Reign Delay

by Tracy Gray

  She gave me a small smile. “I’m sorry…”

  “You ain’t gotta apologize for feeling what you feel, Ma. We both spent enough time listening to people invalidate our feelings. If you’re feeling it, it’s valid.”

  “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re my dirty little secret or something.”

  I smirked into the camera. “You ain’t freaky enough to make me feel dirty.” I teased, eliciting the laugh I was going for.

  “I’m not ashamed of you, or of being with you. I just...I just want you, Baby. I don’t need all the fanfare and social media madness that comes with it. But I want you, so I’m willing to deal with it. I would just prefer to do it in my own time - in my own way. Maybe that’s not realistic…” She trailed off.

  “Listen,” I said with a sigh, knowing that I had to break it to her, because my notifications had been blowing up for the last few hours with tags and even mentions on Twitter, “it’s out there. I think the best way to handle it from here is to go all out. I’m telling you, if you try to pull back, it’s gonna cause people to go harder for the receipts. Then they’ll be digging around in your past - in our past. At this point, we should ride the wave, post some pictures - give the people something to talk about, until the Kardashians pull the next shit they’re gonna pull.”

  Neither one of us spoke for a smooth minute.

  “I’m not gonna embarrass you, Reign. I put that on my momma. Even if I fuck my entire world up and this thing blows up in our faces, I promise that I won’t let you take the fall. I won’t let you take the heat. I’ll throw myself in the fire, before I let you go through what you went through before. You’re not going through that twice.”

  I watched her sit there, her eyes filled with the tears that she wouldn’t let fall, like the G that she was. I wished like hell that I had more to give her than just my promise. I wished I could be there, holding her, jumping in front of bullets for her.

  “Let’s have a conversation.” I suggested.

  “On Twitter?”

  “And Instagram.”

  “With pictures?”

  “With pictures.”

  “No faces.” She insisted.

  “Your name is already out there, Babe. The Twitter-verse knows who you are.”

  “I’m sure they do, but still...no faces.”

  There was absolutely no reason for me to argue the point. “Cool.” I reached over and grabbed my ipad, quickly posting the picture of her fingernails on both my Instagram and my Twitter with the caption, “This” and tagging/mentioning her.

  “So, put our family crest up to your camera, I wanna take a picture of it.” She told me.

  “Our family crest, huh? You know I’m digging how that sounds coming outta your mouth.” I gave her a view of my pectoral region with the crest tattoo.

  A few days later, my guy Antonio Yates caught me up after a team meeting.

  “What the fuck are you and your girl out here doing in the world of social media? Y’all tryna break the internet?”

  I chuckled. My decision for Reign and I to have conversations with pictures over social media had picked up steam somewhere along the way. I figured it happened when Indigo started retweeting all of our pictures. The pictures started off innocently. I posted the picture of her fingernails with the caption, “This.” She posted the picture of my tattoo with the caption, “And that.” But surprisingly, Reign had upped the stakes.

  A day or so later, I posted a picture of her wearing a Portland Pioneer t-shirt that featured my name and number, her back facing the camera, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, with the caption, “All day.”

  She screenshotted a picture of me in just compression shorts (and to me it seemed like she was a little too focused on my dick), with the caption, “All night.”

  A few days after that, I posted a picture of the view from my room at camp with the caption, “Young Tiller - The Sequence :55-1:10.”

  Then, she posted a picture of the Chicago skyline with the caption, “Ella Mai - Boo’d Up :24-:47.”

  On a day that it rained, I got one of my guys to take a picture of me standing in the downpour, still in my uniform, my back to the camera. When I posted the pic, I captioned it: “Can’t get enough of being in the Reign.”

  Reign reposted the same picture, captioning it: “*whispers* Go Deep In It.”

  Which I knew was a reference to Bryson’s Tiller’s The Sequence. I laughed my ass off at her boldness and the comments on that particular picture went bananas. Even Joya retweeted it with #CaptionGoals!

  “Y’all got motherfuckas out here waiting to see what y’all gone post next. My wife told me to tell you that y’all are cute and shit.”

  I laughed out loud at that. “Your wife’s cool as hell.”

  “She is.” He agreed. “And this chick, she got you moving through training camp like somebody lit a fire under your ass. You out here acting like you’re fighting for your position, when you know that shit is a lock.”

  “I’m just trying to get through these weeks. I would much rather be at the crib, caked up with my girl, than putting my body through the paces.”

  “Who the fuck wouldn’t?” He agreed, just as one of the coaches sounded the whistle.

  Later that night, after I showered, I fell into the little ass bed in my room and sighed. My body was tired as hell, I was tired as hell, but there was no way I was falling asleep without talking to Reign. I grabbed my phone and was about to FaceTime her, when a text came through.

  MD: So, you in love now or nah?

  Meeyah Donna. This whole popping up thing was not the norm. When I’d first drifted out of her space over a year ago, she didn’t really seem to notice. We saw each other out and about from time to time, and we were cordial, but we weren’t on it like this. I don’t know what happened once I posted that first picture of Reign and me, but since then, she kept...turning up unexpectedly. I could admit that it was easier to deal with her via cell phone than it was in person, but I didn’t want to have to deal with her at all.

  Me: Who’s asking?

  MD: Don’t try to play me, Xavier. You know who this is.

  Me: Yeah, I know who it is. What I don’t know is, what you need.

  MD: Last year, when you started acting brand new with me, I let you do ya thing. I’m saying, I know how niggas can be, not wanting to get serious and shit. But now, here you are...all serious with the next bitch.

  Me: Don’t refer to my girl as a bitch.

  MD: Nigga what?!?! I wrote you a whole fucking paragraph and you respond to one word.

  Me: Yep.

  I didn’t have beef with Meeyah at all. When we were messing around, she hadn’t been anything but cool. We spent most of our time either laughing or fucking. We didn’t argue, because hell, we didn’t talk - not deeply anyway. I didn’t know shit about her family, how she spent her time, her past - nothing. That wasn’t what we were about. We were about hanging out, laughing and fucking. So, I wasn’t interested in showing her shade, I was interested in redirecting her energy onto somebody besides me.

  Me: Ay, what’s good? It seems like you’re in your feelings about this, which I don’t get.

  MD: You wouldn’t get it.

  Me: You wanna explain it to me, or nah?

  MD: Fuck you, Xavier.

  Well damn, I thought to myself, that came out of nowhere.

  Reign

  I stared silently at my computer screen, as River, Trinity and Ayla stood over my shoulder.

  “Do we think she’s a psycho, delusional, or scorned?” Ayla asked, still staring at the most recent picture to show up in my Instagram notifications. I’d gotten one on the daily for a little more than a week.

  For the last few days, @meeyah_donna had been posting throw-back pictures of her and Xavier, making sure to tag me in them.

  “Delusional.” River replied.

  “Psycho.” Trinity said at the same time.

  “She ain’t psycho,” I disagreed, “she
knows what she’s doing.”

  “What do you think her deal is?” Ayla asked.

  I knew what her deal was. It was the same deal that I’d been putting up with since it became obvious that Xavier had superior athletic ability. As soon as a chick found out that Xavier was checking for me, and not them, they became determined to make sure I knew that I wasn’t “special.” They wanted me to know that there was no way he would be dedicated to me when they were around, and yet, since high school, Xavier had never proven them right.

  “She just wants me to know that she exists.” I said, navigating away from the picture. Truth be told, all of the pictures she posted were pretty tame. Even this most recent one wasn’t incriminating. In it, they were posed in a hug, her hands resting at his waist, his hands resting on her ass. It was standard fare for Instagram. “Something like this will never get me in my feelings.”

  River eyed me. “I’ve never known much of anything to get you in your feelings when it comes to Xavier. Chicks have been trying to come in between you two since 2011.”

  “That’s because X hasn’t wanted anybody but Reign since 2009.” Trinity quipped.

  “Meeyah Donna has taken enough of our time today. We need to head over to the Campbell project.” River told me. “I need to grab my purse.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  River, Trinity and I checked on the progress of the Campbell project, stopped and ate lunch, then decided to swing by the Mayhew project to check on the progress there. The first thing I noticed when we pulled in front of Aunt Bo’s house was the bright white Tesla sitting in front of the Mayhew house, between the rented dumpster and our contractor’s pick-up truck.

  “Now, that’s not something you see everyday.” River commented.

  “Oh hell no.” Trinity murmured. “You know your girl drives a Tesla.”

  “My girl, who?” River questioned.

  “Not your girl, Reign’s girl.”

  “My girl, who?” I questioned.

  “Meeyah Donna. You know I stalk her social media. The bitch was gifted the use of a Tesla by one of her sponsors.”

  “Do you think she’s in the house?” I asked, my eyes as big as hell. I’d dealt with a lot of stuff when it came to women who felt they had a claim on Xavier, but this was beyond. Showing up at his childhood home?

  “She better not be in the house.” Trinity stated.

  “Where the hell else would she be?” River asked, grabbing her pink hardhat, stepping out of her truck and slamming the door.

  Trinity and I followed suit, moving swiftly across the street to see if we were actually gonna have to turn it out, or if this was a false alarm. I slammed my hardhat down on my head, as we cut through the gangway on the side of the house, and made our way up the stairs of the back porch. River swung the plastic that was covering the doorway with almost enough force to bring it down on our heads.

  “Myron!” She yelled for the general contractor as she made her way through the kitchen, Trinity and I were on her heels like baby chicks chasing our mother duck. “Myron!”

  Myron was in the living room. River stopped walking so abruptly when she spotted him, that she almost caused a pile up. I was barely able to stop myself from running into the back of her. Myron was standing in the middle of the room talking to a bombshell, in a fitted dress. Seeing Meeyah Donna in person, I had to admit to myself that the girl was flawless. Her skin was the color of copper, smooth and creamy. Her body was everything. I didn't know if it was manufactured or not, regardless, the girl had major body. She was being flirty with him, and Myron was clearly eating it up.

  “You need to leave. You’re trespassing.” River said to Meeyah Donna.

  Meeyah gave her a menacing grin, her words laced with attitude. “Myron invited me in.”

  “Myron shoulda had you put a hardhat on your damn head.” Trinity mocked. “He knows that.”

  “Not to mention that this isn’t Myron’s house, so he doesn’t have the authority to invite you in.” River said with an unequaled level of stankness. “You need to go.”

  “Text Brandon right now and let him know what’s happening, please.” I said to Trinity. “And have him let X know, too.”

  “X already knows I’m here.” Meeyah lied, as if I would believe her. “How do you think I got the address?”

  “Google.” I told her.

  She looked between River and me. She clearly had no idea that I was an identical twin, and definitely didn’t know who was whom.

  “You need to go.” Myron finally found his voice. “I need to get back to work.”

  “While you still have a job.” River hissed.

  I was pissed, too. On so many levels. First of all, how dare Meeyah show up at the house of Xavier’s deceased grandmother, and for what? And how dare Myron let her in? The house now belonged to not one, but two NFL players. What if she hurt herself on the property, did he realize that he was putting the Mayhew brothers in financial jeopardy over a fat ass?

  “But I didn’t get all my pictures.” She half whined, half moaned.

  “Myron.” I said in exasperation.

  “Which one of y’all is Reign?” She asked.

  “Who’s asking?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?” River asked at the exact same time.

  “You need to be less concerned with that, and more concerned with moving your ass. My patience is getting low.” I told her.

  “I’m really gonna have to ask you to leave.” Myron was starting to get worried.

  “I would really hate to have to call the police.” I added. And I really would’ve hated to call the police, because it was the home of Maddox and Xavier Mayhew. They didn’t need that type of publicity.

  “Or we could just thump that ass, Bitch.” Trinity told her.

  “Not worried about that.” Meeyah gave a roll of her eyes, like she was tough and unbothered.

  “Well then, you’re dumb as shit, because there’s three of us and one of you. Do your people know where you are? Here - at a damn construction site? Bitch, we’ll bury your ass in the backyard, dig you up two days from now, tie a boulder to your foot and drop your ass in Lake Michigan, all while stunting around town in your pretty little car. Do you really want this work?” Trinity asked.

  I watched as Meeyah realized the credibility in Trinity’s words, and the dangerous predicament she was in. She probably didn’t think we would kill her, but I was sure that she realized that we could beat that ass.

  She didn’t even bother to acknowledge Myron, she just moved towards the front door. Myron moved right behind her, unlocking it and opening it for her. They shared a few whispered words and she disappeared.

  I looked over at my sister, she was hot as hell, I could tell. I was heated, too, but I had so many thoughts running around in my mind that I could barely focus on my anger.

  Myron walked back into the living room, and River didn’t waste any time. “For real, Myron? You’re letting strangers into a home that’s owned by two NFL players, because they have a cute face and big ass?”

  “And you let her take pictures?” I asked in disbelief. “Have you not heard of social media, Myron? You do know that’s why she wanted the pictures, right? So, she can post them on social media and act like she has some type of relationship with one or both of them.” I wasn’t about to let him in on the fact that she was connected to Xavier. At this point, I didn’t trust his ass, which was sad, because we’d done so much good business together in the past. He was a great contractor...until he wasn’t.

  “I’ve got to let you go, Myron. I can’t have you on this job. Letting a stranger on the property is a liability, and I won’t even mention the fact that she didn’t have on a hardhat.”

  “Look, it wasn’t like that…”

  As Myron started to explain, we heard keys in the front door, then Brandon Mayhew entered.

  “Unfortunately, it was.” I told him. “I mean, we saw it with our own eyes, and what we didn’t see, the v
ideo cameras picked up. There’s no way for us to pretend this didn’t happen. It makes us look bad as a company.”

  “Yeah, it makes us look like we hire trades who not only don’t respect the privacy of our clients, but don’t respect their security. Our clients trust us, now we have to wonder if we can trust you.” River told him.

  “Can my crew at least finish out the work day?” He asked.

  “I think it’s better that you don’t.” Brandon said, speaking for the first time. “I think it’s better that you and your guys clear out and let us regroup. I’m saying that as the client...and as an attorney.”

  Myron gave Brandon the “up/down” like he was considering the idea of giving him push back. Brandon didn’t look as bad ass as he was, at all. He was muscular, but hid his muscles behind a slight build. He was tall, but not intimidatingly so. He wore suits and black rimmed glasses. He had that smart-nerd look about him, but not necessarily a tough look. That was a total misnomer, because although he preferred to fight with his pen and with his knowledge of the law, Brandon Mayhew had hands.

  “Please don’t take it there, Myron.” River intoned. “Wrap up, head out, and let’s talk tomorrow about how we can move forward from this.”

  Finally, Myron gave a nod of his head, and called out to his guys.

  “Let’s talk on the porch.” Brandon suggested.

  The four of us filed out of the house, and onto the front porch.

  “What the hell happened?” He asked once we’d gathered.

  “This is crazy.” I sighed.

  “So, as I pulled up, I saw some chick coming out of the spot. That’s the one X used to mess with, right? The Instagram model?”

  “She was in the house.” River said. “In Miss Vera’s house.”

  “And she took pictures.” I added softly. “Of what, I don’t know, because I mean, the house is clearly a construction zone, but still...she took pictures.”

  “She’s an Instagram ho, so you know those pictures are gonna end up on the Gram, if they aren’t already on there.” Trinity said.