His Last Name

by Daaimah S. Poole

  “That soon? That’s great! So, is this a good team?”

  “Yeah, they really don’t have anyone like Kadir, so he will be a star. You can start looking for a house and get him settled. It’s important that he stays focused and has a breakout season.”

  “Of course. He’ll be ready. I’ll let him have a little fun, then he’ll be out of here no later than twelve.”

  “Good. See you in the morning.” Eric walked off to talk to some of his other clients.

  I walked out of the club and up the block to have a cigarette. With Kadir dancing, no one could tell me I shouldn’t be smoking. It was a bad habit that I’d stopped, but when I was nervous I had to have a few. And I was nervous about all of this. Who knew that my decision to raise a little boy on my own at sixteen would lead to this?

  My phone was still ringing, and I had a bunch of unanswered messages. I scrolled through my texts. Some of the numbers didn’t have names, and I didn’t know who they were. The texts ranged from “Congrats!” to asking Kadir to call them. Then my phone rang again. It was my bestie, CeCe.

  “Hey, best friend! God is good!” she said.

  I responded, “Yes, he is!”

  “Where is my nephew? I want to tell him how proud I am of him.”

  “We’re at a party. He is signing autographs already. They have Ka flying on a private jet to North Carolina to meet the team and everything.”

  “Really? That is so nice! This is so wonderful.”

  “It is. I can’t believe it. I knew it was coming, but it is finally here.”

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up. Tell Ka-Ka we love him, and that his cousin Faheem and I have lost our voice screaming!”

  “I will. Hold on, someone is calling.” I looked down at the screen. It was my mother. Our relationship had been strained since I was a teenager, and she never called me. I pushed the red decline button.

  “That was my mom. I bet she wants to talk to me now. Everyone wants to talk. And guess what? Now I don’t have anything to say.”

  “That’s still your mom, Monique.”

  “I’ll talk to her when I’m ready, because today is not the day.” I laughed and told CeCe I would call her back. I put out my cigarette and walked back into the club to join Carl at the table. Kadir was dancing with another group of women.

  “I spoke with Eric. He said that the team is sending for Kadir in the morning and he will get his first check in a few weeks.”

  “I was going to go to work tomorrow.”

  “Carl, you don’t have to work anymore. Your son is rich.”

  “I don’t know if I should retire just yet. We still have the mortgage.”

  “Kadir is going to pay that house off. Me and him already talked about everything we going to do, and who we’re going to help.”

  “But I’m not living off of my son. It’s his money.”

  “Well, forget about that souped-up Cadillac Escalade you always wanted. Ka said he was going to surprise you with it, but I’ll tell him never mind. I’ll tell him that you would rather drive your Hyundai.”

  “No, no. I’ll take a new truck, but I want him to know his money is his, not ours.”

  “Hmm, it is just as much my money as his. He’s been telling us he is going to take care of us since the sixth grade, and I’m damn sure going to take my son up on his offer.”

  “Let me think about it. Right now, let’s get Kadir back to the hotel.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Tiffany

  Damien and I exited the courthouse. My dark frames covered my tear-filled eyes as I held Damien’s hand. Damien was found not guilty of the DUI, but was found guilty of resisting arrest and ordered to do three hundred hours of community service. That was one issue behind us, but up next was the bankruptcy meeting. I knew there was a possibility that a few cameras might be outside, but I wasn’t prepared for the sea of news reporters that were sticking microphones in our faces. They asked all types of idiotic questions that didn’t make enough sense for Damien to answer.

  One older white male reporter said, “Mr. Holcomb, why did you resist arrest?” Another female reporter asked, “What did you do with thirty million dollars? Why are you broke? Will you ever play again?” Then someone else called out, “What are you going to do now?” In every direction we tried to walk, more questions were thrown at us. His lawyer finally spoke up and said, “Mr. Holcomb has no comment.” His attorney then turned and held open the SUV door, and we shut it on the nosy reporters. Right then and there, I wanted to break down. Once the door closed, I did. Tears came pouring down my face. Damien comforted me, and I wept in his arms.

  The next day, we met with the bankruptcy attorney, Mr. Morrison. We went to his office and he explained the process to us.

  “You are fifteen million dollars in debt.” I knew we were in a bad financial situation, but this was far worse than I ever fathomed.

  “Fifteen what?” I almost passed out. “How is that possible?”

  “Well, you have multiple high-interest loans in default, credit cards, and your mortgage alone is five million dollars. There are years of unpaid taxes and other debt. That’s the bad news. Here is the good news, Mrs. Holcomb, you will not be involved in the filing. Your name was not on any of the loans or debt. You never filed joint taxes. You are in the clear.” Hearing that information did little to calm me. I wasn’t in debt, but my husband was. What was the difference? Damien got up from the table and walked away. I sat dazed in disbelief. Mr. Morrison asked Damien to come back and sit so he could go over our options.

  “We can file two ways. One is you could file Chapter Thirteen, where we settle with your creditors and you get to keep everything—but you will have to enter into a repayment plan.”

  “That sounds good. How much are the payments?”

  “With that plan, your payments would be around twenty-seven thousand a month for five years. Do you have anything put to the side?”

  “No, and I don’t have a job. All I have is about eight thousand dollars,” Damien responded.

  “I thought that was probably the case, so what I would suggest is for you to sell all your assets and file Chapter Seven. You will lose everything, but be done and be able to move on with your life in less than six months.”

  “I thought we could keep our house if we caught up on our payments,” I said.

  “You have two hundred thousand dollars of equity in the house and your creditors want their money. You definitely must sell the house. And I usually charge three hundred dollars per hour, but I’ll charge you a flat fee of ten thousand dollars, which will include all the filing, preparing of documents, and court dates. I’ll give you some time to think this over, but make a decision as soon as you can so we can complete your paperwork.”

  “Okay. We will.”

  The day couldn’t possibly get worse, but it did. We pulled into our driveway to see that a tow truck was placing Damien’s red 1967 custom Chevy Camaro on the lift. My husband had been hit by the biggest linebackers in the game and stood with his head high in court with no emotion, but seeing his prize possession being escorted down the driveway broke him. My big man jumped out of our car without putting it in park and ran over to his baby and yelled, “Don’t take my car!”

  The car was his first big purchase when he first signed. I didn’t know he had gotten a loan on a car that was already paid off. He was so stupid.

  The young black tow truck driver paused and recognized him. “DH, I’m sorry, man. I’m just doing my job.

  “Don’t take my baby. You can’t take her.”

  “Look, we don’t give it to the bank right away. If you come up with some of the money and make a deal, you can come and pick it up.”

  “Nah, let me call them. I can work something out over the phone.”

  “No. Sorry. I can’t do that. You have to step away or I’m going to have to call the cops.”

  “All right.” He stepped away and finally let the tow guy take the car.

  Once
in the house, I walked into our bedroom, passed my closet packed with racks of designer bags and shoes from tons of shopping sprees. I felt like throwing them all away, because they were meaningless now. Instead, I took off my suit and fell on the bed. I turned on my iPad and swiped through the news and entertainment websites. As I suspected, we were on every gossip blog. From the picture, I looked like I had everything under control. My hair was perfectly curled, my Birkin bag was coordinated with Louboutin heels, and my dark shades gave me a hint of glamour. Reality is so different than perception. The reality is I didn’t know how I was going to get through the day. This was the most embarrassing thing I had ever been through. Damien entered the bedroom. I closed my iPad case because I didn’t want him to see more bad news.

  “We are going to make it through this. I’m going to come up with something.”

  “I know you will, babe. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “All right. Uhm, I’ll order us Chinese. Tiffany, I love you.”

  “I know you do.”

  The shower jets hit my body from above, left, and right. The powerful steam spray was calming and exactly what I needed. Damien knocked on the bathroom door, but I acted like I didn’t hear him. I’d locked the door on purpose. The last thing I wanted was Damien touching me. Right now, I wasn’t attracted to him in the least.

  During the course of our marriage, I forgave a lot. I looked the other way when he was playing and had random women who were “friends.” The condoms hidden in his suitcases, the middle-of-the-night blocked phone calls. Even the maybe-baby whose mom settled with him for a million and half dollars and signed a confidentiality agreement to go away forever. I didn’t make a big deal about any of it because I was his wife. I was the one who would be taken care of. The casual women were fun for one night, but I was there for a lifetime. Funny how life goes. I was the one who was plastered all over the Internet looking crazy. The one who stood by her man’s side. Where were all his women? They should have to deal with this devastation and humiliation, not me. They were smart and had already moved on to the next player. I was the stupid one who said, “I do” and was stuck in the nightmare.

  The next morning, the Chinese food we ordered the night before was half eaten on the nightstand. Damien was awake looking at his phone, but his back was turned toward me. Instead of dealing with him, I went into our home gym and worked out.

  I watched The Wendy Williams Show. Her hot topics were funny and I was able to get my mind off of my own incredibly disastrous life.

  After my workout, I checked my phone. I had thirty-two missed calls. My mother and brother called a few times, and so did some friends from college. They all were probably just checking on me, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Then I heard loud knocking at my door. I was terrified. Who was it now? Maybe they were coming for my car. I peeked out and saw a petite woman walking toward a car. She saw me and waved. It was Erin Baxter-Jones. Why was she at my house? I opened the door.

  “Sorry for coming without calling. I tried you a few times, and I was in Jersey for a couple of days. I wanted to talk to you.” Erin and I were acquaintances when her husband played for the Broncos with Damien. We were friendly, but not friends. We were definitely not close enough for her to show up at my door unannounced.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” I invited her in and told her she could have a seat.

  “I know you are probably wondering why I am here.”

  “Honestly, I am.”

  She grabbed my hand and said, “I just wanted to tell you, I was where you are four years ago. There is a lot of uncertainty now, but you are going to make it. Me and Anthony had everything taken from us. I mean, they came in my house and took my china. We were so broke that we had to catch the bus. We were living on my mama’s sofa in Trenton with our two kids.” Tears starting falling from her eyes. “So, I know, okay? I’ve been there. It’s hard, but you are going to make it out of this.”

  I got up off the sofa and grabbed a box of tissues and handed them to her. “This means a lot,” I said.

  “You’re doing better than us. We didn’t have a house or cars left.”

  “The house, huh? I don’t know how much longer.”

  “What matters is that you have each other, and anything material you got once, you can get again. I’m sorry I just came to your home, but I wanted you to know if you need me for anything, you can call me. It is not going to be easy, but you can get through it.”

  A single tear slid down my cheek. She gave me the tissue box back.

  “Trust me, the pieces will come back together. Just have your man’s back. Stand by his side. He needs you. You are the only person that knows what he is going through.”

  “I will.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Adrienne

  My phone kept ringing. Whoever was calling was insistent on speaking with me. I lifted my head from under the covers and grabbed my phone from the bottom of my bag.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you okay, Adrienne? It’s Zakiya.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a lot going on.”

  “You are still coming to my wedding, right? It’s a month away I haven’t received your RSVP.”

  “Zakiya, I’m not sure I will be able to make it. I have so much going on, but how are the baby and Jabril?”

  “They both are good. Everything is great. But is there anything I can help you with?”

  “No, but I’ll try to get there. If I don’t, I wish you and Jabril the best.”

  I immediately looked up flights; the cheapest I found was nine hundred dollars and I didn’t have that. She used to be my live-in nanny and looked up to me and now I was too embarrassed to tell her I couldn’t afford a flight. Her wedding was the least of my worries. I had to sign up for a nursing refresher course, take the boards, and find a job. In the meantime, I had to meet with prospective tenants.

  * * *

  A couple pulled up in front of my house in an older black Toyota Corolla. They appeared to be young. They looked like they shared a lot of meals together. The woman was short and chunky, and her boyfriend was tall and husky. They got out of the car and introduced themselves.

  “Hi, I’m Talene, and this is my fiancé, Devaughn. I called you to see the house. I’m sorry. We are a little late.”

  “That’s fine.” I showed them my empty house. As we strolled through, I saw that I should have painted and that my carpet could use a shampoo, too. I noticed the imperfections, but the couple seemed oblivious to them.

  “Look, sweetheart, a washer and dryer,” the woman pointed out. “No more trips to the laundromat. And look—two bathrooms! The place we live in now is a real dump,” the girlfriend said.

  They didn’t see any of the imperfections, but I still needed to see if they could afford my home.

  “Where do you work?” I asked as we came back down the stairs.

  “I work at Starbucks and bartend. We’re in college. I’m working on my master’s, she’s in undergrad and a waitress,” the boyfriend answered.

  “Oh, okay. Well, it’s twelve hundred a month and you need thirty-six hundred to move in.”

  “Twelve hundred? Our budget was around ten-fifty. Can you bring it down a hundred dollars at least?”

  “No, I can’t,” I said assertively. “Let me give you two some time to think.”

  I left them in the kitchen to make a decision. I hoped they got the house. I would be able to pay my mortgage for two months, have enough money to book my flight for Zakiya’s wedding, and put money toward a lawyer.

  I waited, and the boyfriend walked in and said, “We really like the place, but we have a few other places we have to look at. So we will be in touch.”

  “Okay.” Damn. I thought about taking the $1,050, but it was too late, they were already in their car.

  An hour later, the couple called back and asked if my house was still available.

  “It is.”

  “We really like it, but we
have been only able to come up with two thousand dollars. Would it be okay if we could give you that as a deposit today and the rest in two weeks?”

  Two thousand was better than nothing, I thought.

  “That’s fine. You can move in with that. And just make it up when you move in.”

  I liked the couple because they didn’t have any children to write on my walls and they were in college, so they would be busy studying and going to work.

  I took the refresher course like the agency suggested. Truthfully, I didn’t even mind. I felt better equipped to handle patients. Plus, I knew that once I got back on the floor, I wouldn’t really have to do anything anyway.

  The boards were held in the state office building in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I sat on the train for an hour and half and studied the entire ride. I walked into the test confident and ready. I was led to a computer. I had a seat and began the test. There were a hundred questions. They were pretty easy until I got to about the ninety-fifth question. I got a few wrong in a row, and then the test stopped. I tried tapping the screen a few times. I walked over to the test monitor and asked for assistance.

  “Excuse me, something is wrong with my computer. My test cut off.”

  “No, I’m sorry it automatically does that when you answer more than ten questions incorrectly.”

  “But I only had three more questions to go out of one hundred.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve seen people get to the last question and the computer shut off. Sorry. You can take the test again in ninety days.” She took my paperwork, and the next person behind me approached her.

  I stood to the side because I had another question to ask, but after five minutes, I decided I would just call.

  I couldn’t believe I failed the board. I didn’t know how I could go another ninety days without a job.

  CHAPTER 10

  Shanice

  I met up with my manager, April, in her Brooklyn condo. She was the main reason I was successful as a video model. She stuck by my side when I had drama, and I was grateful for her being one of the people who changed my life.