Eleven
“They overplayed their hand.”
“Sure as hell did. The very definition of doing too much.”
“I mean, some of us already saw right through their attempts to slander this woman, but for those who didn’t – this should make it perfectly clear.”
“I mean, it’s trash, is what it is. Everyone knew that Wil and Ramsey’s departure from their show on WAWG was too abrupt to not be messy, but neither of them has spoken negatively – not publicly at least – about the network or their executives. Clearly, they aren’t being granted the same courtesy by the Petty Betties in charge over there, because why is that station constantly playing gossip about those folks like they’re goddamned Spillin’ That Hot Tea?”
“If you ask me, it’s the same thing that a ton of folks do. Something goes down, and in an effort to get people on their side, they badmouth the other person first – that way, the rebuttal just seems like their point being proven. You can’t approach it, because the other person has made it seem like you’re going to lie, or you’re being messy, etc etc. You can’t clear your name because even that has already been painted to look like a problem.”
“And too often, that bullshit works, but not this time honey, hey!”
“That’s right baby, Arnez and Arizona are not here for the play-play. WAWG – specifically Sarita Price and Connie Blaylock, you’re clearly pressed because those white folks pulled out of the deal to buy your little network when your flop ass viewership dropped last month.”
“But implying that the amazing interview Wil released was somehow proof that she’s doing Trent Bailey and his wife? Please! We hope y’all stretched before you made that reach!”
“Hello! There wasn’t a lick of sexual chemistry in that interview video except between Trent and Jade Bailey, and that was hot enough to heat up the screen. I mean, come on – as messed up as it was that their privacy was invaded, we all saw those pictures of Ramsey Bishop giving Wil the business on that lil’ table. She’s getting all the dick she can handle. I’m sure.”
“Bitch. Listen. Round of applause for ol’ Wilhelmina, okay? Cause that Ramsey is a fine muhfucka – can you blame her for backing that ass up?”
“Not around here we don’t! After the way her ex dogged her for that lil funny looking white girl, Wil deserves. If you’re listening – girl, you betta work! Get your life!”
“Yaaaas honey! Based on my extensive research on the topic, Ramsey Bishop is the dick you deserve girl, congratulations!”
“Extensive research? Really Arizona?!”
“Oh yes, really! I have credible sources and all. I’ll give you that tea later.”
“Looking forward to it bitch. But anyway – back to trash ass WAWG – you tried it. When even the two supposedly scorned exes gave statements that an affair between Wil and Ramsey were not the cause of their breakup, you know you tried it!”
“Tried the absolute fuck out of it. And for what reason?”
“Pettiness. You know everybody thinks that shit is cute these days.”
“Until somebody delivers hands via NextDayAir.”
“Never fails.”
“Mmmmhmmm. But in any case, just to recap – nobody believes that shit, and I hope Wamsey sues the redbottoms off your feet for lying.”
“Wamsey? Ew, no. Wilsey. Wamsey sounds…”
“Cute as fuck, hater.”
“I was going to say childish.”
“Ya mama.”
I chuckled as Arnez and Arizona continued their signature banter. Their show was blaring from the speaker on my cell phone, which was still in the bathroom, where I’d placed it on the counter to listen while I showered. I was listening because I always listened, because I always – as they said – “got my life”. They were funny, and smart, and pretty socially conscious, so I enjoyed listening to their takes on whatever random topic they brought up on the show.
I certainly hadn’t expected to hear my name, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear the show of support. After another week of fresh slander, I needed it.
Chloe had brushed the new allegations off as nothing. She’d said “whoever” was behind it was overdoing it with the accusations about me and the Baileys, and she was right – nobody believed it. That, however, didn’t make it any less frustrating, especially since I hadn’t done anything to warrant what they were attempting to do.
I was pissed.
But, still. So far, Chloe’s plan had worked. Instead of being tagged in ugly posts about being a gold-digging homewrecker, people were now scraping up every picture of Ramsey and I they could find, tagging us as #relationshipgoals, #friendshipgoals, and a slew of incredibly corny quotes about your best friend becoming the love of your life. In fact, most of the “negative” things I was still seeing were of a similar vein, except the captions under the pictures said stuff like, “this is why you never trust your man’s “play sister””, “this is why my nigga can’t have “friends” that look like this”, etc. And I mean…I felt that.
Ramsey and I were innocent friends, until we weren’t.
In any case, the last two weeks had been leaps and bounds better than that first day, especially since releasing my interview with Trent and Jade. Finding out that they were happy with the end result – and thought the affair rumors were ridiculous – gave me a burst of good energy I desperately needed.
Getting to Naima’s to hang out with her and Ashley was going to give me another one.
I hoped I wasn’t getting on their nerves though. Even once Ramsey and I started getting hot and heavy, I made sure it didn’t interfere with me kicking it with my favorite cousin –slash-best friend just as much as I always did. I’d never been the girl to drop her friends for a man, and didn’t want to start now. But, with Ramsey being basically on lock-down at rookie camp, I feared I was doing the opposite. Between Naima, my parents, and phone calls with Soriyah down in the Bahamas, I was always up under somebody if I wasn’t working, to keep me distracted from the swirling news stories.
Where I was usually splitting time five ways – with myself, with Ramsey, with Naima, Soriyah, or my parents – now it was just three, and somebody was bound to get tired of my ass sooner than later.
Hopefully, that day wasn’t going to be today.
I’d just walked into my closet to pick out something to wear when Arnez and Arizona gave their outro, and then my phone went silent.
Can’t have that.
I tossed the two dresses I was deciding between on my bed, then went to the bathroom to grab my phone and start some music. No sooner than I’d pressed play did my doorbell ring, and I groaned. Of course somebody was coming by before I had any clothes on.
I grabbed my robe from the hook in the bathroom and tied it tightly around me as I headed to the door. Whoever it was practically laying on the bell, which agitated me, and I was ready to curse out whoever was on the other side until I peeked through the peephole.
“Ramsey, what are you doing here?” I asked as I pulled the door open, feeling a slight sense of déjà vu from when he’d shown up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. This time though, I hadn’t been stewing with ridiculous anger over him having a sex life before me, and I was excited as hell to see him.
“Two day break before pro camp,” he said, sweeping me up into his arms as soon as the door was closed. “I hope you don’t have plans today.”
I quickly got an answer for why he said that – less than a minute after I answered the door, we were naked in my bedroom, and he was ripping open a condom with his teeth.
And then a second condom.
And then a third.
By the time he finally went limp, it was hours past when I was supposed to be at Naima’s, and my phone had chimed with a text in her specialized tone, but no phone call – a clear sign that I was, indeed, getting on her damn nerves.
From my place beside him on the bed, I looked over at Ramsey in the daylight shining through the window, smiling at his closed eyes and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Even if he was getting plenty of sleep, I knew he had to be physically exhausted. The workouts he usually did were tough, sure, but they were nothing compared to the conditioning he needed to be in shape for the NFL. As he slept, I examined his nude body, noting the changes that were already apparent in just two weeks. Layers of fat cut and replaced by thicker muscle, wider biceps, more defined abs.
I was still admiring when my phone did ring, and I scrambled out of bed to grab it and shut it off before it woke him up. Snatching it up from the bathroom counter, I silenced it first, then took notice of the name and number on the screen. I took a deep breath, and then let it keep ringing as I grabbed a tee shirt and yoga pants to put on. I snuck past Ramsey as he rolled over onto his stomach, muffling the soft snores that had been filling the room.
Out on my back patio, I pulled my phone out to return the call I’d missed.
“Wil! I’m so glad you called me right back,” my realtor gushed, from the other end of the line. “We got an offer on the house – adorable couple with kids and a dog, need a place as soon as possible, since one of them is starting a new job.”
I forced cheerfulness into my voice – not that I was sad about the house, I just would rather not deal with it at all – to respond, “Oh, great. How much?” She told me a number that was just under asking price. So close, in fact, that I responded, “I accept,” before I recalled that it wasn’t solely up to me.
“I already know you want to ask, what did Mr. Hayward say,” she started, in a knowing tone. “Well, since he was the one unsatisfied with the last two offers, I went to him first this time. He accepted as well. So… congratulations Ms. Cunningham, you just sold your house.”
I expected to feel much more comforted than I actually did. I was glad to have it over with of course – it was the last thing connecting me to Darius. But more than relief, what coursed through me was… sorrow. I never expected an adventure we took on together, in love, to end up like this. As much as selling the house empowered me to move on, it reminded me that I – we – had failed.
It wasn’t a good feeling, at all.
I arranged a time to come in to sign my paperwork, and then leaned against the deck railing as I stared across the yard, at nothing. I don’t know how long I stayed out there, but when I felt Ramsey’s arms come around me from behind, it was a welcome shift in energy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t even seen my face, but he knew.
I laid my hands over his, urging him to hold me tighter. “The house sold. I have to go sign the paperwork tomorrow.”
“You need me to come with you?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
When he turned me to face him, I didn’t even bother trying to shutter the emotion in my eyes, because I knew I didn’t have to. It had occurred to me, in Bali, that this was a testament to the man Ramsey was – giving me room to finish mourning, letting me work through my heartbreak at my own pace, without being an asshole about it.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Not particularly.”
“Okay. Can I say something though?”
My eyebrow lifted. “About the house sale I just said I didn’t want to talk about?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then what?”
A grin spread over his face as his hands slid down my waist, to my butt. “Your ass looks good as hell in these pants. I need you to take them off.”
“Oh my God,” I giggled, squirming in his arms as he pulled me into his chest. “It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re acting so sex-starved.”
He chuckled into my neck as he grabbed the waistband of my pants, trying to tug them down. “Your fault. If it wasn’t so good, I’d be able to stay out of you.”
“You make it sound like a struggle,” I teased, ducking out of his arms and back into the house before he could successfully get my pants down outside. That didn’t deter him though – he easily corralled me back to the bedroom, making quick work of removing my clothes and putting on a condom before he plunged into me again.
“It is a struggle,” he grunted against my lips, as I hooked both legs around his waist. “I don’t think you understand how damn good you feel.”
With my eyelids squeezed shut, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think you do.”
His movements stilled. “Open your eyes.”
When I did, he was looking – staring – at me in a way he often did, as if everything good in the world had originated from me. And then just as quickly, it shifted to pure lust as he lowered his mouth to my neck, then my breasts. The feeling of his teeth, then tongue, on my nipples made me squeeze my eyes shut again as a gasp of pleasure fell from my lips.
“Hey!” he said, with more bass than I was expecting. “I told you to open your eyes.”
Oh.
So I opened them, and he met my gaze again as he pushed into me, deeper than before, scrutinizing my reaction as he filled me up, then murmured “Good girl” to me. My mouth opened, but I didn’t – couldn’t – make a sound other than a high-pitched whine as he burrowed further. When he pulled back, then dove in again, my eyelids fluttered, but I stayed the course, earning myself a smirk before he shook his head, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched me.
“See?” he asked, making me whimper as he started with a steady rhythm to his stroke. “The faces, the sounds you make… this is why I always want to be inside of you.” He finished that statement with his mouth right against my ear, in a tone that sent a shiver up my spine. He put a hand between my legs, coating his fingers in my arousal before he moved them back to my clit, rubbing me there in circles that felt so good it was impossible to keep my eyes open.
“Ramsey,” I managed to sound out, in a breathless whimper that made him groan.
“Yeah, Champ?”
He stopped moving to give me his attention, and I lifted my hands to cup his face. “You can’t keep saying these kinds of things… doing me like this… unless you’re prepared for me to never leave you alone. Waiting in your bushes and shit.”
“I don’t have any bushes, baby,” he grinned.
I lifted my shoulders. “Then… in your shower. In your cabinets.”
“Silly ass,” he chuckled, then dropped his lips down to mine. “Glad to hear you’re satisfied with my performance.”
I smiled back at him. “Very… I’m confident that you have a long future ahead of you here.”
“Welcome back to the land of the free.”
I was happy as hell to be able to toast to that with Reggie and Clay, raising my glass of bourbon to bump theirs before taking a sip. This was actually Reggie’s third full day as a free man, but I’d been in training camp the day he was released, and then as far into Wil as I could get on the second day, which was part of my break. So today, even though it was Thursday, and random as hell, we celebrated.
Besides, he’d been occupied with his more immediate family – His mother, and Chloe and the kids – those first two days anyway.
Tomorrow morning, I’d be reporting to pro camp with the rest of the team, for more conditioning and practice to get us ready to start on a good note, by dominating in the preseason games. Tonight though, I was having a real drink with Reggie – something I’d never had the opportunity to do, since he got locked up when I was still underage.
I considered it Clay’s fault that it was happening in a goddamned piano bar though, of all places. All because his latest client was Logan Lewis – the special guest on the keys tonight – and Clayton had made what I knew was a half-hearted vow to come to the next show he did in Connecticut. He probably wasn’t really expecting it to happen soon, since Logan was gearing up for a tour with a neo-soul artist named Dani. But a promise was a promise, so here we were at Onyx, which wasn’t half bad – especially to Clayton.
We were among a limited amount of men who weren’t there with a woman, which apparently made us hot commodities. Clayton was reveling in it, but my heart and Reggie’s were both elsewhere, so we were chilling. The place had a good vibe, good food, good music, which made it enough for me to have a good time without risking what I already had.
“So how does it feel, man?” Clay asked Reggie, when he finally wrapped up his flirting session with our pencil-skirted server. “The world is a lot different than it was twelve years ago, huh?” This was their first time meeting, but they’d heard enough about each other through me that they easily fell into a friendly energy.
Reggie shook his head. “That’s a damn understatement. All this… smartphone shit, social media. My daughter has been talking my ear off about “Twitter”, taking “usies” with me, using some crazy stuff that it made it look like I had goddamn flowers on my head. I missed two terms of a Black president, only to come out to a fucking orange one.”
Clayton and I laughed.
“Alexis texted me,” I told him, referring to he and Chloe’s sixteen-year-old daughter. “Said the first thing you wanted to do when Aunt P drove them up there to pick you up was stop and get a grinder.”
“Fucked my stomach up too,” he chuckled. “It was good as a motherfucker though. I had my sandwich, chopped it up with them, then took mama’s car down to the barbershop, got my shit cleaned up right. I had to, man.”
“I see you bruh,” I said, playfully swiping at his fresh haircut. “You’re looking good, man,” I told him, honestly. Gone was the harrowed look in his eyes from the last time I’d drove out to Danbury to visit him – which was better than when he was at Allenwood. Already, his light was coming back, and I was glad to see it. “Don’t tell me you got locked up and turned into a pretty boy on me, gotta get a fresh cut soon as you get out.”
He sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you’re sitting there in a floral shirt and matching socks, calling somebody pretty,” he called. “But nah… I had to be right before I saw Chloe.”
I nodded. “I feel you… how did that go?”
Before he answered, he took a long swig from his drink, then shrugged. “As well as I could expect.”
“She still pissed?”
He let out a dry laugh. “Unfortunately. Who would’ve thought the woman would hold a twelve year grudge?”
“I would,” I chuckled. “We’re talking Chloe here. She held you down though. Made sure the kids were good, kept them around Aunt P, made sure you had what you needed in there.”
Reggie shook his head. “Not denying any of that, Ram. And not complaining, either. She gave me better than I deserved, all this time – and a warmer welcome than I anticipated, after not showing her face the whole damn time I was in there.”
Clay let out a low whistle. “Damn, man. The whole time?”
“Whole time. Again though… not complaining. My dues are paid now, and I’m looking ahead.”
“Smart man,” Clayton said, and I nodded.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We actually drank to it several times, before I had to leave Reggie and Clay talking so I could swing by the men’s room. On the way out of the little foyer that led to the restrooms, even though I was looking ahead of me, I somehow still ended up colliding with someone – a petite, pleasant-smelling, female someone – and I instinctively reached out, putting my hands on her forearms to steady her.
“Excuse me,” I apologized, and stepped back, already heading back to my table. “I didn’t see you.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she spoke back, in a too-familiar voice that made me actually look at her. “The whole “fake bump” thing was by design, Ramsey. Checking your gentleman reflexes, and I see you still have them.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as I surveyed Lena in person, for the first time in months. As always, she was impeccably dressed, in a fitted red floral dress that hung off her shoulders, the rich color making her dark skin pop. I’d be lying if I said she didn’t look good – she looked good as hell. But the memory of our last in-person conversation – Valentine’s Day, to be exact, when she’d shown up at my door in a Cupid costume – still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I hadn’t been moved then, and I wasn’t moved now.
But that didn’t stop a mischievous grin from spreading over Lena’s face as she stepped closer to me, stopping just on the right side of too close. “You have been a very busy man, and a very naughty boy, Mr. Bishop. Congratulations on the new gig.”
“Thank you, Ms. McBride.”
She pressed her teeth into her perfectly-bright-red painted bottom lip. “You’re very welcome. I, uhh… saw those pictures from your vacation. Wil Cunningham, huh? I never would’ve thought.”
I lifted an eyebrow, knowing I shouldn’t feed this beast, but curiosity got the best of me. “Why is that?”
Lena shrugged. “I don’t know, I just imagined that, if you weren’t with me… you’d get with someone with a little more edge. And that’s no shade to Wil, honestly, she just seems, very wholesome. But you do have a way of bringing things out of people, don’t you Ramsey?” When I didn’t respond, her smile widened. “Oh come on. You don’t have to play shy with me, Ram. We’ve known each other since we were twenty-year-olds. I know you like to get juuust a little rough, all sexy and demanding. And she probably eats that shit up, doesn’t she?” Lena stopped, and giggled. “I know you’re too much of a gentleman to answer that, but still… good for her. She’s a beautiful girl, and she seems sweet.”
“What are you getting at, Lena?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
She laughed. “Nothing, Ramsey. But I should probably be getting back to my date.”
Lena started to walk off, but I grabbed her wrist, hauling her back into the relative privacy of the foyer. “Nah, I know you, and I know how you operate. So let me make something clear – Wil is not your competition. There is no competition, because me and you… we’re done. Completely.”
“Duh,” she snapped, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. “You know I don’t handle rejection well, Ramsey. I heard you loud and clear when you put me out of your place on Valentine’s Day. In top notch lingerie, might I add.”
“Then what is your agenda right now?”
“None. Seriously. I saw you, made an excuse to say hello, and now I’ve done that. I know you don’t think I’m pining over you? Not going to lie – I still think we would’ve been great, but Lena McBride doesn’t pine – she gets engaged to last year’s NBA MVP just before news of his one-hundred-fifty-million guaranteed contract goes public,” she said, holding up her hand to show me the damn-near obscene diamond on her finger.
My face screwed up, immediately. “Marcus Ingraham? How the hell did you…?”
“Great timing, impeccable planning, and these,” she said, groping her breasts. “I did my research – Marcus likes titties, I have titties. Marcus likes money, I have money. Marcus likes fame, I have fame. And after next year, Dr. Lena Ingraham-McBride – I like that order better than the other way around – will be a household name.”
Yeah.
There it was.
She’d already done all she could on her own to reach whatever it was she was looking for. The woman was a doctor – actually a good one, who would probably be a great one, with experience. She came from a whole family of them, with enough money to make their reality show happen and all of that. What she never could seem to get was the celebrity factor she wanted, which was where I had come in – she’d been planning the shit out for a while. And apparently, since I wasn’t down with that, Marcus was her ticket to get there.
And really, he was a bigger name than me anyway.
“Don’t look so disappointed Ramsey,” she laughed a little. “Marcus is a really good guy, and I actually like him. Almost as much as I liked you.”
I shook my head. “And that’s enough for you? Liking him?”
“Hell yes,” she exclaimed, looking at me like I’d lost it. “I’m certainly not looking to fall in love. Ramsey, come on,” she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’ve watched my mother cry too many tears over my whore of a father to trust any of you with something like my heart. Since I was a teenager, my plan has been to find somebody I can tolerate enough to build this social capital with, while I do my own thing, and he does his. Love doesn’t get my juices flowing, Ramsey… but status and money… they give me butterflies. And I am happy.”
Honestly… I believed her. Now that I was on the outside looking in – and had grown up some myself – I could see that in her, where I couldn’t before. But still…
“It would have been nice to know that before we got involved.”
She sucked in a deep breath, and actually had the decency to look remorseful. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. Seriously.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”
“Damn right. I guess you do know me pretty well, huh?”
“Damn right. But… I have to admit being surprised as hell that you – low key – defended Wil, by telling the press she wasn’t involved in us breaking up.”
Lena propped her hands on her hips. “Wow, Ramsey, what kind of bitch do you think I am? I mean, I am one, admittedly, but I’m a fair one. I know the two of you were just friends when we were together. And besides –I couldn’t have the world thinking another woman took my man from me. The fact that it helped Wil was just… gravy.”
“Uh-uh,” I said, wagging a finger. “I mean… maybe that’s part of it, but something about that doesn’t quite fit. It’s more than that. Spill it.”
She sucked her teeth. “Ugh. Fine. Maybe I really like her for you. There was a picture of the two of you randomly out in New York, and the way you looked at her… it was almost the way you used to look at me. Only… amplified. And she looks at you the same way. The way you probably wanted me to look at you. And I mean… you deserve somebody that looks at you like that, and vice versa, and I really hate you right now, for making me admit this corny, sappy shit, that I don’t even believe in. Bye. See you around.”
Lena turned and sashayed off, stopping a few feet away to turn and blow a kiss in my direction. I shook my head, then headed back to the table to find Reggie and Clayton rolling about something as the server delivered a fresh round of drinks.
“The fuck y’all laughing about so hard?” I asked, as I dropped into my seat.
“The fuck you been?” Reggie asked. “Dropping the kids off at the pool in this nice ass establishment?”
I laughed. “Hell nah. I… ran into Lena.”
Both guys instantly went quiet as hell, and exchanged a look, which kinda pissed me off, because they didn’t even know each other like that to be exchanging looks and shit.
“What?” I asked, breaking the silence before I reached for one of the freshly delivered drinks, to take a swig.
Reggie shrugged. “Nothing… just… shorty had your head a little messed up, so I’m wondering if you’re good.”
I stopped with my glass halfway up to my mouth to consider the question, and… “Actually… yeah. I am.”
Even though unwanted feelings had lingered, I’d been officially, no take-backs, no flags on the play, done with Lena since Valentine’s Day. Before that, even though we were broken up, I’d toyed with the idea of us getting back together. Maybe I was just seeking a companion for comfort because of what I was watching my mother go through. After she passed, maybe I was seeking a distraction from my grief. But whatever it was that had me going against all my common sense, intuition, and mother’s advice, to consider getting back with Lena disappeared when, three months after I buried my mother, she showed up half naked on my doorstep for sex and wedding plans.
I’d cancelled our engagement while my mother was in the worst part of her battle with cancer, because Lena’s selfish ass was trying to put cake samples in my face and asking me to choose between 38 different shades of white for tablescapes. She thought I was just too preoccupied with my mother to focus on the wedding, but in reality, I was disgusted by her selfishness, and wanted nothing to do with her. She – wrongly, and way too soon – thought that after my mother passed, we’d be right back on.
Talk about tunnel vision.
Over these last few weeks though, ever since Bali, even though I’d spent a little time messed up about realizing how big a mistake I’d almost made… Lena was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Yeah man… ol’ Ramsey here is on something new. Wil’s fine ass,” Clay said, tempering his normally inappropriate remarks about her, now that she and I were involved.
Reggie gave a deep nod. “That’s right! The whole yard was hyped up about that shit – Wil is…” he whistled. “That’s quite a woman.”
“Wait until you see her friend,” Clay insisted, whipping out his phone. I chuckled as he pulled up pictures of Soriyah, happy to let the conversation go there instead of staying on me, especially when my own phone buzzed in my pocket. They were too distracted to clown me about the grin that overtook my mouth when I saw that is was a message from Wil.
“I know you’re out with your boys, and I hate to be “that girl”, but… you’re gonna come see me before you report to pro camp, right? – The Champ”
“If that’s what you want, you know I’ll make it happen.”
I shook my head at myself as soon as I sent that text – it hadn’t taken nearly enough time for Wil to have me so completely wrapped around her finger that I’d bend over backwards to make her happy.
But I wasn’t interested in changing a damn thing.