by Zuri Day
3
Dominique ran her hand discreetly over her abdomen as she stepped into Hollywood’s W Hotel’s great room. Having grown confident in and comfortable with her plus-size figure years ago, she still thanked God for the body shaper that smoothed, toned, and highlighted the curves that flowed in all the right places. Her freshly done twists accented the high cheekbones in her otherwise round face and her auburn hair with gold tones sparkled under the light of the chandeliers. In this room of size twos, Dominique felt good about how she looked. She went to black-tie events all the time.
So why is my stomach fluttering?
Was it because of the stress of a deadline a week away, Reggie’s continued depression, or the fried catfish with jalapeño cornbread she’d had for lunch? No matter, Capricious rarely missed a PR opportunity and tonight’s event benefiting education was one that would get major press. When solicited last year, Dominique and the board had immediately agreed to be one of the night’s sponsors and she’d also agreed to provide complimentary subscriptions to one hundred lucky student winners. In an age when girls under sixteen were having plastic surgery and a size 10 was considered big, the magazine’s brass felt it more important than ever to tout their message: beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, and in every Capricious magazine! So even with a looming deadline and the knowledge that she shouldn’t stay long, Dominique had braved an hour of LA traffic to show her support.
Secure that she was a walking ad for “fat, fit, and fabulous,” she looked around, recognized the organizer whom she’d lunched with last month, and headed in her direction.
Someone tapped Jake’s shoulder. He turned and saw a TV host he’d known for years, a beautiful blonde who was the ex-wife of one of his NFL buddies. They’d just started to chat when he saw someone else—a statuesque African American woman gliding across the room, her chin slightly tilted as she scanned the crowd. Her form-fitting copper dress showed pow out to here and bang out to there and as if that wasn’t enough to make a brothah’s mouth water, those thick, shapely calves would definitely do the job. Dayum! Who is that?
“Jake, did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Madison, what did you say?”
“I was asking if you’d seen my ex lately. I heard he got divorced again, and quite frankly I’m worried about him.”
Jake answered Madison’s question but later that night if someone had offered him a million dollars to do so, he couldn’t have repeated what he said. Big and natural wasn’t normally his type, but there was something about the woman who commanded the room, as she’d walked through, it that touched his soul in a deep, almost primal way. Maybe Shawn was right. Not about the fourth-grade teacher but about what he’d suggested the previous week—that Jake get back into the dating game. Jake hadn’t dated seriously since relocating to LA a year ago. So maybe he did need to pull out the Big Mac skills and make a play. And maybe he needed to do so tonight.
Later, Dominique sat chatting with those on each side of her, enjoying the delicious second course of lobster bisque. The president of the foundation hosting the benefit had just done the welcome and an award-winning actor had delivered a succinct and humorous speech, and then underscored his belief in the importance of education with a check for $100,000. Several honor roll students from various districts—both privileged and at-risk—gave short speeches on what education meant to them, followed by a pop singer’s rousing performance of her latest hit single. Other well-known speakers graced the stage and awards were given. By the time a short, fifteen-minute film had ended, Dominique had finished her main course. She looked at her watch and decided to skip dessert. Having made an appearance and secured a few cards for future interviews and ad campaigns, she felt it was time to go.
She said good-bye to her tablemates, including the event’s organizer, and during a lull in the program Dominique stood to make her move. Walking alongside the wall and trying to be as inconspicuous as a woman who stood six foot two in heels could be, she kept her eyes downcast as she made her way to the double doors leading out of the room.
“Next on the program,” she heard as she was midway to her destination, “is one of the NFL’s shining stars, a man who knows firsthand how getting an education can change a life. Ladies and gentlemen... Jake McDonald.”
The audience applauded and, thankful for the noise and distraction, Dominique quickened her pace. She was almost to the doors when she heard his voice.
“Thank you, and good evening.”
The voice was deep like still waters and sweet like molasses. She’d reached the door, but turned to see the being from whom this captivating voice had emanated. The flutter that she’d felt earlier that evening returned full force and a little squiggle went from navel to nana in nothing flat. She was a sistah from the streets who could play it as cool as an ice cream float, but Oh. My. Goodness! The man’s very presence seemed to touch her even though he was on the other side of the room. He easily filled the tall, really tall, dark, really dark, and handsome, really handsome, bill...
But it was more than that.
Dominant. That’s the word that came to mind when she looked at him. And then, in a heartbeat, a few other words filtered in as did remnants from the ain’t-had-none-since-dog-was-a-pup conversation she’d had with Reggie the other night, when both had had probably one too many glasses of wine. But if she was going to do what she and Reggie had discussed, it would be with someone like the chocolate candy now commanding the room. For an instant their eyes locked, and held. The squiggle became a throb that caused Dominique to clench muscles that hadn’t felt action in months. She exited the room on shaky legs, walked across the lobby, and handed her ticket to the valet.
She thought of him. On the forty-minute drive home, while wrapping up work with returned phone calls and e-mails, and while taking a shower. Oh, especially then. Afterwards she performed her nightly ritual of getting in just the right position to welcome slumber—head pillow positioned just right, body pillow snuggled against her stomach. Eventually, finally, Dominique went to sleep. And dreamed of still water and sweet, sticky molasses.
4
“All right, guys, listen up.” Jake’s booming voice demanded quiet, and in a moment he had all of the eleven-year-olds’ undivided attention. “The first game of the season is always a very important one. But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have fun. I want all of you to do your part, do what we practiced, and we will be successful.” Various expressions, from curious to excited, anxious to confident, showed on the boys’ faces. “We have to want it more than they do,” Jake continued. “It’s our heart that separates us from everyone else, because we want it more.” He looked into the eyes of each teammate and noticed that Justin’s gaze kept shifting from him to the bleachers just behind him. It’s a big day; probably looking for his father. “Don’t try and play outside yourself. Be you, do you, and win or lose, just be sure you’ve given it your all.”
Justin raised his hand. “But Coach, I thought winning was everything.”
“Winning is better,” Jake replied. “But giving your all is best. Any more questions?” Jake looked around the circle and when none of the other boys spoke up, he placed his hand in the middle of the circle. The boys piled their hands on top of his. “Who are we?” he demanded.
“Hurricanes!”
“What do we do?”
“Tear it up!”
“How do we play?”
“Hard!”
“What do we have?”
“Heart!”
“Then get out there and—”
“Get it done, work it out, tear it up!”
“That’s what’s up. Now, one, two, three!”
“Hurricanes!”
The boys ran onto the field. Justin glanced up to the stands once more and then turned to join his teammates near the fifty-yard line. Jake, who’d been watching Justin out the corner of his eye, grabbed his shoulder as he ran by. “Is your dad coming?” With a hand still on Justin’s should
er, Jake turned and scanned the stands, which were fairly crowded considering this was an elementary school football game at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning. When he heard no answer, he looked back at the student he thought might actually have potential in the NFL. “Justin?” For just a moment, he saw something raw and very familiar in the boy’s eyes.
“My mom,” Justin replied, pulling his eyes away from the stands and looking at Jake. He pasted a wide smile on his face, totally unaware that Jake had already seen the pain it covered. “We’re gonna win today, Coach,” he said with confidence.
Jake squeezed his shoulder and gave a wink. “Let’s go to work.”
Dominique looked at her watch as she found a parking spot in the crowded lot. Geez! Are all of these people really here to watch some kids catch a pigskin? Her heart dropped. She knew she was late, and hoped that she hadn’t missed too much of the game. Football is all Justin had talked about since school began. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to talk about subjects near and dear to her heart—math, science, and geography, for instance. The only thing he talked about was his beloved new coach. “Coach did this,” or “Coach said that.” He’d been just two or three comments shy of getting on her last nerve. Yet as she walked across the parking lot thinking of these dinnertime conversations, Dominique realized that she hadn’t seen her son this happy in quite some time.
“Through hail, snow, sleet, rain... we are the Hurricanes!”
Dominique walked through a short tunnel and entered the stadium, hearing chants led by cheerleaders wearing purple and gold-colored uniforms. She looked around and even though she’d missed much of the first quarter, she was still surprised to see that the stands were almost filled to capacity. It seemed as if the entire school’s population and half the neighborhood had come out for this debut game. Belatedly, she realized that her work gear might not have been the best choice for wear—that her fitted purple dress, large shawl, and three-inch heels may not fit in with the rest of the parents or other spectators. These high-powered executives, soccer moms, and trust-fund babes hid their riches behind jeans, khakis, and diamonds worn like inexpensive glass. But since the office was where Dominique was heading as soon as the game clock ran out, followed by an early dinner with a potential freelance writer, hers was a professional look. Dominique shook away the slight discomfort of looking out of place, and the memories that went with this feeling, and began climbing the bleacher steps. She was so focused on finding a seat that she didn’t see the pair of eyes that had watched her like a hawk from the moment she entered.
Jake worked hard to focus on the pad in front of him, filled with various offense and defense formations that he was reemphasizing to the team. But the x’s and o’s paled in comparison to the pow! and bang! of ample assets that now sat perched on a row near the top of the stands, at the fifty-yard line. He’d never thought to see her again, the woman who’d almost disrupted his speech the week before when she’d chosen the moment he reached the podium to make her exit. What is she doing here? She looked as glamorous in the stands today for a game of sixth-grade football as she had at the five-star hotel black-tie event. And, as then, she took his breath away.
“Coach Mac?” Assistant Coach Shawn brought Jake back to the present and the first game of the Middleton Hurricanes’ football season.
Jake forced his eyes away from the woman who was as pretty in purple as she was in copper and back to the matter at hand. And what is that? Oh, yeah, right, coaching, football, and how to win this game. “As I was saying,” he continued, pointing to the clipboard he clutched in his hand. “Ends, tackles, we’ve got to close up those holes, stop giving their halfback that two-foot-wide lane to run through.” Jake deliberately turned his back to the stands and focused on the circle of eager faces looking up at him, depending on him to help them win their first game of the season.
At first, Dominique could have sworn she was seeing things. When she’d finally settled herself on the plastic bench and looked out onto the field in search of her son, she hadn’t been prepared for what caught her eye at once—broad shoulders, big chest, and a butt that looked hard and firm even crouched down as it now was surrounded by eager players in helmets, shoulder pads, and cleats. A fluttering began, eerily similar to what had occurred when she’d gone to the benefit and about the same time she made this observation a thought dawned that Dominique was hard-pressed to ignore. No... it couldn’t be. But it was.
This is the man Justin has been talking about? That hard piece of chocolate candy is my son’s coach? Before Dominique could wrap her head around that possibility her cell phone rang. Unable to hear the call amid the yelling fans, she hurried off the bench and away from the noise. It was Reggie, telling her that the finicky actress who was to be their next cover story had suddenly pulled out. This news led to several more calls and about a dozen texts. By the time Dominique returned to her bleacher seat, it was the fourth quarter and the score was 21–7. She hoped she hadn’t missed Justin doing something spectacular and was happy to see that her son’s team was in the lead. She wasn’t too sure how happy she was that her eyes kept being drawn to the big handsome man prowling the sidelines—his arms crossed, eyes focused on the field, barking orders to men and boys who seemed more than happy to obey them. His was a formidable presence, she admitted, and she almost convinced herself that the only reason she kept staring at him was because he was too big and tall to miss. If it weren’t for the flutters in her stomach and the squiggles several inches further south, she would have almost been able to believe that lie.
How long has it been since you’ve felt this way? Dominique couldn’t remember. Justin’s dad had been her college sweetheart, but Leland Clark had never caused the flutters that she felt now. When it came to her ex-husband and his many infidelities, she’d been more likely to feel heartburn or indigestion, and after the painful divorce, followed by Leland moving out of state and basically abandoning his son, all Dominique felt was extremely pissed off. It had taken her a while to get back into the dating game, and after a few blind dates and a very brief stint of online dating she’d met Kevin Patterson in a coffee shop near her sister’s house. A few short months later she imagined spending the rest of her life with him. Justin adored him as well and if it hadn’t been for the fact that an observant bank manager contacted Dominique regarding her account, and activity described as “suspicious,” he might still be in her life, stealing her money along with her heart.
A roar from the crowd brought Dominique out of her musings. She looked up to see the entire team run onto the field, congratulating their mates on a well-played game. It only took a few seconds of scanning to find Justin. Like his coach, he stood head and shoulders above most of the other kids. They almost look like... Dominique cut off the thought, refusing to entertain fantasies. She’d vowed not to seriously date anyone until Justin graduated high school. He’d been young when Leland disappeared and rarely mentioned his father, but he’d grown attached to Kevin, who’d treated Justin like a son. She’d felt badly about ending their relationship so abruptly and completely but for Dominique there had been no other choice. She’d learned from painful experience that the only thing worse than a philanderer was a thief.
“Mom!” Justin’s voice cut through the buzz in the crowd.
Dominique stood and waved back at him.
Justin waved for her to join him on the field.
Lord have mercy, Justin, please don’t make me come and stand next to that man. Dominique had purposely kept her eyes on her son and away from the massive hunk of fine standing next to him. Coach Mac. Dominique remembered the name Justin had repeated ad nauseum. Jake McDonald. The name of the ex-NFL football star introduced at the benefit flitted into her mind. As she tried to calmly make her way through the crowd to where her son stood she remembered something else—how long it had been since she’d scored a man, been touched down there, or drawn a penalty for holding. Her mind was dead set against it, but her body wanted to be tackled an
d pinned down by the man now melting her with his eyes.
5
Jake’s eyes darkened, even as his expression remained unreadable. Damn! The woman I haven’t been able to get out of my head for over a week is Justin’s mother? Jake was at once upset and elated. He thought he’d never see her again and thought that for the best. The night of the benefit he’d mentally revisited Shawn’s dating suggestion several times and finally decided that he didn’t have the time or inclination for anything serious. The way his heart vibrated at the sight of this woman made having a fling out of the question. What is it about her anyway? She wasn’t even his type and she certainly looked nothing like the wife he’d lost five years ago. Jake preferred model-thin, soft-spoken women who wouldn’t question his lead. This woman walked liked a person with authority, someone used to being large and in charge. Just like him.
“Did you see it?” Justin enthusiastically asked.
“You were great, baby!” was Dominique’s vague response. Between the phone calls, text messages, and staring at the coach’s massive physique, she hadn’t seen whatever her son was talking about, or much of the game, period. She turned with hand outstretched. “I’m Justin’s mom, Dominique Clark.”
“Jake McDonald.” He enveloped her large hand in his even larger one, one set of chocolate orbs boring into the other. Sparks flew. Heat spread. Dominique quickly released his hand.
“But did you see me?” Justin again inquired, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Dominique glanced at Jake, who saw the subdued look of panic in her eyes. “Everyone in the stands saw your touchdown, Justin,” he smartly replied. “Both of them,” he added, his eyes fixed on the mom who’d obviously missed her son’s heroic feats.
