by Love Belvin
His long, inked and corded arm reached toward me, “Your phone, please.”
My heart sank. Not that I cared about being released from this stupid program, but I didn’t like the idea of failing at something, even something as brainless as Working Toward the Stars. His tone made me feel like if I didn’t at least cooperate, he’d report me. I chewed on my bottom lip as I contemplated. My eyes scoured the court. No one was paying us any attention. Yet. I sighed as I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed it to him.
He handed it right back, “Password.”
I rolled my eyes, took it to unlock it and handed it back. Stenton tapped a few times and I could tell he was strolling down my timeline. I figured he was trying to see if I’d shared any pictures from the country club recently. He probably went into my inbox, too.
“I could rat your ass out,” rumbled from his throat.
I shrugged my shoulders. “And I could show the world your horrible jump shots.” My eyes gestured over to the Olajuwon fellow. “I could tell everyone how you need assistance from a guy with a name like that.”
His thick brows pinched, and tempting mouth curled into a controlled grin, simultaneously. He held my gaze for a minute before going back to my phone, flicking away. I was incredibly annoyed by his invasion of my privacy to see if I had breached his. Then I caught Angela’s questioning glare from across the court. I shrugged my shoulders slyly, or so I thought. When I glanced back up to Stenton Rogers, I was met with a scowl sans the grin as he followed my line of sight over to Angela.
He handed my phone back to me. “If I find any pictures of me in here, I’ll know they came from you and I’ll have you reprimanded.” His tone was derisive.
My heart pounded in my chest. “And if I find you scored a jump-shot, I’ll know you’re the world’s biggest fraud who doesn’t have any natural talent.” I met his glare.
What in the world was I talking about? I knew nothing about sports!
“Is everything all right here, Mr. Rogers?” I heard just behind me.
I turned to see the site coordinator, Jeffery, headed our way. Shoot! I was in trouble. I wouldn’t survive the embarrassment of being escorted off private property. And how would I get back to campus? Angela and her Stenton-Rogers-obsessed self wouldn’t leave this gig to run me up the highway.
All I could do was stare at Stenton with coldness in my eyes and chin in the air. I would go with my dignity, not giving him the satisfaction of my groveling.
His eyes were stapled to mine as he replied, “I was just asking Ms…” He was asking for my name. Inexplicably besieged, I couldn’t think quick enough under his piercing gaze to give it to him. But Jeffery did.
“Barrett. Elizabeth…” Jeffery provided, respectfully.
That answer only further intensified Stenton’s glare.
“Yeah…Ms. Elizabeth Barrett here to be sure to keep enough Pepsi products on ice. That’s all I drink.” Stenton never moved his eyes, so I’m sure he caught my deep exhalation of relief.
“Oh, sure, sir. We have loads of Gatorade, Tropicana and Aquafina in stock specifically for you. We are fully aware and prepared for your contractual obligations, sir,” Jeffery eagerly and efficiently advised.
Stenton nodded stiffly, but his eyes never left mine. I scrambled inside the ice box of the bar because the glare he was giving made me uncomfortable. I randomly pulled out a Lemon Lime flavored G Endurance Formula and handed it to him. If I wasn’t so perceptive, I would have missed the flash of his quizzical gaze.
“Electrolytes,” I croaked out. “To help maintain your fluid balance and regulate muscle contractions.” I nodded towards the Olajuwon guy, who was waiting with his hands on his high hips. “You need it, right?”
When my eyes returned to Stenton, I watched as his heart-shaped lips slowly twitched into a smile. He took the bottle from me, opened it and turned to walk away as he gulped from it.
“Good job, Elizabeth!” Jeffery gushed as he patted me on the shoulder before walking away. I let out a long sigh of relief.
What a close call.
After the guys were done a few hours later, we got invited to lunch. Well, it was more like Angela got us an invitation to a diner not too far from the country club after we “happened” upon Stenton Rogers and Alton Alston coming out of the locker.
Angela had me drive so that she could reapply her makeup on our five-minute ride there. As we sat in the car and waited for them in the parking lot at Angela’s insistence, feeling self-conscious about not being duteous about my appearance, I checked my long-wear MAC lipglass that my sister, Ruth, had let me borrow and saw it still glistened, even if less glossy than this morning. I was starving and wanted to eat.
“I wonder how big he is,” Angela mused as I pushed back my cuticles with my fingernail. “If he’s small, I won’t tell him, but damn, I’ll be disappointed.” She twisted in the passenger seat to face me. “You ever heard of pencil dick men? Girl, I had one or two in my day. They are the worst—or maybe the thick but short ones. Those don’t make it past your lips.” She let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know which is worse. God, please just let him be big.”
I snorted and shook my head as I continued with my nails.
Finally, they pulled up. I was tired of hearing about what Angela wanted to do to Stenton Rogers in bed and guess whether she’d get the opportunity that night. We got out of the car and walked up to the Jeep Wrangler they pulled up in. The guys were still piling out of the truck. They were with three other big, meaty men, one carrying a camera.
“What’s with the camera?” I tossed over to Angela.
“You don’t hear them talking on the courts?”
I shook my head.
“It’s for a documentary they’re doing on Alton,” she explained.
Great. Another reason I don’t need to be here!
We continued toward the restaurant behind the guys. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Stenton, who was on the phone; his tats were so loud. He wore a gray tank with blue stripes stretched across, cargo shorts, and Jordans. I noticed he put on a netted baseball cap hat he turned to the back, and brown gradient Ray Bans with lenses looking extremely conspicuous.
Alton addressed us, “Oh, y’all made it to eat, huhn?” he jeered, holding his crotch. He did that a lot. “That’s one thing you could offer college kids: give their asses food and they will dance!” He and one of the beefy guys laughed loudly.
We paced behind them into the restaurant and already, I was ready to bail. I didn’t want to lose my cool with the Alton guy. I hated the king of wisecracks type. They hurt feelings. They led us straight to the back to a large circular booth and as we ambled back there, one of the guys yelled over to the waitress by name. I saw how she immediately made her way to the back, picking up menus along the way.
As we sat, I heard Rihanna’s track, “Music of the Sun” streaming from the speakers. It was growing on me; a reggae feel. We were seated all of twenty seconds before the waitress arrived with menus. Alton referred to her by name and she blushed a shade of rose as she responded to his familiarity. They obviously came here often. I quickly settled on what I could afford and would enjoy: burger and fries. Angela ordered a steak with potatoes. Did she think we were at a formal restaurant? I knew she was trying to come off as high maintenance. I didn’t have the time for that. I wanted to get back to campus for my nap before class.
“Drew, man,” Alton called over to the guy with the camera. “You can stop recording. I don’t need me grubbing on film.”
The guy nodded and clicked off his small hand-held camera. I was relieved; we hadn’t signed anything consenting to be filmed.
“So what do you ladies do when you’re not catching balls?” Alton jeered.
The table went up in laughter. Even Stenton broke from his telephone conversation to express his amusement. I was annoyed already. Even more irritating was Angela’s contrived cackle for the joke.
“Well, you know…” Angela purre
d as she twisted her curls with her index finger. “I’m a Rutgers student, majoring in hospitality management.”
I rolled my eyes, wishing I wasn’t sitting next to her in that moment. In the circular booth, Stenton Rogers and I had the end seats with the others in between. I was sure Angela strategically sat to the right of me, believing it was closer to Stenton. Everyone with the exception of Angela and me were on their phones.
“Hospitality, huhn?” Alton supplied. “Just how hospitable are you? What kind of hospitality do you serve up?”
“The type that Stent likes,” she purred.
Ughhh!
“Oh, shit!”
“Damn!”
“All right, now!”
Everyone seemed to have a reaction except for Stenton. He did look up from his conversation, I guess caught off guard. I had no idea why; I’m sure he got this all the time.
Angela continued with her hair twirl, her eyes set on Stenton. It took him a few seconds, but he went back to his conversation, leaving her hanging. Angela needed to hook this man and soon, because I didn’t do chicken head, or bird, or thirst.
“And what type of hospitality do you serve up?” I heard Alton ask, directing his question to me.
I swear, I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t. Because looking up would have meant that the time clock on me having to use my sarcastic wit to tear into him would start, and I didn’t want to ruin this for Angela.
“Oh, you must not be college material,” he continued when I didn’t jump to answer or acknowledge him.
“No!” Angela nervously laughed. “Zoey here is a Princeton Tiger. She’s there on full scholarship. My family has brains, beauty and body.” Her tone turned husky.
She didn’t have to speak for me. It would’ve taken just a few seconds for me to devise my own retort.
“So, I ask again, brains-beauty-and-booty queen…” The guys laughed. But not Stenton. “…what’s your hospitality…today?” Alton amended.
I could have been wrong, but I could swear he was propositioning me. This was what these pompous athletes did to desperate women. That wasn’t me.
“Mmmm…” I tapped my chin. “Well today, my hospitality involved serving a refreshing beverage to a tiny floor mopper.”
“Floor mopper?” he asked confused.
“Yeah,” I replied. “You’re so petite compared to your contemporaries. If I wanted to locate you all I had to do was look at the floor.”
Angela kneed me under the table. I saw her eyes stretch wide, clearly appalled. My eyes raked over to Alton, preparing myself for a war. There was sputtering from the three random men at the table. Stenton stared at me, sheer humor in his eyes. And Alton gave me a blank stare.
I excused myself for the bathroom. As I stood to skirt out of the booth, I didn’t miss Alton’s gritty gaping, trying to catch a view of my rear. I made sure to take my time in there. The thought of hanging out, at least until the food was served, did pop into mind. But I didn’t give in. I’d already pissed Angela off with my temper.
When I got back to the table, I kept quiet and hoped Ang wasn’t too pissed with me. The Alton guy didn’t say much to me. Hopefully my teaspoon of humor was a repellent to his crass behavior. I wouldn’t hold my breath. As their conversations flowed, Angela tried to pull in Stenton, who eventually got off the phone, with flirtatious banter.
“So, you think you’re ready for another All-Star season, Stent? It’ll make three for your career,” Angela attempted.
“For him?” Alton shouted, seemingly offended. “You think Stent is the only man on that floor? Who do you think gets him the ball for those baskets?”
The waiters arrived with our food. I was so relieved. I was starved. I dug in immediately, tuning them all out. I checked back in every once in a while when Angela’s inflection changed to express interest or coquetry.
“So what—or should I say who—do you do at night, Stent?” Angela asked.
My eyes shot up from my plate in horror.
“Oh, shit!” Alton shouted. “She getting straight to the point, StentRo!”
There’s that moniker again.
Stenton wasn’t as spirited in his response as his friend. “My girl,” he answered as he poured ketchup in his plate.
I then noticed his huge salad and small side serving of fries.
Weird.
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Anyone I know?” Angela pushed.
Stenton shook his head, still not facing her. That rubbed me as strange. Did he or didn’t he? Either way, he didn’t seem to be checking for Angela.
“Well, sweetheart, if you’re looking for someone to practice that hospitality on, I’m your man. I ain’t got no girlfriend,” Alton announced.
I rolled my eyes again.
“What happened to Tynisha?” Angela inquired. “Last I saw her reality show, you had flowers delivered to her.”
Alton clapped his hands together. “She’s the mother of my kids. I treat her like the queen she deserves to be treated as. That’s how I let them other jokers know what she’s built for, know what I mean?”
That was such a weak answer. Unless you were living under a rock, everyone knew Alton and Tynisha had an on-again-off-again relationship. He was likely the reason she got her show. Apparently, she was a fashion stylist. I didn’t know who Alton was initially: I’d seen a few pictures, but wasn’t that familiar with him. And from being off the court at the country club, I couldn’t exactly see the faces of those on the floor. He’d come over a couple of times for beverages, but it never clicked until last night when I was online and came across a picture of them coming out of a fancy restaurant in Edgewater. When I Google’d him, I quickly gathered his reputation as a habitual cheater.
“So, Stent has a girlfriend?” Angela practically sang. “Is it serious?” She held her fork to her mouth sensually.
Stenton glanced up from his plate and smiled sardonically as he chewed.
Ang! Stop it…he’s not interested!
“This man is damn near married,” Alton scoffed. “That’s who he was on the phone with earlier. He just don’t want the world in their business. He keeps his shit on the low.”
So why are you sharing it with strangers?
“But everybody needs a friend, right Stent?” Angela forged ahead, ignoring Alton. “My parents have been married for twenty-three years; I know how…tight things can get.” She was twirling her hair again.
“If I were a boy…” Stenton remarked.
The table went up in a roar. In my typical hyperactive mind, I sensed a double entendre at the reference to the Beyoncé track that had been released this year. If he were a boy, he’d cheat on his girlfriend…or he wouldn’t cheat because he’d be hurt if his girlfriend did it to him? I didn’t know. One thing was for sure and that was he was playing Angela and I couldn’t stomach much more of it.
I pulled out a twenty dollar bill, placed it in the center of the table and nudged Angela. “I have to go to the bathroom and then I have a call to make. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”
“Damn! You got the shits, girl?” Alton yelped. “That burger gave you the runs?”
“If it did, you gave me a double portion with the way you were dragging on the courts today,” I hissed and left the booth.
Twenty five minutes later, as I sat in the small waiting area, they all came out of the diner, loud and boisterous as I’d left them. Goodbyes were made—or should I say, Angela gave her goodbyes to a disinterested Stenton, and Alton answered for him. I got told off the entire ride back to Princeton. Angela accused me of being standoffish.
“You didn’t have to pay for your own food, Zo. You looked like such an amateur. Everybody knows that when you go out with ballers—pun intended—you don’t pay for anything.”
“It was my food. It was only a burger and fries,” I argued.
“Ughhhh! That’s not the point, Zo! You didn’t have to pay. Then they expected me to follow suit!”
I wa
s sure they didn’t. Angela’s conscience did.
“I could’ve covered you if you didn’t have it, Ang.”
She banged her head against the steering wheel, exasperated. “Tomorrow—if we’re lucky enough to get to hang out with them—you don’t give Alton any shit, and you don’t pay.”
“Okay, Ang, but do you think your chances are better with Alton than Stenton? I mean, he seemed pretty adamant about being faithful to his girlfriend. And Alton practically begged for your attention. If you’re going to have a willing adulterer, Alton seems to be your man.”
Ang let out a hard laugh. “You can be so dense. Please, Zo! They all cheat! There is not one faithful man in the NBA, NFL, MLB or any other sport. They all fuck around!”
I nodded, taking in all of her words. I didn’t argue. I never challenged Angela on things she professed to know and I had no knowledge of. The subject of men was a topic that she could run circles around my head with. I wasn’t as experienced in relationships as she was.
After wrapping up that scolding conversation, I took to my dorm and engaged in a much needed nap. I slept for three hours, waking up in just enough time to get to class.
While walking back to my dorm for the night, I went into Facebook, still hoping to catch that video from Bernard. What I found immediately was a friend request and a new inbox. The friend request was from a Notnet Srego. That was a strange name and I initially thought it was spam until I went into the inbox and found a message from this person.
Have you taken that philosophy course yet?
Huhn?
I replied: What’s up with the profile name?
Anonymity.
That was a bit strange to me. Because it was school related, I decided to accept it and hold off on replying. I then went into my timeline and found the video finally. I watched it several times before passing out that night, so proud that a piece of the talent in the choir’s harmonious sounds came from my church.
The next day, we got invited to lunch with the guys again. And that day, I did temper my words and reactions to Alton’s crassness at the diner.
“Yo, last week, I had this squirter!” he announced with so much emotion that he seemed pained, as we sat in the same booth.
