My Muted Love (Muted Hoplessness Book 1)

by Love Belvin

My attention went back to ol’ girl. This broad was a fucking beast. And suddenly, her lack of pride about her appearance and femininity made sense. What girl could keep up with manicures and ends-trimmings when she can perform athletically like this? And Tori McNabb was definitely a girl. Her globular tits were loud and fucking glaring in that tiny and flimsy sports bra. But she didn’t seem to have cared, moving with athleticism and not an ounce of vanity.

  “Man.” Al waved Collin’s challenge off while getting ‘ooooooh’ed’ by the guys. “Ain’t nobody falling for no bet against no broad, man.”

  Collin pointed toward the direction of the locker room. “Then knock off all the catcalling and ogling, and move it along.”

  After defiant stares and sucking their teeth, my guys began to move. “She must be his girl or something,” someone—likely Josh’s dumb ass—mumbled, walking away.

  “What?” Collin shouted, incensed. Naturally, all that was heard were snickers. Collin turned to me. “You better teach your boys gym-side manners, Spencer, or I’ll make sure Jones will. He’s not fucking around with making this compound a welcoming place for McNabb. I’ll have Trisha write up a report or do it for her, just to teach you guys what will no longer be tolerated.”

  I raised my hand and nodded, pleading to silence his bitching. My eyes kept catching on to the McNabb girl for some odd reason. “I got it. On behalf of my team, please accept my apology for our crassness.” I made my way toward the locker room. “Clearly, we’re not used to seeing athleticism that skilled in a girl. Salute to you guys for bringing in more talent.”

  As I took off, I was sure Collin knew I was placating him to diffuse his bitchy-rage. I was also sincere in recognizing the girl, Tori’s, skills.

  3

  -Then-

  “You still don’t have a phone?” I couldn’t miss the concern in his voice.

  “I will.” My eyes rolled as I stared at the ceiling of my dorm room. “I’m waiting on that money from my mother.”

  “Still?”

  I exhaled. “Still.”

  “You want me to send you a couple of dollars—”

  “Save it, Gee-Gee.”

  “Don’t call me that shit,” he fired back, voice seeming deeper over the phone. “And save it for what?”

  “For your studio time. And didn’t you say you needed a new Gibson something?” I gazed out of the window to the parking lot. People were unpacking their cars and trucks of their dorm stuff to move in. I’d been hearing increased traffic out in the hall from more students moving in today. “When I need you, I’ll let you know.”

  Ragee didn’t speak for a while, probably sick of me giving him shit for being kind. He’d always been kind since I’d met him years ago, when I was twelve. Although there were eight and a half years between us, Raj was the first guy to befriend me and it be purely platonic. He never flirted or gave me the gross eye men—and women—who were creeps did. We had our reasons for taking on a friendship that made us both feel safe and protected, even when others thought it was weird at first.

  “I’mma hold you to that.”

  “You can. I’ve got a job.”

  “For real? Where?”

  “Here on campus. I start tomorrow. The woman who recruited me, Trisha, got me a hookup in one of the cafeterias here on campus.”

  He chuckled. “You gone be serving your friends?”

  “Gotta have friends to serve them.” I twisted my mouth. “Anyway. The pay ain’t much, but good enough to help me get a few things. It’s not like I have a car to get a real paying job.”

  “But you’re a boxer at the college level now. They keep a tight schedule—at least for men, they do. How are you going to have time to train, workout, go to class, study, and work?”

  I swallowed, emotionally blown by the truth of his words. “I’ll have to make it work. It’s what millions do every day,” I grumbled. Even if under different circumstances.

  “What’s it like out there?”

  It had only been a few weeks, but now felt like forever since I’d last heard from him. Right now, Raj felt like home.

  “Shit.”

  He laughed, thick throat rumbling. “Knock it off, Tor.”

  “I’m serious. It’s crazy boring out here. A waste of my time.”

  “They giving you specialists to help boost your skills. How is that a waste of time?”

  “Let’s see,” I exhaled. “…my boxing trainer is older than old man Cut, his assistant pours scotch in his morning coffee, I met the nutritionist last week, who’s got me on a damn schedule with my food, and I just started with my gym trainer this week. They got me looking like a fucking lab rat for the stupid football team, testing me and timing me. They take notes and have me doing exercises for experimental reasons. And they still ain’t say when my first fight is.” If I was going to be miserable, at least let me fight.

  “You need to chill and give it a chance.”

  “You sound like your father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He hung up on me the other day when I told him I was coming home—correction: he cussed me the hell out, wished me dead, then hung up on me.”

  “What?”

  Licking my lips, I explained, “I called to tell him I was coming home the other day. And he cussed me the hell out, saying I had to stay, and I’m not giving it a chance. He told me there was nothing he could do for me if I came back, and that I would be homeless.”

  “I wouldn’t let you do that,” Raj assured. “You know you can stay at the crib. Grandmother won’t mind.”

  “And how would I eat? Cut said he can’t get no fights with real money no time soon.”

  “We’d figure it out, but I’m not saying you should come back.”

  I laughed. “Because you can’t. What you make playing for those churches and restaurants can’t feed two mouths. Plus, aren’t you still looking for your own place?”

  He groaned, I knew annoyed over the topic. “Yup. But most of these places want to do a credit check.”

  “And you ain’t got credit.” Raj’s résumé was filled with mediocre paid gigs as a musician, nothing substantial or long term.

  “Or a real job. But I’m faithful God’s gonna come through.”

  I scoffed, “Tell Him to come through for me, too.”

  If anybody could pray or knew God enough to talk to Him, it was Ragee.

  “He will, kid. Don’t worry.” His tone was with finality. “I tell MyMy the same thing all the time. God will come through, not just to make ends meet, but to overflow our storage houses.”

  His cousin, Myisha, was more protective over him than normal. It was so bad that, although she was older than me, but not as much as Raj, I had to put her little ass in a choke hold when she tried to tell me to get out of the front seat of his hooptie so she could get in…because she was his cousin. Even though I didn’t go full whoop ass on her, Raj had to pull her from my headlock grip. Since then, Myisha never bothered me again, but she hardly spoke to me now. Hearing him mention our names together for such intimate reasons reminded me of how territorial she is and, therefore, how awkward things were between us.

  “Hey.” A thought hit. “You heard from Heather?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  Raj’s ex was an odd mention. “Because the chick who gave me the orientation for the job reminds me of her. She acts like Miss Perfect, like she’s so innocent and better than everybody.”

  “Ah, man…” He cried laughing. “Let that shit go. Besides, she’s happily married.”

  “To Antwaaaaaaan?” I teased, clowning the new husband of his ex.

  “I’m happy for her. Let them people live.”

  “She still wants you.”

  Ragee groaned again. “I doubt it, but okay.”

  That made me laugh. Raj knew I hated his ex. She did him dirty, and because he didn’t hate her for it, I did the honors.

  Suddenly, my mood turned dark. “Fucking Patty been around?”

/>   Raj didn’t answer right away, but I knew why and knew he’d heard me, so I waited. As I did, I heard sounds by my dorm door. I wasn’t exactly alarmed because if this boring, annoying school was nothing else, it was hella safe.

  “Grandmother drove her to another detox center in Paterson,” his thick cords finally rumbled with an answer.

  Shit…

  I was hoping she’d stay out of sight and mind for everybody. That bitch was crazy. She had one time to run up on Raj while I was around, and I’d body her dope fien’ing ass. Hearing she’d recently resurfaced agitated my mood. She was an evil human.

  “How do you know?”

  “MyMy rode up with them.”

  Oh…

  The damn door opening had me flying to my feet.

  “Shit!”

  “I know,” Raj sighed.

  Coming inside my room was a white woman with dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. A smile formed on her face within seconds of finding me.

  “Hi!” she mouthed, seeing I was on the phone.

  She managed a wave, then pulled the key from the door and dragged a suitcase in from the hallway. Behind her was a girl, carrying stacked plastic bins. Behind her was another woman, but she was Black with long locs.

  Once the girl with the bins placed them on the empty desk next to the door, she looked my way.

  My brain jutted, returning to what I was doing just moments ago.

  “Nah, Raj.” My voice was shaky, I was so startled. “I gotta go. Think my roommate just walked in.”

  “Oh. A’ight. Go ‘head. Stick on in there. I’m praying for you.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, watching the girl amble my way as I tried to figure out just what type of human she was.

  “And get a damn phone! I don’t want to have to always wait until nighttime to check in on you.”

  “I got you. Bye.” I placed the cordless the campus supplied back on its base.

  “Hi.” The girl’s voice was low, monotonous. “You Tori?” I nodded, eyes going between her and the two women behind her waiting expectantly with big ass beams. The girl reached out her open hand to me. “I’m Samantha. Looks like we’ll be roommates this year.”

  “You sure you’re okay with this set up?”

  I glanced around the room. It seemed cramped now, but nothing I couldn’t live with. Trisha explained from the gate I’d be sharing a room with a stranger human. This stranger was a strange human—pun intended. Samantha lived about three hours from BSU. She was average height and wore loose clothes, but I could tell she was rather small. She seemed friendly, having talked from the time she introduced herself to when her mother and aunt left, and all through us moving around furniture to set up our room.

  I shrugged. “I’m good with it.”

  “Okay.” She exhaled, laying out over her bed. “I guess this is the part where we exchange simple facts about one another.” Huhn? Her head propped up. “Ready?” she asked.

  My face was tight when I nodded. I thought we did share information about each other. Samantha told me where she was from and this would be her second year at Blakewood. What more could I know?

  “I’m Black.” Her face didn’t move when she spit that piece of information out. Frozen uncomfortably myself, I simply stared at her, not knowing what to say. “I know you heard what I said.” I nodded, still confused as to why she was making a big deal out of her race. “I need you to know this because you saw my mother, and people gave me so much shit about my ethnicity. I’m a student at BSU to continue the tradition my great-grandfather began. He attended school here, so did his son, and then my father.”

  Wanting to cut this awkward spell, I spat out, “What’s your major?” It was something I was still deciding on.

  Other than fight and never return to Millville, I had no clue what I wanted to do in life.

  “The same thing my father majored in: chemistry. He’s a lead chemist at Semiest, one of the top pharms in the country. My great-grandfather was the first Black professional staff member and chemist they employed.”

  “That’s what you wanna do? Work in a lab?”

  Samantha shook her head. “I’m going to get a job and save to start my own a line of Black skin care products. I’m taking fifteen credits this semester, eighteen next semester. I refuse to make this a more than four year journey.” I poked my lips out, feeling the awkward silence. “What about you?”

  “Boxing. I box.”

  “That’s it?” She snorted. “Just boxing?”

  My head bounced. “Just boxing.”

  “Well, maybe you can help kick some ass if those dickheads want to harass me about my race this year.”

  “Who?”

  “Stupid people. Jessica Williams, Michael Perry—but they graduated—Aivery Cooper, her friend, Andrea something. You know, the dark skinned one with the long box braids. It’s a few of them that gave me shit my freshman year when I tried going out for cheer and participated in a debate about race in class for a course assignment. It was horrible. I almost didn’t come back.”

  “Sorry for that.” I didn’t know what else to say, but had to offer something. Her voice cracked at the mention of almost dropping out. “I don’t think it’s easy being the new kid. Freshmen always have it bad. I was ready to quit before the semester started.”

  “Fuck them assholes.” She jumped from the bed, fingered her scalp to fan her long, dark curly hair. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to the main cafeteria. I hope that Japanese station is still there. I’ve been craving their hibachi all damn summer.”

  Everyone seemed to have been present—and on time. Drinks were flowing and music blasted as I threaded through familiar faces, networking and talking shit. This was a dope ass intro into the semester. My fraternity’s first meeting of the school year at the chapter house. It was also a Monday and I understood at eleven at night, they likely wanted to be someplace else, recovering from the weekend—especially those like me who didn’t live here. No matter how tired these motherfuckers were, they were still drinking and cutting the fuck up. I gave countless grips on the way to the living room, and threw up AOPsi signs even more.

  “Attention AOPs!” Rashid Coleman, my Vice President, gathered the crew. His bark was extreme and resounding. I had to get used to it over the years. He was hardly 5’4 and one hundred-twenty pounds when we crossed nearly two years ago. Paddle ass-whoopings were hell for dude. Since then he hadn’t grown, but had put on a couple more pounds. “Thanks for showing up to the first Alpha Omega Psi, BSU Chapter meeting of the academic year. We won’t keep you long. Taylor passed around the volunteer opportunity signup sheet. I better see the name of every member in this place on there. BSU AOPs are known for our commitment to the community and providing a helping hand to the less fortunate!”

  I peeped a few faces dropping and eye-rolls, niggas being dramatic.

  Unbelievable!

  Coleman must have caught it, too. “I know damn well y’all ain’t pouting about giving up your time! It’s only fuckin’ September: the holidays ain’t even here yet. If y’all ain’t for volunteerism, tell me, Black leaders, what the fuck are you branded with? It damn sure ain’t the lion’s head!” A few of the guys straightened up. Nobody liked being called out, which would have been next if I didn’t see a reaction. “That’s what the fuck I thought.” He scanned the room daringly.

  I scoffed. “Y’all acting like pledgees out this bitch.” Half the place snickered and laughed. “Who the fuck wanna go back on line?” The room sounded in snorts, denouncing that concept.

  “I know it better not be nobody from my line. Some of y’all ain’t resemble Bigs,” Coleman snorted. I couldn’t hold my humor. “Shit. I’mma call y’all niggas Lils. Speaking of which, most of what we’re gonna cover tonight is this year’s rush process.”

  I acknowledged him and the room with a firm nod. “As you know, last spring at the final chapter meeting of the year, it was decided that I’d be the DP of this year’s line. The job of Dean of Ple
dge is time-consuming—hella meaty. It requires 24/7 access, something I don’t have with my football career preparing to peak—” The room erupted with a sharp applause. They were proud, and I was thankful. “With that said, I will not be fulfilling the role of DP.” I placed my hand on Coleman’s slender shoulder. “I’m switching roles with Coleman, and will be the Assistant Dean of Pledge. For those of you not that familiar, it’ll be similar to Pledge Dad.”

  “Damn, man!” Big Brown from Illinois griped. “That means you won’t be having fun with us on the head of these wet youngins?”

  “Nah.” I chuckled. “I’ll be the one wiping their tears and collecting y’all asses for doing too much.”

  Half the room laughed, the other half groaned.

  Coleman turned to me and murmured, “I’m gonna make you proud, my G.”

  I threw my hand up for a grip. When he met my hand, I assured him, “Just make sure those pups know their shit. I can’t get embarrassed in front of the chapter Bigs.”

  “For sure.” He nodded before turning to the room. “Alright! Alright! Now moving on…” Coleman continued with the agenda.

  I was the first of a few to leave the chapter house, and that’s because most lived and/or hung out there. I opted not to this year, being sure to stay focused on my League goals. But damn, did I have good times there. Even though I’d been in a relationship with Aivery most of my college career, I’d still been able to run wild with the boys without compromising my commitment to her.

  My thoughts and words were halted at the sight of a nemesis who wore the same letters as I did and was branded with the same lion’s head as me. Benjamin Pettiford leaned on the hood of my Panamera with one fitted-cut dress pant leg crossed over the other. His white dress shirt was fitted, too, with the first few buttons undone to expose the top of his chest. This country motherfucker need all that on a college campus full of what should be kids to him at this point in his life… He sported the same goofy ass grin he always did when coming my way.

  I stopped a few feet away from him, silently talking myself out of knocking him the fuck out. I couldn’t; he’d enjoy seeing me lose it.