Page 2 of Intentional Foul
Worry coated Marquise as he struggled with Mom’s decision.
“Marquise, I will keep you updated on your sister. I love you, Son,” Mom said as she tried to comfort him by softening her voice.
“I’ve got my phone on me. Call me with updates. Love you,” Marquise mumbled.
I tapped my brother’s chest. “You know Mom is going to take care of Khaira. Chill out. Pops will call if he needs us to get home,” I said to ease Marquise’s mind, but he scowled in response.
Protecting the people he loved was serious for my brother and a trauma response. No one asked him to take on the role of protector and caretaker, but he took it anyway. Maybe one day he will allow us to take care of him. The outside air invaded the car as the driver opened the door. I exited first with Marquise behind in somewhat of a panic.
“I should go home,” he said, as we secured our duffle bags from the driver.
“Bro, we have to let Mom handle this. How many times has she nursed us back to health?” I questioned.
He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and stared at me.
“Aight,” he said, and I patted him on the back.
He wasn’t completely convinced, but he continued to follow me to the jet.
“Mom stepped up the amenities on this one,” Marquise said after we stepped inside and secured our seats.
This jet was my favorite of the three our parents owned. The plush, wide, red leather seats and the mahogany wood finishes spoke of luxury. Adding SJ to the headrests of the seats with the gray carpet and oval-shaped windows was chef’s kiss. Our parents’ new business ventures added to the family wealth. Although we had brand deals and contracts, Mom and Pops still contributed to our trust funds. On the third of every month, I get a contribution statement.
Both Marquise and my phone vibrated. “Ivey,” we said in unison.
Ivey
Thank you for the sunglasses.
A credit card transaction notification of 20k followed on the lock screen.
“How much did she get you for?” Marquise asked.
“20k,” I said.
“30k for a purse and wallet,” Marquise confirmed.
With my phone in hand, I toggled over to my secret social media account. I searched for Jhae’s name to see two new photos. She posted the red roses with a question mark and heart. The second photo was of her boarding a jet with an #allstarready hashtag.
“Look at you, lovesick,” Marquise said, tapping my chest.
I gave him a halfhearted smirk because I couldn’t deny his statement. Jhae held everything I loved about a woman, including her giggle and feisty attitude. The petite frame and beauty mark on the right side of her bottom lip were a bonus.
“When are you going to make your move?” he questioned.
My brother was the only person who knew the depth of my love for Jhae. She was my reason, my Music Note. Getting Jhae to essentially cross the forbidden line and view me as a grown man had to be done carefully. I’ve been plotting since the time I graduated from high school.
After the draft, I forced Marquise to move into her building and carefully recorded her habits in my mental Rolodex. She preferred her eggs over easy with seasoning on one side, and she stood on her tiptoes when we talked. It’s unnecessary, but she does it. The energy it took not to pull her to me and remove the gloss from her lips depleted me.
“I’m going full throttle this weekend. It’s time to make my move.”
“No brakes,” Marquise said as we slapped hands.
I’ve already flirted with her without any explanation, including holding hands in the elevator. I ignored the confusion on her face as I tightened my grip on her soft skin.
“What are you going to do about Mom?” Marquise asked with folded arms and his playful smirk.
I will never get over how looking at him was equivalent to looking in a mirror. When I decided to grow a beard, I convinced him to do the same. I needed to shed my baby face in my attempt to convince Jhae I’m a grown man.
