Vérité

by Rachel Blaufeld

  He guided me to the bed, but I couldn’t just sit there.

  “No, I’m not!” I shouted. “I’m fucking delirious. Let them have the last word. I’m done with them for good, and now that Smith asshole won’t be lurking around anymore.”

  I stood up as Chey made her way out my bedroom door, pumping her fist into the air and chanting, “Woot!”

  Tiberius stood up and cornered me against the dresser, pressing close to dip his forehead against mine. “Yeah, I wish you’d gone through with setting Smith up, but this was your call, babe.”

  “I know,” I said. “Is that okay? I needed this. Needed to do it my way.” It came out hushed, crashing with the heavy breathing rising from my chest.

  He nodded. “Plus the guys did a number on Pierre.”

  “And I got you now . . . forget having the last word with my parents. J’ai la vérité dans mes mains.” Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I pulled him in for a kiss.

  “English, Rex,” he rumbled. He stopped the kiss, impatient for me to answer, his lips hovering over mine.

  “It means I’ve got the truth in my hands,” I explained. “Fuck everyone, I have you.”

  “Nah, fuck me!”

  “Tiberius, are you getting dirty on me?” Grinning, I wrestled him to the bed and straddled his lap.

  He didn’t answer; he showed me. Turned out we didn’t need any English after all.

  “Come on, Stephanie! You’re a slave driver!” I shouted as I rounded the track for the umpteenth time, and she yelled, “Two more.” Her voice carried in the wind as I wound my way through the lanes one more time, secretly loving the burn. Pushing my quads, I passed Nadine and kicked up dust in my wake.

  It was March, and we were back to regular outdoor practices every morning before classes. The track was typically desolate at that time, other than the random university employee getting in a workout before work. The sky was shrouded in a fine layer of fog as the sun made its way high into the sky, and my cheeks pinked quickly as the temperature rose. Mostly I ran home from practice, but occasionally I was social and grabbed breakfast with the other girls. A big part of the conversation was always focused on why we’d been split from the men’s team. I’d played a big role, but they didn’t know that.

  After I’d made up with Tiberius, and Stacy had come clean with Jamel, the prospect of keeping everything a secret about Logan festered in my gut. Finally, toward the end of February, I called a meeting with Coach Wallace and Stephanie, and explained what had happened. Jamel came with me to lend support and to corroborate my story.

  In the end, it was my word against Logan’s. The coach couldn’t do much about it, especially since Logan had already sat out a suspension due to his imaginary fight. My report went on his record as an accusation made against him. Hopefully, that tidbit plus my threats that the guys were watching him would keep Logan in line. The one thing the coach did do was to separate our practices, forcing the men to take the warmer afternoon slot.

  “One more!”

  Stephanie’s shouts trailed behind me as I picked up my pace for my last lap. When I finally came to a stop by the Gatorade cooler, I almost fell into a large wall.

  “Hey,” Tiberius said.

  Thrilled to see him, I jumped up and down on my already exhausted legs. “You’re back? Congrats! Elite Eight! Woo-hoo!”

  The men’s basketball team was in the middle of March Madness, having won enough games to narrowly make it into the final eight teams remaining the night before. I had to settle for watching on TV rather than in person because of my practices. Chey, Stacy, and I jumped and cheered all around the common area after each basket Hafton scored.

  Tiberius smiled at my enthusiastic greeting before leaning down and brushing his lips over my cheek. “Got back about three o’clock this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I pouted at him, making sure my disappointment was evident.

  “Rex, you needed to sleep and get up for practice. Don’t read into it.”

  I pulled up on my tippy toes and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was chaste and quick, but delivered my silent apology.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you back,” he said.

  I took off in a light jog until Tiberius grabbed me by the waist and tossed me over his shoulder. “I said walk, not run, T. I’m exhausted, and no one can keep up with you.”

  “Ha! You’re tired,” I said, gloating just a little. “What did you do? Did you see what I just ran?”

  His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he set me back down. “Yeah, I did, which is why you should walk.” He turned toward the dorms, moving at a leisurely pace, and I settled into stride next to him.

  “So, are we celebrating tonight?” I asked, my mouth curving up in the corners.

  “The win, yes. The other thing, no.”

  “Nope, we are going out for your birthday!” I taunted him. “Mel and I got the whole thing planned.”

  “Tingly, I told you I didn’t want to do that,” he said with a frown.

  “Yeah, I know, but we are. We’re going to the diner for dinner and then heading out to that techno dance place.”

  He slanted me a dubious look. “All of a sudden you’re a party girl?”

  “Just for tonight. We need to celebrate, Ty. And I may have ordered a cake.”

  He shook his head, blowing out a deep breath. Despite his reluctance to be the center of attention, he’d love it once we got started celebrating everything that was Tiberius. And there was a lot to celebrate. He was a truly good guy—no, the best. He was also slated to be the starting shooting guard next season, and was a great friend, an even better boyfriend, and the most amazing lover.

  Once we reached my dorm, he stopped outside and said, “I’m starving. Let’s go get breakfast. What time are your classes?”

  “I don’t start until noon today, but what about you?”

  A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “We’re excused today and tomorrow because of the tournament.”

  “You suck,” I said, slapping his chest. “The girls are gonna be so pissed. They’re never excused from anything.”

  “Don’t tell ’em. Hurry up and go get changed so we can eat.”

  “I gotta shower,” I said innocently, then looked up at him through my eyelashes. “Wanna join me?”

  He flung the door open to my building, holding it wide with his arm. I ducked under and headed for the elevator.

  “Not hungry anymore, Rex,” was all he said as I pushed the button for my floor.

  Eventually we made it out for sustenance as well as coffee for me, and afterward I went to class. Tiberius put on a big act again about not wanting to go out for his birthday, but looked like a little boy in a toy store when it came time to actually go. He mentioned that they never did much for birthdays when he was growing up, and I think he was secretly excited to really celebrate.

  The guys all showed up and made Tiberius do a round of shots before ordering up half the menu at the diner. Chey and Tiffanie came, and Ginny brought Bryce.

  Nadine had ambushed me in the locker room after she heard about the little soirée and realized she wasn’t included. I’d had enough of her perkiness—both her personality and her tits—and her ridiculous backstabbing disguised as “peppy party girl.” When official practices started up again, I told her as much. I was sick of being expected to accept crap treatment. My parents had demanded it for twenty-one years, and I wasn’t about to let Nadine assume she could get away with the same. When she suggested Tiberius was less than the best––all according to Logan––that was the breaking point. As soon as she brought Logan up, she was dead to me.

  Stacy didn’t come. She and Jamel weren’t speaking, and to say it was strained was an understatement. Tonight was about Tiberius, and Jamel kept the alcohol flowing and the good times coming. By the time we left the diner and made our way down the street toward the club, we were a rowdy bunch.

  The club was foggy in a layer of man-made smoke and had glitt
ery red disco balls hanging from the ceiling. As soon as we got in, Jamel and Trey hit the DJ booth, and I saw the two of them negotiating with the poor guy to take control of the list of upcoming songs. As soon as the current track ended and a familiar song came on, I knew they’d succeeded. The bass thumped all the way through the floor and up my toes into my spine as I sipped on a rum and Diet Coke.

  The other guys were having fun buying Tiberius drinks with ridiculous names, and he was doing his best not to drink every single one. He had a row of various cocktails and shots in front of him—Sex on the Beach, Buttery Nipples, and Flaming Orgasms, along with plain old Jack.

  When Eric B. and Rakim came bursting through the speakers, he grabbed my hand and dragged me onto the dance floor. Grinding up against me as soon as we made it to the perimeter of the hot, sweaty dancers, he sang a little in my ear as he kept us close. Holding me tight, Tiberius edged our way to the very corner of the dance floor where we’d get bumped as little as possible.

  When he planted a wet, messy kiss on my face, I realized he was slightly tipsy, and I chuckled.

  “What?” he said.

  “You’re kinda cute, you know?”

  “I’m not cute. I’m sexy, babe.” His chest rumbled with the words, his voice raspy and heated.

  “Yes, and cute,” I whispered back in his ear, standing on my tiptoes even in my wedge Nike high-tops—yeah, I got really cool basketball-girlfriend shoes. My little whisper while nipping on his ear earned me another sloppy kiss, followed by a more seductive one. Tiberius’s tongue swiped through my mouth, trailing the roof before tangling with mine.

  He was definitely tipsy. Mr. It-Has-To-Mean-Something and Take-It-Slow was practically dry humping me on the dance floor while fucking my mouth.

  “Let’s roll.” His words vibrated around my mouth, and I squeezed his ass in agreement.

  Tiberius gave his standard peace out sign up in the air as we walked toward the door. I glanced back to see Stacy at the bar, caged in by Jamel, who was whispering in her ear. She was smiling and running her nose along his cheek, so I turned back around and went home to make not-so-slow but meaningful love to Tiberius.

  One Year Later

  Tiberius and I stood at the edge of Battery Park on a breezy day in July, gazing at the Statue of Liberty across the water. The World Trade Center Memorial was behind us, street vendors of every ethnicity lined the walkway to the left and the right, and shrieking kids on summer break ran everywhere. It was an ordinary day as I leaned against the railing with a disposable cup of coffee in one hand, watching the light waves crest in the water as boats made their way out to Lady Liberty. Ty was caging me in with his arms on either side of me, his pelvis pressed into my backside.

  The weather was similar to the day I’d graduated in May alongside Ginny. Tiberius and a few of the guys had been there cheering us on; I’d heard them hooting and hollering as I made my way across the stage. They were my new family, and were way better than the one I’d been born into.

  I hadn’t heard from my parents in over a year, not since I confronted them about Coach Smith. As a precaution, I moved my trust one more time to a broker back east and changed my cell number yet again, hopefully for the last time.

  I hired a lawyer to send my parents a sternly worded letter warning them against any further attempts at harassment, collusion, or attempts to impersonate a person of importance, making it clear that they would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law if they did. Apparently there was a clause in the trust that protected me in the event my parents attempted to harass me or challenge the structure of the trust in any way, making them subject to legal penalties. My grandparents had obviously wanted to make sure there was no way my parents could attempt an end run at changing the trust. And since my dad was overly conscious of his public image, he fell into line right away.

  The wind picked up my hair, blowing it into my face as I whispered, “Love it here,” over my shoulder to Tiberius, who was towering over me. If I’d thought Ohio was the best, New York was even better. Especially now.

  “See that?” he leaned forward and murmured into my hear, but it came out “See dat?” Now that he was closer to home, his accent became more pronounced, which I found adorable. He pointed toward a spot to the left, and I nodded.

  “My momma brought me there when I was a little boy. She stood right there with her arm wrapped around me and talked about the statue and how it symbolized hope, freedom, and all that was right in this country. She told me one day I’d discover the truth about what makes a man, that it’s not who his father is or was, but who his heart helped him to grow up to be. At the time, I thought it was bullshit. I was an angry little kid who wanted a dad.”

  Pulling me closer, he said, “But she was right. Same for you, T. Your parents may have tried to mold you, change you, fuck you over, but your heart won.”

  I stilled as his words brushed past my ear, wishing they were tangible so I could reach out and grab them. I needed to hold on to them and keep them close to my heart—forever.

  When his hand came down and squeezed my hip, a tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t believe we were here together, especially after all we’d been through.

  After my graduation, our celebration had been bittersweet. Once again, we’d been unsure if forever was in the cards for us. Tiberius had made a reservation at a swanky mahogany-paneled steak place in Cleveland, but what was meant to be a celebration felt like a good-bye party. He’d entered the NBA draft earlier in the spring, and we’d been waiting to hear if he was chosen. That night in Cleveland, everything was still up in the air.

  From opposite sides of the country, we’d traveled a long way to learn the truth about unconditional love together in Ohio. In May, however, we had no clue where Ty’s future might take him, if anywhere at all. He gave up his eligibility to play college ball when he threw his name into the ring for the NBA, so if he wasn’t drafted, he’d need to return to school to finish his degree. And if he was selected, we had no idea who’d pick him and where he might end up. Of course, there’d been rumors and speculation, but no guarantees.

  With summer classes and advance credits from prep school, he’d been only six credits shy of graduating. Since he knew his mom would have wanted him to finish, not just to have the piece of paper but a plan for afterward, he promised me he’d take the last credits via correspondence and get his college degree if drafted. Thank goodness Hafton made accommodations like that for alumni who became professional athletes.

  Bringing me back to the glorious present, he whispered, “Come on,” in my ear, then took my hand and walked us back up the grassy hill toward the subway. We could afford a cab, but I liked riding underground like a regular person. I wanted us to be extra-ordinary for as long as we could.

  I’d taken a job with the United Nations office in New York as a translator. It was an entry-level position with decent pay and government benefits—and as far away from La La Land as possible. Everyone was smart, interesting, and most of all, interested in the real me. When my employment was locked down, I’d found a studio apartment in Park Slope in Brooklyn, and I’d spent the month of June adjusting to the change, running and breathing free all over Manhattan. Officially, I’d hung my track shoes up following my last meet, and threw my pacer watch down the back of the hill behind the Ag building. I was no longer running against time.

  It had also been a long time since I played the Perfect Timing game, as I affectionately came to call my old P-T coping strategies. Life was about timing, and I believed meeting Tiberius was meant to be.

  He laughed his head off every time I suggested this. “Don’t give me your psycho-babble bullshit,” he’d say, dismissing the important role he played in my coming to terms with the truth.

  “Want to stay and eat over here or go back across the bridge?” Tiberius said, interrupting my thoughts as we made our way down to the subway station.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we could grab somethi
ng at that new place across from the stadium?” Then I thought about that and quickly followed up with, “Oh, never mind, I’ll have to share you with everyone there.” I reached up to squeeze Ty’s shoulder playfully, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “For real.” I bit back a smile. “Pretty soon you’re going to be hounded everywhere, and I don’t think I’m going to like it,” I said half seriously, and his deep, baritone laugh echoed down the stairs to the subway tunnel. “And the ball babies,” I added, poking him in the side, “and cheerleaders.” I poked him again. “They’re all going to want to have their way with you.”

  He stopped on the bottom step and lifted his T-shirt. “Never, Rex.”

  I shook my head, gesturing at him to put his shirt down, but smiled to myself the whole time. I couldn’t believe what he’d done—he’d had the words T. REX tattooed across his waist. I didn’t know what he’d been thinking, but I liked it. Especially licking my way past it.

  “Put that down,” I said, swatting at his billowing shirt.

  Grinning, Tiberius dropped his shirt. “Come on, we’ll get takeout.” Grabbing my hand, he guided me toward the train back to our place in Brooklyn.

  Yep, I had a roommate. Tiberius had been drafted early in the first round by the second team to find a home in New York—the Brooklyn Nets.

  The draft was a crazy and exciting time for us. I’d watched on TV as they called his name and he took the stage. His face lit up for the cameras as he smiled wide, his dimples making an appearance before he schooled his excitement. The official photo from that day showed a hardass Tiberius in his black-and-white jersey and ball cap. Right before he walked offstage, he aimed a big fist bump at the camera while mouthing “Rex!”

  He moved in with me right away and had been working out with the team for about a month. He loved taking me back to Jersey to eat at a few of his favorite places, and he was already set to volunteer at the local Boys and Girls Club, teaching basketball skills and running free clinics for the community.