Page 19 of Intentional Foul
I followed Jhae outside to the front and watched her get inside her car and pull away.
“Bro, what you gon’ do?” Marquise asked from behind.
Turning to him, I said. “I’m just getting started. My little Music Note will soon learn that I will stop at nothing for us to be together,” I said
Marquise shook his head and laughed. “But yet I’m the crash out and need therapy,” he said.
Chapter Four
Morning After Panic
Jhae
“From downtown, Malcolm Shaw-Jefferiesss banked it, keeping L.A.’s playoff dreams alive!” the announcer yelled.
I glared at the TV, unable to decide whether I wanted to mirror the actions of the crowd or remain frozen. Malcolm kissing me yesterday pushed me into a panic. My body heated in desired pleasure, leaving me scrambling for a reaction. I chose anger, but it didn’t deter him from acting on his urges. Instead of sleeping in my comfortable bed, I checked into a hotel. Something I shouldn’t have had to do because he should have respected the word no.
Malcolm was living in the land of delusion if he thought I was going to betray my friend. Yeah, we shared one kiss. It was one passion-filled kiss, but my resolve hadn’t changed. We are off limits to each other. Our common denominator was Anissa, his mother and my best friend. I have insight into Anissa’s resolve about her son’s dating. No one was good enough for the twins unless she custom-built them from Drexel headquarters.
Until Khalil stepped in, she coddled and spoiled them, especially Marquise. The beginning of their marriage wasn’t smooth sailing as Khalil put his foot down on some things. Both Malcolm and Marquise respected him for pushing them to be independent. However, Anissa vented to me about his methods and they had some drag down arguments.
“If Malcolm continues to play lights out, they will be headed back to L.A. for game five,” the announcer said.
I entered my closet, removing several garments, carrying them inside the bedroom. On my floor sat my open luggage, disorganized with my clothes. Time was running out for me with the Basketball League schedule nearing its end. Dodging Malcolm tired me out. Leaving would give him time to cool off and give me the opportunity to work on my album.
“L.A. has done it. They avoided elimination. Malcolm couldn’t be stopped,” the announcer yelled.
Stepping back into my walk-in closet, I removed my duffle bag for my shoes.
“Madison Reed with USPN. Malcolm, what was your motivation for tonight?”
“My Music Note,” he said, and I froze, reaching for a pair of shoes.
Fuck it, I’m leaving tonight, I thought to myself and sped up my goal of getting packed. I stuffed at least seven pairs of all-purpose shoes in the duffle bag and gave my closet one last glance.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I said to myself.
With only my mini bag resting on the bed, I moved toward the bathroom but paused when my doorbell sounded. In a defeated stance, I huffed and dropped my shoulders. Again, my doorbell rang as I crept toward the door. Something I’ve been doing the last two months just in case I needed to pretend not tobe home. In the peep hole stood a man holding a guitar case and rose.
I rested my forehead on the door before I opened it.
“Jhae Amari Davis,” he asked.
Examining the middle-aged man in the black attire, I confirmed my identity with a head nod. He passed me the yellow long-stemmed roses and guitar case then left. I retreated into my living room, finding the couch. The freshness from the yellow roses danced in my nose. Resting the case on my wooden coffee table, I popped the locks. Lifting the top of the pink velvet lining, I examined the classic guitar.
My eyes stopped at the signature.To Jhae, keep singing – Naomi. Slobber nearly exited my mouth as I stared at the scripted writing. Naomi inspired me to sing. I won my first talent show singing one of her ballads. Tears welled in my eyes as fear prevented me from touching this treasure. Spotting the card, I pinched the top of it with my index and thumb. This had to be a dream.
Flipping the note open, I read:
Music Note
I’m sorry for how I handled you yesterday. In my attempt to capture your heart, I scratched it. Making you cry broke me. It’s my intent to love you, not cause you panic. Please accept this guitar. I hope this helps you write your album. Love you, MSJ.
A tear hit the note before I could catch it. This was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given me.
“Fuck,” I said aloud as I jerked my head backward.
“Why, why, why does he have to be forbidden fruit?” I screamed.
