My Muted Love (Muted Hoplessness Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  “You want me to arrange a massage for you?” he called back to me.

  I responded by flipping him the bird over my head. I had to shower then get ready for class. The sounds of Ashton Spencer’s amusement, even at my expense, was music to my ears for the first time.

  My body throbbed as I trekked up the stairs of my dorm building. After a day of classes then training with my team, I had little left in me. When I left the sports complex, I trudged over to the main cafeteria and grabbed food to go from the athletic counter where they knew my prescribed meal plan written by the nutritionist. I was too tired to care if it was good or not. I scanned my card, grabbed the bag of hot food, and jetted out of there.

  As I approached the door, I saw a girl who stayed a few dorm rooms down from me dressed up as Cruella with the wig and all. The guy she was with had to be Herman Munster. They dashed out of the door and down the steps, chatting and holding hands. The sight of them reminded me it was Halloween. I guessed that was a big holiday up here amongst these college humans. Even the guard wore a clown’s wig and nose behind the security desk.

  “Hey!” he called after me. “You’re McNabb, right?” I nodded, looking at the man like he was a fool of a human, possibly because of his appearance. “You had a large delivery. The guy from the last shift said it was too big to keep here, so he called up to your room and your roommate signed for them and took them all up.”

  I nodded again and continued to the elevator while still processing the information. When I unlocked the door to my room and let myself in, I hit the light. There were boxes everywhere: on my desk, the floor, and a small one on my bed. I dropped my book bag and put my food on Samantha’s desk. The ones on my desk were where I started. Plucking the scissors from my drawer, I cut the tape on one of the boxes.

  If my mother thought buying me shit herself instead of sending me my money was going to fly, she had my wrath coming. I’d been ignoring the fact that she hadn’t called in forever. Was this her official check in?

  I pulled out jeans—three pairs—of a designer I’d never heard of, but the price tag dispelled my assumption quickly. They were different shades, two pairs of blue and one black. All three equaling in over three hundred dollars. The next box had two pairs of jeans and four blouses. The blouses were different colors and designs, all soft in style. Feminine. There was no possible way my mother could be responsible for this. Moving on to another box, there was a pair of black combat boots from another unfamiliar designer. I was afraid to investigate the price on them. I flipped the next lid and found a pair of booties with modest sized heels.

  Moving along, I opened all the boxes trailing to my bed. There were sweat suits, sneakers, another pair of high heels with red bottoms, fancy leggings I didn’t believe were for working out, and gold hoop earrings. As I examined them, my free hand found its way to my bare ears. By the time I made it to the lone, small box on my bed, I was acutely aware of the sponsor. It took longer to open this box, though smaller. There was a box inside the mailing box.

  A phone.

  A freaking cellular.

  A goddamn Blackberry.

  “Here’s my cell. Call me and tell me if you wanna come through.”

  I almost dropped the damn thing on the bed, my hand shook so violently. Why would he do this? I powered it on, not knowing a damn thing about using a Blackberry. I’d just stopped using flip phones not too long ago. Blackberry was now the Porsche of phones.

  Porsche.

  Ughhhhh! My face fell into my hand. What was up with this guy? Did he do this for all awkward Panthers new to BSU? And the ‘almost kiss’ at the bonfire. What did that mean? I knew better than to think guys only kissed girls they liked. That was bullshit. Beyond that, why would he be tempted to kiss me? I wasn’t Ashton’s type. All my life, I’d only been the perfect type for the wrong people. Mean humans. Evil humans. What did that say about Ashton Spencer?

  It took the next ten minutes for me to figure out the phone had already been set up and ready for calls. It was confirmed when I called my dorm line and it rang. That could only mean one thing. Ashton was paying the monthly bill. Why?

  My next two calls were to his cell, then apartment. Ashton answered neither, so I left messages.

  Rude, Tori messages to a confused human like Ashton Spencer.

  13

  -Then-

  I’d just left my ten o’clock Sociology class and was starving. I knew I couldn’t make it until after my next class to eat something. Besides, I had twenty minutes until I had to get across campus for my algebra class. It was the only one I actually enjoyed. But I needed nourishment to be on top of my A game. As I trekked over to the athletic counter of the cafeteria, I internally applauded myself for making the right decision to stick to my meal plan yet another time. Last night’s dinner of chicken parmesan without breading, whole wheat pasta, and sautéed broccoli rabe wasn’t bad at all. I officially decided I liked the musky vegetable. Before Blakewood, I never knew the green leaf existed. I guessed it was what these HBCU humans enjoyed chewing on.

  The cafeteria was busy as usual, but not as much as it was on nights and weekends. I preferred it less busy and the atmosphere calm. I went to the kiosk at the counter to type in my name and student ID. The girl nodded her head, greeting me, then went to the back to prepare my food. I hummed, drumming the counter while waiting. After a minute or so of that, I remembered my phone. Digging into my book bag, I pulled it out. A surge of excitement arrowed in my chest of the possibility of Ashton having called or texted me back. It had been over twenty-four hours since I last saw or heard from him. Last night, when Samantha got in from the Halloween party—I suspected she was encouraged by Dre to attend—I asked if she’d seen Ashton. When she said no, a tendril of worry coursed my mind.

  “McNabb!” My head shot up. “Here you go.” The girl slid my tray of food closer to my side of the counter.

  I scanned my card then found a table surrounded by a partition topped with green plants. It felt private and that appealed to me. After squirting my hands with hand sanitizer that sat amongst the condiments, I began to fork couscous, something I hadn’t decided on quite yet. The salmon, spinach, and tomatoes and fresh mozzarella salad all looked solid and promising. I dug into the food, knowing I didn’t have a lot of time.

  At the same time, I got lost in thought about my fight next week. It would be here, at home. My opponent was a senior at a university in California. Still in my weight class, but bigger than the Walsh girl in Minnesota. I wasn’t concerned, just still learning how this boxing thing worked on the college level. Not many in the U.S. had boxing programs, and even less HBCUs. Heck, I was the only female boxer at Blakewood. The male ones hadn’t been supportive like Ashton. The top male boxer here, Reggie Laws, just learned my name when Trisha and Luke asked his trainers to have him spar with me. He had been cool, but I knew when I was invisible to someone, could feel the indifference. It didn’t matter to me, and all that did was Laws knew I hit hard and could fight.

  “So what happened?” the whisper in that question made it sound sneaky, catching my attention.

  “She is mad as hell, girl!” another girl gasped, both women sounding familiar.

  Great!

  My face dropped toward my plate, cheeks full of food. Why am I always in the middle of secret conversations with this crew? They sounded to be directly behind me, separated by the partition and plants.

  “But why? He did nothing wrong!” That was ShawnNicole.

  “It goes deep, girl.” Karmen’s delivery was that of a gossip.

  “Oh. You think? They’ve been acting weird all damn semester! I’ve been wondering what the hell is going on between the two of them.”

  “It’s the cousin that was locked up. Aiv hates that boy. Hates him. She thinks his situation has taken Ashton’s attention away from their relationship.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  Karmen scoffed, “Why?”

  “Because if they’re as close as I’ve h
eard they were—as I’ve heard Ashton in years past say—then why wouldn’t the guy being locked up fuck with Ashton.”

  “He sounds like a thug. A serious drug dealer with only two destinies ahead: death or prison. I don’t blame Aivery for feeling like Ashton stressing over him is a waste of time.”

  “Because you and Aivery know nothing about that life to have compassion,” ShawnNicole nipped at her.

  Karmen exhaled audibly. “Here you go with that ‘being from the streets and not’ shit.”

  “Because you, Aivery, and Andrea make it clear all the time that you’re from a different culture, the one without empathy for your own people who come from lesser circumstances.”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  ShawnNicole sucked her teeth. “Then show me another side.”

  “How?”

  “Be honest with Aivery when she comes crying to you about the bratty fuckery. She has the man of everyone’s dreams, they have a promising future together, are about to graduate from one of the top universities in the country, have a shit-load of resources waiting on them after graduation—and not one student loan—and have the world as their goddamn oyster. Yet she wants to sit around and cry a fucking creek because her all-star boyfriend flew home to bury his cousin who was more like a brother and best friend.”

  My heart fell from my chest and abs clenched so tight before unfurling. That sensation had never happened and scared the shit out of me.

  “Well, I’ll reserve my judgment until I’m put in that situation,” Karmen replied dismissively.

  “Well, I’ll remain a human being with common sense. Y’all gone learn to have a brain of your own one of these days, and stop taking Aivery’s words and life for gold. Something’s up with her and Ashton, and maybe he’s where you need to be mentally.”

  “And where’s that?” Karmen shrieked, clearly offended.

  “Out of Aivery’s LaLa-Land and in the real world where you can see how immature and controlling she is. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but Aivery be on some shit at times and needs to be checked every now and then, like everybody else.”

  “Whatever. You sound just like you did that day, defending Tori. It’s like you don’t like Aivery anymore.”

  “No. That’s not true. I’m with treating people with respect. That girl hasn’t bothered anybody. She minds her business. I’ve done her hair and she was extra cool. Why are we warring with that girl?” ShawnNicole posed it as a point, not a question.

  “Because like Aivery said, she’s diseased.”

  That was a blow.

  “And on that note, I’m hungry and done with this conversation.” I couldn’t hear much more of her words because ShawnNicole took off.

  I closed my eyes to control my rapid breathing. His cousin—Brick—died. Ashton’s best friend and cousin passed away. But when? How long would he be away from school? How many classes and games would he miss?

  How much pain is he in?

  My appetite had disappeared and so had the time. So, I threw everything onto the tray, grabbed it and my book bag, and left for class. The weight in my stomach followed me.

  “Yo…”

  I pulled my face up and turned to look behind me. I’d created a dangerous habit here on campus. Walking with your head down was a big no-no back at home, and especially in New Brunswick where I trained with Uppercut.

  Dre was there, looking to have left my dorm building. I didn’t even realize I’d walked past him. It was after nine at night and the end of another brutal day at training. I didn’t say hello, not being sure if it was safe. We weren’t friends. He had a low-cut fade with man-made curls and thin mustache. Dre was light skinned and just a couple of inches taller than me. His smile was crooked, full lips, and decent teeth. Dude was far from ugly, but I didn’t see what all the hype was about.

  When he saw I wouldn’t respond, his smirk lengthened. “You heard what happened?”

  “What do you mean?” I moved to let two girls leaving my building pass by.

  “Spence.”

  Oh...

  That had been on my mind since late morning. I still hadn’t heard from Ashton. My eyes fell away, blinking and I nodded.

  “That shit’s fucked up.” I couldn’t believe Dre was making small talk with me—or engaging in real conversation. Ashton’s cousin was a serious deal. “My nigga hurting right now.”

  I nodded again, eyes falling away, too. “They were pretty tight,” I finally found my voice.

  “Yeah, man. And the way they broke the news to Spence.”

  My eyes shot up and mouth fell open. Catching my desperation, I closed it and swallowed, pacing myself. “How—what they do?” Ashton seemed to have disappeared yesterday.

  “Cuzzo died almost two weeks ago, Al told me. Coach Green told him. The family didn’t want to fuck up Spence’s head before homecoming. They waited until close to the funeral.”

  A dull ache turned my stomach. “They did?”

  He nodded, swiping his nose as he glanced away. “It took the family a minute to get the body from the Department of Corrections. You know the government’s slow as fuck and it ain’t nothing you can do about it. I guess Spence’s family waited until they had the body and a funeral date to tell him.”

  I wanted to ask if the county killed him or the rival gang. Ashton didn’t mention Brick being sick, so it had to be murder. But I didn’t ask, not wanting to go there. It was Ashton’s business to tell. But the question I did ask, shocked me.

  “You know when the funeral is?”

  Dre yawned, “Friday.”

  “This Friday?”

  He nodded. “Yup. At the second largest church in Newark…Mt. Calvary. He flew home yesterday and Aivery flew home this afternoon. Her sister had the twins on Friday, but she wanted to stay here for homecoming.”

  My thoughts drowned out the noise coming from Dre’s mouth. I recalled Aivery mentioning her sister being pregnant with twins that night at Verti, but couldn’t care less. My concern was Ashton losing his cousin. I knew he had a big family, but how supportive were they? How big were they? When my Margaret died, less than twenty people showed at the funeral parlor, and even less at her burial. No one came to comfort me. None of my friends, and my cousins didn’t know how.

  Those unknown variables pushed me to inspiration.

  “My dad preached at the church a few times. Only high dignitary-type people get to have their funerals there. You know, that pastor—”

  I interrupted him mid-sentence. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I turned in the direction I’d just come from. “I just remembered I left something at the gym.”

  “Oh.” Dre blinked several times. “Oh, a’ight.”

  “Goodnight.” And I was out.

  When I saw Collin and Trisha with their coats on from a distance in the hall, but still busy around the small office I knew I’d made it just in time. With determined speed, I flew inside.

  “I need to go home!”

  Both their heads popped up and eyes met me. Collin, with a blank expression, turned over his shoulder for Trisha. She met his alarmed stare quickly then regarded me again.

  I watched her swallow and blink hard. “Is everything alright, Tori?”

  “No. There’s a family emergency I need to tend to. And I need to do it ASAP!”

  “But you have a fight in exactly a week from today.”

  “Breaking training so close, Tori, isn’t the best idea,” Collin tried to back her.

  I took two steps deeper into the office. “I don’t give two shits about what you think is a good idea or not. I have an emergency that I need to get home to see about and I need to go right away.”

  Panicking, Trisha lifted her hand, gesturing for me to calm down. “What’s wrong, Tori? Are Ashton and his friends still bothering—”

  “Fuck his friends!” Especially Aivery. “I tell you I have an emergency at home and you ask me about a bunch of rich kids that can’t beat me?”

  �
��Okay.” Trisha tried to pace herself. I could tell. Her eyes ran across the office and her hands stayed swinging softly in the air. “Let’s be rational about this. You can’t just up and leave. You have classes, too. Should I call Uppercut?”

  I switched weight on my hips, temper flaring by the second. And the mention of Cut’s treacherous-self added to the speed of it.

  “You can call Cut all you want, but you’ll be wasting my time. I get a round ticket for each semester I’m here. I want to use it now.”

  “Okay.” Collin nodded. “How soon, Tori? How soon are you talking to leave and when are you proposing to come back.”

  I hesitated for a minute. The sense of them finally breaking caught me off guard. That, or the fact that I hadn’t gotten that far with my plan. Dre said the funeral was Friday. That was in two days.

  “Tomorrow. I need to leave tomorrow and I’ll be back on Friday night.” I nodded, feeling what I said would work.

  “A turnaround flight?” Trisha’s chin dipped. “So, you’re sure you’re coming right back. Right?”

  “You can book it for me to be sure, or tell me how it’s done. Either way, I’m going home. Don’t make me question if I should come back.” I hit them with a daring stare.

  Yes, I was playing hardball here. I’d been the good, quiet, very compliant athlete they recruited since the day Cut abandoned me. That was when I learned I had no support. My mother had been holding my money, leaving me up here penniless. Cut told me I wasn’t welcomed back to train. My best friend, Ragee, had been engrossed in jump-starting his singing career, and my cousins and friends from back home were stuck in the Millville mentality, unable to relate to me now. Right now, I needed to feel in control and not in compliance.

  Trisha’s eyes rolled hard and she exhaled. There was a short delay before she murmured, “Let’s get them booked right away,” to Collin. “Flying into Philadelphia. Right?”

  “No.” I swallowed, heart galloping in my chest. “Newark.”

  Her eyes rolled up to meet mine. I lifted my chin, maintaining my determination.