Love on the Run (25 page)

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Authors: Zuri Day

BOOK: Love on the Run
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52
A week later, Shayna left practice and headed to her mailbox on National Avenue. Since most of her bills were paid online and the utilities came directly to the apartment, this trip was a rare occurrence. But Shayna had gotten the box while still in college and because she'd had the address for so long and the rent was so inexpensive, she kept it. It had been her most stable address to date. She walked inside, unlocked the box, and retrieved her mail. As expected, most of it was junk this and “to occupant” that. But there were a couple items from USC, including that year's alumni gathering, and also a note reminding her that her latest dental checkup was way past due. She stopped at the large trash receptacle near the boxes, discarding the sale fliers and letters to the current resident. She was just about to toss two such addressed envelopes when she noticed a smaller, thinner envelope between them. She pulled it out, curious as to who would be writing her using something as archaic as a ballpoint pen. She turned over the envelope and read:
This correspondence is being sent from an inmate at California State Prison, Solano
. Shayna's heart slammed against her chest. In the ongoing concern for her mother's health, she'd almost forgotten about the letter (more of a note actually) she'd written to her father—and then mailed before she could lose her nerve. It was simple, to the point, containing only five lines:
Dear Antonio:
My name is Shayna and I am Beverly Washington's daughter. Until a few days ago, I thought you were dead. I am twenty-five now, and would like to meet you. I have so many questions. If possible, please contact me.
Shayna
It was possible, evidently. He'd written her back. Her hand began shaking as she turned the envelope back over and read the front, upper left side:
Antonio Bell, #91437
PO Box 4000
Vacaville, CA 95696-4000
She noted that he'd spelled her name correctly, not changed it to
Shana,
the way some people did. His handwriting was strong, the strokes bold and slanted to the right. The pen he used held black ink. To Shayna the way he wrote his numbers hinted at his need for individuality. His number four was closed at the top, the way she made hers, and his seven had a line through it, British style. There were no loops or curlicues to his penmanship. She imagined him to be a straightforward, cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. The
i
in
Antonio
wasn't dotted. Did that mean anything? Should Shayna stop dotting her
i
's? she wondered. Hadn't even met him yet and already she was trying to find ways to be like him. Was that a good thing? She wondered about that, too. One thing that didn't need to remain a mystery was the contents of this letter. She hurried to her car, took extra care in opening the envelope so as to preserve it for all time, and reached inside. She carefully unfolded the paper. A picture fell out. She picked it up and saw eyes like hers, and a nose like hers, and a smile. The darkhued man sat on what looked to be a picnic table. He had on a light-blue shirt, a white T-shirt, and blue jeans. After staring at the picture for untold minutes, she placed it on her dash and picked up the paper. The letter had been written on a piece of paper torn from a notebook. It filled every line on one side of the page.
Dear Shayna:
I can't tell you what it meant for me to get your letter. I've thought about you every day of my life, wondering how you were, who you were, hoping that you were okay. I don't know what your mother told you about me, but from the time I learned of your existence I tried to become a part of your life. After your mother's second marriage—
WTH???
—when she moved to Louisiana, my cousin lost contact with her. And after many years of trying to find her and you, I'm sorry to say that I gave up. But I never lost the hope that I would meet you. That's why receiving your letter brought tears to my eyes.
Your letter stated that you have many questions. That's understandable. So do I. I hope that one day soon we can meet, and have a chance to sit down and get to know each other. I know it's a long time in coming, but I feel it's never too late to start something new. Wow, I'm finally connecting to my daughter. Today is an answered prayer.
For now, I'll say this. My full name is William Antonio Bell. I was born in North Carolina, but my family moved to Los Angeles when I was two. I don't remember the South at all and have never been there. I went to Crenshaw High School. I loved sports and excelled in football. I was a running back and when I hit the straightaway, no one could beat me. I could run the forty in under 4.5!
I could have gone on to college ball, maybe even pro, but I got caught up in hanging with the wrong crowd, and trying to live too much life too soon. But I want you to know something, Shayna. Your father is not a bad man. Your father is a good man who made some bad choices. Maybe one day we'll meet face to face and I can share my story. If I am blessed to ever have that time come, I'll tell you everything.
Thank you so much for writing me. Please write again.
Your dad, Antonio.
 
P.S. Your brother, Antonio Jr., is six months older than you and lives in Atlanta.
Shayna read and reread the letter at least half a dozen times. Her emotions were as jumbled as sticky spaghetti, her mind swirling like water down a drain. Her mother had been married twice? She'd lived in Louisiana—which meant that Shayna had lived there as well? Or was that one of the times she'd stayed with Big Mama? Shayna wasn't an only child, but had a brother? And for her the most amazing fact . . . her father was a runner! Big Mama had always assumed that Shayna's talent came from her father's side of the family. And she'd been right.
Wiping tears away, Shayna reached for her phone. Her first thought was to call Jarrell, the man responsible for finding the cousin who helped put her in touch with her dad. She touched the screen and tapped the name of the most important person in her life, the person for whom this news would matter most.
“Baby,” she said when he answered, “I just got a letter from my father.”
“That's great news,” Michael exclaimed, “really great news.” Shayna could hear the smile in his voice, telling her how much he cared.
53
The next day, Shayna phoned Beverly from Michael's home, where she'd gone directly after leaving the mail center. She told her about receiving the letter and of learning that she had a brother living in the Southeast.
“Are you going to go meet your father?” Beverly asked.
“Yes,” Shayna replied with no hesitation. “He's in California State at Solano, which is near Sacramento. It will be a few months before there is a break in the schedule, but we're going up at the first opportunity.”
“You and Michael?”
“Yes.”
“He supports this?”
“Yes,” Michael replied, having heard everything because the call was on speaker. “I do.”
Michael and Shayna listened as someone entered the room where Beverly was talking. A mumbled conversation ensued, with Beverly obviously holding her hand over the microphone. “Hold on a minute,” she said, once she'd returned to the phone. “Jarrell wants to talk to
you,
Shayna.” The implied message was to take the phone off speaker. Shayna did not oblige.
“I hear you've got good news, baby girl!”
“Yes, Jarrell. And I owe you a big thank you for helping to make it happen. I got a letter from my father.”
“Word?”
“Yes.” She relayed the same information that she'd given Beverly.
“Remember, baby. I'm right here. He probably knows my cousins; hell, some of them might even be in the same joint. When you get ready to go and visit him for the first time, I want to be right there. I've got you, baby. We'll get through this, I promise.”
The male response was not the one that Jarrell expected. “Jarrell, this is Michael. We appreciate what you've done. Along with Shayna's gratitude, I'll add mine. But there's nowhere for you to stand by Shayna's side. I'm taking up that space.”
“Jarrell,” Shayna added, hoping to prevent a verbal showdown, “we had some fun moments while I was there helping to take care of Mom. But I told you then, and I'll tell you now. Nothing has changed. I love Michael. And I hope that in time you can find love, too.” Shayna and Michael exchanged a glance during the long pause that followed. “Hello?”
“He left,” Beverly replied. Her voice lowered as she continued. “Y'all, don't worry about Jarrell, or me either for that matter. I know I haven't always shown my support, but at the end of the day, Shayna, you need to live your life. Mama always said I was selfish and self-centered and she was right. For a long time I've used the drama I endured as an excuse for my behavior. But that's got to stop. You're your own person, Shayna. Most of the time when you thought I was mad at you, I was really jealous of you.”
“But why—”
“Let me say this. I wanted the carefree childhood that you received. I wanted Big Mama to feel about me the way she seemed to feel about you. I'm just now realizing that the bed I slept in as a child and especially as a teenager was one that I'd made. It wasn't your father's fault that I got pregnant. I lied and told him that I was on the pill.
“I wanted to be the woman that you are, with something going for herself besides her looks. You've become who you are in spite of a mother like me. I just hope that one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Don't worry about it, Mom. I already have. That started as soon as I got the letter from my father. But the healing will take a lot longer. Hopefully we'll do that together.”
“I hope so. Listen, guys, the nurse just got back from her dinner break. Shayna, when do you think you'll be down again?”
“Not until after the baby arrives. We've got meets and promotional obligations back to back. But call me if you need me, Mom. I always check my cell.”
“I'm proud of you, Shayna.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“I love you.”
“Me, too.” Shayna hung up the phone, and for the life of her couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her mother say those words.
54
Today was a big day: the official launch of Triple S, Shayna's sportswear line that through 2017 would be sold exclusively in XMVP stores. Her line included running outfits, a cologne called Sprint, and the shoe idea that Shayna had conceived. It was all happening in the Big Apple at XMVP's Times Square location. Michael and the PR company he'd hired had done a bang-up job. In the week before this Saturday launch, Shayna had appeared on the
Today
show,
ESPN, Live! with Kelly,
and the popular hip-hop show,
106 & Park
. In addition she'd been interviewed by the
New York Times, USA Today
, the
Washington Post,
and the
Huffington Post
. In the coming months she was scheduled to do a spread in
Essence
magazine and also to appear on OWN. As her manager, Michael had done everything he'd promised. As her man, he'd done so much more.
“You ready, baby?” Michael reached across the limo seat and took Shayna's hand.
“I think so.” She looked down at her vibrating phone. “Ah,” she said once she'd tapped the message icon. “Coach and his wife send me their wishes.” Always proud and supportive of his team, John had assured her if not for the any-day-now baby on the way, he would have been there.
“Good man right there.”
“Yes, he is.” At times, Coach had felt like the father Shayna had never known. “Wish he were here to calm my nerves!”
“Just be yourself. You'll do fine.”
“I kinda wish Mom were here.”
“You know she'd be here if she could travel.”
“I know.” Shayna also realized that the phrase her grandmother often spouted—“God may be working in mysterious ways”—was particularly fitting right this moment. Because had Beverly made the trip, Larsen would have accompanied her and Jarrell more than likely would have come along for the ride. Much too much drama. As it were the entire event was being videoed. She'd make sure that her mother got a copy of the DVD.
They turned the corner and Shayna's eyes widened.
Is all of that crowd here for me?
The answer came as soon as the driver opened her door and she stepped out of the car. Photographers began screaming her name and girls with gold-medal dreams in their eyes began pushing pieces of paper in her direction.
“Baby,” Michael said, reaching into his pocket and handing her a pen, “sign a few on your way in.”
Unexpected tears came to Shayna's eyes as she reached for the first piece of paper. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine herself a celebrity or role model, someone from whom anyone would want her signature. She remembered being a child and watching other athletes sign autographs for their fans, something that always appeared so cool. And now, here she was, looking into the eyes of a little cocoa cutie with long braids and braces who appeared to be about ten years old, thinking, Shayna imagined, that someday she too could bring home the gold.
After smiling and waving to the crowd, Shayna continued into the store, flanked by Michael, Michael's assistant, Keith, the PR rep, Choice McKinley-Scott from Chai Fashions and the designer behind the running gear and jogging outfits bearing the Triple S logo: Shayna's Sprint Sensations. It was a good thing Michael had warned her, otherwise she would have been stopped in her tracks by the larger than life picture of herself running along the back wall. The day wasn't totally without surprises, however, as she found out when she rounded the corner and saw several of her teammates and her BFFs!
“Tee! Britt!” Shayna made quick work of the distance between her and her friends. “Why didn't you tell me y'all were coming?”
“Because it was a surprise, silly,” Tee said, giving Shayna a hug.
“Girl, you are doing the damn thing,” Britt whispered with a squeeze.
“She's right, Shay. This is crazy, girl.” Talisha looked beyond Shayna and smiled. “'Bout time y'all got here!”
Shayna turned around and saw Kim and Patrick heading in her direction. “Wow! This is amazing!” She hugged them both. “Thanks so much for coming, guys. This means a lot.”
“Thank Michael,” Kim replied. “He's the one who rounded us all up and set us up with the travel agent that gave us group rates.”
Shayna turned to thank Michael only to find that he'd gone across the room and was talking to the store manager with whom they'd had dinner last night. She turned back to Talisha. “Cameron couldn't come?”
“No, he couldn't get off work. He's happy for you, though; wanted me to tell you that dinner was on him when we get back home.”
“Ah.”
“You'd better take him up on it, too, 'cause you know he's tighter than a fat lady's girdle.”
“Ha!”
A pair of arms wrapped around her. Shayna would know that scent anywhere, and even though the move had surprised her, there was a smile on her face as she turned around. “What's with the PDA?”
“Can't I give my baby a hug and tell her how proud I am of her?”
“I thought we were keeping the fact that we're dating on the down low.” While this hadn't been the official position, more than once Michael had alluded to not giving off the appearance of mixing business with pleasure. Yet here he was nuzzling her neck in full view of the cameras as if it were the most natural thing to do.
“Maybe it's time we change that.”
Further conversation was interrupted as Dina and her team mounted the temporarily erected stage. “If I can have your attention,” Dina began, after she'd signaled the DJ to lower the volume of the hip-hop music pouring through the speakers. “On behalf of XMVP Shoes and Sportswear, I'd like to welcome you to the launch of Triple S from the triple threat, Shayna Washington!” Applause and whistles sounded out, while those around Shayna high-fived. “We are absolutely thrilled to be represented not only by an athlete of her talent but also a person of her caliber. In the short time I've known her, I've found Shayna to be a person of integrity and compassion, with a keen understanding of the world's events. Which is why at her request fifty percent of the proceeds from today's sales will go to benefit those still recovering in earthquake-ravaged Haiti.” More whistles. More applause. “We'd also like to recognize Chai from Chai Fashions, whose talent is behind the stylish yet comfortable looks that make up the Triple S line. Shayna will be up to speak later, but right now please enjoy the buffet, drink from the champagne fountain, and most importantly . . . buy, buy, buy!”
With that admonishment, the music revved up, the crowd around the stage disbursed to shop, and for the next hour, Shayna was pulled here and tugged there: photographed, interviewed, and complimented on the successful launch. Heady stuff for a once shy girl from Inglewood who'd been told by her mom it was more important to get a man than get a job. The hug from Michael hadn't gone unnoticed and more than one reporter had inquired of their relationship. “We're very good friends and business partners,” had been her pat and coy reply.
At the end of the successful evening that included a fashion show, Dina once again graced the stage along with Michael, the Times Square store manager, and other company brass. After she'd gotten their attention, she spoke into the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, the star of the evening, Shayna Washington.”
Shayna nodded, smiled, and gave little waves as she mounted the stage and walked to the podium. Laughing out loud, she gave a look to her “crew,” who were whistling and hollering like the fools that they were and the ones whom she loved. “Wow, thank you,” she said sincerely when the noise had quieted. “I normally do my talking on the track so . . . this will be quick.”
“Just like you, Shayna!” someone yelled.
“Thank you. Um, I'd like to thank Dina DeVore and all the people at XMVP for allowing me to represent you and to introduce my line through your popular establishment. I'm especially proud that part of the proceeds will benefit the children in Haiti, providing shoes to those who don't have them and food and clothes for those in need. Thank you so much. My coach isn't here, but I want to shout out to him, John Joyner; my California Angels teammates, especially Brittney, Talisha, Kim, and Chantelle; and also my mom, Beverly Powell. Lastly, I'd like to thank my manager, Michael Morgan, for making this all possible.” She looked at Michael. “Thank you.” And then to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. Thanks so much.”
As the audience applauded, Michael came to the stage. He gave Shayna a light hug before approaching the mike. “As you all know, the foundation for the Triple S line is the lightweight running shoe that hopefully all of you will be purchasing tonight. Shayna's expertise as a runner was invaluable in the designing of this footwear, which is lightweight yet durable, with an innovative tread and nonintrusive heel and toe support. She was a part of the process from start to finish. What she doesn't know, however, is that there is one part of the design that, until now, we've kept hidden from her. Dina . . .” He turned to the marketing VP who in turn nodded to an assistant holding a shoe box. The assistant brought the box to the stage. “How many of you remember the famous gold shoes worn by track star Michael Johnson?” A few hands went up. “Well, after tonight, there's another pair of famous shoes you'll instantly recognize on the racetrack.” He turned with box outstretched. “Shayna.”
Shayna frowned slightly as she took the box.
Didn't we discuss this? And didn't I tell you that I didn't want any sparkly shoes?
Cautiously lifting the lid, she looked down on the coolest pair of shoes she'd ever seen. Michael had catered to her wishes. The shoes weren't gold, silver, or even iridescent. They were see-through, made of a thin yet sturdy mesh-like material with a solid toe and heel! The only nod to pizzazz was found in the shoelaces, which were white and covered with small Swarovski crystals. “Wow,” she quietly exclaimed, holding up a shoe for the crowd's observance. Reactions ranged from oohs and aahs to claps and cheers. Again, Shayna felt teary. Such a classy gesture, these shoes. She looked at Michael.
I really love that man.
“Try them on!” someone shouted.
The crowd cheered her on. Someone brought a chair up on the stage. Shayna sat in it and reached for the first shoe to try on. She was just about to pull the lace when she noticed one sparkly stone that was quite a bit bigger than the ones covering the lace.
Oh, maybe that's like a tassel. Cool!
She pulled at the “tassel.” A band prevented the string from coming loose. Shayna's eyes widened.
No. Can't be.
Before she could wrap her mind around what she thought she saw, Michael was before her. On his knees.
What?
“Shayna Washington. I've been running away from marriage for a long time. And the journey has led me straight to you. I'm through running. Will you marry me?”

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