We drive off through the downpour as I think about Lexi’s parting words. Not the part about her being available for sex, but about how she appreciated my showing restraint for a woman who I’m not even sure I can call my girlfriend at this point. I haven’t spent much time thinking about what Rashida and I have going on, and it’s probably too early to label it, but I know it’s more than just a few quick fucks. I know I don’t want to enter into anything serious with something on my conscience that I might have to confess later, so I have no doubt that I made the right choice regarding Lexi, despite how badly I wanted to fuck her. Sometimes you just must do what’s right, even if it sucks to do it.
I also think about Andre’s words to me in the club. I used to not give a shit what my teammates thought of me, but my teammate’s words were heartwarming. Whatever changes I’ve made to my playing style in recent weeks really rallied my teammates around me, and they’ve accepted me as the Lakers’ de facto leader.
When I get back to my room, I strip out of my wet clothes. I try to blow-dry my shoes, but give up after a few minutes. It’s nearly two in the morning by the time I grab my phone and call Rashida. It’ll be midnight her time, but hopefully she’s still up. Since we haven’t been able to see each other much, we’ve been talking almost every day.
I hear a sleepy, sexy voice on the other end. “I know you lost, but Jayden and I are so proud of you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says. “You were magnificent, baby.”
She called me baby again. I’m starting to think I could get used to that.
“Was Little Man upset that we lost?” I ask.
“He cried a little because he wanted to go to more games this year. But I told him you were coming back to LA and that maybe we could all go to the beach or the zoo.”
“We can definitely do that,” I say.
“And I told him there will be more Lakers games next year…” There’s a beat of silence, then she says, “I’m sorry, Marcus. I shouldn’t assume that this will… that we’ll still be… doing this.” She doesn’t know how to say it, though I know exactly what she means.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rashida.”
When she doesn’t speak, I continue. “I like you more than you probably realize, and I want to see where this leads. I’m hoping you feel the same about me.”
It takes a few seconds for her to respond. “I do. I’m just afraid.”
I assume she means she’s worried that I’ll tire of a divorced mom with a kid, especially when I have so many other options available, and I can’t even say with certainty that she’s not right about that. This thing just feels different, though. I wish I could tell Rashida that I turned down a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy fuck tonight because I couldn’t get her out of my mind, but she wouldn’t understand.
“Maybe we should just see where it takes us,” I tell her. “All I know is that I’m dying to see you again.”
“Then hurry home to me. I’ll be here waiting.”
We continue to talk for nearly two hours, mostly about the game and about Jayden, avoiding the subject of our maybe-relationship.
I have almost no experience regarding the topic, but by the time we finally hang up, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love.
24
Rashida
I drift off to sleep at two in the morning, afloat on a cloud of optimism. Marcus is the first man I’ve felt this way about since my marriage. As much as I want to be cautious, especially because of his history, the last few weeks have given me reason to think this might blossom into something more than just amazing sex. Possibly even something much more.
I do know I’ve fallen for this man, and I sense the feeling is mutual.
I have butterflies in my stomach from the moment I wake up. The team flight lands at LAX at two this afternoon, and he’s promised to come by tonight to spend time with Jayden and me.
The kid is already awake, watching cartoons in the living room, a half-eaten bowl of Froot Loops and milk in front of him. I start the coffee, then get comfy on the couch.
“Sweetie, can I change the channel to find Marcus?” I ask. He nods when he hears the only name that can get him to forget about “Teen Titans Go!” I flip to NBA TV, but they’re showing a replay of the Dallas-Orlando game, so I move on to SportsCenter on ESPN.
We only wait a few minutes before they get to the top of the hour, where the lead story is the Rockets’ victory over the Lakers, with Marcus’s performance given prominent mention despite his team’s loss. They show him shredding Houston’s defense again and again, before they finally get to the final call by the referees that ended the Lakers’ season. Jayden cheers when they show the interview clip with Marcus guaranteeing a championship for the Lakers next year.
SportsCenter host Thad Warren then says, “But let’s not feel too bad for Marcus Jennings, because he was able to drown his sorrows—literally—with rocker Lexi Snow afterward.”
On my TV I see a picture of Marcus kissing a woman in the pouring rain, her arms wrapped around his neck. Their clothes and her hair are thoroughly drenched and they don’t seem to notice.
My breath slowly leaves my suddenly numb body.
“Not too shabby of a consolation prize. Thanks to TMZ for the picture. Rock on, Marcus,” Warren says.
“Marcus was kissing that girl!” Jayden shouts, laughing, fully unaware of the affect his words and that image are having on his mother.
I turn the TV back to cartoons and rush to find my laptop, already starting to rationalize what I just saw. That picture may have been taken months ago. Surely it couldn’t have been last night, because he called me from his room. He told me on the phone that he missed me, and couldn’t wait to see me again. He even said he missed Jayden. What if it was just someone who looked like Marcus?
At the kitchen counter I fire up my laptop, then quickly open a browser and go to the TMZ website. I don’t have to scroll down far before I see a headline about Marcus.
Marcus Jennings Scores With Lexi Snow
My heart sinks when I click and read that the pictures were taken last night outside of a nightclub in Houston. There are half a dozen photos, and you can see both Marcus and Lexi Snow’s faces clearly in some of them. In a few they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. In others, they’re kissing, their lips pressed firmly together. One photo shows that woman’s breasts as clear as can be through her wet tank top. She might as well have been topless, and they both look like fools standing out there in the rain.
I close my computer as the weight of the situation descends on me, breaking my heart and crushing my spirit. Bursting into tears, I lower my head to the counter and sob, huge soul-shattering tears.
This can’t be happening, it just can’t. Please, God, no.
How could I have been so stupid? I’m not some groupie, I’m a businesswoman with more common sense than most people. How did I not see this coming? Why didn’t I realize this was inevitable?
A tug on my pajama bottoms snaps me out of it.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?”
I look down into those innocent eyes and wipe my tears away as best I can.
“Mommy doesn’t feel well,” I say, then gather up all my strength. “Everything will be fine, Jayden. I’m going to go take a shower, okay? You watch your cartoons.”
He does as he’s told and I go to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the water in the shower. Without getting in, I lean my back against the bathroom wall and sink all the way down to the floor as I resume my crying.
How could Marcus sleep with another woman so soon after being in my bed? Didn’t the time we shared mean anything to him? More importantly, how could I have trusted that man in the first place? His reputation says that’s exactly the kind of thing he would do; it was practically guaranteed to happen. I’ve been so, so stupid, blinded by his looks, his charm, and his skills as a lover.
I continue to cry until my chest hurts and it feels as if the life is dra
ining out of me. Then when I remember how crazy Jayden is about Marcus, I start getting pissed off. I’m a mother with a child who needs to be protected from shit like this. He needs responsible, grown men in his life, not childish, spoiled millionaires who get distracted by the first butterfly that flits by.
By the time I pull myself together and rejoin Jayden, I’m livid at Jennings, but even more so at that part of me that was secretly thinking I could change him and mold him into a decent man. I’m angry at myself for wanting so badly to believe we might have a future together. And I ache because Marcus’s betrayal means Jayden will have to wait even longer to have a father figure in his life again.
Jayden is expecting Marcus to come by later tonight, so I’m going to distract him by taking him to the zoo for the afternoon. Then I can gently break the news that Marcus won’t be coming by any more.
25
Marcus
The flight back to LA is more cheerful than expected. That sense of optimism for next year has buoyed our spirits and despite the loss, everyone’s in a good mood. To a man, we all feel like we proved something in these last two games.
I keep thinking about the missed opportunity with Lexi, but I’m surprisingly at peace with it. I like where things are headed with Rashida, and she’s more valuable to me than a one-night stand with a celebrity. I feel good about the fact that I was loyal to her, despite such a big temptation.
The closer we get to Los Angeles, the more excited I am about seeing Rashida again. We’ve only slept together twice, but I can’t stop thinking about how amazing our sex is. Besides that, I haven’t been able to spend much time with her because of the playoffs and I’m looking forward to dinners, movies, maybe even introducing her to the Bad Boys Club to see what they think. That would be a first for me, but it doesn’t feel out of the question.
“Yo, MJ! You’re on TMZ, man.”
I turn behind me to see Patrick Rucker, the Lakers’ backup center, walking up the aisle with his laptop. He stops next to my seat and holds the computer in front of me. “Lexi Snow? Damn dude, you were on fire last night.”
The website has an image of me and Lexi kissing in the deluge outside the club. When I see it, I instantly imagine it through Rashida’s eyes. In reality, that kiss only lasted a second, but here online it will be immortalized with our lips pressed together for all eternity. There are several other pictures, too, and even the ones where we’re not kissing look incriminating.
I tell Patrick that nothing happened, but his expression says he doesn’t believe me and I don’t waste time trying to convince him. When he’s back in his seat, I pull up the site on my iPad and look at the pics again. I have to figure out something to tell Rashida, some explanation she’ll believe. Then I realize who I’m talking about and decide I need to tell her the truth. Rashida will believe me that nothing happened, that I didn’t have sex with Lexi. She’s a smart woman, and even better, she trusts me.
Still, I need to talk to Rashida quickly, hopefully before she sees those pictures. I turn on my phone and send her a text.
Just landed. We need to talk ASAP. Can I stop by?
I wait a few minutes and get no response, then I try again.
You there?
Still no answer.
I call her number and get her voicemail. This is not good.
The next half hour until the plane lands at LAX is torture. Before the wheels hit the tarmac, I instruct the team’s equipment manager to take my luggage to the team’s training facility and that I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I clean out my locker for the summer. As soon as the door opens, I hurry through the terminal. I try Rashida’s number and get her voicemail again, so this time I leave a message.
“Hey, I just got to LAX. We need to talk, okay? This is important. Call me.”
I still don’t know if she’s seen the picture yet, but as I walk past a bar I see that same fucking image on ESPN of Lexi and me locked in that never-ending kiss.
It’s hard to get to the parking garage without attracting a crowd. I sign a few autographs and pose for some pictures with people, but politely excuse myself by saying I’m in a huge hurry—which I am. I find my Range Rover and make my way out of LAX.
Just as I pull away from the terminal my phone dings with a text from Rashida.
I’d prefer to never see you ever again, Marcus.
What? Before I can process it, another text comes in.
But stop by my place right now and I’ll give you 5 minutes.
A third and final text arrives.
You need to look me in the eye like a man when you apologize.
Oh, shit. This is not good.
I drive straight to Rashida’s condo, filled with mixed emotions. I’m pissed at TMZ and ESPN for sensationalizing a moment that was basically nothing at all, and certainly not newsworthy. I’m upset at Lexi, who likely pulled that little stunt in full view of the paparazzi because she knew it get her some publicity. I’m also livid with myself for my part in this entire situation.
I park in front of Rashida’s condo building, aware that I’ve never been this anxious about a woman before. I don’t like feeling this way. I really don’t want this relationship to end right now, and especially not on such a sour note.
The intercom buzzer sounds and the downstairs door unlocks without a word from the speaker. In the elevator, I remind myself to tell the truth. Rashida will understand if I just tell her what really happened.
I’m nervous as fuck when I knock on the door, though.
Rashida opens it with fire in her eyes. At the same time, she’s obviously taken the time to do her hair and makeup and pick out something flattering to wear, so she still cares what I think about her, even if she won’t admit it.
“Come in, Marcus,” she says, turning her back on me and proceeding to her living room.
I enter, wanting to give her a huge hug but knowing that’s a bad idea right now. Instead I take a seat in a chair near the couch.
“Don’t sit,” Rashida says gruffly. “You won’t be staying long.”
I stand and look into her eyes. “Is Jayden here?” I ask when I notice he’s not around.
“No, he’s not here. He’s with a friend. I don’t want him to see you again.”
The words sting, as much for her feeling the need to voice them as for the possibility that she might follow through.
“Rashida, I’m very sorry about this and promise to make it up to you.”
I try to hug her, but she puts both hands on my chest to keep me away. She’s glaring, her rage just beneath the surface.
“Make it up to me? How, Marcus? By going back in time and not doing it?”
“Nothing happened. It was just a quick, friendly kiss goodbye. That’s all. I didn’t sleep with Lexi.”
It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me, so I try to tell enough of the truth to satisfy her.
“I went to the club with some teammates, and she was there. We talked for a while and she wanted me to go home with her. I said I couldn’t, that I was in a relationship. When we left the club at the same time—in separate cars—she came up to say goodbye. The kiss caught me off-guard. Then I got in a cab and went back to the hotel and called you. And that’s the truth.”
“So, nothing else happened? Nothing at all?”
I could leave it at that and hope that she believes me. But I promised myself to be completely honest with her.
“We kissed once or twice in the club. I had a few drinks and couldn’t believe I was talking to this famous singer I’ve been a fan of for years. But I stopped before it got serious.”
I see tears beginning to form and wonder whether honesty was the right approach after all.
“You swear you didn’t have sex with her?” The words sound harsh and accusatory.
“I swear. She came on to me, but I told her no.”
“Did anything else happen?”
“No.”
Okay, it’s not the complete truth. I left out the groping, but tellin
g her that isn’t going to help. I soften my voice as much as possible.
“To be honest, I’ve dreamed of having sex with Lexi Snow for years, since I was a teenager. When the invitation to do exactly that was handed to me, it took me a minute to resist. The temptation was strong, but my desire not to betray you was stronger.”
“Don’t do me any favors. You say you didn’t fuck the rock star—what do you want, a pat on the back?”
I sense that I’m losing this battle, and I know this may be my only chance to sort things out.
“Rashida, I turned her down because I didn’t want to jeopardize us. Especially before we even have a chance to see if this thing—this magic we feel together might be real. I want to find out— “
“Find out what?” she interrupts. “Whether you and I might be a good match? That should be obvious to you by now. It was obvious to me, until this Lexi Snow thing. Now when I look at you, I see just another spoiled rich jock, and I was stupid enough to be one of your groupies for a couple of nights. But no more. We are done.”
I need to do something drastic. “You’re willing to lose whatever we have because I made a momentary mistake, then stopped myself before things went too far.”
A single tear drips down the side of her cheek, and she quickly wipes it off.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” she asks. “Things did go too far. I’m supposed to tell myself that this guy I’m so crazy about was playing around with another woman, but it’s okay because he stopped himself in time? I can’t do that.”
I sigh heavily. “You’ve got to believe me that nothing else happened.”
“It doesn’t matter! I don’t want a man who forgets about me that easily. I don’t want to wonder when the time will come when you don’t stop yourself. When something does happen and TMZ isn’t there and you decide to just keep it a secret.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 3: Marcus Page 17
