“Greyson! You’re up!” Coach yells.
“Let’s get it, Cap!!” My teammates encourage as I jog to the field with a wave of confidence. The crowd’s cheers made my heart pump harder, and being one of the top players in the state of California has me feeling myself. First, I secure my helmet and stick my ear plugs in once at the plate. My turn to bat, and as always, I prefer to block out the crowd and the noise when it’s my time to bat My focus needs to be on one thing, and everything else was a distraction.
Knocking dust from my cleats, I follow that up with digging my feet deeper into the dirt beneath me. I steady my position before nodding my head up and down. The pitcher knows he can’t strike me out, and the fear of fucking up is visible all over his face. My nodding is confirmation to everything he’s thinking about my skills. He had every right to be nervous. It’s something I encourage.
The weather was perfect. Not too much wind blowing, so I already know knocking one out the park was going to be no problem. But right as I prepare to swing, a wave of dizziness slams into me and everything I see head on becomes a blur.
“Strike one!”
The umpire’s screams are so loud it sounds like there’s a bullhorn directly next to my ear. It made little sense, considering I wore earplugs. I stand straight up and gather my composure before anyone can notice the daze expression my face. If I don’t snap back soon, my ma will be running out to the field snatching me up.
“You alright out there, Greyson?”
Instead of answering, I got back in my batting stance and inhale deeply. The fresh air doesn’t remove the déjà vu feeling that’s sucking me in. I feel like the boy on that movie, The Butterfly Effect. When he went through a transition, he could see everything, but physical feelings were gone, I didn’t even feel the breeze anymore. The ball flies at me faster than my mind measures, but on cue I swing the wooden sword.
“Leiland!” The deep scream roaring from my ma causes me to panic. I try to look to her for reassurance, but I can’t move my head.
I can’t control the movement of any part of my body. There isn’t pain when my body hits the ground face first, but the impact makes the dirt around me splash up like disturbed water.
“Oh my God, somebody call 911! My baby! My baby is having a seizure!”
“This very field is where it all happened. There were doctors and nurses everywhere. I was accustomed to my coaches being hard asses and stern, so to refocus and be met by stares of sympathy was confusing, I knew things weren’t good.”
“Damn. Did they figure out what caused it? Why weren’t you able to play baseball anymore?”
“I had gotten hit in the head a time or two by a stray ball. Being on the field not properly suited up and messing around was dangerous. I’d actually had two concussions before the seizure. Besides my graphics, baseball was my world, but when I got back, the field felt weird. I was anxious and afraid it would happen again. The thing I loved had been my downfall.
“My mom and coach suggested I stay home after graduation, squash my plans of going pro, and go to a junior college for a few semesters. The other option was to play overseas. I did both. I played almost three seasons of International Ball and went to school online. I didn’t get anything out of baseball but a check and oral from a Spanish chick. The seizure had me unsure of myself, you know? So I came home before the end of my third year and started working for the city, less than a year later, I joined The Shepherds.”
“How the hell have we been dating for months and you’ve never told me any of this?”
“The same way I know almost nothing about your parents.”
Eye contact had resumed, but now, she was the one avoiding the stares.
“And let’s be honest, the first month of us meeting doesn’t count considering I was chasing you.”
“I appreciate you explaining everything to me. If no one else can understand how hard it is to dismantle your past, I can. Hell, mine chases me more than I’d like to admit, but this is all a part of you. I needed to know this. Do you ever think about what life could’ve been like if you would’ve said fuck what the others said and pursued your original plans?”
I ran my index finger along her neckline.
“Of course. I’m human. And when money is tight, that is the first thing that comes to mind. But sitting here and feeling how real you are in my arms, this is something I know would’ve been missing had I left permanently. I wasn’t meant to be a baseball player. A bad ass graphic designer with a gorgeous ass, cereal bar owning wife, three kids and a pitbull name D.O.G., that’s how my life is meant to pan out.”
“Aww snap, I see some of this game done rubbed off on you.” She joked popping the collar on her uniform shirt.
I smiled. “Yeah, a little.”
Billie
Hustling around my apartment, I made sure everything was straight and in order. Don’t get it twisted, this wasn’t the first time Leiland had come over to my place, but I didn’t want him to see the mountain of clothes and shoes everywhere and start side-eyeing me like I was messy, even though sometimes I could be. It usually took him forty-five minutes to make it to me, so I used my time wisely.
I had a two-song minimum to wash my ass and get out of the shower. By the time the third Brent Faiyaz song started, I was cutting the water off. Knowing we’d be inside for the night, I didn’t want to be overdressed, so a tank top and shorts was my go-to.
With twenty minutes to spare, I vacuumed my bedroom then started in the kitchen. Praise God! I dropped a tube of ground turkey in the sink to thaw out before I went to work this morning. Now I could at least feed the man. I knew after the doctor’s visit and being put on more medicine, Leiland was drained.
Then why are you trying to fuck him?
The compassionate side of me questioned my intentions. I smiled. She could be so cute and caring at times.
It’s not that I’m some nympho that couldn’t go too long without it, that’s not the case. I just knew what I wanted, and as a woman, I should be able to voice my desire to fuck without being ostracized. For years, sex had been nothing more than just physical interaction for me. It held minimal worth, and now, I have to add value to the shit. Just know I had been working the hell out of my vibrator to avoid calling one of my bed buddies. My commitment to building with Leiland was more important than anything they could give me.
Multi-tasking my ass off, I cut the tomatoes and lettuce for our burgers in no time. I knew Leiland love grilled onions, so I sliced a few extra and threw them in the skillet so they’d start to brown. Looking around the kitchen, I noticed the white amaryllis I’d brought earlier in the week looked free of life. Grabbing the Grey Goose I keep on hand to fuel my flowers, I added half a shot to their water.
Yes, I put vodka in my flowers.
Believe it or not, alcohol has a preserving effect that puts the brakes on gas that kills the beauties. Y’all better take notes!
I hopped on my countertop anxiously awaiting his arrival. I felt like a loser just sitting there, but I didn’t want to look thirsty by texting him to see where he was. Enough time hadn’t passed for me to pretend I was just “concerned”. After finishing the patties and making sure all the food was put away, I sent Leiland a text letting him know there was a key under my welcome mat.
Walking around my art room, I lit candles that were placed throughout. The maroon sheet used for the mess that accumulated when working with clay and paint was in place. I had long ago given up on trying to protect the wall. One day while listening to Solange’s A Seat at the Table, I got into this whole “I am woman, I am here” headspace and started painting my walls. Affirmations, flowers, a few shadows that resemble dark things, along with patterns that I can’t describe but came out dreamy. It was all over the place, inspiring, kind of sad but fucking beautiful, and I loved it because it was so me.
Reaching for my smallest paintbrush, I soaked it in a cup of water that sat on my desk. I dried the end then dipped it into the royal-blu
e paint I’d used earlier when finishing samples for the investors to view. Dragging my stool to the perfect spot, I stood and steadied myself before writing in cursive the words Leiland said to me on our first date “Split the Difference”. I placed the words right in the center of a lonely cloud that had no depth and added a few stars and swirls to the new addition. It fit into my canvas perfectly.
Taking a seat on my stool, I tried to focus on my newest project.
I’d talked Teal into allowing me to host a morning mixer at one of her lounges, and she eagerly agreed. With three potential investors on deck, I wanted to offer a visual of what Crunch would consist of, and I couldn’t fuck it up with mediocre work. I had finally settled on three affirmations, fonts, and colors for my mugs and bowls. I was hyped that it was actually getting somewhere. Too many times, we want things that we aren’t willing to work for, then we gripe when shit isn’t moving how we would want. I noticed once my want became a necessity, my grind became harder to contain. I’d even thought about taking a few bartending classes to bring more money in. Eventually, I wanted to add morning cocktails, like an Irish Mule with Captain Crunch pieces coating the top.
Tilting my head to the side, my face scrunched up at my creation.
Sinead Harnett’s voice boomed throughout my art room and did nothing to distract me from my mental interference. The lyrics to “If You Let Me” were some of my favorites.
I yanked the hair tie from my ponytail, and like an avalanche, the pile of thick box braids erupted passed my shoulder stopping at the crack of my butt. Shaking out my hair out, I blew out a breath occupied with stress and doubt. I removed the yellow sunflower from behind my right ear and let it fall to the floor. Slapping the funny looking picture from the easel, I dropped my chin to my chest.
“Is all of that really necessary. You are so damn dramatic.” I heard from behind me and a smile skated across my face. He was finally here.
Leiland
Using the melody as a guide, I trailed the music and slightly pushed open the already cracked door. I found her sitting on a tall, black stool removing a hair tie from her braids.
Deciding to watch her before speaking, I leaned across the door frame before saying anything. Seeing her have a fit over the painting she was working on, I shook my head at her outburst. A painting I thought was beautiful, she knocked it to the floor.
Even though downstairs smelled of dinner, her room was smothered with cocoa butter. I knew she had just gotten out of the shower. The small hairs that escaped her braids and aligned the nape of her neck were damp and curly. Her skin shining made the room glow in the mist of her beautifully-painted walls.
It took us a while to get here.
To the point where I could walk into her house and watch her be herself.
“I’ve literally counted to thirty in my head, just waiting to see if you would say something. You’re a weirdo.” She laughed, looking at me over her shoulder.
I had grown to love when she did that.
“How am I weird? When did silence equate to weirdness?”
“Since you walked your ass into my house and didn’t say anything,” she said, getting up and leading me to her kitchen.
I cut her off. “Invited. Make sure to add that part.”
“Whatever. You walked in my room and just stood in the doorway. Staring at my ass, I’m sure.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Though your ass is nice, but that’s why you always have it in my face,” I said seriously.
“The longer you hang around me, Leiland, the worse you mouth gets. But I appreciate the honesty. That’s for sure something I love about you.”
Once the word left her lips, it was in the air up for grabs, and I snatched it.
“Love, huh?”
“You know what I mean, Leiland.”
“I know what you said, Billie Grace.”
Her back was facing me, but I had no doubt there was a smile on her face. I could see a hint of her cheekbones playing hide and seek from where I stood.
“Now who’s the weirdo. You’re as quiet as a church mouse now.”
Laughing, she asked, “Where’d you hear that? I know growing up, no one in your house said stuff like that.”
She was right. I’d heard Jupiter say it a few times, thought it was clever.
“It’s rude to stare, Leiland. Hungry?”
“Of course,” I said, taking a seat at the dining table. The last time I came over, I realized she liked sitting at the dinner table to eat and not in the living room in front of the television like I was accustomed to.
Rising from my seat, I walked over to the refrigerator to grab a beer. I sat on the counter close to where she prepared our plates and enjoyed seeing her moving around the kitchen.
“I want to talk to you about something,” Billie said with her eyes fixated on the burgers.
“Ok, shoot.”
“Hypothetically, if you had the opportunity to make your dream and maybe someone else’s come to fruition, but you had to compromise your beliefs to make it happen, would you do it?”
I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know if my answer would dictate her actions, and I never wanted to steer her wrong.
“Depends on the compromise. Some situations have room for negotiation,” I told her truthfully.
Nodding her head, she didn’t offer a rebuttal right away.
“Talk to me, Sparx,”
“In time. But not now. Now, we eat.” She concluded with a simple smile and two plates placed on the table along with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Walking over, I pulled out her chair before sitting in mine. Bowing our heads, we said our blessing before eating.
“Tell me more about the portfolio you’re working on. I know it’s different from the first one you turned submitted.”
“It is. It’s under the Disney umbrella, and I have to construct a storyline with this one. Not that that’s not something I usually do, but both artistry and content must be intact for this go well. There isn’t much direct supervision for the position, so I have to show that I can establish content independently—original concept and all.”
Smiling with admiration, she said, “You’re so fucking fancy. Let’s toast to your new gig.” Chuckling, I followed her lead and lifted my own, clinked our glasses and threw the shot back.
“Woah.” We grimaced in unison at the burn caused by her favorite drink.
“Thank you for that, but I don’t have it just yet, baby girl.”
“Oh, but you will. Anything you believe you can have is already yours.”
“Guess that’s why you’re sitting across from me right now.”
“Indeed.” She purred with a mischievous grin.
Billie
“Everything is Yours” by Kehlani trickled softly throughout my bedroom, and my movements synced with the music as I stripped out my tank top.
Face down, ass up, I crawled to the head of the bed and palmed the pillows covering the area. I could feel the hovering of eyes on my body, and it caused me to put more uumph in my actions. Turning around to face him, I rested on my elbows and admired him from a distance. A little jittery from nerves, it paled in comparison to my desire to finally have Leiland in my bed.
We never made it back to my art room to work on our projects, obviously. After two more shots of JD and too much closeness, we ended up in my bedroom.
I wasn’t disappointed.
“Come here,” I breathed.
Removing his T-shirt, I bit my bottom lip at all that was now mine. Though this wasn’t the first time seeing Leiland bare chested, I still devoured the picture. His stomach was free of any graffiti unlike his arms, neck, and collar bone. Abs that I’d have to purchase to achieve were embedded into him. The orange tint of the candles burning clashed with his natural ginger-colored hair. He looked like a freaking god.
“Is everything mine, Billie Grace?” he asked in reference to the background music.
Goodness. Full names?
; “Everything is yours,” I said with a convincing grin. I was hardly ever nervous in this position. I guess if I’m being honest, I was self-conscious for the first time in years. Leiland had confessed long ago that I was the first black woman he had dated, and in the back of my mind, I wondered what he’d think of my body.
Even with my legs spread open, he kept his eyes on mine. I knew my titties were filling his peripheral. My face is pretty yes, but not enough to credit myself for the tent that was forming in the center of his Nike track pants.
A breeze swept between my legs, catching my scent and flooding the room.
Nodding his head, I knew the scent had settled in his senses, and his curved lips screamed approval.
The bed felt like melted ice beneath me, but my hands were clammy from the heat radiating from my body.
Teasing him, I shut my legs when he neared where I was seated.
“Don’t play with my food, lady.”
Taking a deep whiff, he bit his bottom lip and glanced at me like my pumpkin pie was the sweetest thang poppin’.
“You begged for it, Sparx. Now be a big girl. Stop shaking like you believe I’d hurt you and take it.”
Dividing my thighs, he replaced the space between with his body.
Before I could mutter a word, he slipped the neon-shaded sunflower from behind my ear and beamed proudly. Like he was happy that I’d made it to this moment. That we’d got through our differences and compromised enough to be able to have more than only this.
The soundtrack to our lovemaking switched, and Mali Music begin to serenade us. Leiland, directly between my legs, mixed with three shots of whiskey had my body loose and horny.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as my legs hung at his sides. Caressing the hair on the back of his neck, I relished in the feeling of his hair stroking my fingers. I could hear my own heart thump firm at the anticipation of what was to come.
Wrapping his arms around my body, he yanked on my swinging braids giving my head permission to go back. He positioned soft kisses from my collarbone up to my beauty mark, never missing my lips. The air smelled sweet to my nose. The feeling of his long tongue racing down the length of my lobe until it reached the meat was chilling.
Loving You Through Our Differences Page 15
