Page 46 of Anyone But You
“The New York Mariners!” Knox exclaimed.
“Gold star for you,” I said with a weak smile. “But anyway, we had this long ass history together.” I fell back on the blanket I was sitting on and propped myself up on my elbow, making myself comfortable for our trauma dump session. “He sold me this dream and told me that we’d live in a big ass house on a hill, drive luxury cars, and jet set around the world. It all sounded good to me, but I was a fool. I should’ve known better when his version of “the dream” only included materialistic things. He never mentioned marriage or children or shit like that; that should’ve been an eye-opener, but I was young, dumb, and in love.”
“What happened?” Knox asked softly, looking like he was on the edge of his seat.
“The NFL draft was coming up, and we knew he was a shoo-in, but it was also around the time of my mom’s surgery—same day, actually. I had a choice—be there for my mother or be there for my man. I chose my mother, and as my reward, I watched my man on draft day, sitting on the couch, with his tutor beside him.”
“Shit,” Knox whispered. “He left you for a white girl.”
I collapsed against the blanket and laughed until I almost threw up my lungs. “Wh-what do you know about that?” I asked, still laughing.
“It’s not hard to put two and two together. I’ve seen those NFL draft couches.”
I pulled myself back up and crossed my legs. “Yeah… well… it is what it is. Desmond gets the call, and he, Kendall, and his goofy ass mama jump off the couch in celebration.”
“Uh-oh, I hear some animosity there with his mother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Desmond was a huge mama’s boy, and she was always in his ear, and his mother could do no wrong in his eyes, even when she was dead ass wrong. She stayed in our business and made it seem like whatever I did for him wasn’t good enough. I remember one time she came over to his place on a Sunday, and I had spent all day meal-prepping for him for the week and made his Sunday dinner. She came breezing in with a Sunday feast that rivaled any Thanksgiving dinner and bitched and complained about the food I made for her “precious baby” and how I needed to step my game up, not taking into account that her “precious baby” was a fucking athlete and didn’t need to be eating soul food every time he turned around.”
“It wouldn’t have ever worked out,” Knox mumbled.
“No, it wouldn’t have, but I swallowed down my pride because I was still holding out for that fucking house on the hill.But back to draft day. They’re all hugging, kissing, praising Jesus—the whole nine yards. My dodo bird self sat there beside my mother in the hospital room and cried. And that’s not the worst fucking part. For a split second, I hated that I chose my mother. I never felt so fucking low in my entire life. That no-good, cheating ass son-of-a-bitch was on live TV proposing to his tutor from the spring semester with his trifling ass mama jumping in the background like Drew Carey invited her down to playPlinko!and all I could think about was that it should’ve been me.”
“I’m sorry, Victoria.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Knox. The ancestors got him back. As you very well know, he blew his knee out in his first game and never stepped on another football field again.”
“Serves him right.”
“His fiancée left him, too.”
“Of course. She was only there for the check,” he co-signed.
“I thought him blowing out his knee was the icing on the cake, but the sweetest revenge was when he lost everything and tried spinning the block.”
“Spinning the block? What does that mean?”
“He tried to come back.”
“Fuck that,” Knox exclaimed, rightfully offended for both of us.
“Mhm. He tried limping right back into my life, telling me he made a mistake, and I always held him down, and we were always meant to be together, blah, blah, blah. I told that boy to kick rocks and to make sure he got back home before the streetlights came on unless he wanted to see his mama waiting on the stoop with a belt in her hand.”
“That sounds satisfying,” Knox said with an appreciative hum.
“It was.”
“And you never dated after that?” he asked curiously.
“I dated here and there, but nothing serious. Truthfully, dating wasn’t high on my priority list, and then I started working for your bitch ass, and that left no room for dating,” I explained.
“If it makes you feel better. My fiancée attempted to murder me.”
14
Take a Hike
Knox
