“Come on,” I laughed. “Those first two are tame, and you’re just a hater when it comes to Cedes.”
“You don’t know where that money, my G-string, my bellybutton, or Cedes had been, so I call it disgusting.”
I shrugged. “I’ve seen rookies take turns tonguing between ol’ girl’s ass cheeks. Body shots ain’t shit.”
“And neither are your teammates, eww.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Back to you being done with Connecticut… you’re like, leaving? I knew you were retiring the nipple tassels, but damn.”
She nodded. “Sorry to leave you, but I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ll have my degree, my nice little savings, my baby, and my mother. I’m moving somewhere with a low cost of living, men with sexy accents, and where nobody has seen my vulva except the people who live in my house.” I threw my head back to laugh, but Cin shook her head, draining the last of her coffee. “I’m being silly about it, but I’m serious. Arch & Point paid for this degree, and kept me on my feet, but I’m ready for a fresh start.”
“I can feel that,” I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as we headed out of the store. I snickered a little when she pulled the hat she was wearing a little lower on her head, and slapped her shades back on, even though we were indoors, and it was a gloomy fall day. “You can’t be telling me shit like this right before I get on the plane for this game though. Gonna have me all emotional and shit, can’t see the ball cause I’m crying.”
She laughed. “Oh, whatever. I know you aren’t acting like you’re gonna be lonely or something.”
“Hell yeah I’m gonna be lonely,” I said, pulling her into the Jimmy Choo boutique as we passed. “Come pick out a graduation gift.”
“Stop trying to buy me shit,” she hissed, keeping her voice low. The jewelry store had been empty, but the boutique wasn’t, and Cin made a beeline for an empty corner of the store. My security hung behind us, keeping anybody from getting close. “And kill the “lonely” crap. Cole should be able to keep you company, right?”
I groaned. “Not when she’s tripping. She’s not checking for me like that. I mean, she is, but she’s…”
“Not ready to admit it?” Cin asked, picking up a sparkly black heeled sandal. “Sounds about right. When she does admit it , you should bring her to the club. Or hell, bring her anyway. Bet I could twerk it out of her,” she giggled.
“I would die a happy man.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Calm your balls, Jordan. Cole doesn’t seem like the girl on girl action type. But, I’ve seen a lap dance get plenty of straight girls turned all the way up. And you can thank me in tips.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I chuckled, imagining how Nicki would react to a date night at Arch & Point.
Cin put the heel down, then gave me a pointed look. “I’m serious! And that puts you on a timeline. I’m leaving in January, so you’ve got like two and a half months to get your shit together.”
“I’m already working on that. Hey, can you bring her those in a seven?” I asked the sales associate who walked up.
“I don’t want them.”
I met the associate’s eyes, and nodded as I dropped onto one of the plush white couches that anchored the area. “Bring them.”
“Your ass doesn’t listen,” Cin muttered as she sat down beside me, then nudged my shoulder. “Tell me about your new publicist. What magic is she working on you?”
I scoffed. “Magic? You make it sound like I’m a hopeless case.”
Cin’s eyes went wide as she shifted her gaze away from me. “Well…”
“Damn, it’s like that?” I stretched out my legs as Cin accepted the white shoebox from the salesperson, then took off her shades before she bent to untie the floral combat boots she wore. She looked up at me as she pulled one of them off.
“I mean, you do kinda just say whatever in interviews and stuff. And you do come to the club a lot. And you do get a little rowdy if you have too much to drink. And you do—”
“Thanks, Cin, I think I get it.”
She shrugged as she pulled off her sock, then moved to the other boot. “Just saying, bruh.”
“I know. And… that’s the same thing that Chloe mentioned. But she’s not like, trying to make me over into Mr. Ivy League or anything like that. Her thing is, just cutting back on the over the top shit. Speaking more carefully when there’s a mic in my face. Scaling back on the partying. Not talking about my dick.”
Cin laughed as she slid the heel onto her foot, then stretched her leg out to look at it. “You do talk about that thing a lot. And though it was impressive that time you got a lil too turned up and got on stage and swang your tallywacker around to the tune of Throw Sum Mo … nobody really wants to hear about it. Especially women.”
“Well that shit isn’t true.”
She lifted an eyebrow, and put on the other shoe. “It’s definitely true.” She stood up, walking over to the mirror to survey her reflection before she turned to face me. “Women like to lust over your accidental dick print if the paps catch you in gray sweats. Or swinging around in your basketball shorts. When it’s a “mystery” bulge that you had to tuck down the leg of your dress pants. We like thinking about a man’s dick on our terms. Not listening to him talk about it. Because, in my experience, the more a man talks about it, the less he can back it up.”
“Well that ain’t the case over here,” I said, sitting up, and Cin rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. Back to what Chloe has you doing, please.”
I chuckled, sitting back as Cin came back to the couch to take the shoes off. “It’s actually not anything outside the box. Basically, she said I should chill more. That’s step one. From there, she talked about connecting with a charity that mattered to me, but not just… shoving money at it. Actually being involved. Going to events, making it relevant to my life, researching, learning about it.”
“All of that sounds good,” she said as she unstrapped the shoes. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much. She’s gonna work with my new agent, Margo, about lining up some relevant endorsements. And I’ve gotta work on my game. Get faster, stronger, better.”
Cin nodded. “I like it. Don’t give anybody anything else to really think about, other than your game, the good things you’re doing for your community. And if you buy out the bar at the club occasionally, no big deal. You’re America’s favorite wide receiver.”
“Exactly.”
“And a certain tall, gorgeous, front office exec’s favorite wide receiver too,” she teased, shimmying her shoulder into my side.
“Come on, Cin. Kill that shit,” I said, trying not to laugh as I gently pushed her away.
She grinned. “What? I’m saying, you prove that you’ve grown up, and she won’t be able to resist you. I mean, with these dimples,” – she reached up, pinching my cheeks – “and this handsome face, how could she possibly?” she finished, in a high pitched voice like she was talking to a baby.
“Chill,” I laughed. “Acting like Jess.”
Cin wrinkled her nose. “I know our friendship is “unconventional”, but I’ve twerked in your lap with nothing on but a thong, Jordan. Please don’t compare me to your sister. That’s just weird.”
“Stop acting like her then. She’ll take them,” I told the salesperson, ignoring Cin’s objection. “I’ll have them sent to your house, so you’re not walking out with the box, calm down. Happy graduation.”
She pushed out a sigh. “Your hard-headed ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. If you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”
I reached into the front pocket of my hoodie, pulling out the card that was one of the main reasons for this whole outing with Cin. When I held it out to her, she just stared at it for a few seconds before I pushed it into her hands.
“Open it.”
She cut her eyes up to my face, and then looked back down at the card. She blew out a long sigh, then opened it with shaking fingers. “The sheer magnitude of that wago
n you carry around was an asset—get it – to Arch & Point. It, and you, will be missed. Jordan. P.S, I’m not saying any corny personal shit about our friendship, because it’s not contingent on me getting to see the aforementioned wagon. You’re still my home girl. Jordan.”
Cin ran her tongue over her lips, taking another breath before she looked up at me with glossy eyes. “Jordan… this is… thank you,” she said, nodding. “And I will always consider you a friend.”
“You haven’t even seen it all yet though.” I pointed toward the envelope she’d pulled the card from, and she picked it up, shaking her head when she saw the check inside.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jordan…”
“Cinnamon…”
“Ugh,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You know I hate that.”
I chuckled. “I do. But you’re taking the check.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. It’s not even that much.”
She sucked her teeth, then finally pulled out the check, her eyes going wide as they ran over the number. “Nigga… a hundred thousand dollars? Not even that much? Are you kidding? I can’t accept this money from you!”
“Cin, you realize the watch you were trying to get me to buy cost half of that? It’s two watches. It’s nothing.”
“Not to me.”
I chuckled. “Exactly. I know you’re not really trying to keep dancing. You wanna be with your baby girl, finish your classes. This should make that happen for you.”
“Jordan…”
“Cin. Seriously. You’ve never let me do anything big for you, cause you didn’t want to make the friendship… weirder than it already was. Cool. But you’re graduating. Accomplishing a major goal. You’re moving. Let me do this for you.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “So glad I didn’t put on any makeup today,” she sniffed, looking down at the check in her hand. “I can’t… I don’t know what to say to this.”
“As much as you’ve listened to me vent and complain without looking at me like I was stupid… you ain’t gotta say nothing. Just rock the shit out of your fresh start.”
She didn’t say anything for several moments, and then she launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me into a fierce hug.
“I’m gonna rock the hell out of it.”
Ten.
I couldn’t decide whether or not I was glad I hadn’t traveled with the team this time.
On one hand, I could have been there to provide some half-time words of encouragement to the players I was responsible for. On the other hand… it was also pretty likely that I could have ended up ejected from the locker room for screaming and cursing people out.
It was one of those kind of games.
Instead of being at the game, I was watching it, with Margo and Naima. We had snacks, we had liquor, and we had the game pulled up on the huge flat screen in Naima’s living room.
Unlike the last game, our first with Trent, where the team had done so well, it was clear today that we were still adapting. The excitement and adrenaline from the last game had worn off, and it was obvious that as well-conditioned as he was physically, when it came to the game, Trent was rusty. The other team’s defense was out there thriving, and JJ’s frustration was clearly showing in the way he played. Our offense was honestly a mess out there tonight.
How in the hell else do you end up seventeen points down, three quarters into a game?
“Calm down, Cole,” Naima said, rubbing my back as she pushed a margarita into my hand. “Somebody must have lit a fire under their asses, because they’re turning it around.”
I didn’t say anything – I just guzzled down a mouthful of the fruity frozen drink, then glanced at the score again. Naima was right. Somehow, some way, in the last quarter, the Kings had managed to pull this game into a tie, with less than a minute on the clock. At this point, best-case scenario was overtime, where anything could happen.
I needed them to win.
As much as Jordan confused me on different levels, there was one thing I was clear on – he didn’t bullshit, and he didn’t bluff. He hadn’t brought it up again, but I believed him when he said he would go somewhere else if he didn’t get a ring with the Kings this season. With the way things had been going… if we wanted to make it to the playoffs, let alone the Super Bowl, we needed as many wins as we could get.
Come on, guys. Just please pull this off.
Our defense had done enough to force the other team to a three and out – we hadn’t allowed them to get a first down after three plays, so they were going to punt the ball, getting it as far away as they could, to make it harder for us to score a touchdown.
As the team broke out from the huddle, JJ headed into position at the back of the field. It wasn’t unusual for them to use him on special teams, as punt-returner, but he’d already almost gotten himself ejected from the game after an altercation with Bobby Samuels – a cornerback for the opposing team, who Jordan had never gotten along with. Tonight, Bobby had disrupted pass after pass, and was clearly taunting Jordan afterward.
Jordan, to his credit, had ignored it… until he didn’t, and shoved Bobby out of his face. I was just glad the other players and refs had intervened before it got uglier.
After all that, we were headed for overtime.
“So what’s up with you and Jordan now?” Margo asked as she nudged my knee, obviously trying to break my attention away from the stress of the game. “It’s been almost what, two weeks since that kiss?”
I shot her a scowl as I took another sip. “Nothing is up. Ask him what’s up with him and Cinnamon.”
I gave myself brain freeze and damn near choked, thinking about the pictures that had made their way to gossip sites, of him and a “mystery woman” laughing it up in Jimmy Choo. She had on a hat and big shades when they left the jewelry store, and her face was obscured in the pictures from the boutique, but I knew Cin when I saw her.
“Friend” my ass, the way she was pinching his cheeks, throwing herself into his embrace. And who could blame him? Despite her unfortunate name, Cin was fine – warm brown skin, high cheekbones, cute little nose, and enough ass to donate, on an otherwise petite frame. She was smart, and sweet – hell, I liked her, and I barely knew her. I’d have to be a damn fool to think they weren’t involved.
“He swears they aren’t like that,” Margo countered, like she was reading my mind. “And have you ever known JJ to be a liar? Friends go window-shopping together all the time. Don’t get caught up on those pictures.”
I rolled my eyes at that, but she had a point – my same reasoning for believing him when he said he would leave the Kings. He didn’t bullshit.
My gaze went back to the TV screen as the ball flew up in the air. I was about to turn back to Margo when the ball landed – right through JJ’s hands.
“Holy shit!” I yelled, spilling half my margarita down my shirt as I jumped up. My mouth dropped open as JJ somehow managed to keep the ball in his hands, securing it against his side as he ran the wrong way to dodge a tackle. My heart slammed to the front of my chest as he reversed directions, earning his “Flash Jordan” nickname as he sprinted along the sideline toward, then into the end zone.
I held my breath as we waited for the official call.
Please no flags, please no penalties, please…
Me, Naima, and Margo all screamed at once when the referee raised both of his arms in the air, signaling a touchdown. Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched the team celebrate another win. This was the energy they needed going into the intense meetings, practices, and game reviews they would be doing leading into our scheduled bye week.
Thank you God.
I grinned at the screen as cameras followed the players moving through the customary handshakes after the game. I wasn’t surprised to see Jordan and Trent going through the line together, stopping to talk to players on the opposing team – Trent, energetic but low key, Jordan
, his usual exuberant self.
I tensed when Bobby Samuels walked up, but Jordan kept a – admittedly arrogant – smile on his face.
“Good game, bruh,” he yelled over the noise of the crowd, extending his hand to Samuels, who looked at it, then turned his head and spit on the ground in the other direction.
“Fuck outta here with that “good game” shit. You know I roasted your ass out there today,” Samuels responded as the cameras moved to a side profile of the two men facing off. Always looking for the drama.
Jordan’s jaw twitched, but he kept smiling. “Score is what it is, man. You ain’t gotta shake my hand, but you can keep that other bullshit.”
Samuels sneered. “Nah, you got it, Ms. Bailey. I see you got your panties out your ass now that your man is back on the field, bitch.”
I gasped as Jordan’s chest swelled and fists clenched, but Trent said something to him, with a firm push, urging him to move ahead.
“Please, Jordan,” I whispered to myself. “Make Chloe proud. Make me proud. Just walk away.
“Whatever Bobby. You have a good night.”
I pumped my fists. “Yes, there you go Jordan, let him be stupid by himself.”
“Oh I plan to. We’ve got your fine ass baby sister waiting in the back as a consolation prize. I'm gone love seeing those dimples on either side of my dick while she's gag—”
“OH, SHIT!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth as Jordan punched Bobby Samuels right in the face on live TV. Trent was one of the first people to act, shoving other opposing players aside and then seemingly trying to stop his teammate, but Jordan’s fast hands had already hit a dazed Bobby again, and again.
Beside me, Margo was letting off a string of curses, and had already pulled out her cell to call Chloe. On the table, my phone started vibrating, and I knew from the ringtone that it was my father. I knew from what had just transpired on screen that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant phone call. I sprang into action too, apologizing to Naima for the mess as I headed for the door.
Guess I was flying to New Orleans after all.
Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) Page 11