Kara
It had been a week since the night of the sports awards.
A week of going to classes, hanging out with Bishop, talking to Hanna, cooking at the dorm with Anissa, who had taken to experimenting with El Salvadorean dishes, and basically doing everything that I could to distract myself from my impending fate.
Scott had texted me last night, letting me know that he’d let his Dad know how furious he was with him for using my quandary to gain the upper hand in my situation with Scott.
I received three missed calls from a Texas phone number, but I didn’t answer them.
Bishop said that if Scott’s dad wanted to contact me, he had to go through the lawyer. He was done with me dealing with Scott’s dad behind the curtains, and as for me, I was stuck in limbo.
A limbo of waiting for the final verdict.
“You want a drink, Kiki?” Rikko was on my side, his knees bouncing in excitement.
“No, thank you.” I showed him my cup, still half full with Sierra Mist, “I’m good.”
“Alright.” He lifted his right hand and waved the dark blonde guy standing on the side of the field. I was assuming that my brother was ordering the Tau neophyte on what foods to bring him. I shook my head because my brother could’ve easily flagged down the people who were walking up and down the bleachers, offering popcorn, candy, or hotdogs, but Rikko just had to make another frat member serve him.
“Grab me a giant Pepsi, the largest bag of popcorn, and the biggest bag of Reese’s you could find,” Rikko said to the frat member.
“Yes sir.” The guy responded without so much of a blink.
Oh freshmen. What great tunnel vision they had.
I was still shaking my head, feeling my ponytail swing on my shoulders when Rikko said, “What? That’s what they’re there for. You should have seen what our senior members made us do. This is nothing, Kiki. Nothing.”
Waving his hand at the girls a few bleachers up, he asked, “So, who are you rooting for?”
I rolled my eyes, “The team my boyfriend plays for, dummy.”
“Just making sure, Sissy. Who knows? You could be praying for UConn and Bishop would never know.” He waggled his eyebrows and I couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness.
“Your brother’s so weird,” Anissa muttered at my side. She was more of a sports fanatic than I was. She loved football and was only just getting into soccer and rugby. When I asked her if she wanted to go with me to watch Bishop play in one of his last college games, she didn’t hesitate.
Rikko was now busy talking to Scott, who was standing to his right.
Yep, you heard that right.
Scott was here. On the sidelines. To root for his frat brother.
His relationship with Bishop wouldn’t be that of a BFF kind, but at least now they were talking. And when he’d arrived with my brother twenty minutes ago, I had to keep my jaw from dropping on the field.
Scott merely hugged me and said, “Gotta keep up with my frat duties.”
I said, “Thank you,” and Scott had lifted his shoulders and said, “It’s time for me to man up.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I guessed that he was trying to make amends.
To me, to Bishop, and to the relationship that we now had.
The players were now on the field and when the referee signaled that the game started, I saw my face flashed on the jumbotron.
The TayTay hashtag was still trending on SDU’s twitter page with my image attached to it. Ian had cheekily given me the news and he said he was proud of me for being the Queen Mary of SDU. Being in the middle of a love triangle between the King of France and King Consort of Scotland wasn’t part of my life goals, but I understood what Ian was saying.
Tonight I was declaring to everyone in the Twitterverse that I was here for one man. And one man only.
And that man was the one who was currently running on the field with so much power and skill that the UConn players were having a hard time catching him.
I wasn’t overly familiar with rugby, but I was learning.
Bishop’s heart was in it and he wanted to pursue a rugby career after college and I was going to support him, any way that I could.
I watched as Bishop ran and kicked the ball inside the goal to which the whole SDU stadium roared with cheers.
He tipped his hands up in the air and gestured to where I was sitting, now standing, in excitement.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Great kick, babe!”
I could care less if my face was all over the jumbotron’s screen, all I knew was that my man was such a great athlete that he was leading his team on their way to winning.
It was only the beginning of the game, but I had a feeling that tonight, SDU’s Rugby Team, The Predators, would be topping the scoreboard.
I was still trying to contain my enthusiasm when my brother elbowed me. “Damn Kiki. How come you don’t cheer like that for us?”
Scott sniggered and I gave both of them a shy smile.
It was true.
I’d watched my brother and Scott play on the field, but I’d never been revved up as much as I was now.
I couldn’t explain it.
Bishop brought everything out of me.
The sexy vixen.
The brainy defender.
The raucous cheerleader.
He didn’t have to ask either.
It just came out naturally, effortless.
Just like loving him.
It made me feel whole and free.
And content.
There were ten minutes left to the game and UConn was trailing by eight.
My eyes were glued to the action on the field so I didn’t notice the whispers that started on the other end of the bleachers.
It was only when my brother said, “Kiki, your future mother-in-law’s here.”
What?
We were too young to talk marriage, and I’d never met Bishop’s mom, but what Rikko had said took my concentration out of the game.
I looked around and true enough, Bettina Cordello was there in the stands.
Rikko’s frat brothers were already making room for her and a flamboyantly dressed man beside her, as they made their way to us.
The Tau seats were prime location for watching the game because we were close enough to the field without being hit by random balls.
“Ma’am.” My brother stood as Bettina closed in on us. “You can have my seat.”
Scott had given up his space for the vision in neon yellow beside her who’d reached his hand to shake Scott’s and Rikko’s hands. “Tre Anderson, I’m her assistant. Nice to meet you, college boys.”
Tre had a friendly smile and the way he was checking out my brother and Scott made them chuckle.
Bettina said in a commanding voice, “Stop flirting with my son’s friends, Tre. We’re here to watch his game.”
I had no idea that Bettina was going to be there.
And I doubted Bishop did either.
He would’ve said something to me.
Anissa nudged my side, “Maybe you should introduce yourself.”
Before I could say anything, Bettina’s brown eyes landed on me, “Ah. You’re my son’s girlfriend.”
Words were caught in my throat. Bishop’s mother had an air about her. One that couldn’t be bottled up and sold in stores. Her face was flawless and the makeup she wore only heightened her features that barely reflected her true age.
It was easy to believe that she was at the top of the country’s leading beauty empire because she, herself was extraordinarily stunning.
Bishop was running on the field, his focus completely on his game. He must not have known that his mother was here, on the stands, watching the last few minutes of this game.
I replied with my right hand extended for her to take. “I’m Kara. Nice to meet you.”
Her elegant brows lifted and even with the noise around us, I heard her with clarity. “Bettina. I’ve heard a lot about you…from Tre of course. My son doesn’t talk about his girlfriends or lack thereof with me. It would be nice if he did, but now’s not the time to feel sorry for me.”
I didn’t know I was supposed to feel sorry for her.
She took my extended hand and I noticed that the amount of Harry Winston she wore could probably fund an economy of a third world country. “My assistant made dinner reservations for whenever Bishop’s game’s done,” her manicured hands adorned with three rings with huge diamonds set on top of each one waved in the air, “I hope that you and my son can come join me.”
“I, ah…” The decision wasn’t mine to make. “I’ll ask Bishop.”
Her right brow flew to her forehead, “I doubt my son will want to have dinner with me by himself. He’d be more open to the idea if you were with him.”
“I don’t think it’s up to me, Mrs. Cordello,” I said in a low voice. Bishop and I had talked about his relationship with his mom, and while he answered her calls and responded to her requests, he tolerated her at most. The scars he bore from his childhood would never be wiped out.
“Isn’t it?” Her lips shone in her own luxurious lip gloss, and even if her assistant’s eyes were on the field, I knew that he was listening to everything that was said between Bettina and I.
“My son has refused to talk about anything personal about him on any media platform.” Her tone held adamant disbelief. “Yet in the past months, he’s been posting pictures of you and him on his private social media accounts and he’d even made a statement to the local paper that he’d met this girl who makes him smile.”
Bishop was an extremely private man and he did post photos of me and him by the beach, watching the sunset, and a few of me hanging around when he practiced, but this was before we broke up.
“You can make him do anything.” It was a challenge. “I’m only here for the night and I’ll be flying overseas tomorrow. I thought it would be nice to spend time with my son after his game and his girlfriend whom he’s obviously smitten with.”
I didn’t know how to take it, but when I looked at this beautiful, powerful woman, I saw a flash of supplication in her eyes. As if she was asking me for the biggest favor in the world, that maybe I could erect the bridge where she could establish a relationship with her son.
Loud cheering erupted in the stadium and before I could answer her, Bettina said, “Reservation’s at Alessandro’s at eight. I’ll see both of you there.”
I nodded before I even grasped the fact that I had just said yes.
How was Bishop going to react?
Crap, I hoped he didn’t get that mad at me for agreeing to have dinner with his mother.
“Babe, it’s fine.” Bishop reassured me for the sixth time.
I’d given him a passionate kiss after he’d emerged from his locker room, and blurted out that his mother was in town and that we were having dinner with her in forty minutes.
Neither one of us were exactly dressed for a place like Alessandro’s, but we didn’t have time to change.
We were now walking inside the Italian restaurant known for its months-long reservations and boasted the best lasagna in town when the nerves took over me.
“Your mom’s so intimidating. I swore she could look at me and I’d give away all of my secrets in a heartbeat,” I confessed to my man who was holding my right hand.
He just chuckled and said, “Don’t be giving away your secrets to my mother. Just be yourself, babe. I may not be able to stand her for long periods of time, but it’ll be okay since you’re with me.”
Tre, her assistant, waved to us from five tables down. I recognized him right away because of his height and his outfit that glowed like a supernova in the dim lighting.
I thought Bishop was going to be annoyed, mad, or upset at me, but he’d just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay.”
Maybe it was because they’d won that he was capitulating.
Or maybe it was because he was still in shock that his mom was there and watched his game, but I wasn’t going to question it any further.
The fact that he wasn’t angry was enough for me.
Bishop kissed his mom’s left cheek and said, “What brings you here, Mom?”
Bettina eyed her son with gentle affection. “My son’s playing his last games in college. I thought it would be nice to stop by.”
Bishop didn’t say anything, instead he smiled at Tre, the Asian guy beaming his own smile at my boyfriend, “You’re being saddled with carrying her purse now?”
Tre shrugged his shoulders and said, “Just tonight.”
I noted the big black YSL purse on Tre’s arm rest and gave him a small grin. He was amiable and gave off uber friendly vibes. It must be hard being an assistant to a woman like Bettina. From what Bishop had told me about his mother, she was an obsessive perfectionist and buried herself in her work. He’d forgiven her for her past mistakes, but he hadn’t forgotten and he’s mentioned that the only reason why he’d forgiven her was because one day, her sister was going to need a mother. And whether he or Bridgette liked it or not, Bettina was their mother.
The server had graced our table with wine and stuffed mushrooms as appetizers. Bettina hadn’t even waited for us to order. Bishop was right. His mom revolved around her own world, a world that catered to her needs and wants. It was almost impossible to believe that he was her spawn.
“Have you ever thought of modeling?” Bettina’s eyes dropped to mine, assessing. “Your complexion isn’t as perfect as my daughter’s, but your skin type is so hard to find nowadays.”
Bridgette had the better skin, but rather than take it as an insult, I replied, “Oh thank you. No modeling for me. School takes up a lot of my time.”
Bishop cleared his throat, “Mom. Kara’s not here to be critiqued like your models. Plus, her plans don’t include modeling, so please cut it.”
“I’m just saying…” Bettina’s brows rose an inch. “I think she’s gorgeous.”
“I know she’s gorgeous.” Bishop’s hand reached over mine on top of the table, “And she’s perfect as she is.”
Tre clapped his hand, changing the discourse, “What are your plans after college, Kara?”
I didn’t remember giving him my name, but at that point, I wouldn’t put it past Bettina to have hired a private detective to comb through my past. She’d mentioned that her son had posted pictures of me and him on social media. Since Bishop had less than seventy friends on his Instagram account and none of them were named Bettina, I’d already gathered that any information she had was obtained from somewhere else.
“I’m hoping to find a job in Silicon Valley,” I said before taking a sip of the white wine. The elegant, fragrant and crisp flavors melded on my tongue and before the liquid hit my throat, I gave Bishop an astonished look.
His mother ordered my favorite wine. Knowledge that was privy to Bishop and my inner circle.
An Italian Pinot Grigio that paired well with the mushrooms artfully plated on our table and worked well with the soft cheeses that Tre was lifting to his mouth.
Jesus. She had hired a private detective to eavesdrop on me.
Down to the wine I drank, which I’d indulged in on rare occasions.
Bishop shook his head and his eyes darkened, “Mom. Please have Salvatore stop digging around on Kara.”
His mother was barely taken aback. Without flinching, she answered, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Bishop dug his hands on the side of the table, “Mother. If you don’t stop, I’ll stop answering your calls.”
His mother looked affronted at first but then she acquiesced. “Fine. I just wanted to know who my son’s involved with.”
Tre looked everywhere but me. His face was flush with embarrassment. But I could empathize with him. My mother’s assistant, Peregrine, was put on the same predicament. Peregrine assisted my mom with her social calendar and almost everything in her life, but even Peregrine was caught off guard by mother’s antics once in a while.
I held Bishop’s hand, but my eyes were directed at his mother. “If you want to know about me, you can just ask me.”
Bettina’s eyes shifted to the side for a second then her back straightened, regaining her composure, “I apologize. I just wanted to know that my son’s not being taken by a gold digger.”
Bishop muttered underneath his breath, “Mother. If I wanted to be taken by a gold digger, it would be my choice and my fault. Please…stay out of my personal business.”
I thought that the battle between son and mother was going to go into a complete showdown but Bettina surprised me by saying, “I’m sorry. I was out of line. It won’t happen again.”
Tre released a relieved breath and proclaimed, “Who wants oysters?”
The rest of dinner was actually comfortable.
Bettina talked about her plans of expanding her stores in Asia, and Bishop shared stories about his Aunt Nina.
I had yet to meet his aunt, what with the busy college life and my personal drama.
Hopefully, I’d get to meet the woman who was like a mother to Bishop and Bridgette soon. I was really looking forward to it.
At the end of the night, we said our goodbyes with Bettina giving her son a brief hug and me, a briefer hug.
She wasn’t a hugger like my mother.
She came off as shrewd and cold, especially when she talked about money and her beauty empire.
No amount of jewelry would ever make her radiate warmth.
And as we were driving away from the restaurant on the hilltop, Bishop said, “Now you know why I can only handle her in very small doses.”
I laughed and replied, “Trust me, I can relate. Being in my mom’s presence for more than a day is an overload for me.”
He gave me a solid smile and kissed my hand, the hand he held onto while he maneuvered the steering wheel.
We didn’t have the best parents.
Our moms valued materialistic things and physical beauty over everything else.
But I’d say, we’d turned out quite okay.
Life wasn’t what we were handed,
Life was what we made of what we were given.
And being in my man’s arms, I knew that I was in the safest, best place in the whole world.
And I’d give anything to be in his arms forever.