The short dude looked up to the tatted tree, Stenton Rogers. “You’ll be done with your interview by seven?” Before the lanky guy could reply, the midget answered. “Yeah, seven would be good. We’re meeting at a small spot in Philly. Write me your number and I’ll have my people text you the address.”
Write down her number? Really? I watched as Angela scrambled for her purse, in search of a writing utensil. It’s 2006; who still writes down phone numbers when they could easily be plugged into cell phones?
Someone’s phone rang. Everyone went searching for theirs except for Angela who was scribbling her information on the back of a receipt.
“I’ll meet you outside. I gotta take this,” the tall guy mumbled. His voice was nasal, yet husky, forcing me to steal a glance at him for the second time. He didn’t pay us a parting regard before walking off.
“Here you go,” Angela shoved the paper to shorty. “Stent is going to be there, right?” No one could miss the zeal in her voice.
“Oh, yeah,” he returned, not even looking at her when he answered. He slickly pushed the paper in his pocket and took off in the wake of his giant friend. “It’s been real, ladies. Looking forward to seeing you later,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Angela turned to me and silently jumped up and down in anticipation once he was no longer in sight.
“You’re so going to cut class for this, right? For me,” she begged, out of breath.
I pulled her by the hand in the opposite direction to the back parking lot. “Absolutely not. I can’t skip class, Ang.”
On the ride back to my campus, I listened to Angela give me all the reasons she believed I should go down to Philly with her, even guaranteeing me as the godmother of her and Stenton Rogers’ first baby. And all the while I told her no.
The next day at the country club was completely uneventful. On the way back to campus, Angela told me how the short guy, whose name I learned was Alton Alston, asked why we didn’t join them. She said she gave him some bogus excuse about having to go to class as a means of not appearing too desperate. She was desperate! Angela said she’d come up with a plan for getting into Stenton Rogers’ bed soon enough. We only had a few weeks of their pre-training season to make her dreams come true.
That Thursday, I was still at my assigned post, bored out of my mind. It was only 9:30 and my stomach was already growling. I’d only had time to grab an apple and water on my way out that morning because I’d overslept and had to rush out of the door to meet Angela. I was up the night before, writing a paper that made up a good portion of my summer grade. I made sure to knock out a class in the summer since my scholarship generously covered the expense.
I wanted to complete my undergrad career as quickly as possible; I had responsibilities awaiting me. My family. Angela didn’t take summer classes at Rutgers. She was fortunate enough to not have to even work. Her parents thought this Working Toward the Stars was actually a significant course. The one credit that it provided wasn’t worth the five or so hours a day I dedicated to it. I would have much rather been somewhere sleeping or reading.
That morning, as my thoughts ran amok, wishing I was anywhere but at a country club serving millionaire jocks, I recalled Bernard, the choir director at our church, saying he was going to post a video of the regional choir he belonged to, practicing for their submission to the next McDonald’s Gospelfest.
I was squatting behind the bar, perusing my Facebook timeline for it when I heard, “Are you supposed to be doing that or serving drinks?” The tone was brusque, his silky chords poured, not just in my ears, but over my entire body causing my pulse to race.
I didn’t think, I only felt the echoing of his vocal chords in my core, then panicked. I jumped from the floor, nearly crashing into the small cart. The last time I’d looked up, they were practicing some type of fake-out passes with some guy named Olajuwon. I only knew this because that’s what they called him on the court and he wore a t-shirt with that name printed on the back.