She's All I Need(A Sports Romance)

by Chiquita Dennie

  “She hung up on me.”

  “My girl,” Savion muttered.

  “Women,” I grumbled, put the phone back on the floor and continued with my workout.

  Two hours later I pulled up to my parents’ house in the back of the cab and removed twenty dollars for a tip and shut the door. I headed up the stairs and knocked on the door.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to come here,” Mom said, moving aside.

  I dropped my gym bag and bent down to hug her.

  “Ew, you're all sweaty.”

  I smelled under my arms and chuckled. I planned on showering and eating before I headed home.

  “Is Dad here?” I walked toward my old bedroom.

  She followed me.

  “He’s at the shop. Are you hungry? I just made a sandwich and iced tea.” She stood at the door as I kicked my shoes off.

  “Sure, let me shower really quick.”

  “Call your sister!” Mom called out as she turned to leave my room.

  I shut my door, stripped out of my shorts and shirt, walked into the bathroom, and turned the shower on. It had been a few years since I was back in my old room with all my old posters of athletes that I looked up to growing up, like Michael Jordan, Joe Montana, Muhammad Ali, and John Elway.

  I lifted my cell to send a message to my sister.

  Me: Sorry, just getting back to you.

  Luna: Where are you?

  Me: With Mom at the house. I’ll call you later.

  Luna: All right, love you.

  Me: Love you more, bighead.

  I placed it back on the counter and opened the shower door. I moved under the water and let it fall down my face and back. I kept thinking about how Sutton needed to turn this around and get Ben off my back before I ended up in jail for beating his ass.

  Kamara

  “Kamara!”

  I smiled at Rodney as he picked up the cup and wrote down my usual latte. This was my favorite place to hang out when I didn’t want to be at home writing or at the office. As a freelance writer, I had to make a way for myself, and many times, I wrote some of my best stories at Cafe Sin. It was a local shop that he started with his sister a few years ago, and they supported a lot of underfunded schools in the city. I wrote a few articles about them, and they ended up taking off and made enough for a second shop in Hollywood.

  “Two pumps of vanilla, one espresso, almond milk, extra hot, no foam with vanilla powder on top,” Rodney rattled off and I took a sip and moaned. Feeling the coating of the sweet vanilla notes and caffeine kick in were the perfect balance of what I needed today.

  “Rodney you're the best.” I slid my hand in my purse to pull out money to pay.

  “Negative, you don’t pay here,” Rodney said and tried to push my hand away.

  “I’m a customer like anyone else,” I argued and tried to put it on the counter but he pushed my hand away.

  “Nope. Not on my watch.”

  “Where’s Abigail?” I changed the conversation and eased the money in the tip jar. He still shook his head with a hard grimace. His sister normally worked the front counter of the shop, but I didn’t see her today. I glanced around, noticed they changed some of the decor with extra tables and chairs, brighter colors, a section for clothes and products of the brand logo on the front.

  “She had to go to the other shop to open up for the manager.” Rodney wiped the counter down as I went to the side to not hold up the line.

  “Well thank you Rod, let me get out of here and head to the office.” I waved at him and sipped on my latte one more time before walking out to my car. I noticed Terry, the homeless guy that stays around the corner from the building. Rodney tried many times to get him to go into a shelter and get help, but he refuses.

  “Terry, how are you doing?” I knew people said not to give them money because it only led to drugs, but I wanted to do my part and show him that I was there to support him—no matter what he did with the money I gave him.

  “Pretty girl, I’m doing good. I got a hot story for you,” he joked, shoving more empty cans in his basket.

  That was our thing; every time he saw me, he made up some type of story for me to write up, and I’d sometimes write a fake article with his name as the reporter.

  “Really, come on tell me.” I went around to the driver’s side of my car and put my purse inside and pulled my phone out to take notes.

  “I’m your source, right?” he questioned.

  “Of course, and if it’s really good I’ll even see about compensation.”

  “I like your style, kid,” Terry told me.

  “Thanks, so who am I writing about now?”

  He looked both ways, then stepped closer to the car and dipped his head in the window. I bent down to listen to what he had to say since he was making it seem like it was going to be juicy.

  “I think they're trying to buy the block of businesses around here and turn it into a mall.”

  My brows furrowed in confusion.

  “Who’s trying to buy the block?”

  “The government, I went to the shelter and slept the other night and overheard a conversation.”

  “Maybe you misunderstood, Terry. That doesn’t sound right.”

  Terry shrugged his shoulders.

  “I could be wrong, but your friends in the coffee shop were arguing about it earlier today,” Terry commented.

  I looked back at the coffee shop, biting my bottom lip nervously. Hopefully, Terry was wrong about that, but I’d keep my eyes and ears open. I normally got alerts from the local City Council about upcoming elections.

  “Thanks for the tip, Terry. I need to get to work.” I leaned over and passed him a ten-dollar bill and he grinned.

  “Go eat real food please.”

  “Thanks, pretty girl.” Terry tapped the hood of my car.

  I put the key in, started the ignition, and slid my seatbelt on. I watched through the back window as I drove into traffic, seeing Terry talking to another homeless man and showing him the money that I gave him. I changed lanes and got in the left turn lane.

  Working at the local paper with my best friend was great when we wanted to have lunch together. Our other best friend, Sutton, worked as a publicist for some of the biggest stars and athletes, but she was still humble and sweet and never let it go to her head. Luna and I met Sutton when she came onboard as Donovan’s publicist a few years ago. Meeting the two of them forced me to come out of my shell and relax.

  Growing up, I’d focused more on getting to the next big thing, rather than living in the moment. My parents supported everything I wanted to do—even pursuing a journalism career. It was funny; in high school I was on the debate team, ran for class president, and tried to get the students to push their parents to vote for a new principal. It didn’t work, and I ended up getting detention for constantly speaking about things that a child shouldn’t speak about. Cheryl and William Powell had raised me to speak my mind and call out something if I felt it was wrong. My mom worked as a dentist, and my dad was a retired army veteran who started his own nonprofit to support other veterans. I’d tried many times to get Terry to speak with my dad, but he always had an excuse.

  At twenty-eight, I had everything I’d ever wanted out of life, from my career to my apartment, family, and friends. The only thing I was really missing was love—something I kept failing at, based on my background with men. Somehow, I kept finding frogs that made promises to love and protect me like a princess, but they tended to either cheat, stomp on my career, or only take what they could get once they found out that I knew Donovan Hunt.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, thinking of Donovan.

  I told Luna all the time that she was related to someone who only cared about himself, and the women who fell all over him had no self-respect. Was he handsome? Yes. I mean, he was 6’3” with a chiseled jawline, broad shoulders, an eight-pack stomach, and heart-shaped, full lips that I always stared at whenever we were in the same room together. Don’t get m
e started on his oceanic, green-blue eyes that sometimes left me speechless.

  “Stop it,” I mumbled to myself, trying to shake off the thoughts of Donovan. I’d known him since I was nineteen years old, a freshman in college, back when Luna and I were roommates, and best friends since the first day we met.

  I finally arrived at work and parked in the employee area. I turned the car off and grabbed my things. The Los Angeles Life newspaper had been my home for the last three years after they recruited me from my blog posts. Luna followed me, and when they saw her fashion style and pics, it really made her social media a hit. She and I had offices across from each other, and she tended to get there late, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was working from home that day.

  I waved at the receptionist and walked down the hall of the red brick building to my office. The daily news stories seemed to be causing everyone in the building to have high anxiety.

  “Finally, you're here.” Cailey, the senior editor, caught me as I opened my office door.

  I dropped my bag on the couch, sat in my chair, and placed my coffee down, then turned on my computer. “Hello, Cailey.”

  She hated when I did that. Everyone knew me long enough that if you didn’t say hello first, I wouldn’t continue a conversation. It’s rude off the bat to demand something when you haven’t even acknowledged my presence.

  “Hello Kamara.” Cailey cocked her head to the side standing in the middle of my office.

  “What can I do for you? You seem stressed.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “That’s true.” I typed in my password and pulled up my list of potential stories I wanted to cover for the next post.

  “I have a story for you,” Cailey said.

  “Cool, email it to me.”

  “I normally would, but this is a special case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I pulled the drawer open and grabbed my glasses to start my research.

  “I got you an exclusive story,” Cailey said.

  I noticed her hands were behind her back.

  “Okay. About the mayor? Governor?”

  She brought her hand from around her back and placed the magazine down on my desk with Donovan Hunt circled in a red pen.

  “No.” I pushed the sports magazine away from me.

  “Yes.”

  “No, I do public policy pieces. Things that make a difference.”

  “This makes a difference and sports is important,” Cailey argued.

  I leaned back in the chair and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Cailey, you have plenty of people here that can do the interview.”

  “That person is you. This is perfect, you're already friends with him.”

  “I’m friends with his sister. Donovan and I are associates.”

  I couldn't blurt out that once or twice I had a wet dream about him, but that was because I accidently walked in on him when he was naked from the shower.

  “You're doing the interview. Sorry, it’s final.”

  “That’s not fair, Cailey. You promised when I came here that I could create my own lane.” I jumped up, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Which I have held up on my end. This is one story with a photoshoot,” Cailey muttered lowly and my eyes grew wide in surprise.

  “Hold up, back up. Photoshoot? Is this a magazine or newspaper company?” I needed to find someone else to take this project from me.

  “Newspaper. This would be good for your career. Change it up for once; maybe he’ll surprise you.”

  I smacked my teeth.

  “Yeah right.”

  “Listen it’s a done deal and Sutton will contact you about the details.”

  “Wait, so this is Sutton’s idea?” I wondered if my best friend was behind this. It must be important.

  “Yep, she called me and asked if you could do the story.”

  “When is this happening?”

  “In three days,” Cailey mumbled and my head jerked back.

  “Three days?! You just gave me the information today. I can’t be prepared that fast.”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “You got this Kamara, stop stressing and call Sutton,” Cailey called out as she turned and walked out.

  I picked up my desk phone and dialed Sutton’s numbers as I scanned the magazine that Cailey left in my office. Superstar athlete. Yeah right.

  “Hello,” Sutton answered.

  “Really Sutton?”

  “I knew you’d be the right person because you're unbiased and would give him a fair shot.”

  “Ugh, I write about the issues with rundown tenant buildings, not who’s catching a football.”

  “Think of it like a public policy issue.”

  “Please tell me how me writing a puff piece on him is helping the public?” I questioned.

  “I knew you would be enthusiastic about this,” Sutton sarcastically threw in my face.

  “You owe me.”

  “Drinks on me.”

  “Drinks, dinner, and whatever else I want for a week.”

  “A week!” she screeched through the phone.

  “Fine two days of you buying lunch.”

  “That’s better, but I’ll still do drinks and dinner. Call Luna and see what she’s doing later,” Sutton replied.

  I made a mental note to text Luna after I finished the call.

  “So, this is happening here at the office, right?”

  “No, I booked a photoshoot and want you to come down and talk to him there,” Sutton explained.

  “Where?”

  The phone went silent and I knew she was keeping something else from me.

  “Don't be annoyed, but his place.”

  “Suttonnnn…” I whined, not in the mood to be driving all the way across town, dealing with traffic, and his team that probably won’t give me the space to answer my questions.

  “I promise you won’t have any problems and he’ll be ready for you,” Sutton said.

  “I need to get to work, you owe me big time and I want a huge slice of chocolate cake for dinner.”

  She chuckled at my request and said okay.

  “Thank you, best friend. See you tonight.”

  We both hung the phone up and I walked around my desk, grabbed my cell out of my purse and texted Luna.

  Me: Dinner tonight?

  Luna: I was just thinking this.

  Me: Sutton’s paying.

  Sutton: Don’t get too crazy now.

  Luna: Oops. What did you do, Sutton?

  Sutton: Nothing.

  Me: Don’t lie.

  Sutton: Get to work and talk later.

  Luna: I just got to the office.

  I looked up and saw Luna waving at another coworker as she strolled to my office.

  Me: An hour late.

  Luna: I needed to meditate.

  Sutton: LOL! Translation means “get your morning orgasm from some guy”.

  Luna: No comment.

  I shook my head and dropped my phone on the desk as she smiled, put her phone away, and sauntered in my office.

  “You look chipper,” Luna commented.

  “You look flushed,” I teased and she waved me off.

  “Sutton tell you about the interview?”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Am I the last person to know about this?”

  “Probably, but it’ll be fine. My brother needs this more than you do,” Luna said and that gave me pause.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ben Simmons had Julian Anderson on his show, and they made some stupid allegations about my brother.”

  “Oh. I haven’t watched any TV or been on social media today.”

  She released a breath.

  “Yeah, it’s all over the blogs and airing on FSGN on repeat. Sutton thought it would be good to do an interview and I agreed with her about you doing it since you barely talk to him.”

  “I talk to him.”

&nbs
p; Luna gave me that bitch please look.

  “‘Talk’ and ‘like’ are two different things and since you’re not his biggest fan, no one will fault you for the interview,” Luna explained. It made sense. All I wrote about was how corrupt things were, and not so much about celebrity and athlete gossip. I couldn’t even say what year he’d won his big game ring.

  “Let me get to work before Cailey comes looking for me.” Luna stood and I nodded.

  “Luna.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You might want to put a bra on. Someone is probably going to be calling you soon to bring you the one you just left at their place,” I said.

  Her phone started ringing, and I shook my head. She dropped her head in embarrassment.

  Kamara

  For the rest of the day, I’d gone through footage of Donovan playing games and read up on his stats as a quarterback with the team. As soon as six o’clock hit, I finished for the day, drove home, showered, and changed to get to the restaurant by 7:30 for dinner. D’Andrea’s Restaurant was crowded but luckily enough, Sutton had called ahead and reserved a table for three.

  Luna was busy texting on her phone, as the waitress came over to greet us and drop off the menus.

  “Our specials for today are linguini and meatballs.”

  “I want a large bowl of the mushroom risotto,” Luna announced.

  “Can I get pasta con pomodoro e basilico?” I asked the waitress.

  “Good choice,” Meredith responded, writing our orders down.

  “They both sound good, but I’ll be different with spaghetti alle vongole,” Sutton said.

  “What would you ladies like to drink?” Meredith questioned, taking our menus off the table.

  “Red wine please,” Sutton replied.

  “You're fine with the appetizer of bruschetta?” Meredith wondered and we all nodded.

  Luna finally placed her phone down and we all looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how embarrassed I was this morning,” Luna said, grabbing the dessert menu off the table and fanning herself.

  “Who’s the guy?” I asked.