The Player (5 page)

7

“Meh rode on the same plane as Usain Bolt.
We bussin’ a lime dis Sunday, wha yuh for? Yuh comin’ to Carnival next year? I need mah muse.”

Harlow kept replaying the voice message from her ex, knowing exactly what his handsome face looked like as he said,
“Yuh comin’ to Carnival next year? . . .”

Ah, Carnival in Port of Spain, Trinidad, full of spectators and masqueraders. The glitter, the gyrating bodies, the uninhibited excitement.
When she thought of home three things came to mind. The bright sun, the warm beige sand, and the beautiful blue waters of the coves.

Any other year she would’ve already had her tickets and looking forward to boarding a flight out with Reina. But that was before Kyle.

“I need mah muse,” Ozzy’d said.

It was a nice sentiment, but she hadn’t been his muse for a very long time. Though he still told anyone who’d listen that she was the inspiration for his first international hit “Woman is Boss” it was the one and only video she’d danced in, because Ozzy’s next few hits were as raunchy as they were catchy. 

Most people referred to him as Oz, or “The Great Oz” and even “Ginjaman.” His CDs sold in the millions and he was a much sought after collaborator in other styles of music, from techno to pop. Harlow knew him when he just Perry Oswald Jennings, a skinny local boy in Princes Town, where his drive to succeed was like watching a house catch fire. She’d agonized with him when he didn’t win a battle that pitted his Soca lyrics and style against other local rappers, and listened to him second guess his talent and belittle himself in the process. She would’ve been happy just being his confidant, the tall, skinny girl everyone called his “shadow” because of how closely she tagged along after him.

She was the first person to believe in his talent, and tell him that he’d be a star one day. And he was the first boy to tell her she was beautiful, and that wherever he went, she’d be right by his side. He’d wiped away her tears with a gentle brush of the hand, promising her that leaving for America didn’t mean the end of them.

“But-but I love you!” she’d blubbered, not caring how crying made her face look. “I wish I was a woman already. I wish I could live on my own and that I was the boss of me.”

His family had left for America first, but he always took the time to call her, giving her advice on what she needed to do in order to fit in.

“When yuh finally come here, yuh have to get your mom to straighten yuh hair. The black girls all have long straight hair. ”

Harlow’s nose crinkled at the thought. Sitting in a chair for hours on end with a burning chemical wasn’t something she wanted to do.

“Yuh could be a model. You’re beautiful enough, and you’re tall enough,” he’d said.

A place where her height wouldn’t be a disadvantage? Was he sure? And why did his speech sound so strange? “Why yuh talking like that? Like, like-”

“Like an American?” He was glad she noticed. “My management thinks it’ll help meh crossover.”

“Are yuh comin’ home for Carnival?” she’d asked.

“Why?”

“Yuh know why. The Junior Calypso Queen contest. I’m entered in it.”

“Not this year. I’m on tour, doin’ little shows here and there.”

They didn’t see each other again until she was fifteen and he was seventeen, only this time her mother was leaving her Da, promising never to return.

“Now you’re home but we’re leaving!” Harlow cried. Life was conspiring against them, she just knew it.

“For right now, just listen to yuh Ma. Go on over to the USA ‘til I kin come for yuh proper. Now stop yuh sobbing.”

Too stubborn and too hurt, she shook her head no.

“Do for me, won’t yuh?” he whispered, leaning in close enough to place his lips on hers. “You’re my woman, still. And my woman is boss.”

The number one single in 2003 was 50 Cent’s “In da Club,” Number two was R. Kelly’s “Ignition.” Jamaican rapper Sean Paul had “Get Busy” and a duet with Beyoncé that landed at number twelve called “Baby Boy.” But right with them was Ozzy at number five with “Woman is Boss.”

2003 was Ozzy’s break out year. What was even more remarkable, the song came out at the end of the year and shot up the charts, so when 2004 rolled around it was still a top five hit. And she’d danced in the video after returning home for Carnival for the Calypso Queen contest. He’d surprised her, right after the competition was over.

“Ozzy!” she’d screeched, throwing herself in his arms. There were two burly guys on either side of him. They kept looking over the crowd, keeping Ozzy’s fans at arms length.

“I told yuh I’d be here,” Ozzy said, giving her one of this photo op, arrogant stances. Licking his full lips, those double fringed black lashes of his were lowered. But she could feel his hot stare on her, giving her a long, admiring look. “Come ‘ere. Give yuh man his due.”

“But how?” Last she’d heard, he had a video shoot. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“In a private plane. No way I’d miss muh gurl’s big night. Yuh shoulda been first. Next year you’ll be first. I’m gonna put us both on the map,” he promised. “Why don’t you dance for my video?”

“But-but I thought you already filmed it?” Harlow sputtered.

“Naw. I told ‘em I need muh gurl in it. And you’re muh gurl.”

Ozzy’s first video was filmed at home, in several locations around Trinidad and Tobago.

But that was then, and now . . .

Crossing her arms over her chest, Ozzy’s message took a backseat to Kyle. Ozzy wasn’t used to coming in second to any man in her life. And she wondered just what sort of tantrum he’d throw once he found out.

*****

Harlow could swear her heart froze at her daughter’s words. “Wha-what did you say?”

Reina’s left brow went up while the right brow dipped low, reminding Harlow of the only other person in her family with that same expression. Her daughter’s dad, Ozzy. “I wanna go with daddy this Thanksgiving,” Reina said, her voice particularly whiney this morning. “Tantie Eustace said she’ll come get me, in case you’re scared to let me fly with daddy and his friends.”

Harlow had to stop her eyes from rolling. ‘Tantie’ or Auntie Eustace was Ozzy’s aunt and the woman who’d raised him. Instead of sounding upset, Harlow bathed her voice in brightness. “Isn’t that nice of her her. Did Tantie Eustace suggest this?”

“No, I did.”

“Oh, you thought of this all on your own-”

“It’s ‘cause I wanna be a real Trini. It’s my heritage-”

Up ‘til then Harlow had shown a great deal of restraint. But Reina was at that age where she thought they were on equal terms when it was time to make a point. “You’re twelve. What cha know about Trinidad ‘cept what I tell ya, or what yuh dad tells yuh?”

Reina’s shoulders sagged as she stared into her cereal bowl. She could tell her mother was mad, because not only had her voice changed, but her accent came back. When one of Reina’s box braids fell forward and almost landed in her bowl filled with milk and Fruit Loops, Harlow reached over to brush it back. “Mom, not a baby anymore.” This time Reina’s whine included a poker face.

“I know. But you’re still just a little girl. My little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl either”

“Reina, I really trying here. I-I don’t want us to argue. Listen, Thanksgiving’s not for another few weeks so I won’t make a decision yet. How about you and me spend some time together, like going shopping or even to a football game?”

That left brow shot up again as Reina’s mind worked to figure out her mother’s motives. “Football? You mean we’ll go see the Panthers?”

“Sure, we can go see the Panthers. And how about we also see the Renegades? You like them don’t you? I’ve heard you screaming at the TV over . . . um, Kyle McClure.”

Reina’s little face twisted in disappointment. With brown skin that was darker than her father’s but just a shade lighter than Harlow’s, her mother’s sudden interest in football was a surprise. “I guess they’re okay. They’re kinda last in their division though. But I
really
like their wide receiver Romero Diaz. He is so fine.”

Like any mother would when their underage daughter sounded too enthralled with a male, Harlow started to remind Reina that she was just a child. Instead she gave Reina a phoney smile. “What would you say if after one of games, like one of the Renegade home games, that you’d have the chance to meet them?”

A scream preceded Reina leaping from her chair, hugging her mother and pulling out her cell phone, thumbs flying. “Mom! I would kill to meet Romero Diaz!! And can one of my friends come too? Can Mikko go with us?”

“I guess so. I only have two tickets, but I can see about getting another one. I can’t promise anything though-”

Disappointment brought Reina’s voice down to a manageable level. “Okay, then I guess it’ll just me and you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. You don’t really like football so I’ll be stuck watching the game by myself while you’re looking at your cell phone,” Reina grumbled. “I’ll probably have to talk to the people sitting around us. I hope we’re not too far up from the field.”

“We’ll be in a skybox. A private one.”

“What?! Mom! We’re gonna watch the game in a private box?!” Reina’s thumbs froze as her text message was put on hold. “Did you win some contest on the radio? How’d you get the tickets?”

“From a friend of mine. He comes into the bar every now and then, and so do some of the other players.”

“Romero, you’ve seen Romero?”
Now her child met her eyes with a smile on her lips that proclaimed Harlow a “cool mom.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve seen him there yet,” Harlow admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he might not stop by some night.”

“I bet it’s because of you, mom. Because you’re so pretty and one of ‘em likes you.” Those thick lashed, dark eyes of Reina’s were brightening with all kinds of thoughts. Harlow had to remember that Reina’s twelve years of age wasn’t like her own twelve year old childhood. Kids knew and said things that a fourteen or a fifteen year old would. Reina was tall enough to be mistaken for someone older, with her long, colt like legs, but she was still just a child.

“Kyle McClure’s become a regular. And a good friend. I want to introduce you to him-”

“Ooh mom, is he your new boyfriend?”

Chagrined at her daughter’s spot on statement, Harlow changed the subject. “Look at the time! I’ve got to get you downstairs or you’ll miss the bus for school.”

“Aw, no fair!”

Harlow tuned out her daughter’s whining, helping Reina slip her book bag over her shoulders. “We’ll talk more when you get home from school.”

As they scrambled down the steps of the newly renovated brownstone Harlow rented, Reina let out a squeal as her bus rounded the corner. “I love you, Mom!” she said, giving Harlow a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Running in that awkward way kids often do, with her legs flying and arms going every which way while her long braids swished from left to right, Harlow smiled in in both joy and in sadness. Her little girl was growing up much too fast.

8

There were three males and one female in the current generation of McClure’s. Willa was two years older than Kyle, next came Scott and the youngest was eighteen year old Shaun. Once Kyle signed with the Renegades, he’d set up his mother and her boyfriend up with their own place, as well as Willa and also Scott. Since Shaun was in his freshman year at Newburgh University, he lived on-campus. For Kyle, there were times Willa lived with him and ran his household. Ever since his daughter Maddy came into his life, Willa made herself available for babysitting as well as being a surrogate mother for his child. Willa also was his earpiece whenever the younger boys got a little too headstrong. Right now they were weathering Scott’s time in rehab.

But if Kyle thought he could take a breather, he was wrong. As soon as he got home from studying the film of his team’s latest loss, Willa was right there to greet him, talking a mile a minute about Shaun and how he needed to tell his side of the story.

“Just give me the phone,” Kyle told her, in no mood for her to explain just why Shaun had screwed up yet again. Willa wasn’t a tall woman, but her presence was felt by all the McClure brothers. Her heart shaped face was further emphasized by light brown hair that stopped at her chin. When she handed her cell phone over, Kyle barked out a greeting to his baby brother. “Don’t bullshit me, Shaun. What’s going on and how bad is the damage?”

There was silence on the line before Shaun came out with it. “I’m uh, suspended from Big Nu for a little bit.”

“How long is a little bit?”

“Oh, you know, ‘til the coach calms down. That asshole Webb ‘Cherry’ Chenault threw me under the bus.”

Kyle didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “So it’s everyone else’s fault but yours, because you didn’t have anything to do with getting kicked off the football team.”

“Who says I was kicked off the team?”

“I read about it online. ESPN and the Bleacher Report called my rep to see if I had a comment on it.”

“Oh.” Instead of Shaun reflecting on how he’d messed up, he simply said, “So can you get me back on the team?”

Kyle inwardly cursed. He knew his baby brother was prone to idiotic behavior, but he’d hoped Shaun realized what an opportunity he’d been given. “That’s not how it works. You sit on the bench until you prove yourself worthy enough to take the field. And you listen to the coaching staff, especially the head coach-”

“But he doesn’t know anything!”

“Now you’re whining.”

“Yeah, but the plays he sent in sucked. You said yourself those plays wouldn’t work-”

“I
said
they wouldn’t work in the NFL. Because college ball and pro ball are two different animals. But you didn’t hear that part, did you?”

“I guess not. But-”

“Shut the fuck up and just listen.
You go to his office, shake his hand and the hands of any staff who may be around, and tell them you’re grateful for the opportunity even though it didn’t work out. Then you go to your dorm, pack your shit and wait for the limo I’m sending to pick you up.”

“Aw come on Kyle, if you just talk to him-”

“You’ve got one hour. Just one. After that, you can make your way back hitchhiking for all I care. Get your ass back here and I’ll see if a smaller college will take you.”

“But-but Notre Dame-” Shaun sputtered.

“Is out of the question now, because you blew it. You can’t just walk on any college campus and throw my name around as if my experience in the NFL magically transfers to you. I had to pay my dues and so do you, if you truly want to become a pro baller. Right now you’ll be lucky if a community college accepts you.” With that Kyle ended the call, but not before reminding his brother that he had one hour.

Willa was standing off to the side, watching Kyle as he paced the room, both hands on his hips. “Kyle, he just wants to be like you. He wanted to make you proud enough to come to one of his games. That’s why he took getting benched so hard.”

“I
saw
him,
Willa. I watched the game on TV. Shaun had a fucking temper tantrum, stomping away from the offensive coordinator, throwing his helmet on the ground, dropping f bombs at the coach and other players who tried to calm him down. He even took a swing at Webb, the starting quarterback. Not only did he let his team down but he’s blown any chance of transferring to another school.”

Willa’s face looked stricken. “Scott didn’t tell me all that. He said-”

“What’s Scott got to do with any of this?”

“He was just trying to give Shaun a pep talk since you’re always so busy now with your new girlfriend-”

“LEAVE HARLOW OUT OF IT!” he bellowed, and Willa dropped her head. “What the fuck is Shaun doing calling Scott?” As far as Kyle was concerned, Scott had more than enough pressure on him. “Scott needs to get clean Willa. That’s all I want him to concentrate on. Not Shaun’s whining because he’s trying to play big man on campus. And not my love life, because that’s nobody’s business but mine. You got that?”

Gathering her emotions, Willa started again. “I was
trying
to say, that because you’ve been occupied elsewhere neither of them can come to you with their problems.”

“If they can call me about giving them money they can damn sure tell me about their problems. So don’t use Harlow as an excuse. Scott’s a grown man, and Shaun isn’t far behind. What they don’t like is when I chew their asses out, especially if they behave like damn idiots, which they’ve done more than enough of in the last few years.”

“They’re just kids-”

“You know who’s a kid? My six year old daughter. Shaun just got kicked off the team at Big Nu and all he’s thinking about is me pulling some strings to get him into Notre Dame. He’s not interested in changing his behavior. He just wants to change schools.”

“But why can’t you help him?”

“Because he’ll never learn, Willa. He already thinks he can walk onto any field, drop my name and he doesn’t have to do anything else, like listen to the coaching staff or bother to be a team player. He was good in high school, but that was only because he was coddled. College isn’t like that, and neither is the NFL, though I doubt he’ll get the chance with that kind of attitude.”

“Like you weren’t cocky?” Willa shot back. “You’ve made mistakes too.”

“That’s right, I have. And I’ve got you and Shaun and Scott around to constantly remind me of them. But since I’m paying for everyone’s lifestyle, it sure would help if people remember that.”

If Shaun had kept his cool, in a few years he could’ve been the starting quarterback at Big Nu. The word going around the NFL was that Big Nu’s gunslinger Webb Chenault had decided not to return next year. Webb wasn’t going to another college. He wanted to play in the NFL, and the Renegades were interested in him.

Webb Chenault may have been the wonder boy at Big Nu, but this was the NFL, a whole different beast. Besides that, Webb had one of the best receivers in college ball to throw to in Dante Ahmed. It was as if Webb and that kid had some mental telepathy going on. But take away Webb’s superstar receiver, and what was left? A rookie trying to learn the playbook and trying to do just what his brother Shaun had done.
Rattle the starter.
Breathe down Kyle’s neck until he felt the pressure. That kind of pressure could either make Kyle diamond hard, or wimpy as fuck, and there was no way he’d let it make him soft. No, he’d fight for his job, and make any and all challengers back the hell off.

*****

Harlow kept checking her phone, but no matter how often she stared at the screen there was no message from Kyle.
Okay, don’t freak out,
she told herself.
The man has a life of his own too, you know. And nobody said they had to be joined at the hip.
And hell, she could always call him. It was just that she’d come to expect hearing from him every day. And maybe that was the problem. She’d grown accustomed to all the attention he’d been giving her, like some teen who was giddy at having her first real boyfriend. Thirty five was too old to be acting like some love starved fool. Still, she could ring him up just to say hi.

“Hey, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something right now,” he said, sounding odd.

“Sure. I only called to say hi anyway. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

“Thanks for understanding. Bye.”

CLICK

“Thanks for understanding, Bye?
Now she wondered if there was someone in the room with him. Maybe he was in the middle of a team meeting. At least that’s what she hoped. It was business, not pleasure. But what if he was with his ex? What if they were reconciling?

OMG. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks getting dropped on her head. She was head over heels in love with Kyle McClure.