Preseason Love (23 page)

11:24 DEVinly1: Yes. I gave him my number that night and he texted me the next day which was yesterday. We were texting all day but no mention of a date.

11:25 SassyScottT: Ok…ok…well, give it another day. Maybe he is
trying to feel you out and make sure that you are comfortable meeting up…

11:25 DEVinly1: True. I hope that he doesn't wait too long.

11:26 SassyScottT: If he does then you take the advice that you gave me and you take the control.

11:27 DEVinly1: I did say that…lol. We'll see.

I was logged into IM through my Gmail so the forwarded message from B. Stalling kept staring at me. I felt like it was calling out to me and I couldn't avoid it, but I wasn't ready to deal.

After lunch, the mailroom called to inform me that a large package arrived under my name. They were making sure that I was at my desk before bringing it up. I thought nothing of it, but I had not done any online shopping lately so it wasn't something that I had ordered. Being in PR at The League, it wasn't unusual to get unexpected goodies, but when the mailroom guy walked up pushing the large box on a dolly, I thought for sure that it could not be for me.

He unloaded the box, instructed me to sign his pad, and politely walked away. He left me alone with my huge box of the unknown.

My desk line rang and the caller ID revealed that it was Kari. I ignored his call; I had to see what the hell was inside the box.

I busted that bad boy open. The standard brown shipping box went almost up to my waist and it was filled with black-and-white tissue paper sprinkled with gold flecks. I tore through the paper, but it wasn't until I got about halfway through that the true contents were revealed. What appeared to be a Jimmy Choo shoebox was staring at me.

Who is this from?

Before I peeked inside the shoebox, I searched around for a card, or a note, or something. But I couldn't locate a single indication
as to the identity of the sender. The box didn't even have a return address on the outside; only my name and work address. Kari had fucked up, but I knew that this gift could not be from him. It wasn't his style. It was too flashy.

I dug back in the big box, pulled the shoebox out, and shook the top off. Nicely placed on top of a fly-ass pair of Jimmy Choo, black python, leather, gladiator, multi-strap sandals, was the note that I had been searching for. I flipped over the gold note card. Written in black ink, the message read:
“Your shoe game is official, so I wanted to send you a little something else that you could get into.”
I could have fainted. No one had ever given me a gift this expensive. I was sure that these babies had to have cost over a thousand dollars.

It was no mystery that my Santa Claus was Byron. Although he did not sign his name, there wasn't anyone else in my life that had money to burn on that level. My days had been completely unpredictable and filled with unexpected events since I'd met him. Still confused as to how I should have felt, I could not deny that his latest gesture had taken flattery to another level. I'd never had someone trying to woo me in such an extravagant manner. Sure, men sent me flowers and offered sweet gestures while we were dating. But so far, I had not even so much as told this guy that I was interested in him. I could have interpreted the situation in one of two ways: either he was delusional and aggressive, or romantic and determined.

Either way, the shoes could not stay in plain view, so I carefully placed the Jimmy Choo shoebox in the bottom drawer of my desk. As far as I knew, no one even noticed what had transpired with my unexpected package. People were face down in their computers and hard at work.

Instead of plowing through my work as previously planned, I
found myself daydreaming, and it wasn't a mystery as to who held the leading role. I had even started thinking of outfits to wear with the shoes. It wasn't like I could send them back or anything. After all, who would I send them back to? I had no return address.

Secretly I felt like a princess. I enjoyed the thrill of it all, but I couldn't continue being nonresponsive to everyone. I needed to finally face Kari and address Byron. The commute home was filled with tempered anxiety. I jammed out to the most crunk music that I could find in an effort to try and redirect my energy and shake the sordid emotions. Anyone in my head that day would have been exposed to one hundred-and-one wavering thoughts, solutions, and scenarios. I was so indecisive.

When I walked into a silent apartment, I knew that Dev wasn't home. That was excellent. I could blast my music and fix myself something to eat before sitting down to think heavily about my decision.

In an effort to get my mind off of my reality, I watched a little mindless entertainment on TV while I ate. I flicked to MTV and
The Real World
was on which made me squeal with joy. I loved that show and all of the drama that came with it. In college, I had even gone so far as to audition to be a cast member. I didn't make the cut. But that evening I was happy to get invested in someone else's craziness and not think about my own for a little while longer.

Two of the girls on the show were fighting. I was trying to figure out the scenario when they cut to one of the girls in the confessional. She was pissed and she went on to say, “I don't care what they think of me. It's my life and I'm going to live it how I want.”

In a weird way, what she said spoke to me. I only had one life to live and I should have been able to follow every desire and live life how I wanted. It was time that I started living for me. Every
decision that I would make in life may not have been right, but it was mine to make and I would own it.

In that moment, I decided that I would respond to Byron. I wasn't going to overthink it. I would write what came to my mind and let it flow. I logged in to my Gmail, found the forwarded email from my work address, and hit “reply.” I switched out the receiving field and began to compose my message.

I followed his lead and responded in a similar fashion—no salutation. I went in.

“Clearly you are accustomed to getting your way and doing whatever it takes to ensure that things work out in your favor. I won't front. I'm flattered and I like the shoes, but you can stop sending things to my office. I'm not quite sure what you think you want from me. Do you even know?”

Short and simple, then I hit “send.” I purposely hit “send” quickly so that I could not rethink my response and overanalyze my words. I was straightforward, and I told him I wanted to know what his angle was. Essentially, why me?

I knew that he wouldn't respond in the next five minutes, so before I could play that game with myself where I continuously refreshed the inbox page, I logged off. Next up was Kari. I was still confused as to why he'd showed his ass the other night, but now I was ready for an explanation so I called him. He answered damn near on the first ring as if he had been waiting by the phone.

“Hi—Hello? Scottie?”

“Yup, it's me.”

“I'm so glad that you finally called me back.”

“Is that right?” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes. I was a complete asshole to you the other night and…I…I apologize.”

“That's for sure.

“It was misdirected anger. I'm sorry.”

“Look, why don't you start from the beginning? I'll be honest, I was super pissed at you, but now that I've had a chance to calm down, I want to hear exactly what the hell was going on.”

“I can respect that,” Kari said in his mellow, nonconfrontational voice. “I had a bad day and I was in a foul mood, then I realized that I had not heard from you all day. My thoughts were going crazy and getting the best of me. I started thinking that most of the time, I'm the one that always calls you first. There I was having a bad day and my girl had not even called to check on me—not once throughout the day. I thought that you were being selfish. But now I realize that it wasn't really about you. I was already pissed, but since I couldn't go off on my client, I tried to take it out on you and that wasn't fair. I know it wasn't.”

“You damn right it wasn't fair!” I interjected, feeling a rise in my blood pressure. “I guess you totally forgot that I had a big event at the office that day. I'm sorry that I wasn't around to cater to you and kiss your ass, but I was busy working too.”

“No! That's not what I was saying. Don't blow this out of proportion any more than you already have.”

“Oh! So now it's on me!”

“No, no, no…I apologize for initially even coming at you the way that I did the other day. I fully admit that I was in the wrong. I don't want to keep fighting with you. Can you please accept my apology and let's move on?”

“You know what…I've had some time to think over the few days that we were apart…and…I'm not sure about us anymore. I think that we should take a break. I liked feeling like I was completely and totally on my own. Since the beginning of my living in New
York, I've been with you. I need to try this on my own now. I really do care about you and I don't want to lose you as a friend…but I need some space.”

“Damn, all of that over a minor misunderstanding…really, Scottie?” I could hear the stress in Kari's voice. “I mean do you even care about us? Do you love me like I love you?”

“That misunderstanding made me realize how much I care about
me
…and right now I think we need to chill for a little while and see where our relationship will go from there.”

“You're a cold piece of work. You know that?”

The phone line was silent. I had no response since that wasn't the first time I'd heard that accusation, but I wasn't about to confirm his statement.

Kari continued, “The way that you were acting…I thought that you were never going to talk to me again. But then I figured that I was being dramatic. Now you tell me you want a break?”

“I'm not saying that I want you out of my life. I need to fall back from the intensity of the relationship for a bit.”

“Is there someone else? Tell me if that's what it is. Don't try to play me for a fool, Scottie.”

That wasn't what I expected him to say.

My voice was a little squeaky as I quickly responded, “No, don't even go there.”

“If you say so.” Kari responded with a twinge less bass in his voice. “Look, I'll play by your rules, so you tell me how you want this thing to go. But for now, I'll talk to you later.”

“Perfect.”

I heard a familiar click. I sort of felt like he hung up on me again, but this time it was warranted, and honestly, there was nothing left to say.

I
heard rumors that Kari had been hitting the streets heavy. I even caught wind of him being spotted with a blondie. That was totally out of character for him, but I wasn't his woman anymore so I had no right to be concerned. We had only spoken once since the break and I didn't ask him any questions in an effort to respect his feelings. I wanted him to take time to do his thing because I had definitely planned on doing mine.

Speaking of doing me, Byron didn't email back right away; it took him two long agonizing days to respond. I checked that email account religiously wondering what could be taking him so long. When he finally responded, I was relieved. I called my Jolie to give her the play-by-play. I had already told her that Kari and I were taking a break. She had no reservations about telling me how big of a mistake she thought that I was making. Kari was such an ideal guy in her eyes.

“Well, he finally responded,” I'd said to my Jolie.

“And?”

“He's coming to the city for a commercial shoot and he asked if he could take me out.”

“So is this going to be like a date?”

“I'm not even trying to entertain all that at this point. It'll be our first time hanging out so we'll see how it goes.”

“As I said before, I trust that you know what you're doing.”

“I do…I do. All right, I'll talk to you later!”

•  •  •

I couldn't find an outfit to wear to work. It was crucial that I pick the right look since I was meeting up with Byron after work. The plan was to meet him at his hotel around seven o'clock, which meant that I wouldn't have time to run back home and change. My excitement made it impossible to concentrate and come up with a fly-ass outfit.

That night, after sifting through everything that I owned and trying on countless outfit combinations, I finally settled on the old faithful: all black everything. Even though I had no clue where the night would take us, it was impossible to go wrong in all black.

The following day I could barely look my coworkers in the eyes. I felt like they would be able to read my secret thoughts. I stayed glued to my desk as much as possible. A few people made comments about how cute I looked, but that wasn't out of the ordinary on a typical workday.

As six o'clock finally crept around, I ducked into the women's restroom to freshen up.

Teeth crisp and clean? Check.

Fresh coat of mascara? Check.

Lipstick? Check.

Bronzer and blush? Check.

Smell goods? Check.

I covered all of the majors. Now I was ready to embark on my adventure.

Since I was rocking my sexy heels, I thought it best that I pass on the train option and simply hop in a cab. Byron's hotel wasn't far from my office, but a girl could not get her mean strut on in
the city streets, in turn, messing up the taps on her thousand dollar heels. No ma'am.

The cab driver stopped directly in front of the hotel lobby entrance. I wasn't ready. I could see the doorman standing outside of the cab waiting to greet me. This was all too real and now the fear was starting to kick in.

I extended my hand with the money in it toward the cab driver, and I noticed that my entire arm was shaky. I almost stepped on the doorman's foot as he was trying to open the door for me. I was a paranoid wreck. I was such a mess that I quickly decided one of two things would happen: either I would pull it together and fake it like I was that bad chick, or I would turn my ass around immediately and head to the Port Authority and catch a bus back to Jersey. I stood in the lobby for two seconds to decide. The next thing I knew, a burst of confidence came from some mysterious place in my body and I was energized. I strutted through the lobby with a steady stride and my heels click-clacked as I approached the front desk.