Everything was perfect. All things felt right. That night, in bed, I held her close to me, because it felt right. She felt right. I slept soundly with her underneath me. Zoey felt like an extension of me, something I’d never experienced in life. I felt peace.
The next morning, as we arose before dawn and left the house, something inside me shifted. I’d started expecting Zoey to change. I found myself, on the ride to Princeton, waiting for her to ask for something: money or a relationship title, all the things that women who sleep with men of my status ask for. However, none of those things came.
When I dropped Zoey off at school, there was another shifting taking place between us. Zoey took a moment to meekly tell me she had a good time and even went to the extent of thanking me for having her. Unbeknownst to her, I got angry. What incensed me was equally as frustrating. It was because I didn’t know what to do with the feelings that had been established or the inexplicable ones burgeoning. I hated that I didn’t know her angle. Hated that I had no clue as to what was to come with this young woman. Was this a game? She’d already admitted to setting me up. But for what? Everyone had an angle. Everyone wanted something from people like me. I felt suckered.
But damn was it beautiful manipulation.
I fucking told this girl I loved her!
And I did.
Zoey was the only woman, other than my mother, that I’d ever spoken those words to and meant it from the pits of my gut. I felt like I was walking into some shit I knew I wasn’t prepared for. It made me feel insecure like a motherfucker. The look in her eyes when she left my Lambo… Was it remorse? Was it an act? Well, time would tell.
As I merged onto I-95 South, I turned up the volume on some old Redman, zoned out and prepared myself for work that lay ahead.
Practice was brutal. It wasn’t just the physical exertion that beat on me, it was the questions from my coaches and trainers about my hiatus. It was the stares that I got when I didn’t make the shots. It was the sideway glances from my assistant that I received when I wouldn’t provide an answer for my whereabouts. It was the images that I couldn’t get out of my fucking head of a young woman, laughing, running and coming in my goddamn face—even into the game that night—preventing me from giving it my all. We won by a mere three points. No one uttered a word in the locker room, not even Al, who knew where I was and with whom.
When I went to bed that night, I checked my phone again and saw no trace of contact from Zoey. I was pissed the fuck off that that pissed me the fuck off, too.
Chapter 5
Now
June 2014
~Stenton~
The room is ringing with laughter and people greeting one another and others gushing over the bride and groom. It is Alton and Tynisha’s wedding day and they did it up some kind of proper. I mean the ballroom is lined in glass crystals and fancy ass flower arrangements. Wait staff is balancing trays on their shoulders as they serve drinks and refill glasses. Damn! I recalled him saying Tynisha’s reality show network was footing the bill, but I still cringe at the potential setback of all the glamour.
There are cameras every damn where. I have to do something I’ve found difficult to do all day; smile. It is difficult for me to do something I’m often paid to do when modeling is a part of my endorsement agreement. What I’m struggling with is how can such a great occasion bring so much fucking gloom to my disposition.
“Excuse me. Excuse me,” I hear from the speakers around the room.