Page 16 of False Start
“When you called me ‘Chicken Shit Hudson’. But, Z, the moment I saw you across the fire at Hale’s Row, I knew you were something special.”
The front door opens. “Knock, knock,” Leslie says.
“Who doesn’t lock their front door in New Orleans?” Zina asks.
The click-clack of Leslie’s shoes sound across the old hardwood floor until they bring him to the open dining room with Zina on his five-inch heels. With his favorite black leather Jimmy Choo heels on, Leslie towers over Bryant. He’s a formidable man with a wide chest who prefers to wear the burnt orange and royal blue, Aztec-motifed muumuu in his down time. He’s a performer at a local nightclub five nights a week and has the voice of an angel. Not only is Leslie my neighbor, he’s also my friend. As soon as we met, Zina and I adopted him because we fell in love with his outrageous personality and kind heart. It was Leslie who pulled me out of my depression when I moved to New Orleans from California after Bryant and I split. Some days, he wasn’t so nice about it. And now, I can see he was giving me the tough love I needed to get out of the bed and move on with my life.
“Bryant meet Leslie; Leslie, my ex.”
Leslie outreaches his humongous, French-manicured hand to Bryant. “Pleasure, Suga,” he says in a baritone voice.
My ex shakes his hand. “Thanks for coming over so quickly. I appreciate the favor.”
“Anything for my girls.” Leslie passive-aggressively starts the dick-swinging contest.
Bryant’s jaw tenses at the possessive nature of my friend, but he smiles tightly. “You’re free to look around. I’m not attached to anything here.” And then he moves his attention to me. “I’m not attached to anything of the previous owner’s.”
“Ooooo, you two are going to burn down the entire block if you keep on with those smoldering gazes,” Leslie says. “Never seen two people who just need to fuck and get it over with. I mean, y’all would have some pretty babies.”
“Leslie!” I scold and hopefully, it’s enough to remind him we are not Team Bryant.
“Girl, that man is fine. F-I-N-E.Fine.”
The quarterback smirks from across the room. “You know, I’d really like to be the one to show you around.” And then he offers my friend his arm like a gentleman. My soon-to-be-ex-friend doesn’t even attempt to hide the swoon or the drool as he lets the football player lead him off like he’s Scarlett freaking O’Hara (if Scarlett was a large man with beautiful mocha skin in a muumuu.). I let them go ahead of me as I take a moment to gather myself.
“I give you two months before you’re living together again,” Zina says and reminds me she’s still in the room. And it angers me she finds humor in the situation after what he did to me.
“I know you think it’s cute and romantic that he showed up here to win me back, but it wasn’t long ago you were calling for his balls because I couldn’t stop crying over my broken heart. He’s still the same guy who let another woman blow him in our house.”
“Even if you never get back together, you have to find a way to forgive him for your own peace of mind.”
She’s right. I need to forgive Bryant. It’s been long enough, but today isn’t a day for forgiveness when he’s infiltrated both my personal and professional life. Today isn’t the day I give him absolution when he has my sister, my best friend, and an entire football organization eating out of his big hands. “I’m going,” I say. “It’s been a long day.”
“Okay,” my sister quietly replies. “I’ll wait for Leslie and come over after he’s done with Bryant.”
For the first time in my life, I decline her support and company. It doesn’t feel much like she’s on my side today. “I think I’m going to lie down. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
Hurt flashes across her face, but I’m too crushed by today to have the energy to make it better. “Okay.”
I open my car service app and order the next available ride. I can’t stand to be in the house any longer, so I stand outside near the street to wait. And I’m happy when the driver pulls up to the curb just a few minutes later, because Bryant steps onto the porch with determination in his eyes. I shake my head to indicate I don’t want him to follow and then climb inside for the short journey home.
FRIDAYS IN FOOTBALL AREN’T like most people’s start to the weekend. Since it’s July, we’re in the off season, and it means Friday is a workout day for the players. Zina, an athletic trainer, and I, a physical therapist for the team, stand by for injuries and observation. Being Bryant is a new player to the team, he’s working out with rookies and a few team veterans at the practice facility. I do my best to ignore him, but it’s nearly impossible when I can feel the heat of his stupid, gorgeous stare. I hate that I’m uber aware of his presence, so I welcome the distraction of Leslie texting me.
Leslie: Can you talk?
Zhanna: No.
Leslie: What do you think of recovering this chair with an expensive ivory chenille and placing it on his side of the bed? I was thinking it would look perfect with anything the man takes off his body and carelessly drapes over it. And he’ll pause each time he does and remember that I made this chair for him.
I blink at my screen.
Forget the picture of the hideous chair attached to the message. I can’t believe Bryant has Leslie still swooning over him. I lift my gaze from my phone and find the quarterback across the room. I’m already in his sights when we make eye contact. My eyes narrow into a glare, and then an expression of pure guilt crosses Bryant’s face.
Zhanna: I think you should have free rein of the house.
There, that will serve Bryant right. Let a gay man have run of the house. He’ll have to pay Leslie twice to fix it.
Leslie: Ooooo, no girl. Mr. Football Star said to defer all decisions to you as the woman of the house. So I’m deferring to the woman of the house. Do you think he’ll think of me when he takes his clothes off?
