by Love Belvin
“Okay…” Chesney breathed out, swinging his eyeglasses by one of the temples of the frame. “I’m inclined to proceed with negotiation, advising Mr. Bailey to at least give you, the Kings, an opportunity to make nice with him or wave his black ass off to the Giants. There are a few things that must be addressed for this to happen.” He sat back in his seat, applying his specs. “Let’s start with a signing bonus: Something minimally on the low end of seven figures should be put on the table; however, nothing short of the high end of six. The next thing we must agree upon is his requirements of attendance at games: If he isn’t even third string, why should he have to embarrass himself by traveling with the team to warm their bench? I have a few more terms to address, and will, but first we need to attack the big elephant in the room: this offensive pay. As we know, Trenton Bailey is a Heisman Trophy winner, whom the New York Giants attempted to trade up to make him the number one pick in the 2009 draft, but the Connecticut Kings wouldn’t dare abandon the pick no matter the offer and drafted him number one overall, making him the highest paid rookie in league history. Mr. Bailey was awarded the Heisman Trophy, won a national championship, and became the first overall pick in an NFL draft—all within a one-year span. In his rookie year, he broke your franchise record of 647 yards…”
I drifted off, partly entertained by Chesney’s deliberate play to carry on his courtroom-style argument to rattle the opposing team. I zoned out, doing another thing Divine taught me: sit back and shut the hell up while Chesney put in his work.
Jogging down the back staircase and breezing through the kitchen, I stopped when I saw Jade and Kyree at the table. The top was covered in soiled newspaper with some type of soaked tiered structure. Jade was placing the top on to close it. Her ass was propped in the air, her knees on the seat of the chair as her small frame reached over the table in a tank and low riding sweats that exposed her caramel back.
“Whoa,” I breathed, eyes locked on the impressive tower. “What’s this?”
“My science project,” Kyree announced across from his mother, on the other side of the table.
His smile was broad with pride, eyes wide with excitement.
“That’s what’s up.” I returned his smile.
“Yeah. Mom is good at this from when she was in school.” His brows met. “You dressed up, Trent?”
Jade eased back from the tower slowly, observing it closely to be sure it’d stay. She tossed a glance over her shoulder to me. Immediately, she turned with her shoulders. Her eyes roved over me starting at my feet and ended up at my head before going for a second round. Then I saw it again. That spark of heat in her eyes. But as usual, she cleaned it up by turning around. Not before I caught that biting of the bottom lip.
“Ky, my hands are wet. Take a picture with my phone before you get ready for bed.” With her back to me, she asked, “Date tonight?”
“Oh, nah.” I found myself brushing the back of my head and neck. I realized this was her first time seeing me out of sweats when I wasn’t going to church. “A function.”
“Function?” she echoed an octave higher. “You do those?”
“Yeah.” I chuckled, swiping my bottom lip with my thumb. “I guess I am tonight. A friend of mine is having a thing in the city and I told them I’d come through.”
It felt like I was explaining myself, just not to someone demanding it. Shit was crazy.
“Ohhhh…” she hummed as though considering my answer. Then she got off the chair and stepped closer. “Do we need to be gone by the time you get back? You know…to give you some privacy?” She more like whispered so Kyree couldn’t hear.
“Oh, nah.” I felt my face wrinkle. “It ain’t that type of party.” I don’t bring women back to my crib.
“So, it’s a party you’re going to.” I broke out in another chuckle.
Slick ass.
I gave a slight nod, unable to wipe the stupid ass smile off my face.
“Nah. Not really, but a social event.”
“A social event.” She nodded with her eyes cast somewhere behind me, thinking. “What I wouldn’t pay to see you at a social event, socializing.” Her eyes were on me again, slanted and communicating something.
I had no idea what, specifically. Was she asking to come on the low? I wouldn’t invite her. I didn’t exactly trust her. There was something worldly about Jade. I could tell she’d fit right into events like this. Like she grew up with people of affluence or had some experience with them. Yeah, she was on hard times now, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t sniff out a baller for milking. Cute and sexy as fuck or not, my guard was up when it came to Jade. There was a dangerous charm in those hazel eyes. Either way, she’d tell on herself eventually. I was still going with the attitude of not sweating it. Snakes always revealed themselves when they hissed.
“You’re funny,” I murmured before turning for the back foyer. “Ky, good luck on acing that assignment. It looks solid, lil’ homie.” I took off.
It was super awkward hitting up these types of events for me now. Yeah, I was Trent Bailey, but I wasn’t balling like I used to and had no driver to pull up to the venue. So, I parked in a lot a couple of blocks away from the venue and braved a walk alone. This was strange and dangerous, too. I had no security with me and could be stopped at any moment by a crazed fan. Luckily, I was able to make it to the Tribeca building without fanfare and even managed to slip past the gang of photographers and paps crowding the red carpet. Apparently, as I was walking in, StentRo and his wife being on the red carpet had all the cameras flashing, leaving me unnoticed.
I had no problem with security when checking in; my face was my invitation. The dude behind the podium greeted me by my last name, checked me off a list, and ushered me through. Divine wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t half ass anything he did. From the moment I walked into the gallery, the place reminded me of old world museums with gold and brass fixings and velvet ropes providing a space between you and the big ass framed paintings on the huge walls that lined the narrow entryway.
I was offered Ace of Spades and Mauve midway through the first exhibition. To calm my tattered nerves, I opted for the brandy. Leave it to Divine to triple brand himself. I respected his business acumen. Dude made paper off his paper. I took a deep swig, needing that coating of warmth to hit me soon if I was going to survive this.
My attention was caught by a sensual painting of a nude woman’s profile. She sat on her knees, ass on her heels, facing a canvas posted on an easel. Her right hand held a paint brush to the canvas while her left arm held her bountiful breasts, hiding her nipples. Her thick and wild hair covered one eye and a quarter of her face. She held a seductive gaze while peering directly in your eyes. It was a painting, of the woman painting, and apparently for her lover according to the image on the canvas she painted. It was a basketball with the number seven painted off center of it. The number seven struck me because it was my team number. With just a few seconds of studying the vibrant colors and three dimensional strokes of paint, I realized I knew the woman with large tits, a small waist, and modestly rounded hips.
“The fuck?” I murmured to myself.
“Dope, right?”
I felt slaps on both my shoulders simultaneously before I turned toward the voice.
I felt the smile splitting my face as I tried balancing my drink before it tipped from my quick movements.
“Shit, man. You scared me!” I went to give him a shoulder dap with my available arm and hand.
“Yooooo! I can’t believe you out here, man. We been tryin’ to scoop you!”
It was my man, Swizz Beats. I should have known I’d see him. This art shit is his scene. I also knew Azmir Jacobs knew everybody there was to know in entertainment, and those he didn’t, wanted to know him. That hiked my anxiety. But Swizz had always been good people.
I scratched my head, glancing away. “Well, you know… Sometimes you gotta put yourself on timeout to know what time it is.”
“Yeah, I hear th
at. You here alone? Where’s Brielle? JJ?”
Why her?
“I don’t know if Jordan’s here.” My eyes swept around. “I just got here. He said he may stop through, but I don’t know.” I purposely didn’t answer about Brielle. “Where AKeys? You solo tonight?”
“Yeah, man. She’s getting ready to tour, so she in that zone. You know how it is.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “I feel you.”
“I’mma go get something from my assistant waiting outside. I’ll see you up there. Everybody up there: Divine, Hov, Rozay… your man, Jackson. It’s mad lit. They gon’ be gassed as hell to see you!”
I nodded humbly, stomach flipping on the low. I had no idea where this anxiety shit came from, but I hated it. I turned to head up the stairs to the main event. It was an open floor plan with exhibits planted across the long and wide room and paintings on the white walls. I saw familiar faces right away. Those that weren’t, smiled the same. Of course, people wanting small talk when all I wanted was to be posted on the couch, challenging a six-year-old on a PlayStation game. That sobering thought had me reaching for another tumbler of brown juice from a passing tray. I needed to loosen up.
When I was done talking to a model I knew from Cambodia, I noticed Jackson over by a small exhibit. It was a gold tree trunk and on top was a black book. The book was encased in glass, I guessed to protect it. As I grew closer to Jackson, I noticed on the pages were handwritten names and numbers. Before I could look for the name of it, Jackson was reaching to embrace me.
“Glad you made it, man!” His smile was as genuine as it’d been since the day we met.
“Y’all coming down on the kid; I had to.” I joked about him and Divine making it a big deal.
“Well, you know…” He scoffed. “You’re family. We need everybody’s support.”
I tossed my chin. “This you? The event?” I clarified.
“Nah. I’m here as a supporter and honorary exhibitor.” He pivoted, opening up space to the black book display. “Divine procured my pop’s first networking book.”
That’s when it hit me. “Oh, shi…” My eyes ballooned. “This is…?” I couldn’t finish the question.
I didn’t have to. Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Quincy Hunter’s connect Bible. It’s what he used when he first got into the business. Pops would be proud.”
Quincy Hunter was now dead, but from what I’d heard over the years, he left a huge legacy in black entertainment. He was similar to Azmir, only he worked to secure careers in the business. He had a public relations company, the one I was signed to. Strange thing was the agency was for corporations, but Quincy was making connections for celebrities unofficially. When he passed, Jackson took over the business and brought his father’s legacy to fruition, opening a subsidiary for individual brand names as opposed to corporations.
“That’s what’s up, man. Your old man deserves this recognition,” I offered humbly. “I never met him, but always felt his legend. He was huge.”
It was true. All of the older ballers talked about Quincy’s work. He was close with StentRo, too. I heard he died while they were together.
“Yeah, man. He would’ve called your pretty ass and told you to get here tonight, too.” Jackson pointed at me. “He probably would’ve come to the crib to snatch you out of that monster-sized mansion.”
I laughed at that one, and before I could respond, I felt another slap on my back.
“His ass had better been here!” I heard from behind me and knew who it was right away.
As I turned, I joked, “You wanted me out for this corny shit, man!” I extended my hand as I faced him.
“Yeah, a’ight!” Divine smacked my palm and pulled me into him. “Good to see you out, duke.”
“It’s good to be seen. This is a good look!” I tossed my eyes around the room.
“I’m sure the ladies are having fun right now. All light skinned and shit,” Jackson joked. “I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that I left my lady home tonight.”
“Ah,” I sighed, fighting my humor when I recognized Divine was laughing so hard that his pretty as pearls teeth were all exposed. “Here we go. You can’t talk, Jax. The ladies’re so into your suave ass they don’t give two fucks about you being fifty years younger than them.” All attending parties could appreciate that insider jab. “Still can’t believe you settled with somebody that ain’t go to high school with your great grams.” They stayed hooting it the hell up. I turned to acknowledge Divine. “And your black ass can’t talk. I may’ve been down in the pen, but I heard the ladies still love A.D., wit’ yo suave ass. You married, but that only turned up the subscribers list. Don’t get me started.”
I couldn’t help my grin while they cracked the hell up. This moment eased my nerves—either that or the brandy started kicking in. I also realized it was wrong of me to shut them out when going through my dark spell.
“Thanks for the unintended compliment,” Jackson saluted me. “Elle ain’t so far off my norms. She’s home nursing a migraine, but I’ll tell her you’re missing her half as much as I am tonight.” He glanced around the room. “It’s odd being at events like this without her, though.” A smile broke across his face. “Listen to my bitch ass.”
That was all it took for us to go up again, laughing.
“Tell me about it. I’ve been away for almost a week. The wife’s bringing her ass to the East Coast tomorrow, like it or not. This travel shit ain’t what it used to be,” Azmir spoke with ghosted eyes.
“I feel you, man. I thought it would be cool, seeing that we’re in the same business,” Jackson shared, blowing out a deep breath. I now knew he was with Elle, my new public relations point person. But for a while, I didn’t know he had a lady because apparently it all went down while I was away. “My dumb ass put her on my biggest cases because I know she’s capable. That’s backfiring. She has to be so many places, all at once.” He snorted. “You talking about flying Rayna’s ass out here for a special treatment: my bitch ass be popping up in Atlanta, Philly, and L.A. when that ass is away for more than five days!”
We all fell into a loud ass laugh. I’d never heard Jackson speak so freely. This dude was never short on women. They all loved him, though I noticed he’d only go for the older ones.
“That’s your cycle?” Divine asked, trying to slow his laughter. “Man, mine is three, so you can imagine how a nigga is hurting.” He shook his head for dramatic flair. I wasn’t used to seeing this expressive side of Divine either, and definitely not about a woman. He’d had a woman when I met him, and I didn’t know because he was that low key with it.
Jackson gestured to me. “You’re laughing all cool and shit, TB. I remember having a similar conversation of heeding with this dude”—he referred to Divine—“about…three years ago at his crib. I thought I was exempt or had years before I had to be concerned with it. Yeah, right. The next year, I ran into this exotic afro-blonde that’s had my damn nose wide open since day two. You better hope that “bug” don’t bite your ass soon.”
Although we were talking shit, Jackson was a couple of years older than me and had always carried himself like an O.G., so I didn’t blow him off. Being in a relationship was way off my radar, but I respected his word.
“Indeed… But, wait.” Divine’s face wrinkled. “You said L.A.? Does that setting appeal to Elle? I’ve seen her work. ADJ Enterprise could use her talent. We could even work out a split or distance location agreement.”
Jackson sobered. “The hell you could. My lady will be blackballed before I let her go over there.” Someone called Jackson from behind us. He turned to acknowledged them, asking them to wait a second. “And not even for contractual work for Rayna. So, you can give her the heads up.” Then he walked off.
Divine and I exchanged glances and busted out laughing again.
“Dudes get sensitive about their women,” I warned, still laughing.
“No. Men are protective over their pussy. There’s an inherent distinction
between the two. And don’t limit my reference to the act. We’ve all had talented ass, and arguably more gifted than what we settle down with. But the true measure of a man’s pickings is good head, great ass, and exceptional guardianship over his heart, portfolio, and legacy. That”—he pointed to Jackson’s back—“is a man who is no longer in possession of his heart. Elle has it.”
I nodded, though not having the experience to fully appreciate it.
“And here’s another with his heart on his arm,” Divine spoke while looking behind me. I turned to find Stenton and Zoey approaching. “Look at the beautiful breakout artist, Zoey Barrett-Rogers, making her debut tonight…oh, and with her retired husband, the king of the NBA,” he spoke even louder for them to hear.
At that, my thoughts automatically went to the piece I saw when I came in.
I guess I was right…
Stenton greeted Divine first, and Zoey, me.
“Hey, Trent.” She smiled. “Good to see you off the block.”
“Hey, neighbor,” I returned with a quiet chuckle.
They’d started moving all their things into the house, transitioning from Philly to Jersey. It was good having them there more often now. StentRo, a renown shooting guard for the NBA, was in his last season with the 76’ers and transitioning from their condo in Philadelphia to living in their home across the road from me. Zoey sent food every once in a while. And when I was over kicking it with StentRo, she was always hospitable. He had him a real one in Zo.
“TB!” Stenton turned to embrace me with a dap while Divine and Zoey exchanged greetings. “Glad you made it.”
“Well,” I sighed. “You know. The big homie calls and I represent,” I made it sound a lot simpler than it was.
Almost an hour before leaving the crib, I decided I’d stay home. It was really a tossup of another weird night at home with a stranger I found attractive, but had no desire to explore, or come out and at least post up for my O.G.
“Hey, I see someone over there I want to chat with,” Zoey told StentRo, her eyes fixed across the room.