Preseason Love

by Ahyiana Angel

  When we arrived at the event site, I was thoroughly impressed at the level of the production. There was so much to see. Colorful team signage and festive team flags were flying from posts in the ground. There were multiple stations for autograph signing, areas for kids to participate in hands-on drills and activities, spirit teams running around to cheer people on, and booths where guests could win prizes. It reminded me of a sports-themed carnival minus the cotton candy and funnel cake.

  I headed over to the media check-in booth to meet up with my first crew for the day. Television crews were assigned specific time slots in which they could come and film in order to ensure that they would have a designated PR escort during their time at the event. Like I said, PR can easily be a glorified babysitting job. The local CBS affiliate was up first. We toured every inch of the grounds and they were very satisfied with the footage until they noticed one of the star players from the Los Angeles Sting Rays exiting his car service and walking toward an autograph booth.

  “Scottie, do you think that we can get a quick interview with Damien Telfetter?”

  “It looks like he is heading over to an autograph booth, but let me check,” I said hopefully.

  Damien was walking with a balding, short, freckle-faced guy who I assumed to be a part of his business team. Likely his manager, agent, or something in that arena, and on the other side of him was a nice-looking black man who had a little swag but definitely not as much as Damien. Must’ve been his brother or childhood friend. Athletes were known for having at least one person that they grew up with around at most times. I could only imagine that their presence served multiple purposes. When you were thrust into a world of chaos and money with people waiting at your every beck and command, it helped to have someone around who knew you before; they kept you grounded.

  “Excuse me, Damien?”

  Of course I was nervous as all hell. What if he ignored me? What if he had a nasty attitude? The situation had all of the potential to be very embarrassing for me, but I tucked away my fears and approached him like I had every right to do so. Meanwhile, I could hear the fans lined up at the autograph booth screaming, thrilled with the anticipation of meeting Damien.

  “Hi, I’m Scottie Malveaux and I work in the PR department at The League.”

  “Hello, Miss Scottie.”

  This was a good start. At least he acknowledged me. Now that you have his full attention, you better make it quick, girl.

  “The local CBS news crew is touring the event and they would like to ask you a couple of quick questions…if you don’t mind?”

  Damien gave me a raised eyebrow, then looked to the balding, freckle-faced man. “Do we have time?” he asked.

  The little bald man nodded his head. Then he looked up at me. “Make it brief.”

  “You got it.” Asshole. “Follow me, right this way.”

  I signaled the producer and camera crew over as I instructed Damien to stand in front of an Athlete’s Annual logo. Everyone fell into place and the interview began. The producer came and stood next to me and mouthed the words thank you. She was so excited to have secured the interview. If it hadn’t been for this opportunity, they would not have locked in such a high-profile interview on their own. Perfect timing.

  The interview was harmless and done in less than five minutes. I was the three- to five-minute-interview queen. That’s how long I would always tell people that an interview on the fly would take, even if I didn’t know for sure.

  Damien Telfetter was handsome, but I reminded myself that I was at work and not my own personal meat market. The remainder of the day was cake. I escorted my second crew and they were super low-maintenance; so much so that I ended up getting to cut out a little early because they wrapped up ahead of schedule.

  I had not heard from Bella all day, so I called her on my way to my walk-through for the Entertainer’s Game. She was floating on cloud twelve—forget nine—this dude had her wide open that fast. I needed to know what the hell he did or said to make her come around.

  “Scottie…?” Bella paused like she was at a loss for words. She was giving me all the dramatics.

  “Uh yeah. Start talking, baby cakes.”

  “So…we went out last night. He told me to meet him at the Delano Hotel and I’m not going to front, I thought it was a set-up for the okie-doke.”

  “But you went anyway.”

  “Yeah, I rationalized that he probably wanted to meet up for a drink first, and I was right.”

  Bella went on to indulge me with the details of her date. From drinks at the Delano, he drove them to dinner in his panty-dropper Maserati Gran Turismo. I personally didn’t know anyone who owned such a car. He’d asked Bella if she would mind him taking the lead on deciding the restaurant. After two drinks and a ride in a Maserati, she was not in any mood to play the independent woman with an opinion, so she’d conceded.

  They arrived at Nobu and Bella mentioned that she got the feeling that he was a regular by the way that the staff greeted him by name and sat them rather quickly in a cozy, somewhat private space. They immediately delivered a dish that was referred to as his favorite starter. The private space gave them a chance to exchange basic information without interruption and apparently his conversation was very real and did not have an air of Hollywood. He asked her questions about her background and how she came to live in Miami. Bella took note that he mentioned how he really liked Miami and always spent as much time in the city as possible.

  She liked his attentiveness and she was ultimately pretty smitten with her baller beau. In her eyes, he conducted himself like a total gentleman, which seemed to be slightly surprising to her. When I asked if she would be open to seeing him again before the weekend was over, she giggled and eventually said yes.

  Now that her love life was squared away, it was time for me to check some emails and get my work life on point. This was next to impossible with the Entertainer’s Game quickly approaching, and by quickly, that meant that it was the following day. Saturday would be filled with last minute requests, questions, and a mound of other bullshit, so I needed to take my final opportunity to try to get ahead of the game as much as possible.

  After my walk-through, I sat in the PR office for about two hours straight with no interruptions and knocked out countless emails, figured out the media seating assignments, and emailed staff assignments to the people from my team who were helping me execute everything the day of.

  Considering all that I had gotten done for the day and the things that were still running through my head, I needed a drink. It was seven o’clock and I wasn’t set to meet up with Lydia until ten to make an appearance at a work-related party. On my way back to the hotel, I instructed the cab driver to stop by a liquor store so that I could grab a bottle of Riesling to sip on while I got dressed.

  It felt like heaven being back in my room. My shoes flew off my feet and onto the floor immediately. Naturally, my clothes followed. I poured myself a glass of wine in a tumbler-style glass, which was the only option in the hotel room. The first sip was refreshing like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot August day in Texas. The more that I sipped, the more I regretted committing to go to the party. I decided to call Kari. Maybe he could pump me up enough to want to go out.

  “Hey, babe, what are you up to?”

  “Not much. At the house chillin’. I was actually thinking about you.”

  “Aawh, why didn’t you hit me up?” I asked. “Oh, probably because you pretty much hung up on me the other night.”

  “I’m sorry. I was trippin’.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t overreact. But you still could have called.”

  “I know that you’ve been busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “This trip has been hectic. Even more than I expected. But I like hearing from you no matter how crazy things get.”

  “That’s good to know. So what do you have to do tonight? Work stuff?” Kari continued.

  “No, I told Lydia that I would go t
o this party with her. But I got a bottle of wine on my way back to the hotel and now I really don’t feel like going.”

  “Yeah, it’s probably best if you stay in, relax, and get some rest so that you can be fresh for tomorrow.”

  “Well…that’s not exactly what I expected you to say. This is my first time working the Athlete’s Annual, which would be a huge deal to most people. Plus, I have access to all of the hot parties. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? I can sleep when I get home.”

  “Scottie, you have it all figured out, so do what you want. I have to go.”

  “What’s new,” I said. “I’ll call you later. Bye.”

  When we got off of the phone, I had an extra jolt of energy from snapping on Kari. I was suddenly amped to go.

  Lydia was normally a conservative dresser when it came to the office, but let me find out that she knew how to hit the streets. When I walked up to her in the lobby and she turned around, her swagger was on ten. I was glad that I decided to step it up myself by slipping into my tight fuchsia mini with my fuchsia and teal, sky-high wedges to match the multicolored tank that I was wearing.

  We party-hopped hardcore that night. There were parties at almost every major hotspot in the city and my body felt like we hit them all the next morning. In reality, we only went to two places.

  First we went with the original plan and headed to the semi-work party that was being thrown by one of The League’s corporate partners. It was a good look with athletes all over and hot hip-hop performances, but there were too many coworkers for our taste.

  We dipped out to the Grey Goose-sponsored event a few blocks down the street and that was a much better scene—meaning no coworkers in the building. Complimentary cocktails and cuties made the party a hit in my book. Lydia and I sipped on Goose and cranberry until we were tipsy enough to head out.

  When I looked at my dying phone and it said a quarter to 4 o’clock in the morning, it was time to call it a night. I had a text message from Kari. It was time stamped from two hours prior and he slid in an apology for his earlier antics. My battery was too low to respond.

  Lydia had run into one of her friends and he offered to give us a ride back to our hotel. I could not tell if it was her friend like they had a sexual relationship or if they were platonic friends. Either way, it wasn’t my business. I needed to concern myself with getting in that hotel room, forcing myself to drink a crazy amount of water, and taking some pills to avoid a massive headache.

  We pulled up to the hotel and praise Jah, I did not see anyone I knew milling around. I thanked our driver and told Lydia good night before I zipped through the lobby and dragged my drunken ass to the elevator as fast as I could.

  Morning and real-life responsibilities were going to come quickly, so I tried to pull it together. I finished drinking one of my many glasses of water and climbed in the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the room was spinning. All bad.

  The next morning when the phone on the nightstand closest to the window shook me awake with a blaring ring, I knew that it could not be my wake-up call. I rolled over quickly to grab the phone with my eyes only half open, but I missed my target and smacked over a glass of water splashing it all on the bed and my arm. That’s when I realized that I still felt like shit. My body required more sleep, but unfortunately, that wasn’t a realistic possibility. Even though it was a Saturday morning, I had an event to manage that evening. And regardless, we all had to report to the temporary office in the hotel around nine but definitely before ten.

  My feet hit the ground and my stomach did, too. I instantly felt the contents of my stomach trying to creep up my throat. I ran to the bathroom. I only had a short period of time to pull it together and when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I realized that I looked crazy.

  My first order of business needed to be the vending machine down the hall. The insides of my stomach were craving a ginger ale. I managed to breathe my way through the second nauseated feeling. I did not throw up, but I knew that it would be back. I had learned over the years that ginger ale was my best friend on mornings following a night full of drinking.

  After a few sips, I felt good enough to hop in the shower. The hot water woke me up and made me feel slightly more alive.

  Everything seemed to be taking me ten minutes longer than normal and I couldn’t stop dragging. The main focus was making it downstairs to show face in the office. All I had to do was throw on something halfway decent. I could come back to my room and change before the game anyway. When I walked into the office, there was only a sprinkling of people. That discovery made me feel better, so I found a spot, set up my laptop, tried to act normal and actually focus on getting some work done.

  Unfortunately for me, that did not work out well at all. I struggled through the first half of the day. Around noon I left my computer in the office and I slid out quietly and made my way up to my room for a quick nap.

  I arrived at the arena around five-thirty to print out the advisories for the media and do a few last-minute things. The celebrity participants were already roaming around the arena and the production crew was working hard to finish up. All of the planning and execution that a large-scale event required to be a success still amazed me. Once the game got underway, my crew and I went around facilitating interviews for the athletes and celebrities that were in the audience. The arena was packed. A sold-out crowd watched athletes and celebrities alike compete for bragging rights in a game that was intended to be lighthearted and fun for the fans and participants.

  I was headed to arrange an interview for E! News when I spotted what looked like Bella’s date hugged up with some busty, blonde wig-rocking, diamond-dazzled diva. This guy was in this chick’s face heavy. Kissing her on the cheek, touching her face, which looked like it contained the entire MAC counter to achieve her after-five look.

  I sincerely hoped that my eyes were deceiving me, but I needed to get closer to really be sure that it was Bella’s guy. The catch was, I did not want to get spotted. I casually inched toward the section that he was sitting in and crouched behind a man who was slightly taller than me. Sure enough it was his ass. I knew that my eyes were not playing tricks on me. Now what do I do? For the moment, I had to get back to work, so I couldn’t do much.

  Bella had a genuine heart and although he had no commitment to her, she was falling for him. It would not sit well with her to know that he was hugged up with another woman. Most people understand that when you are dating, there is the potential for both people to be seeing other people. But you don’t want to have it confirmed and thrown in your face so that you know about it in detail.

  On behalf of my friend, I played it cool, and once the game was over and people were hanging out back of house, that’s when I spotted him from the back, or rather I spotted his diva’s ass because it was huge. I admittedly took on the role of Inspector Gadget as I needed to find out what the deal was.

  I recruited a little help in an effort to make things less obvious, plus, the dude knew my face. Doing a little reconnaissance for me, Lydia made her way into the vicinity of the conversation that he was having with a middle-aged Hispanic man standing to the left of a vomitorium. I observed from afar. It looked as though he was introducing the big-booty chick to the man. Lydia would have the intel on the whole conversation. She was too close to not overhear every single word.

  “Your suspicion was right on. He is no good,” Lydia told me when she wrapped up her conversation.

  “Shut up?” I said incredulously. “What did you hear?”

  “That was definitely his girlfriend, and if it wasn’t, I don’t know why he would have introduced her as ‘his girl.’ ”

  “He said that? Damn!”

  “Yep,” Lydia said with her eyes wide.

  “How am I going to break this to Bella? Being out with another chick is one thing, but sporting a chick that you are introducing as your girl is another.”

  “Tell her to stay away from these athletes. They w
ill get you every time.”

  I decided that I needed to call Bella right away while the whole story was fresh in my mind. When I called, she picked up on the third ring. Once I knew that I had her undivided attention, I prefaced my story with a statement of understanding as to why she had major reservations about even entertaining the idea of dating a professional athlete. I felt badly for encouraging her to call him, but then again she was grown and able to make her own decisions. I went on to break down the events of the evening.

  Bella was not in shock, but she was definitely pissed. She was upset with him for being deceptive and upset with herself for allowing her emotions to believe for one moment that he could be honest. By the conclusion of our conversation, she had decided that she would not ever contact him again and if he reached out to her, she would politely tell him to go to hell. Bella had stepped out of her comfort zone with this guy, but now it was safe to say that she was back on her no-athlete’s diet.

  The next day, I woke up refreshed and ready to kill it at the final event. My team had their assignments, the media was confirmed and I received the manifest listing which celebrities were expected and where their seats would be.

  By the time three o’clock hit, I was rushing around feeling the last-minute event pressure. I hadn’t even had a chance to look at the USA Today that I snagged from the hotel lobby. With everything else on my plate, I had totally forgotten to type up and print out the press markers, which were essentially name cards for media. They helped media identify where to stand on the red carpet. I whipped them up real quick while I was getting dressed and shoveling room service down my throat.

  I got to the location where the plush crimson red carpet was rolled out with fifteen minutes to spare—enough time to get the press markers printed and laid out on the carpet. The velvet rope and stanchions were lined up along the carpet, the bright lights were in place and beaming down, and security was on hand mean-muggin’.