ten when Chloe and her family moved into the neighborhood. Those British accents were completely foreign. In a normal chain of events, Chloe would have been a target for those chicks where we were from – and the men, for a different reason. She was beautiful, with deep dark skin, big curious eyes, and that accent and her imported slang made her alien. “Exotic”.

  If it wasn’t for Reg she
would have gotten torn apart, in one way or another. But at fifteen, he was already sneaking off when he could to run with a crowd he had no business fooling with, doing things he had no business doing, despite his father’s attempts to reel him in. Reginald Sr. was getting older though, and was already sick with the kidney disease that would ultimately end his life. There wasn’t a ton he could do. Reggie Jr. had street cred though. And if his wasn’t enough, the people he dealt with had what it took to make up the difference.

  Reggie said not to mess with her, so nobody did.

  I swear it was love at first sight for him. Chloe, on the other hand, took some convincing, but once she was convinced… nothing was touching them. They were both smart as hell, in their own ways – Chloe with the books, Reg with the streets. She got pregnant twice, and somehow still managed to finish college in the four years she’d sworn she would when she showed me her scholarship offers. Full ride. She wanted to make something of herself – something legit.

  Something that would make enough to get Reg to leave the streets alone.

  I could’ve told her that would never happen, not without something drastic. He’d moved them out of the hood into a nice big house, put Chloe in a nice whip, all of that. Reg lived for her and those kids, would do anything she asked. The night before my high school graduation, he sat me down and told me he’d never, ever been so happy.

  When the police raided his house two days later, they found enough shit he wasn’t supposed to have hidden in the basement that he was sentenced to fifteen years in federal prison.

  Drastic.

  Across from me, Chloe shook her head, and began gathering up her documents. “That’s because we’ve somehow glamourized this “trap queen” thing. When really, constant fear of the police kicking in your door is in no way a luxurious life. In fact, the only thing that kept it from being hell was the fact that I loved him so damned much. He loved me, and we had our babies. The house, the money… they felt like curses.” Her eyes went vacant for a second, with a kind of sorrow I’d seen from her often, but them she smiled, and it was gone. “But… the love. That’s the part the hood dreamed about, right?”