Page 146 of Anything Necessary for Her
Former USC Baseball Star’s Physical Assault Could Mean Contract Rescinded
“Is that Trayvon?” I took her phone to scan read until I ran into his name.
Reading the article told me he’d been beaten badly, his bones crushed in several places all over his body and that when questioned, Trayvon claimed all he could remember was that a masked man had assaulted him and that he believed it was someone from a rival school’s baseball team due to the nature of the beating.
As for security footage, there was none because the cameras hadn’t caught anything due to the electricity going out just before.
“Trayvon must’ve pissed somebody off ’cause damn. Told you he was gon’ get enough of talking so much shit during his games.” Kailey shook her head, taking her phone back and moving on.
“Right,” I said absentmindedly, wondering if Low was behind such a thing, which I’d hoped wasn’t the case.
THE NEXT DAY . . . PROLIFIC POINTE . . .
I was on edge waiting for Low to pull up to get Waverley. We hadn’t seen one another yesterday since he was working so late, and I hadn’t wanted to ask him about Trayvon via text. I couldn’t say much while here either since he had a packed day, and so did I, but it was better than sending it through a message.
I stood by the opened door as the little girls packed their stuff up, ate small snacks, and jumped around the large room as they awaited their rides.
When I spotted Low’s beloved Maybach pull up into the lot, I started out, hoping to take advantage of it being just us in the parking lot.
“Sup, Peep.” He smiled brightly as he hopped out of his car, extending three roses surrounded by baby’s breath to me.
“Thank you.” I poked my bottom lip out, loving the random gesture.
We kissed, and he started to walk toward the door of the studio to retrieve his sister, so I stopped him.
“What’s up?” He turned to me, brows furrowed.
“I need to ask you something.” I moved closer to him to conceal my voice some, though the parking lot was vacant. “Did you do something to Trayvon?”
“What happened to him?” he asked stoically.
“Someone beat his ass badly with something, broke a lot of his bones in his limbs with the exception of one hand.”
“Sucks.”
“Willow.” I cocked my head, trying to get a read on him, but I couldn’t.
I should’ve known better since the game he was in required one to have a hell of a poker face and an impenetrable veneer.
“Low!” Waverley came darting out into the parking lot, ceasing all conversation at that point much to my chagrin.
I immediately changed my tenor, smiling down at her as she hugged her brother tightly.
“I’ll get up with you later, Peep.” He kissed me slowly, then rounded his vehicle to help her inside.
“Can we get sushi?” I heard her little voice beg as I started back toward the ballet studio entrance in order to get ready for practice.
Once all the kids were picked up and claimed, practice ensued, but I could barely focus. I felt like shit for some reason, thinking about Trayvon’s career possibly being over.
For as long as I’d known him, he’d been dreaming of going to the MLB and playing for the Los Angeles Bandanas. And according to his parents during an afternoon lunch I had with them long ago, he’d been playing the game since he was two years old.
The thought of him not making it and it being indirectly my fault had thrown me off my square. By saying that, I was more than happy when Carolyn and Douglas announced that we could go home.
Immediately, I went home to shower and clean up, before slipping into some clothes. I texted Trayvon’s mother, Della, and she got back to me promptly to disclose what hospital and room her son was in.
I went straight there, stopping in the hospital flower shop for a bouquet and a small Get Well Soon balloon because I just didn’t know what to get a man who was laid up in the hospital.
As I rode up to his floor, I wondered if Trayvon was actually unaware of who did it or if he knew the culprit and was too afraid to snitch. If it was the latter, then I was positive it was Low.
