Keeping Busy

by Tracy Gray

  “Busy, my Pudding here, is your girl.” She said simply.

  He started to speak, but she held up one of her little bony hands, and he closed his mouth, just like his grandmother had taught him to do when an elder was speaking.

  “I called my Pudding and asked her to come over here. When she arrived, I sprang this whole thing on her. I’ve asked her to do this for you, as a favor to me, because it’s no secret, Maddox, how you have treated my grand nieces over the years. I have watched them be more than pleasant to you, while you in return have been nothing more than aloof, antisocial and detached towards them. They’re all gorgeous, so for a while there, I was sure you were batting for the other team.”

  I couldn’t help choking on a chuckle at his dismayed expression when she said that.

  “But Vera assured me that you weren’t. Then I spied you running around with the little fast-tailed girls in the neighborhood, and assumed that was what you liked. Since I knew my grand nieces weren’t fast in the tail, I assumed that it was all for the best that you never took up with any of them. Anyway, we’re here now, and we’re gonna let the past be the past. Right, Pudding?”

  She caught me off guard. I thought we were roasting Maddox’s ass, how did I get pulled into the foray?

  “I’ll try. I’m still a little salty, though.” I admitted.

  “Saltiness aside. Nobody’s gonna believe it if you show up with some little ugly, or homely girl, Busy...or a super polished professional. Pudding’s perfect. She’s beautiful, classy, smart, and urbane. She’s the entire package.”

  While I appreciated my aunt’s praise, it did start to rub me the wrong way - kind of like she was pouring it on. “You don’t have to sell me to him, Auntie.” I said, beating back the attitude that wanted to sneak into my tone. “You might want to start selling him to me.” I muttered.

  But not softly enough, because she heard me.

  “I’m not selling either of you all to anybody. Busy is going to do this, because this is his best option for success, and he’s a businessman at heart, so he understands that. You’re going to do it, as a favor to your favorite aunt.” She watched both of us for any sign of defiance. “I think you two need to spend some time talking to each other and getting to know one another. Nobody is going to believe you’re sweethearts if you can’t find a way to bridge this…”

  “Awkwardness?” I supplied.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You need to figure out a way to like each other. It’ll make the ruse that much easier to pull off.”

  I wanted to suggest that he just find somebody he already liked, but that ship had sailed. Auntie Bo had made up her mind. We were doing this.

  For the first time in years, Maddox Mayhew turned to me and spoke an entire sentence. “I actually have to head over to the community center for my youth camp. I’ve got a photographer coming out today. So, maybe we could plan to get together after I wrap that up.”

  “You should take Mecca with you.” Auntie Bo suggested. “Show her what you’re doing over there with the boys. Give her an opportunity to see you, Busy. Get to know you.”

  Auntie Bo was not slick. I could see straight through her, with her “take Mecca with you” faced-ass. “I uhm, need to get back to work.” I said.

  Maddox nodded in agreement to my plan of going back to work. Part of me wanted to slap his gorgeous ass. He was so rude.

  “You don’t have to stay long.” Auntie Bo, the meddler, assured me. ”And I’ll call Janaye and let her know that I sent you out on a little errand.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He stood up from the sofa. “Well, I’m about to head out there now.”

  I stood up as well, choosing to ignore the smirk that was playing on Auntie’s Bo’s lips because she knew that she was getting her way.

  Maddox and I were going to do this.

  Here’s the thing. Maddox and I weren’t friends growing up, but I was very friendly with his grandmother, Miss Vera. Miss Vera didn’t have any little girls in her immediate family. She and her husband had two sons, and when her sons procreated, they had given her three grandsons. On the other hand, Auntie Bo had eleven grand nieces, so feminine energy was at an all time high right across the street.

  Miss Vera took advantage of that and was always spoiling my cousins, my sister and me. She was a gifted seamstress, and my cousins and I were her favorite fit models. She made us tons of little pink and purple ruffled Easter and “picture day” dresses. She was always having us over for impromptu tea parties, mani/pedi movie nights and stuff like that. She was a second aunt to us, so we all spent time with her in her home growing up. And while my cousins drifted away, as children do when they get old enough to discover life outside of the grown-ups they know, I continued to visit with Miss Vera, and spend time with her.

  Before she got sick, and particularly afterward, I would go to her house on Sundays after church and watch Maddox’s games with her. She never seemed sick when she was cheering for that boy. She would yell with such strength and vigor that I was sure he could feel her energy wherever he was in the country. She’d have me help her get decked out in her favorite jersey - a green one bearing his number, 27 and his name. She would bundle herself under her blankets and turn the television up way too loudly. When the Leopards won, it was a one woman ticker-tape parade and celebration. And if they lost? Miss Vera would spend half of the day looking like her man broke up with her to get with her best friend.

  She was so proud of that boy. Proud that he’d set a goal for himself and reached it. Proud that he was talented, but even more so that he was hardworking and diligent. Proud that he avoided scandals and had a reputation as a nice guy with a good heart and a generous spirit. I knew “Busy” Mayhew through his grandmother’s eyes, but I didn’t know a damn thing about him otherwise.

  I rode with him to the community center. I would’ve driven myself, but I didn’t know where the “community center” was. We lived in Chicago...on the South Side, there was a community center on every other block. We ended up at The Dorothy G. Jackson Community Center, not too far from where we grew up. We were silent on the ride, neither of us said one word. Of course that was par for the course when it came to Maddox, but me? I’d always been a talker, so I didn’t know why the cat had my tongue.

  When we got to the building, I followed him through the facility and out to the back where they had a mini version of a football field set-up. The kids looked to be running plays, while a coach stood on the sidelines and called out instructions. The coach spotted Maddox right away, blew into his whistle and directed the kids to “take a quick five.”

  “Coach Mayhew.” The guy said approaching us, his long legs making quick work of the distance.

  Maddox slapped his hand. “What’s up, Coach Ron?”

  “Everything’s good. The kids have been crushing those plays you showed them earlier this week.”

  “Good.” Maddox nodded his handsome head. “Did the photographer make it?”

  “Yeah, he’s setting up. I was waiting for you to get here. He said that there’s some paperwork that he needs you to complete.”

  “Paperwork?” Maddox’s handsome face clouded over with confusion.

  “Yeah.” Coach Ron was clearly unsure.

  “Where’s he at?” As an after-thought, he turned to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  Coach Ron and Maddox left me standing there while they went to find the problematic photographer. I walked down the sidelines and joined the young athletes at their bench.

  “Who are you?” One little boy asked me. He had skin the color of graham crackers, big brown eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a very fresh low fade (like his mama knew it was picture day in advance) and a cocky demeanor. I could tell right away that he was going to be a problem for some lovestruck little girl in the future.

  “I’m just visiting.” I told him.

  “Okay, because we don’t have any girls on this team.”

  I looked around, realizing that he was right. “Well, why
not?”

  He shrugged his slim shoulders. “I don’t know. But my last team had girls, and my pops pulled me off that team. Said I couldn’t get the training I needed, if they had to dumb it down to include girls.”

  So, I knew right away that I didn’t like his pops.

  “There’s nothing wrong with girls.” I told him.

  “And definitely not with you.” A different little guy said to me, coming around the bench to get in my face. “I’m Jaylen.” He smiled, showing me the cleft in his smooth chocolate brown chin.

  I wanted to shake my head, because this had to be a team filled with future problem-starters for the female persuasion of their age group.

  “I’m Coach Mecca.”

  “Coach Mecca?” The first little boy questioned. “I thought you said you were just visiting.”

  “I am. But that doesn’t make me less of a coach.”

  “And you coach football?” Jaylen asked, still grinning at me, like he had confidence that he was going to actually pull me.

  “I do not coach football.” I admitted. “But I do coach athletes.”

  “What kind of athletes?” Another little guy asked.

  “Talented ones.”

  “Can your athletes catch a pass?” Jaylen asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Depends on whose throwing it.”

  “Can you catch a pass?”

  “You the quarterback?”

  He nodded proudly.

  “Show me what you got.”

  About eight of them followed Jaylen and me out onto the turf. They stood in a very formal formation, I just stood...somewhere. I listened to Jaylen say some random things that obviously meant something to the rest of the offense, but meant nothing at all to me, then yell “Huuut.”

  I took off running. Jaylen had a good arm, he floated the pass, a surprisingly tight spiral, into the air and right to me. I caught it effortlessly (thanks to growing up with a twin brother who never seemed to realize that we weren’t the same gender). Quickly, the energy on the field changed, and nine little bodies were heading for me, including the quarterback.

  I was never the fastest runner, but as a highly trained dancer body control and movement were my specialties. I was able to out maneuver the kids and make it to the endzone without breaking a sweat. I spiked the ball, then did a little Milly rock, followed by some footwork, and finished my celebration dance with a little renegade.

  I was smiling and feeling pretty good, when a voice boomed out over the bullhorn.

  “Break time’s over. Get in formation.”

  The children jumped, and sprang into action running off the field. I turned to see Maddox holding the bullhorn, looking stern. When our eyes met, he winked at me and grinned with his tongue sticking out. It happened so quickly that for a second I thought I’d imagined it, but when I looked back over at him, he winked, again. I walked back over to the sidelines, thinking “uhm, so he has a silly side.”

  Maddox

  3

  Luckily for me, Sydnie set everything up with the photographer. She even sent an assistant to make sure that we knew what shots to get, and everything. That was a relief, because I had no idea what images played best with an audience when you were trying to do damage control, after having your reputation murdered and outlined in yellow tape. Besides that, seeing Mecca on the field interacting with my athletes disrupted my focus. I knew she worked with kids, knew she was a dance teacher, but there was something about seeing her with my kids. It made me feel a way. I liked it.

  I watched her standing on the field from the corner of my eye while the photographer’s assistant went over the plan for the day. Mecca was undeniably pretty. Always had been, with her honey colored skin, and eyes that seemed dyed to match. Her cheekbones were high and sprinkled with dark freckles. She usually wore her sandy brown hair straight, hanging loosely at her shoulders, but today it was pulled up into a ponytail that gave her a youthfulness.

  When we were kids, she was long and lanky, sprouting up the way most girls did during puberty, but tapering off just as quickly. She wasn’t tall, now. She was 5’6 at most, and she wasn’t skinny anymore, either. She had a dancer's body, but better. Mecca was slim-thick as hell. Sexy as hell. Fuckable as hell. I immediately tabled that thought. That wasn’t what I needed to be thinking about. She was here to help me redeem myself, as a favor, not for me to try to bag.

  I didn’t know a lot about her, but I knew some, because she was my grandmother’s favorite Watson girl. She was the one who would be at my house, hanging out with my grandmother in the kitchen when I came home from those grueling summertime practices in high school. She was also the one who would be at my grandmother’s house when I would call after a game when I made it to the league. She spent a lot of time with my grandmother, in return my grandmother spent a lot of time talking to me about her.

  “You know Pudding is graduating from Hampton University with a dual degree, dance and entrepreneurship.”

  “Pudding decided to go back to school. She’s getting her MBA this time, Busy. Accepted to Northwestern. Smart and gorgeous. Plus she’s choreographing for the NBA, now. She’s doing big things, Busy.”

  “Pudding’s graduating tomorrow, Busy. Remember I told you she was getting her MBA? She did it. Her daddy is throwing her a huge party out at his mansion. He’s gonna send a car and driver to pick Miss Bo and me up and take us out there. I’m so proud of that girl. You should look her up on the social media, and congratulate her.”

  “Pudding’s single now. You should send her some tickets to one of your games, Busy. You two could have a little reunion.”

  My grandmother was “un-subtle” as hell. I got the picture. She wanted to push me and “Pudding” together. I couldn’t take that thought seriously, though. If she wanted me to get together with one of the Watson girls, she shouldn’t have spent so much time pushing me away from them when we were growing up. I wasn’t interested, so I never took any of her suggestions. Yet, it was like she was still trying to push me and Pudding into the same orbit from beyond the damn grave. And here I was, playing into it. Letting Miss Bo talk me into pretending like Mecca was my girl, bringing her to practice with me, fantasizing about having those strong dancer legs wrapped around my…What?

  Cut that shit out. I told my subconscious. That was a problem I didn’t need. Still, flirting with pretty girls had always been a character flaw of mine. I guess that’s why when I caught the expression on Mecca’s face after I yelled at my players, I couldn’t help shooting her a wink, or laughing with my tongue sticking out.

  “How old are your athletes?” She asked me on the ride back to my grandmother’s house. I was surprised when her voice cut through the heavy silence of my truck. She hadn’t said one word to me the entire time we’d been together, so I guess I was expecting that to continue.

  “Eleven through thirteen.”

  “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why a couple of them were so flirtatious.”

  I had to laugh. “They were flirting with you?”

  “Not all of them. Actually, mainly just your quarterback.”

  “Jaylen Talib. He’s...a lot.”

  “He has a good arm.”

  “He does.” I agreed with a slow nod. “With the right coaching and work ethic, he could make some noise. So, your response to him flirting with you was to get him out on the field? A little redirection?”

  “Basically, and some distraction while you and Coach Ron were dealing with the photographer.”

  “Is that what you do with your dance students?”

  “All the time.”

  We were both quiet, but after a few seconds, she spoke again. “So, as far as this whole pretending to be your girlfriend thing, I’m not sure how you want to do this, and you probably aren’t either.”

  I appreciated her saying that. It was insightful, because she was spot on. I had no idea how to do what I was supposed to be doing. I just knew that I n
eeded to do it, and I needed to get it right. I was thankful that she understood that we would be making it up as we went along. I relaxed a little. And I mean, seriously, just a little. The whole situation still had me fucked up.

  “Maybe you want to talk to your rep about it, what’s her name?”

  “Sydnie Whitmore.”

  “Did Sydnie tell you how and when we’re supposed to start?”

  “We can’t start soon enough for Sydnie. She just really wants me to start with being as public as possible with you, as soon as possible, as often as possible. So, maybe dinner next week at Bistro MKC?”

  “Uhm huhm. Okay” She agreed.

  “And I’ve gotta text Sydnie your info and stuff tonight. They have to - vet you.” I sighed. “Yo Mecca, this is so fucking awkward.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, it is.”

  “I mean, we grew up together, but…”

  “But not really.”

  “Right. So, I don’t want to be all in your personal business, but if you think something is gonna come up in this background check that Sydnie’s gonna run, I will not hold you to this. I don’t want you to get embarrassed or feel exposed. I don’t want you to get burned in any way from trying to help me out.”

  “I don’t have an unsavory past, Busy. I feel pretty confident that I’ll come back clean. You know I work with children, so I mean, I’ve supposedly been run through the FBI’s database. I don’t know what database your people are putting my name through, but I think it’ll be fine.”

  We were both quiet, but I could feel her gaze bore into the side of my face. We were at a red light, so I made eye contact and gave her my undivided attention. “What’s up?”

  “Should we address the elephant in the room now, or should we wait until later?” She asked me.

  “What’s the elephant in the room?”

  “The fact that we grew up together, but not really. We’ve known each other forever, but I don’t know you, Busy.”