The Outside Child

by Tiffany L. Warren

  As much as I love giving everyone else a glam makeup look, I never do that for myself. I take a nude lip gloss out of my purse, shine my lips, and throw some highlighter on my cheekbones. That’s it. Shimmer and gloss.

  When I emerge from the room, Brayden quickly stands. He smooths out his black linen shirt and holds out his hand to me.

  “You look so beautiful,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  “You ready for my surprise?”

  I feel like I look stupid with this silly grin on my face, but I can’t believe this. I’ve never had anything romantic happen to me before. I mean, I’ve had dates. I’ve had relationships. But they’ve always been practical, because I’m a practical girl. If I’m attracted to a man, and he’s attracted to me, it just makes sense for us to get together.

  I don’t play games. I barely flirt, and so maybe that’s why I’ve never been wooed. But Brayden seems like this is his typical behavior.

  I take his hand and let him lead the way.

  I wait for him to start chatting, because that’s what people always do when it’s quiet. But I’m enjoying the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore. It’s such a peaceful sound.

  Brayden surprises me by enjoying the quiet, too. He looks out at the water and back at me, but he doesn’t say anything. Almost like a spell would be broken if he does.

  We stop at a staircase that leads down to the beach.

  “We’re going down there?” I ask.

  “That’s where the surprise is,” Brayden says.

  I hold onto Brayden’s arm as he leads me down the winding staircase. The scent of Jamaican spices tickles my nose as we descend and makes my stomach growl. This makes Brayden laugh.

  “You hungry, Chenille?”

  “I’m starving. I’m so glad I smell something delicious.”

  “I got you. This should be good.”

  When we get to the bottom of the stairs, and I see the scene set before me, my jaw drops.

  “Brayden . . . oh, my goodness.”

  In front of me is a candlelit path leading to a table set for two. There are three servers, all wearing smiles on their faces.

  “So, you ready to eat?” Brayden asks.

  He’s clearly enjoying my reaction to his surprise. He can’t stop smiling, like he’s proud of himself.

  “Yes, I’m ready to eat.”

  Brayden pulls me over to the table and helps me get seated. Immediately, wine is being poured and food is being served. I feel like royalty.

  “Did they make this happen because you’re a celebrity?” I ask.

  Brayden shakes his head. “No. It costs a little extra, but they’ll do it for anyone who wants it.”

  “Well, it’s beautiful. Thank you. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

  “This is nothing. Wait until I cook for you.”

  My eyes widen. “You cook?”

  “Yes. I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich and a banging pot of Texas chili.”

  This makes me laugh loud and hard. I just knew he was about to say something like some blackened red snapper or some sort of steak. That would just be perfect to go along with this romantic image he’s been giving me since he rescued me from having to sleep on the beach.

  “Well, I do cook, actually,” I say. “When I have time.”

  “What’s your specialty?”

  “I’m from ATL, baby. My specialty is soul food. I fry the heck out of some chicken, make macaroni and cheese that makes you want to smack your mama, and a pound cake that will have you going right to the jewelry store to buy me an engagement ring.”

  “I can’t wait to taste some.”

  “So, you intend on asking me to cook for you?”

  “I hope it’ll happen organically. Is that something you would do for your man?”

  “You’re not my man.”

  “I’m going to be.”

  I take a bite of my grilled lobster tail to keep from responding. I mean, I don’t know if he’s going to be anything outside of this trip to Jamaica. It would be nice to think that he might, but my business is popping right now, and a relationship with an NFL player sounds just like drama, and counterproductive to my money.

  “What if I’m not looking for a man?”

  Brayden’s eyebrows shoot up, like he’s not expecting this to be a possibility. I know his confidence may be dashed a little bit, but I don’t want to give him unrealistic expectations.

  “I’m sorry. I assumed you were single.”

  “I am.”

  “But you’re not interested in dating?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know if I’m looking or not. You seem nice.”

  Brayden nods. “I am nice. I’d like us to get to know each other better.”

  “Even if I don’t know how I feel about starting a relationship?”

  “Yes. I think when you get to know me you’ll change your mind. I think you won’t want to lose me.”

  Again, I’m at a loss for words. He’s convinced me that I just might want to pursue this. If only I hadn’t just gotten out of the worst relationship ever.

  “This is nice, but, I . . . I just broke up with someone. I kinda need a break from being a girlfriend, or from having a boyfriend.”

  “Someone broke up with you?”

  “I broke up with him.”

  Brayden nods. “Ah. Did he hurt you?”

  “He did.”

  “I have horrible timing, then.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  The waiters remove the dinner plates and set several different desserts in front of us. Key lime pie, rum raisin ice cream, and bread pudding. It’s all delicious, but the mood is somber now. The romance has faded.

  “Have you ever been to an NFL training camp?” Brayden asks.

  “No. I don’t follow sports, remember?”

  “Right. Would you like to attend one?”

  “What would I do there?”

  “There are times when you can watch some of the training, but mostly we could just hang out in my downtime.”

  Now I’m lost. I just told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and that I’d just broken up with a guy, but he’s still in hot pursuit.

  “I don’t understand why you’re inviting me to the camp. I’m sure there’s another girl who might actually want the experience and enjoy it.”

  “I don’t want another girl to come.”

  “I’m confused. You’re still trying to holla at me?”

  He nods. “It’ll just take longer. I’m patient.”

  I sit back in my chair and watch Brayden devour his desserts. I want to believe that he’s different than the other men I’ve dated, but the thing is, you never know until the hurting has already happened. It’s always hindsight with me when it comes to men. But . . .

  “Okay, I’ll come.”

  I’ll go. Only because he seems so different from Cody. Hell, he’s different from any guy that’s ever tried to get with me. I hope my instincts are right.

  Chapter 6

  Brayden had checked his phone five times in the last thirty minutes. He was waiting for Chenille’s plane to land in Los Angeles for the training camp. He hoped that she wouldn’t get cold feet and change her mind.

  Since Jamaica, they’d talked a few times on FaceTime and on the phone, and Brayden had learned a lot about Chenille’s life. He considered her a friend, and thought she considered him one, too, but he had no idea if he was making any headway on her becoming his woman. And that was the goal.

  “Man, what’s wrong with you?” Jarrod asked as he downed a wheat germ smoothie.

  They were in training camp, so alcohol was off limits, but they went to the hotel bar every night anyway, trading in their cognac for healthy beverages.

  “Just waiting to see if Chenille is going to show up.”

  “You don’t know? Did you buy the plane ticket?”

  “Yeah, but she’s always working. If she gets a good enough gig, she’d pro
bably not come, and then reimburse me for the ticket.”

  Jarrod closed his eyes and shook his head. “What is your point with this girl, anyway? You didn’t get any in Jamaica, or since then. Shit, you can’t even get a naughty picture in your inbox.”

  “You don’t know what’s in my inbox.”

  “The makeup artist isn’t the type to send you nudes. If she was, you would’ve tapped that in Jamaica. No, she’s—”

  “The type of woman you marry.”

  Jarrod hollered with laughter. “No. She’s the type of girl you marry. The girl I marry is gonna be a straight-up freak. She’s gonna give it to me on the first date, and then bring her friend for us to share on the second date.”

  Brayden frowned and checked his phone again. No texts, so he checked Chenille’s social media posts. Then he smiled. He held the phone up for Jarrod to see it.

  Chenille had posted, Wheels up, finally. Missed my first flight fooling with this Atlanta traffic.

  “So she is coming to see you,” Jarrod said. “Too bad you can’t get any during training camp.”

  Their head coach, Bill Wyatt, hated for the players to have any distractions during camp. Alcohol, women, and family were off limits, although most everyone snuck in a girlfriend or groupie. But if a player even so much as yawned during a morning practice, it was on and popping. Coach Wyatt went on a rampage.

  “We’re just friends right now, though, so it’s all good,” Brayden said. “I just want to spend some time with her. See her in person again.”

  “You sound sprung.”

  “How can I be sprung? We’ve started a friendship, and that’s it. Nothing to be sprung about.”

  “I’ve got lots of friends. I didn’t fly any of them to training camp like they’re my family.”

  “We’ve already established that you and I are two totally different people.”

  Jarrod finished his smoothie and stood up.

  “I’m about to go and get some sleep, bro. See you at practice in the morning.”

  “It’s still early.”

  “Nah, I’m tired. We’re getting long in the tooth. Gotta be able to keep up with these rookies.”

  Brayden agreed. Both he and Jarrod had been in the league since they graduated from college. Those five years had flown by. All of the battering and bruising that their bodies had taken on the field had started to take a toll. They weren’t as swift as they’d been in the beginning of their professional careers.

  “See you on the field, then, bro.”

  As much as Brayden needed the same rest Jarrod was getting, there was no way he was going to bed until Chenille was safely tucked into bed.

  Brayden’s phone lit up with a Messenger notification. He couldn’t click the button fast enough when he saw it was from Chenille.

  Got the in-flight internet to let you know I’m on the plane. I land in about two hours.

  Brayden replied, Okay. I will meet you at the airport. I’ll be driving a white Escalade.

  ok. I’m about to try and get a little nap. See you soon.

  The two hours it took for Chenille to arrive seemed like the longest two hours of Brayden’s life. He had to check himself for a moment, because he couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see a woman.

  * * *

  Brayden stood in the baggage claim area trying to look inconspicuous, with his cap pulled low to his eyebrows. But every football fan (and groupie) knew that the Dallas Knights were in town, so keeping a low profile was impossible.

  A young woman, probably in her early twenties, walked right up to Brayden. He tried to act like he didn’t see her, but she tapped her manicured nail in the center of his chest.

  “You’re Brayden Carpenter,” she purred. “Running back. Dallas Knights.”

  Brayden smirked. He wasn’t impressed at all. Every groupie did her homework. This was typical.

  “Hello,” he said.

  He wasn’t overly friendly, but he also wasn’t a jerk. He just wasn’t interested in this young lady who’d decided to invade his personal space with her fingernails. Plus, her breath smelled of alcohol. She’d probably been tossing them back on her flight.

  “So, I bet you know where all the good parties are,” the girl said. “Hook a sista up.”

  Brayden took in her outfit. Surgically enhanced breasts spilling from a baby t-shirt at least two sizes too small for those silicone monsters. She had a tiny waist that couldn’t possibly have occurred without a plastic surgeon and a perfectly round bottom crammed into neon green leggings. He’d seen this kind of apparel before. On reality television.

  “I’m not here to party. I’m working. Sorry.”

  “That is unfortunate, because we could have a really great time together.”

  And there it was. The brazen invitation that always happened. This was the attention his homeboy Jarrod thrived on, but Brayden hated.

  “There’s my friend,” Brayden said, ignoring the proposition. “Have a good evening.”

  Brayden erased the tartlet from his mind as soon as he saw Chenille. She’d changed her hair. The cornrows were replaced by a curly afro that was pinned up on the sides. The smile and the dimple were the same, though.

  Brayden quickly navigated the hordes of people waiting for their luggage to close the space between himself and Chenille. Her eyes lit up as he adjusted his cap and made eye contact with her.

  When he reached her, Brayden swept Chenille into his arms and off her feet. He placed a little kiss on her neck as he set her back down on the floor. He paused for a moment to enjoy the scent of her light perfume mixed with whatever products she put in her hair. It was intoxicating.

  “Brayden,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy I made it.”

  “Me too. I just wish I wasn’t working.”

  “I wanna watch you working, though.”

  Brayden felt the butterflies again, although he’d been trying to ignore them. The nervousness made him feel like he was slipping a bit. He didn’t want to fall too fast, or too hard, but he didn’t know if he could help it.

  The groupie from earlier walked up to Brayden and Chenille. Brayden hoped there wasn’t going to be any drama, because girls like this were known for causing scenes just to post on social media.

  “Is this your girl?” the groupie asked.

  Brayden nodded. “Yes, she is.”

  Chenille’s eyes widened, but she didn’t make any comments to dispute his claim. Brayden knew they weren’t officially a couple yet, but the groupie didn’t need to know that. Plus, he was proud of Chenille and glad to have her on his arm.

  “Well, that’s sweet,” the groupie said. “If y’all want, we can all have fun. Together.”

  Boldly, the groupie put a small slip of paper in Brayden’s front pocket. Then she winked at Chenille.

  “You a pretty dark girl,” the groupie said. “And you got a fat ass.”

  Then the groupie walked away, giving them a full view of her probably purchased behind as it jiggled in her leggings.

  Chenille laughed out loud.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Is this what this week is going to be like?”

  “Unfortunately. Welcome to my life.”

  “She was bold.”

  “A lot of them are.”

  Chenille let out a long sigh. This worried Brayden, but he didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t stop groupies from making advances, but he could show her that he wasn’t into any of them.

  “There’s my suitcase,” Chenille said. “The royal blue one.”

  Brayden grabbed her bag off the conveyor belt. It was heavier than it looked. He rolled it back over to Chenille and took her hand in his free hand. He waited to see if she would flinch or reject him outright. She didn’t. She gave a little squeeze, letting him know his touch was welcome.

  “Where am I staying?” Chenille asked as Brayden placed her suitcase in his trunk.

  He smiled.
“You’re staying at my condo.”

  “Your condo?”

  “You don’t want to stay at my place?”

  “It’s not that. I was just expecting a hotel, I guess.”

  Brayden opened the passenger door of the Escalade and helped Chenille climb inside. Before he replied to her concerns, he went around to the driver’s side and got in the truck. There were still questions on her face as he strapped on his seat belt. Finally, he decided to calm her nerves.

  “You’re staying there, but I’m not. The team is staying in suites at the training facility.”

  Chenille’s exhalation was loud in the quiet vehicle. He could sense how relieved she was. It bothered him a bit that she couldn’t see his good intentions.

  “You can relax around me,” Brayden said. “I am never going to disrespect you, or make you do something that makes you uncomfortable. I know how to treat women.”

  “Thank you. It’s just that, I see what you’re used to, and I don’t know . . . I don’t think I can compete with girls like the one in the airport. I’m not just going to offer up my goodies like that.”

  “Your goodies?”

  Now it was Brayden’s turn to laugh. Of course, he knew exactly what she meant, but it sounded hilarious in the middle of a very serious declaration from Chenille.

  “Boy, you know what I mean.”

  “I do. I am happy you’re not just out here offering up your goodies to just any baller.”

  “I don’t care that you’re a baller.”

  “So, you would’ve talked to me even if I was just a regular guy?”

  Brayden started the car and waited for her response.

  “I would’ve.”

  Brayden had no way of knowing if that was true, but hearing her say that she would’ve liked him without his money made him feel good.

  Chenille gasped as Brayden pulled up the driveway to his Los Angeles condo. It was impressive from the outside—all white with tropical landscaping. The trees were imported from all over the world, along with tropical flowers in hues of orange, red, and purple. Even at night, it was brightly lit so that everyone who drove by could see how beautiful it was.