by Love Belvin
She rolled her eyes again, expressing humor. “Yes. You created many of the obstacles you’ve faced, but you fought until the path was just right for you. I may not have been around for all of the details, and I believe that’s what I was trying to say at the wedding. I felt left out. Yeah, you let me spend time with my grandson. You even had George escort you down the aisle. But I felt, although you had been opening your life to me again, there was still a barrier there.”
A tear slipped down my face. This was the last thing I’d expected. She thought I was fearless? Unapologetic? Oh, I owed her apologies, too. I was wild in my teens. Reckless!
“But now, I understand you were doing it to protect yourself. You’re a good woman: of course, you’d let me get to know your son. George raised you: of course, you’d want him to escort you. But I hurt you: of course, you’d create a barrier so I couldn’t do it again. Amid all that, you fought until you found your way.”
I swiped the tears from my face. Never in my lifetime did I think this conversation would happen. It was heady, but I wanted to meet her halfway in this moment.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“No. Thank you for giving me another chance. Please forgive me doubting and abandoning you.”
I nodded, biting my lip. “I do.”
“Now,” she breathed, appearing relieved. “I’m going to tell you: the days ahead won’t be perfect. I may still step on your toes and enforce my preferences onto you. But I hope we can come up with a way to communicate for me to pump the brakes.” Her palms shot into the air. “But sensitively! This old woman has feelings, too, you know.”
With my arms crossed underneath my untamed breasts, I smiled at my mother’s vulnerability. This wasn’t easy for her, but boy was it good for my soul.
Thank you, God…
I took a deep breath, flushing the emotions rising from my belly. My eyes went to the bag in front of her.
“So, we’re going to frost this sweet cake-ish moment with what’s in there?” I still wanted to know.
“Oh!” She gasped then got busy with lifting a bowl from the bag. “It’s April’s lima beans and rice. When we were trying to come up with something to brighten your already blessed day, KyKy said this has been your favorite meal lately. And Ginger sent the most ah-mazing blackberry swirl cheesecake bites.” She exploded a kiss into the air with her fingers, more jovial than I’d seen of her away from Kyree.
He’s not supposed to have—
“I told her you were going to make a fuss about Trent’s in-season diet, but Kyree told me when he brought home some last year, Trent ate them all. So, it was my idea to gift him these today. And they’re small, Jade—miniature bites. Here. Let’s take a look-see. I’ll prove it to you!” She went to open the lid of the Tupperware bowl. “And she used low fat—”
As she rattled on, my mind shut down to find a respectable way to communicate her being too aggressive. My hands went to my temples for a massage. I couldn’t be rude after what she just admitted.
God, give me wisdom…
Oh, no, baby girl…
I bounced her in the carrier strapped to my chest when she started to fuss again as we stood outside on a bright and warm November afternoon.
“This visit was such a treat, I don’t want to see you go!” Ethel Kincaid smiled, her hands folded at her waist. “Please say it won’t be long before the next one. I can’t wait to meet Kyree.” She was jolly, ecstatic. That made this visit and what it took to make it happen worth it.
Jade’s posture mirrored hers on the doorstep of a Bernardsville colonial sitting on—had to be—over ten acres of land. There were two barns, a pool house, and small flower house behind it. The lawn was green, thick, and cut professionally.
The Kincaids are paid…
Even their housekeeper stayed at the door, standing a few feet back, to see us off.
“It won’t be,” Jade responded as she pulled the thin blanket from over Ava. She rubbed her little legs after; I assumed she thought the baby was too warm now that we weren’t in the air-conditioned house. “I’m sorry this visit had to be cut so short. Our flight leaves in a couple of hours.” She pouted sweetly.
That was partially true. Yeah. We had to be at Teterboro airport in less than two hours where we’d meet April, Trick, his lady, and Kyree. But we also scheduled this visit at a time that would have to be limited. We had no idea how this would go—at least, I didn’t. That was why we opted to leave Ky out of this one and just bring Ava…who was fussing again.
Awwwww… Poohda, what’s wrong?
That’s when it hit me. I reached over to the baby bag Jade had over her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of milk. As soon as her little green eyes recognized it, she tried wiggling against my chest. Gently, I fed it to her, and my princess went H.A.M. on it. But she was beautiful: eyes like her grandma Chéri’s, complexion like her parents, nose like her momma’s, and lips, they say, like mine. Yup. That’s all I got, but I couldn’t complain. Ava Nese Bailey was pure perfection, heaven sent.
“Oh, my! Trent, you’re a natural!” Ethel complimented. “I guess you’re good at everything you do. You’ve had a remarkable season so far!”
Ethel Kincaid knew football? She was right, it had been a great season. We were 9 and 2 by the first week of November.
Jade reached back and rubbed my arm. “The best actually.” She smiled up at me, and I returned a wink.
I was just satisfied that my Ava was good.
“I’ll be sending a package for the bundle of cuteness next week when you’re back!” Ethel’s shoulders jumped excitedly as she looked at Ava.
Jade made a face that expressed humbleness then smiled. “Okay. We’ll get going.” Jade moved in again for a hug. “Thanks for having us again.”
“No problem, dear. I’m just so sad all these years have passed. We would have gone about things very differently had we known.”
“I totally understand. I’ll be in touch,” Jade promised.
Then Jade turned to me and gestured she was ready to head out. We gave our final wave and started off to the waiting truck where John had gotten out to read a comic book. When he saw us approaching, I held a finger, telling him not to rush. I wanted to finish feeding Ava and possibly burp her before taking off.
I leaned against the truck, looking down at my baby, pulling like a crazy woman.
“So, what do you think?” I made sure to keep my voice low.
She took a deep breath, her head shot up toward the bright sky, arms swinging in the air, and she breathed, “I don’t know.” Her face expressed a fake cry. “How should I feel? My father never told his family he had a daughter. They never knew until your detective friend reached out to them.” Her eyes were big.
Washington found the Kincaids right away. But I respected Jade’s wishes of waiting until after the wedding. Then after, things happened so fast with drama popping off between us, it had never been a priority. Keeping our marriage was. Then the season started and Ava was born. Last month, I had Chesney’s team reach out to the Kincaid family to see if they were open to meeting Jade. After a couple of days that, I was sure, were filled with doubt at the news of having this family member they claimed to have never heard of, they accepted. Jade wanted me with her when she met her family, so we waited until Bye week for the Kings to do it.
“She seemed gassed to see you, though,” I tried to give an upshot.
“Yeah,” Jade hummed, looking across the stretch of land around. “She did. It’s sad though. She lost her husband the same week Ava was born.”
I nodded. “One in, one out. That’s how they say it goes in families.”
Jade grabbed Ava’s chunky leg and wiggled it. “That’s what they say, Ava-cakes,” she used her baby voice. We all had one.
“Sorry to hear about ya pops, though.” Now, it made sense why Washington didn’t have specifics on him. It was mostly his family.
“Yeah…” Her eyes went back out into the open land again. “Died a lo
nely and tragic way. Alcoholism is no joke. He didn’t even marry and have kids.”
“He had you. And with the way that went down, you could have a brother or a sister out there. Never know.”
“I know.” She frowned.
David Kincaid died hours before his thirtieth birthday from liver disease in a warehouse in Trenton, a gift from his wealthy parents when he dropped out of Princeton, saying he wanted to be a freelance photographer. His body wasn’t discovered for six days. If his birthday wasn’t around that time, Ethel, his mother and Jade’s grandmother, said it could have been longer, that’s how isolated David had become over years of alcohol abuse. She showed us pictures of him at different ages. The last one she had of him was at his parents’ anniversary party where his whole body looked inflated—swollen—again from the abuse. She said he’d become a full-on recluse after that.
I sat up, pulling the bottle from Ava’s droopy lips, she’d fallen asleep that fast. “But guess who’s got you?” I moved toward my wife, getting in her personal space. Holding the baby’s head, I reached down for Jade’s face. Her eyes grew big, then quickly dark and heavy. “Me, Ky, and Ava Nese. We got our queen Jade all to ourselves for the next few days as we sail the Caribbean on Azmir Jacobs’ monster yacht.” I kissed her, pulling her bottom lip with me as I eased back.
Jade’s face brightened at that reminder.
“That was a sweet wedding gift.”
I nodded, burping Ava against my chest. “Sure was. When I scheduled this, I asked him if I could get a push gift for my first baby. Maybe we can have it next year for bye week, too. Shoot, make it a tradition.”
Jade sucked in air at the same time Ava belched. “What did he say?”
“He said he only gives push gifts to his lady.” Or more like, “My pussy pushing out my babies, my push gift to the pusher.” That was not something I was repeating to my lady, though. Jade laughed. I shrugged. “I was surprised he even knew what a push gift was. I didn’t. I thought I was running game.” I cracked up with her. “Can’t pull nothing off on the O.G.”
After I realized no more air was coming from Ava, I started pulling the carrier straps from my shoulders to transfer her to the car seat.
“C’mon. We gotta bounce. Ky gonna be blowing up my phone soon.”
Jade helped pull the carrier from the baby’s chubby legs. As soon as she opened the door for me to put Ava in, my phone rang.
“Ooooooh! Ky’s gonna get you,” she sang, teasing me.
Crazy thing was, I was now rushing to get to my lil soldier. He was the boss, too.
“You can wait in here,” I was instructed by John as Tyheem opened the glass door to an oval room with bold colors similar to the Kings’, only instead of the deep royal blue and gold of Connecticut, the Vikings had a rich purple and gold.
There were purple suede couches rounding the circular gold and white striped walls. Two flat screen televisions were posted on opposite walls. One streamed plays from the earlier game. The other displayed the Minnesota Vikings’ logo.
John spoke to the armed, uniformed guards blocking the set of doors on the other side of the room. I stood in what seemed to be a holding lounge. There was a small bar with soft drinks and even cigar accessories like lighters, cutters, keychains, draw tools, punches. It all seemed so intimating. I had to be near the locker room. Had to. Tyheem approached me during the shouts, jumps, and victory dances to tell me Trent asked that I send Ky and Ava back to the hotel with April and my parents, and I come meet him. That was over two hours ago, before the family packed up in the suite and left the game.
Now, after traveling the interior of the stadium, I began to worry. Trent took a tough hit in the third quarter when he was left open and tackled by a darn human refrigerator. I was livid, jumping to my feet and holding tensely as he limped off the field, holding on to two bodies.
Is he badly hurt?
He continued to play without incident, but even George said unless he lost a limb, Trent would forge ahead.
My head collapsed in my hand as I stood in the cozy room with vivid hues. Then I told myself to be positive about this. There was no way Trent could be seriously injured and have finished that game. I threw my head back and took a cleansing breath. A sudden sound from the television snatched my attention.
“Super Bowl twenty-eighteen! Okay, Mike J, let’s run this play again!” the commentator I could have sworn seeing at my wedding clapped his hands together. The camera focused on him on half the screen and the replay footage of the game on the other. “After a miraculous twenty-yard pass along the sideline from Bailey to Johnson, the Kings have the ball at the one-yard line with only one second left on the clock and down by four.”
“Some might say it’s déjà vu, Byron,” the other commentator, a brother with the same Ermenegildo Zegna tie Ramsey wore when he visited Redeeming Souls with us chimed in. The tie was striking, burned into the meninges of my mind because, ironically, Ezra wore the same tie that day, and we all joked about it. “Last year, Trent and the Kings were in nearly the same position, but they came up short and lost to the Patriots.”
The camera switched again. “And this year, Mike J, the Kings have made it all the way back and once again find themselves down with time running out. From the fourteen-yard line, a pass was truly their only option last year. However, from the one-yard line this year, a running play is also in the cards. And, with Bishop having carried it twenty-three times for 117 yards, they may likely call his number once again.
“So, here comes Bailey with the play. They break the huddle and line up in an I formation with two tight ends and Johnson split out right. Bishop is the tailback. Bailey is barking out signals and sends Johnson in motion. The ball is snapped and it’s a running play. Bishop gets the ball from Bailey and follows his fullback up the middle. He’s met at the goal line and falls forward into the end zone giving the Kings their Super Bowl win—”
“Mrs. Bailey,” my name being called startled me for some reason.
The guard swung his head toward the hall he monitored with a partner. Beyond the doors he stood in front of, I saw John and Tyheem waiting. Tyheem waved me on. As I began toward them, the doors were opened for me, and I glided through, hiding a body tremble. John and Tyheem started down the curvy hall with images of Vikings against rich gold walls. The carpeted hall was willowy and seemed endless before the flooring changed and opened up to…
A locker room?
“You can go around there and hang a left, Jade,” Tyheem pointed.
John stopped at the top of the opened space, and Tyheem didn’t travel much beyond him. With an open mouth, I nodded before proceeding. My steps were hesitant and mind spun with worry. Opposite the wall I walked were partitions with benches and open lockers in each. My steps faltered when I spotted broad bare shoulders with swollen grooves in nothing but shower shoes and a towel wrapped low around his waist. His head was low and fists clenched against his forehead.
Trent…
My feet tripped over each other to change direction for him. In my frantic approach, he heard me and peered up with tired eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Trent sat up stiffly, pain vibrating in the muscles of his face as he did. He extended a corded arm, welcoming me to him. I gulped. He wiggled his fingers, asking again. Hesitantly, I ambled to him. When I made it to his feet, his big hands clutched my waist, pulling me directly into his center, and Trent pressed his head into my belly. My eyes closed and hands went to the back of his head. At first, we didn’t exchange a word. I couldn’t measure his disposition. But no longer did I feel alarmed.
“You okay?” I whispered.
Trent peered up to me, eyes lidded. He smiled.
“Congratulations,” I tried.
Although I couldn’t appreciate how much, I knew winning the Super Bowl was a pretty big deal for him.
But still, Trent didn’t speak. He reached to my ankles covered in leather thigh-high boots and lifted my long dress up until ju
st under my hips and pulled me to straddle him. Tensely, I obeyed and lifted my left leg over the bench he sat on and Trent assisted with the other before I was able to rest on his lap. But I could feel him flinching.
“Hey,” I pulled him by the beard to face me. “Are you okay?”
His eyes lined with humor. “I’m okay,” he replied drily, being sarcastic.
“You took a hard hit out there.”
“Win or lose: you don’t walk out of a Super Bowl unscathed.”
My brows bunched and nose and lips turned up. “Anything broken?”
Trent shook his head. “I like your dress.” He smiled.
My eyes instinctively fell below. “You should, you picked it out.”
He snorted. After a beat, my eyes circled around.
“So this is their locker room?”
He nodded. “The guest section. The team’s area is around the corner.”
“Oh…” My eyes went into the air at the elaborate Vikings’ logo design on the ceiling.
I felt warm, soft moisture on my neck, causing my eyes to flutter closed. My hands went to clench his shoulders. An immediate zing hit my core, accompanied by warmth.
“So…” I tried. “What does a Super Bowl winning quarterback do after the game?”
His tongue was at my cleavage, the tip tracing the center of my chest.
“I don’t know about you”—My eyes rolled to the back of my head when his palms grabbed my bare cheeks under the dress—“but my ears haven’t stopped ringing from all the action out there.” Trent pulled down the right shoulder of my dress and bit down hard.
“Oh!” I moaned. “Maybe you’re—”
His tongue was in my mouth swirling hungrily. His hand explored behind me, searching for the strap of my thong. When I felt his other between us, shifting the towel, my heart thundered in my chest.
“Trent,” I tried whispering in his mouth between tasting him. “We’re going to get caught.”
Trent leaned into me, deepening our kiss. The hairs of his full beard caressed my chin. His hand pushed down between us even more, and that’s when I felt the bulbous head of his erection rub against me. His other hand behind me, navigating the strap even more. The material pulled against my swollen clit as he pulled it. His stiffness rubbed and rubbed until it was flesh on with my nub, and my spine jerked.
