by Nicole Falls
After hemming and hawing about it, I decided to go ahead and submit my information for approval to join the site. If nothing else came out of the experience, there would definitely be fodder for story time with Quel and baby sis. I scrolled back, briefly reassessing the profile information before throwing caution to the wind and hitting submit. There was still a vetting process that had to happen before I would gain full access to the site, so there was a chance that this was all in vain. I also hoped that since they had their vetting process in place to weed out the pervs and weirdos that the caliber of men housed behind the pay wall would be better than the ones I’ve watched the girls swipe left and/or right on through the free dating apps. JON.com was sort of my last resort because I’d be goddamned if I considered any of this other mess that was out there. I mean honestly, what happened to the good old days when you could just go out for a night on the town, meet a guy, decide if you were gonna fuck and let that be that?
Jeez, I sounded like an old lady. Truth was…I’m old and tired and really just want a man who is super into minimal contact, on my terms. I’ve been through my fair share of men who thought I was looking for a dad for my son—I was not—or a husband to make me whole. Patrick and I were not wanting for anything physically, mentally, fiscally or spiritually, but I was for damn sure lacking sexually since Tim had left me for the love of his life. I sighed, then pressed the submit button. What the hell…nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
Just as I’d sat my tablet to the side and grabbed the remote to catch up on my DVRed shows, Patrick slinked into the room. My baby boy was all long and gangly now, no longer my little chub faced cuddle bug, so I found it strange that he immediately sat down and burrowed into my side wrapping his arms around me. I relished it for a quick second because who knew how long this show of affection would last. After a few minutes, I pulled back and stared at him skeptically.
“Hi, mommy.”
Oh boy…he’s pulling the ‘mommy’ card, so he either did something terrible or wants something expensive, I thought.
I kept eyeing him, but saying nothing.
“What…why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“What’s up, kiddo? I know you’re trying to butter me up, so just let it out.”
“So, you know how I really, really, really wanna see LeBron play in real life?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“Well…Danny’s dad has extra tickets to the game on Saturday and he invited me to go, but we gotta pay for my ticket.”
“We gotta pay, huh? You got a job I don’t know about?”
“Maaaaaaa,” PJ whined, “You know what I mean.”
We sat for a few minutes at an impasse. I could tell he was fighting valiantly not to beg and it was taking everything in me not to burst out laughing. The truth was, I’d been looking into getting him tickets to this game as a reward for making the A honor roll for the eighth semester in a row. I was so distracted with work drama, however, that I had forgotten to follow up with Cel to see if she would be interested in taking him. I had zero interest in spending a Saturday afternoon watching men chase a ball up and down a court and figured that since she had created this basketball-loving monster, the least she could do was attend the games with him as well. It was bad enough having to sit through these games with hordes of uncoordinated pre-teens as a Team Mom. While the eye candy would be a perk for sitting through the professionals, if I could avoid the smells of a sweaty gym I was happy.
“How much are the tickets, son?” I asked.
“I…don’t know? Danny said his dad would give us a reasonable deal though!”
“Oh yeah, so you and Danny have this all worked out, hunh?”
Patrick nodded, “Yep, see I knew you wouldn’t want to go and Auntie Cel is prolly busy with JP, so we figured I could just spend the night over Danny’s Friday night and then ride with him and Mr. P over to the arena on Saturday. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about getting up early to drop me off over there or having to come to the game yourself.”
He sat back, with a hopeful gleam in his eyes looking pretty impressed with himself. Not gonna lie, I was slightly impressed, too. My baby was growing up. He and his lil homie had schemed their way into a pretty succinct plan, barring the fact that they made a lot of assumptions regarding how their parents would just fall in line with the plans that they’d made with no regard to anything we may have had in the mix already.
“Let me make a call to Miss Leila and make sure she’s okay with this plan, see how much the ticket costs, and then we’ll see?”
“Are you gonna call her right now? I mean…time is kinda of the essence, ma.”
I laughed, shooing him away as I rolled my eyes, “I will talk to her sometime between tonight and tomorrow, son. You already know it’s pretty much a done deal, so gone somewhere.”
“Thank you, mama,” PJ said, smothering me with hugs and kisses.
I soaked it up knowing that my time before he became a too cool teen boy would come too quickly and I should relish the affection while he gave it freely. PJ ran off, to call Danny and confirm that their plan had worked, no doubt and I grabbed my tablet to make a Face Time call. As I waited for it to connect, I examined my face in the screen—taking note of the formerly fine lines around my eyes that seemed to have deepened overnight. Thirty-fine was quickly giving way to the rapidly approaching forty and I was feeling…a bit put out by it all. Not that I minded aging because I’m definitely like a fine wine, but as the years progressed, I found myself deeply reevaluating some of my life’s choices and wondering if I made the right ones. Before I could get too far down the rabbit hole of those thoughts, the Face Time call connected.
“So did you join?”
“Hey Quel. How are you?”
“Yeah yeah hoe, pleasantries and all that. Did. You. Join?”
I nodded once and Raquel squealed in delight.
“I didn’t think you had it in you! My girl,” she said, jigging a little in her seat.
“You didn’t think I had what in me? Did you forget Tim?”
“Oh girl please, Tim was happenstance. Before him, your girl had cobwebs on her. You didn’t even bring my godson into the world via the old fashioned way and the last time you steadily talked about getting dicked down LBJ was in office, so…”
I tried, but failed to hold back a shriek of laughter at her ridiculousness. Raquel and I went back like four flats on a Cadillac. She had been my very best friend since we met in Kindergarten in Mrs. Papadopoulos’ class. She had a Care Bears backpack and Rainbow Brite lunchbox; I had a Rainbow Brite backpack and a Care Bears lunchbox so in a stroke of brilliance she convinced me to exchange lunchboxes so that we wouldn’t be mismatched. My mama tanned my hide when I got home, but it was worth it. Quel and I had been thick as thieves ever since. She knew almost all of my secrets and where most of the bodies were hidden. Outside of my sister, she was the one constant in my life that I could always count on.
“You know I can’t stand your ass, right?”
“But you love me,” she replied without missing a beat.
That was for sure. She was on a short list of few for whom I’d take a bullet.
“So you ever gonna tell me how you really found out about JON.com or are we making up a new lie on today?”
Raquel laughed and quickly averted her eyes asking, “Where’s my godson?”
Patrick happened to be walking into the kitchen when she inquired so he yelled out, “Hey Auntie Rocky” as he made his way, undoubtedly, to eat up all the snacks. I swear it felt like I was going grocery shopping every three days messing around with his hungry behind.
“Hey, my love. Come over here so I can see how much you’ve grown since I saw you last.”
“You ain’t slick,” I said lowly, “And you haven’t sidestepped my questions so as soon as you’re done with your fake fawning…”
“Sweet Sister Patty Cake, why don’t you know how to let things go?”
“Ra
quel Rachelle, why do you keep trying to hold onto secrets from me? You know it’ll all come out eventually.”
“Exactly, so exercise some patience, my good sis. You’ll find out sooner or later.”
I rolled my eyes and kept the conversation moving in another direction. She was being purposefully cagey, which let me know that when the bomb was eventually dropped it’d likely be extinction level event. That was just Quel’s way. She loved to keep things bottled, then over process, and finally talk things through with me way after the fact. She always needed that space to work things out and I normally granted it, but with this site, I knew whatever it was had to be juicy. Our conversation quickly came to a close, with Quel making me promise to hit her up the minute my profile was approved so we could go through my matches together.
***
Having a Saturday to myself was a rare event. I usually spent them shuttling my son to this or that event, game, or birthday party. We were on a brief hiatus from sports, however, and Patrick had been gone since last night since the Pattersons graciously allowed him to spend the night with their family. I slept in a bit, got a quick workout in, and now…at 10am I was completely and utterly bored. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that I missed the boy’s presence or felt lost without him here. Quite the opposite in fact, but I’d caught up on all my DVRed shows, the house was relatively clean, and I had so few local friends that there was no one I could call up for an impromptu brunch situation.
I grabbed the remote, ready to lose myself in a Law & Order SVU marathon when suddenly I got a craving for something sweet. A quick perusal of my kitchen left my craving unsatisfied, so I decided to make a quick run to the grocery store. En route to the store, my plans were modified as I drove past Sweet Thang Patisserie. Recalling those desserts I’d sampled the night I mistakenly crashed the private opening, I knew that my craving would be satisfied. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to see that fine ass proprietor again—Devin or Darren…whatever his name was. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had set me off from a simple handshake, but that one there? Whew. I drove around the block, pulling back in front of the bakery as a car exited from a parking space right in front.
The inside of Sweet Thang was quaint and stylistically simple. The space wasn’t especially large, but the way in which the display cases were positioned made it appear larger than it actually was. I’d barely crossed the threshold when the smell of something delightful tickled my nose. A very perky voice chirped a greeting.
“Hi! And welcome to Sweet Thang, how may I assist you?”
I looked over to my right to see a young girl who appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties, standing near the cash wrap.
“What am I smelling right now and how do I get it in my face hole immediately?”
The young girl looked taken aback as the rumble of masculine laughter greeted my ears. I turned to the sound and an equally young looking—but very handsome—man answered my inquiry, “That would be our chocolate hazelnut beignets. The boss man’s pastry of the day.”
“I’ll take six!”
The young man laughed again and began boxing up my order. I was tempted to ask where “the boss man” was, but I refrained. Sure, a part of me had stopped in here specifically hoping to catch a glimpse of him again, but I wasn’t that thirsty. Besides, it’d look odd as hell for me to be summoning a stranger to say hello. I quickly paid for the beignets, thanking the kids behind the counter and made my way back home to settle in with the elite squad known as the special victims unit.
DAMON
“Dame, I’ma owe you big time for this one, bruh,” Daniel said, as he handed over the tickets.
He’d called me about an hour ago begging for me to do him a favor that, honestly? Wasn’t that huge of an ordeal at all. Leila woke up feeling terrible, so he had to rearrange plans he’d had to hang out with JJR and one of his little homies for the day. They were supposed to be going to see our squad get whooped on by LeBron and company, then going to a park and working on some ball handling skills with Nico. All in all it would just take a few hours out of my day, so I wasn’t too stressed about it. I had nothing planned beyond hanging around the patisserie today, but Jami and Tyrel were more than capable of handling it. If anything pressing came up, they knew to hit my line. Saturdays tended to be one of our busier days, but with being open for a few weeks now, I’d been able to pinpoint our peak periods of busy and adjust the support staff for such. A few weeks we’d actually had to close early because there was nothing left to sell.
“It’s nothing, Danny. I was a little tight you ain’t invite me to the game with you and JR anyway,” I said, laughing.
“He wanted to bring one of his lil potnas, so you know how that go…”
“No doubt. It worked out though,” I said, snatching the tickets out of his hand as I followed him out of the door. The boys were waiting inside my truck, blasting some bullshit on my radio about all of their friends being dead. I climbed in and immediately switched the music over to 4:44. My Super Uncle coolness only goes so far and I’d be goddamned if I would sit through that mumble rap bullshit on our forty minute ride.
“Awww, Uncle Dame! We don’t wanna listen to this old school rap,” JR complained.
“Old school? Boy this damn album barely a couple months old.”
“Yeah, but only old people listen to Jay Z.”
“That’s not true,” his friend piped up, “I love Hov.”
“More than Lil Uzi Vert? Migos?” JR challenged.
“Absolutely. Hov, Nas, Big, Rakim…my moms raised me right.”
I stifled a laugh, “What’s your name again, kid?”
“Patrick,” he replied.
“Patrick can stay. JR, I’m questioning our relation and my brother’s parenting skills right now.”
“Maaaaan come on, Uncle Dame.”
Our conversation continued with me cracking jokes on them and them trying to put me up on game about some of the shit they were into. It had been a while since I’d had an extended period of time just chopping it up with my nephew and I was impressed. Both he and Patrick were articulate and thoughtful young men at a pretty young age. We talked about everything from music to movies to sports and they had strong, well-supported arguments for their choices of favorites at every turn. It made for an interesting ride into the city. Once we got to the arena and loaded up on snacks, I was persona non grata for the boys. Between eating and being hyped watching squad warm ups, they were in their own little world.
***
At half time, I decided to call Nico to make sure he was still down with meeting us at Pembroke Park after the game. Surprisingly, he answered on the second ring.
“Sup Daddy Daycare,” he greeted me.
“Hardy har, nigga. You still game for skills drills with the youngins this afternoon?”
“Yep, bring em over to Indoor Sports instead of Pembroke though. It’s hotter than hell outside.”
“Can’t have Tricky D busting a sweat outchea in these streets.”
“Chill…you tryna send ya future stepson home with heatstroke?”
“Step son?”
“Uh yeah nigga, was your head so far up his mama’s ass that night that you don’t recognize PJ?”
I looked over at the kid and all of a sudden it clicked for me.
“Yoooo, this is shorty’s shorty.”
“Uh, yeah nigga. I just said that.”
“Aight so bet, maybe I’ll hang out with y’all for a while. Drop the boys off at home when they’re through with you. You know…so you don’t have to go out of your way.”
“You ain’t slick, Dame. I peep your game.”
“I’m just looking out for a brother. Mama always said I was the most considerate of us all,” I laughed.
“Cool out. Aye, but if you sticking around you know that means you gon get put to work.”
“I had no doubt.”
“Aight bruh, see y'all in a bit.”
“One.”
; The second half of the game proved to be more interesting than the first. We’d gone to the locker room with a thirty-two point deficit to the Cavs, but here we were in the final couple of minutes of the game only trailing by one. Both teams were going shot for shot, the lead changing every twenty seconds until the last possession. There were eighteen seconds left on the game clock and our point guard was bringing the ball up the floor. He shot up a three pointer and more than half of the arena was holding their breath as the ball seemed to float toward the hoop in slow motion. The ball swished through the rim, all net—leaving the Cavs less than three seconds to force up a shot or draw a foul. They were unable to convert and our squad left the floor victorious. Our car ride over to Indoor Sports was filled with the boys’ endless chatter about the game. I was in disbelief about the result myself, certain that we were gonna get washed.
By the time that we arrived at Indoor Sports, Dominick had cleared out one of the ball courts for our exclusive use. I guess that was the perk of being the boss man. It also helped that we were a few weeks out from league play; so most of the folks in here today were here for open gym or leisure. Having worked with both of the boys as their coach last year, Nico was familiar with their skill levels and designed a quick workout to build on their strengths as well as challenge them a bit. We spent the next hour running drills and playing a little two-on-two. Nico and JR made up one team, while Patrick and I were the other. We split one game apiece and after a fierce back and forth, Patrick and I came out as the victors of game three. I may not have been the former NBA All-star slash future hall of famer, but I held my own on the court and that kid Patrick? His ball handling skills were unreal. His precision was to be coveted by folks twice his age.
