“You may not have your plans organized from A to Z, but you have a vision and passion. That combination is what brings dreams into fruition. You’re a spitfire.” He snorted and then inclined in his seat. “My mom used to have this little mutt. She couldn’t have been more than six inches off the ground and weighed less than five pounds. Mom called her Ni?a. And she would fuss every dog out in the neighborhood…I mean even the biggest Rottweilers that were chained to their yards. My mom used to laugh and say if she came face-to-face with one of them without leashes being involved, Ni?a wouldn’t have much of a bark.”
He chuckled as he stared into the distance, I assumed, visualizing the memory. I was captivated. “One day, a big ass German Shepherd got loose and chased my mother. I saw my mother hauling ass up the walkway for the house when I opened the door. Somehow little Ni?a came charging past me then my mom and toward the German Shepherd. I saw that miniature mutt sprint so hard that when the German Shepherd saw her, he skidded his brakes and made a U-turn to his yard with Ni?a racing after him. By the time I caught up with them, she had her canines pierced into his left front leg. She only punctured his skin, but scared the shit out of him with her ferocious determination.” His eyes rose to mine. “That’s you: small in size, but big in bite. Fiercely determined.”
I don’t think I’d ever been complimented so. An intimate story from Stenton—not Stenton Rogers—changed the course of my day. I was sure I’d read too deeply into it, but didn’t care. I chose to view this encounter from rosy lenses.
“Ni?a is a Spanish reference.” I observed.
“My mother is Dominican,” his voice was uneasy and I’d lost his eyes. I felt a pang of disappointment. He lifted his menu.
“I’d like to hear about her someday…I mean whenever you’re ready.” I stumbled over my words.
“Perhaps. If you agree to be my Ni?a.” Stenton’s eyes peered over his menu.
I narrowed my brows. “And what does that entail?”
He placed the menu down on the table and straightened his shoulders. “You pledging your friendship. And you must swear to no piercing of my skin…or my heart.”
I choked on my spit…like really choked. My eyes watered.
“Calm the hell down, Zoey. We’re not pledging love; just friendship.” It took a minute, but I was able to clear my throat. I threw him a dubious regard. “You’ve pointed out my trust and paranoia issues; I’d like to use you as a guinea pig. Deal?”
Still, I was too stunned for words. When did we turn this corner? This was Stenton Rogers…Number 2 Overall Draft Pick, three-time MVP Awardee, and four-time Champion, Stenton Rogers.
“Damn it, Zoey.” He chuckled…beautifully, melting my core. “I’m not asking for marriage, just permission to let down my guard when we talk.”
I gasped. “You better not be! Ughhhh!” I grimaced, earning a hard laugh from Stenton. It was infectious. I really needed to chill out.
“Yo, man! It’s time to go!”
My smile faded as I peered up at a glaring Alton. My anxious eyes returned to Stenton whose expression mirrored mine.
Stenton looked back, I assumed for Angela, just as I did. “What’s up, my dude?”
“We just need to get the fuck up outta here, bro.” Alton was seething.
“Alton, where’s Ange—”
He put his index finger in my face. “Don’t even ask me about that bitch.”
Stenton shot from his seat almost as if to cover me. “The fuck gotten into you, bruh?”
My eyes enlarged. As crass as Alton was, he’d never taken that tone with Angela or me.
“Like I said, it’s time to go!” Alton shouted then charged out of the restaurant as seamlessly as he’d come in.
Stenton offered regretful eyes. I knew he was just as confused as I was. He went into his pocket and pulled out several bills of cash. “Zo, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into this dude today. Rest assured I’ll find out.” He grabbed my hand. “Lunch is on me.” And then he made his exit on the heels of Alton.
While I watched him jog out of the restaurant, Angela appeared in the doorway with tears flowing. I knew in that moment her tears had derived from the same place that had pissed Alton off.
When she arrived at the table she cried, “He’s an irreparable asshole.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t want to accept responsibility for this!”
“Angela!” I gasped.
“What?”