Basketball Jones (7 page)

Did he know about this? And if so, what kind of sick game was he playing with me? I was beginning to wonder just how long I could play this secret-lover bullshit now that Judi was in the picture. It was okay when I was the only one and we were just keeping our secret from his teammates.

Just as I was about to ask if there were any vacancies, I noticed the bellman out of the side of my eye. He had placed my packages on a cart and was getting ready to take them to the villa.

“Excuse me. Are those going to villa eight?”

He looked at the claim tags and said, “Yes, sir. These are for Mr. Richardson.”

“I’m Mr. Richardson. I might be changing rooms. Can you just hold them for a second?”

“Yes, sir.”

I asked the desk clerk for a new room, but after tapping on her computer for what seemed like an eternity, she looked up and said flatly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Richardson, but we’re completely sold out.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, sir. We are completely full. If you like I can check some other hotels. The Beverly Hilton right nearby might have rooms available. Would you like me to check?”

I wanted to strangle Dray for sticking me in this mess. Here I was, miles from home, looking like a country fool.

“Give me a few minutes.” I went into the dimly lit bar off the lobby and pulled out my phone. I didn’t have any new messages. Dray hadn’t called so I dialed his number. It went straight to voice mail, which meant he was either on the line or
it was shut off. I bet he had shut it off the minute Judi arrived. So I sent him a text, telling him to call me immediately. I sat down at the bar and ordered a club soda while I waited.

Thirty minutes later, only my thirst had been quenched, so I called again. No answer. I sent another text. Minutes passed and still nothing. What was I going to do? Heading to the villa wasn’t an option. Making a scene wasn’t the way I rolled and Dray knew that. I would never serve up a confrontation in front of his wife. I didn’t ever let on when I was jealous of Judi. I knew I couldn’t beat her if I did the same dumb things Dray told me Judi sometimes did to get his attention, like crying or throwing a tactless tantrum.

The bartender approached. “Would you like another club soda or maybe something stronger? You look stressed.”

“What?” I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed him.

“Would you like another drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay, just let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.”

I sat there feeling completely alone, knowing no one and not having a clue what to do next. What had Dray done with the few items of clothing I’d brought for the trip? Would I wait for Dray’s call or just take my ass back to New Orleans?

Just as I walked out of the bar, my cell phone rang. Maybe this was Dray and if it was, I was ready to let him have it.

“Hello,” I said, more as a challenge than a greeting.

“Dude, I’m sorry ‘bout this. I had no idea she was coming,” Dray whispered in a low and serious voice.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“It ain’t happening. You need to go back to New Orleans.”

“What?” I yelled. An elderly white couple turned in my
direction, but I didn’t give a damn who heard me. “Like that I’m supposed to turn around and leave just because your wife shows up?”

“Look, AJ, stop trippin’ and do like I said. I’ll make this up to you. I gotta run. She’s just turned off the shower.”

Click.

What the fuck?

Three hours later I boarded a flight to New Orleans, having cleared standby with a coach seat at the last minute. No first-class ticket and no magical night with Dray. I was pissed as fuck and was going to let Dray know when I saw him next.

The plane was packed with passengers, including what looked like fifty high school cheerleaders returning from some sort of competition. When I finally reached my row toward the back of the plane, I realized I had a middle seat. Sitting by the window was a young black guy shaking his head with an iPod in his hand. He didn’t pay any attention as I sat down.

Just as the plane was beginning to taxi, a white girl who sorta favored Dray’s wife sat down right next to me. She smiled with teeth so white she could have lit up a lighthouse. After she had placed her bags in the overhead compartment and under the seat, she let out a loud sigh. “Looks like we got a full flight.”

I didn’t respond.

“So how was your day?” she asked with the concern of a former high school cheerleader.

Wrong question, lady.

“Bitch, don’t ask me shit,” I snapped, and I placed the airline-issued earphones into my ears, slipped on my dark shades, and closed my eyes.

Sometimes I don’t know if I chose the life I lead or if it chose me. No, I don’t mean the age-old question about whether or not one picks one’s sexual orientation (I know I was born this way), because I’ve always been comfortable with the skin I’m in. I’m talking about the situation I’m in with Dray. Why couldn’t I have picked someone who wanted only to be with me? Why didn’t I meet a man who was man enough to admit who he really was? Could I really be ashamed of being gay but telling myself otherwise?

Thoughts like these have been running through my head lately. I’ve been back in New Orleans four days and still no word from Dray. Nothing. No calls, texts, or e-mails. When he doesn’t reach out to me like this, I don’t stalk him down, no matter how mad he makes me. Besides knowing that I’ll keep my word about maintaining our secrecy, he needs to know he’s not the center of my world. I’m so used to my situation that I can’t get mad anymore. If I really didn’t like it, I would do something about it. But here’s what I do like: a healthy bank account and a partner who can lay the pipe down. Now that’s real
talk. Who was I kidding? I would be with Dray if he drove a bus or collected trash. I loved this man and it was going to take more than a wife for me to give him up completely.

At times like this, I wish that Dray and I were still back in college when we could be together whenever we wanted. I longed for the days when I had the upper hand and Dray needed me more than I needed him. Back then the two of us didn’t have two nickels to rub together, but we were happy. At least I thought we were.

Dray used to tell me all the time about the wonderful places we would live and the cities we would visit once he made it to the pros, but I didn’t really believe him. I figured the moment he got that first check from his agent it would be “See you, Aldridge.” But I kept my word and never said anything about our relationship to anyone. Dray greatly valued that I was so loyal to him and so he kept his promises—at least he did back then.

Tomorrow I have my second workout with Cisco and I’m looking forward to it. Anything to get my mind off Dray. I’ve been lazy the last couple of days, feeling sorry for myself and eating a lot of comfort food like fried chicken and pasta.

But I’ve got to get over myself quickly. Who is going to feel sorry for me if I’ve got a fat ass? I know the difference between
phat and fat.

“Come on, Aldridge, you can do this,” Cisco said, pushing me to complete the last set of arm curls. I was sweating like a fat man in a plastic suit.

“How many more?” I asked, almost breathless.

“Last five. Come on. Five … four … three … two …
one. Okay, I’ll take it,” Cisco said, taking the fifteen-pound weights from my hands. “Good job.”

“Man, you trying to kill me.” I looked around the room for the bottle of water.

“Just doing my job.” Cisco smiled.

I located the tall bottle and drank until it was empty. The flat-screen television hanging from the wall showed Michael Vick dressed in a nice blue suit entering a courtroom surrounded by reporters.

“I think he’s going to jail.” When I lived in Atlanta, what a big fan I was of that handsome quarterback until I met Warrick Dunn, another Falcons player who was really doing something in the community. Every year Warrick built brand-new homes for single moms in the Atlanta area. I was so impressed with his charity that I called his foundation and offered my services gratis. I’m sure Vick had a foundation as well, even though I’d never heard of it. After some persuading I had convinced Dray to start two foundations, one to give back to the community he played for and the other in his hometown in Mississippi. It didn’t take much to make Dray realize the importance of a positive community image for a highly paid athlete, especially one with a secret boyfriend on the side.

“Who, Vick? They gonna make an example out of that idiot,” Cisco said.

“I heard he’s got a great lawyer.”

“Ain’t gonna make a bit of difference ‘cause when the man wants to get a brotha, they get it done.”

“You think he’ll play again?” I asked as I positioned myself on the mat to begin a series of situps.

“Yeah, he’ll play, but I bet it won’t be for the Falcons.

They’re going to drop his ass. I can’t believe he messed up his chance to be the shit of the league over some fucking pit bulls,” Cisco said as we finished the set.

“Are you going to try out again for the NFL?”

“It ain’t up to me, because if it was, I sure as hell wouldn’t have my ass back in this shit of a city trying to get a steady gig,” Cisco said with disgust. He pulled a plastic water bottle from his green gym bag.

“I thought you liked New Orleans.”

“What’s to like? I was born here. I just knew playing football was going to be my way out of this mutherfucker. Niggas like me would do anything to play in the league and the ones who have the chance to play are fuckin’ it up for everybody else. If they would let me in the league I’d be a model citizen. They would never have to worry ‘bout me doing some dumb shit.”

“Where would you want to live?”

“Miami or the ATL.”

“Atlanta’s nice,” I said.

“Is that where you were raised?”

“No, I grew up in North Carolina.”

“What was that like?”

“It was cool,” I said. I heard one of my cell phones on the table ring. I looked at the screen and saw that it was Dray calling. I didn’t answer because I was still pissed off at what had happened in Los Angeles. Now that he’d finally decided to call, he’d have to wait for me to get back to him.

“Are there a lot of black folks in North Carolina?”

“Some,” I said. Then I heard my other cell phone ring. I looked down and there was Dray’s name flashing on the screen. I guess he must be missing me bad right about now. I wasn’t going to play it slow and easy.

“Looks like someone is really trying to reach you,” he said, nodding to the phone.

“Just a friend.”

“Well, AJ, I’m gonna bounce. You did well today. We’ll step it up a little bit tomorrow.”

“We working out tomorrow?”

“Yeah, like you said, two days on, take off a day to let your body heal, and then we hit two days in a row. That’s the schedule I try to keep all my clients on.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I gave Cisco some dap and watched him walk out of the room to the sound of my phone ringing again.

It felt good to be needed.

A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that sounded like a slap against naked skin woke me early the next morning. I sat up in bed, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, when I heard a voice.