Just Too Good to Be True (13 page)

CHAPTER
5

Barrett Releases the Twins

Dear Diary

Celibate my ass.

Gay? Not hardly. If this boy is gay, I will send my gaydar in for a tune-up.

Brady is not going to be able to resist me much longer. I invited him over for a late-night swim. Of course, I needed his help with my top, so I walked out in just my bikini bottom. I had him in such a trance, he couldn’t speak for a second. The twins did their job. As he helped me with my top, I made sure to lean against him, and it was pretty obvious he enjoyed my little show. I know he couldn’t help but notice how flawless my skin was, how I smelled like lavender blended with an exotic musk scent. I know he wanted to kiss the back of my neck.

I have to buy that man some underwear. He had the nerve to show up wearing some military green baggy shorts and a gray crewneck T-shirt looking like a black Abercrombie and Fitch model. I asked him to take them off, and he said he only had a jock on underneath. When I told him I didn’t have a problem with that and asked him for a full-body nude massage, he waved his little celibacy ring in my face and kindly refused my offer. I did get him to fool around with deep kissing and heavy petting, and although Brady seemed satisfied, I would be pissed if I was really his girlfriend.

The evening wasn’t a total waste, though. I did manage to get his check card number and social security number off his driver’s license when he left his pants and wallet in the bathroom. I called Nico to let him know, and he seemed pleased.

I told Nico he has to give me more money since I am going to have to buy some lingerie to help me to seduce Brady, and I’m sure I’ll probably have to hire a cook. If I can’t get to him with the joy between my legs, then maybe I can loosen him up with some food. I need to think of something else I might need so Nico will send me a lot of money. I’ll use half for Brady stuff and keep the rest for myself.

I’d ordered a night shirt over the Internet made like Brady’s football jersey, with his name and number on the back of it. Nico had once told me his college girlfriend (now his wife) had done that when he was in college and how much it turned him on when she wore it.

I also told Nico he’s going to have to produce some parents for me real soon. Since I’ve met Mommy Dearest, I know Brady’s going to start asking more questions about my parents. Nico says there are plenty of out-of-work actors in Atlanta and that I need to ask Brady about training for the combine. He told me to mention The Thoroughbreds, a training company he’s co-owner of. Nico said Brady would know about this place because all the big-time athletes wanted to work out there. If Brady asks how I know so much about it, Nico told me to tell him that my dad works out there.

Nico wants to know when he’s going to get some kind of return on his investment, and I assured him it’s going to be as soon as Brady leaves my bed for the first time.

Speaking of soon, Nico says that I should still be moving into our house by Christmas. I reminded him of our conversation at the Ritz-Carlton in Atlanta where he said he was going to get a divorce attorney, and he assured me that things are under control.

I know that woman better be out of my house real soon. I had some Christmas decorating to plan.

CHAPTER
6

Carmyn’s Telephone Games

I
f I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. I was in the corner of Back to My Roots, counting supplies, when Maybelline walked into the shop like it was an every-Friday get-my-do-done evening. Wearing a too-tight blue jean miniskirt with white fringe, a black top, and white cowgirl boots, she took off her sunglasses and surveyed my establishment. It was a few minutes before the normal rush, and the place was quiet. A few of the stylists were preparing their stations for the day. The television was on
Ellen,
but muted.

“Where is Miss Carmyn?” she asked the receptionist.

“Who may I tell her is asking to see her?” Laura asked.

“Tell her it’s her good, good girlfriend Maybelline. May-Jean for short.”

I thought about what I was going to do for a few moments, then I stepped from behind the door and was face-to-face with Maybelline.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Come here, girl, and give me a hug,” Maybelline said, not noticing that I wasn’t smiling. She gave me the half-hug talk-show hosts sometimes give their guests.

“What brings you to Atlanta?” I asked as I pulled back.

“I came to Atlanta to do a little shopping and I heard about your lil’ establishment and I want to give you a little business. Of course, with the family discount, since our boys are like brothas.” Maybelline winked. “You know I got to look good at the game Saturday.”

“You should have called for an appointment.”

“An appointment? Girl, we family. What do you think you can do with my mop?” Maybelline asked as she ran her hand through her hair.

“I don’t do walk-ins. Talk with Laura and she’ll set you up with one of the stylists for the first opening,” I said politely but with as much distance in my voice as possible. I knew from the first time I met Maybelline that she did not take hints quickly. I wished Zander was working here today, because he would fix her good. He would know exactly how to handle this woman.

“I ain’t got all day—why can’t you just do it? I bet if I was Whitney Houston or Halle Berry, you’d whip out that hot comb or whatever it is you use quicker than quick. Are we sitting together at the game this weekend?”

I wanted to respond with a firm “Hell, no,” but instead I walked over to the receptionist’s desk and looked at the appointment book. Then I turned in the direction opposite Maybelline and looked at a slim young lady who was putting on a pale pink smock.

“Kai, I see you don’t have an appointment until eleven. Do you think you could take a walk-in?”

“Sure, Ms. B, what does she need done?”

“Excuse me, Ms. B and Kai, but I’m standing right here. Don’t you bitches get all uppity with me. I will pull off my switchblade earrings in a New Orleans minute,” Maybelline said.

“Excuse me, but I don’t allow that type of language in my establishment,” I said.

“What? Is this some kinda church or something? I don’t see Jesus up in this camp. Excuse me, girlfriend, but ya’ll ain’t doing nothing but frying hair up in here. And I’m the kind of bitch that you ain’t got to show me yo ass but once. I’m outta here,” Maybelline said as she swept out of the salon, leaving the door wide open.

Right before closing, Kai
came into my office and told me I had a phone call.

“Did you ask who it was?”

“No,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll take it. Close the door when you leave.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have a good one.”

I picked up the phone and said, “This is Carmyn. How can I help you?”

“Niecey Johnson. It is you,” the somewhat familiar female voice said.

“Who is this?”

“This is Daphne Mitchell,” she said. “Rena told me she thought she’d seen you. I’ve been looking for you. There is so much I need to tell you.” Her voice was as friendly as a Wal-Mart greeter’s. She was acting like we were best friends who talked every day.

“This is not Niecey, and I told that woman she has the wrong person. Please don’t call me again.”

“I need to talk to you about that night at college,” she said.

The memory of that night twenty years ago was as fresh in my mind as a new layer of snow. When I could finally afford to go, I’d spent years in counseling trying to put that night behind me.

“I have to go. Don’t call here anymore. Do you understand? Don’t call me ever again,” I said as my hands began trembling.

“But you—”

I hung up the phone, grabbed my purse, and rushed to my car after locking the door.

CHAPTER
7

Brady for President

F
all was pushing its way onto CGU’s campus amid all the excitement of the success of the Jaguars. We were ranked in the top ten in the country for the first time in the school’s history and were a contender for a Bowl Championship Series game.

The oak trees were turning golden, and scattered acorns announced the official start of fall. Mix in the crisp autumn air that whipped across the open grounds under a glorious blue sky with gray empty clouds, and you had a postcard of what college life should be. I was going to miss all this next year.

I zipped my green and gold warm-up and rocked from one leg to the other as I stood in front of Founders Hall. “Would you come on?” I yelled at Delmar, who had stopped to talk to yet another female.

“Chill, B,” Delmar shouted as he gave a wink, waved to the young lady, and raced to catch up with me. We were going to the Union for lunch.

The smell of grilled hot dogs wafted toward us and we saw a group of black students lined up at a table near the hot dog stand. The students were wearing “Vote Against the War” T-shirts, and I asked Delmar if he had registered to vote.

“Hell no,” Delmar replied.

“Why not?”

“’Cause my vote don’t count,” he said.

“I bet you won’t say that if your behind is in Iraq next year this time eating sand sandwiches.”

“Say, dude, what’s up with the hot dogs?” Delmar asked one of the students passing out voter registration cards.

“Register to vote and get a hot dog and a free T-shirt,” the young man said.

“Now you talking. Who said there was no more free lunch?” Delmar said as he took the card and pen from the young man.

“What are the fans talking about on the boards?” I asked.

“Same ole shit. But snaps, get this! I read on there that somebody was going to post some naked pictures of one of our teammates,” Delmar said as he bit off almost half of his hot dog.

“What?” I asked, making sure that I’d heard Delmar correctly. An unexpected shiver went through my body at the thought of my photos being on a message board. Maybe Chloe’s threat wasn’t empty after all.

“You heard me. Somebody said there were naked pictures of one of the players. You don’t know who it is, do you?” Delmar asked with a sly smile on his lips.

“No, no, I don’t know who it could be. I don’t think anyone on our team would do that,” I protested halfheartedly.

“I bet it’s that dumb-ass Koi. Dude will do anything to get the press talking about him, but he could say good-bye to any hopes of winning the Heisman ever,” Delmar said.

“You think it would hurt him?”

“Shit yeah,” Delmar replied quickly. “I bet Troy Smith and Darren McFadden ain’t got no naked pictures of them floating around on the Internet.”

“Hey, Brady,” another young man said. I recognized Wynn McDonald, the vice president of the Black Students Association. He was in my business law class.

“Whatsup, Wynn?”

“We’re just out here trying to get everyone to register. You know we can make a change in this election. And somethin’s gotta change.”

“No doubt. I’m already registered,” I said.

“That’s great, Brady. I’m not surprised that a brotha like you is down for the battle,” Wynn said as he smiled at me.

Delmar noticed this as he looked at Wynn and then at me. “B, let’s get out of here.”

I frowned as Delmar pulled me away. “Delmar, I thought you were going—”

“I changed my mind,” Delmar said before I could finish my sentence. We’d only taken a few steps from the stand before Delmar continued. “Man, what you doin’ letting that cake boy flirt with you like that?”

“What’re you talking about?” I said.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how that little queen was batting his eyes like a beauty contestant and sizing you up like you were a Thanksgiving turkey ready to be stuffed,” Delmar said.

“Man, stop tripping. Wynn is a cool dude. Active in student government and on the Dean’s List.”

“That shit don’t surprise me. All them gay dudes are smart and in shit. But it ain’t good for your reputation,” Delmar said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked again.

“Dude, everybody on campus know yo ass is a virgin, and if you go around letting them faggots smile and talk to you like y’all buddies, people will start to think you on they team,” Delmar said.

“Their team? When did black men divide up into teams?” I asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Delmar defended.

“D…you know me. I don’t care what people think. I know who I am.”

“Man, you need to worry about that shit. Come spring and after the NFL combine, they gonna be sending investigators to campus to check up on you, and I mean they check everything. You already got to deal with the fact that your godfather is light on his feet, then they find out you friends with the cake boys and that might cost you a few million dollars,” Delmar said.

“Stop tripping and promise me you will at least go to the courthouse and register to vote,” I said. I never understood why football players or athletes in general were so homophobic. We were the ones who were always naked in close confines with each other, or out on the field patting each other’s butts.

I thought about something that had happened last winter that made me wonder about some of my teammates. It was snowing real hard and a bunch of us were in the Union coffee shop just shooting the breeze. In walked Darius, a guy who made no bones about being gay.

When he walked in from the snow, he suddenly slipped and his body flipped over, even though he did everything he could to prevent the fall. It was funny and everybody started laughing, including myself.

Darius got up and pulled himself together and walked over to the table where all the ballplayers were sitting and laughing. He put his hands on his hips and in his sweet-sounding but serious voice said, “I know you motherfuckers ain’t laughing at me. I might need to start doing a little roll call of names of the ones who visit my dorm late at night. And we all know it ain’t ’bout studying, don’t we, boys?” Darius said. The entire table got silent, and Darius walked away snapping and popping his fingers over his head, saying, “Don’t fuck with me, fellows!”

“Brady, just promise me you gonna watch yo step,” Delmar pleaded, interrupting my thoughts of that funny scene.

“If that will get you to vote, then I promise,” I said. I reached over and pulled Delmar’s head toward mine and bumped it affectionately.

“Hey, man, cut that shit out. Somebody might see us,” Delmar said.