Let Me Hold You

by Alexandria House

  “Is that right? Well, let me give you a reason, then. I’m over here thinking about you.”

  “Then I better come see exactly what you’re thinking about.”

  “You sure better.”

  With a grin on my face, I exited the restroom and headed back to my table where Zaddy was having an in-depth conversation with Constance. I quickly excused myself and left for what had become as routine in my life as taking a shower—a booty call.

  3

  Sitting in my car, my eyes were glued to the brick and stone building in front of me. These two-a-day workouts were kicking my ass, I was tired as hell, and although my heart was in that gym with those kids, I couldn’t seem to find the strength to open the door and climb out of the car. I dropped my head and sighed, then lifted it in time to see her walking out the building. She had on jeans and a t-shirt and her ass was still fine. I wasn’t lying when I said she was smaller and younger than the women I usually got with, but there was something about her that kept catching my attention and wouldn’t seem to let it go. There wasn’t shit I could or would do about it, though. So, I was relieved when my attention was pulled away from the sway of her hips to my ringing phone.

  I answered it with, “Yo!”

  “Yo, yourself, knucklehead! What you up to?”

  “Nuthin’, about to get my volunteer on.”

  She sighed loudly into the phone. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this, volunteering at his community center when his stupid ass ran you away from Miami? I just don’t get it, Leland!”

  I knew my big sister had my best interest at heart, and hell, she was kind of right, but I was tired and nowhere near in the mood to explain myself, so I replied with, “I’m doing this for the kids, Kit-Kat. You know that. Plus, I committed to this before all that bullshit went down with dude. And you know I’m a man of my word, just like Daddy and Ev.” It was the truth. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for kids, especially these boys who reminded me so much of myself at that age. Life had been good to me despite the bad, and it was almost a compulsion for me to give back.

  “A man of your word, huh? I say forget that when your word was given to a horrible person. And you can help kids without doing it through his foundation at his community center in his hometown. You could start your own foundation and center. I told you; I’ll help you.”

  “I know. I just prefer to do it this way. I mean, I donate to a lot of foundations and charities, anyway. Giving my time is taking it to another level.”

  “But you could take that money and put it into your own charity. Doesn’t that make sense to you?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “But what?”

  Kimberly Hampton finally backed out of her parking spot, and as she passed by my car, gave me a smile and a wave that I quickly returned.

  “Leland! But what?” Kat shouted.

  “But…I gotta go. Talk to your nagging ass later.”

  “Whatever. Bye, boy!”

  I ended the call and was grinning as I climbed out my car. She was right, though. I really did need to just start my own foundation, but that shit took time and energy and work. And I wasn’t down for any of that. I was fine with helping out other outreach programs, even if this one was funded and founded by my stupid-ass former teammate, Armand Daniels.

  *****

  Armand Daniels was a stand-out high school basketball player and a local legend of sorts in St. Louis, was on an NCAA champion team his one and only year of college, was named Most Outstanding Player for that same year, and when he entered the NBA draft, was picked fifth overall in the first round by the Heat. He was talented as hell, on par with some of the greatest shooting guards in league history, but his attitude sucked. He was a hot head with anger issues, loved to fight, and aimed his rage at me toward the middle of his first year with the Heat, which was my fourth year with them. I dealt with that shit the best I could, then decided to take advantage of my free agency and bounce once the season was over. But that honestly had more to do with me knowing my time with that team had drawn to a close than it did with Armand Daniels’ ass trying to bully me, because kicking his ass would’ve been easy. Hell, I itched to do it from the first time he tried to come at me, but I wasn’t going to let his young ass mess up my record with the league or my money. No, he wasn’t the total reason I left. The truth was, I wanted a ring and I wasn’t going to get one with the Heat, not even with the addition of that fool to the team.

  The St. Louis Cyclones was a new addition to the league, or rather the re-naming and resurrection of a once-defunct team. It was only five years old but full of hungry talent. Shit, we all wanted a ring, and I believed we could win one. That’s why I let them court me into a contract. Plus, I was a little closer to Texas now and to Aunt Ever, who I found it hard not to worry about even though she insisted on it. Like I said, she and Kat were the only mothers I had left, and Kat was young and strong. Aunt Ever, the oldest of my mom’s siblings, wasn’t getting any younger and not in the best of health. It was important to me that I could get to her quickly if I needed to.

  Anyway, maybe it was dumb to be volunteering with Daniels’ foundation, but I was assured I wouldn’t ever be in the same space as him, because his ass couldn’t be bothered to make an appearance at his own basketball camp until the final week of it. And standing there watching the boys do the drills Polo and I had taught them a few days earlier, I knew I’d made the right decision in keeping my word. They looked good as they lined up in front of me. Polo had a prior engagement on this particular day, so this one was all on me, but I was good with it.

  “A’ight y’all. Good workout today. Y’all will have a couple more of my buddies working with you tomorrow, and I’ll be back the day after that. Y’all’s layups better be on point when I get back. You heard me?”

  “Yes, Coach McClain,” they said pretty unenthusiastically. And that’s just what I liked to see after a practice session—exhaustion. That proved to me I’d done my job.

  “A’ight. Your moms and them are waiting for y’all. Have a good evening,” I said, dismissing them.

  Thirty minutes later, as I was headed to my car, I noticed a boy sitting on a bench outside the building and recognized him as one of the camp attendees. I thought I’d made sure all the boys had been picked up, even checked the locker room to be sure there were no stragglers. The boys whose parents couldn’t pick them up rode the center’s van home. I had no idea Lil’ Man was left behind.

  Moving toward the bench, I said, “Hey, you ain’t got a ride, Lil’ Man? Why you ain’t catch the van?”

  His head lifted from where it had been buried in his chest, and he looked up at me. “My mama supposed to be coming.”

  “You need to call her?” I asked, taking a seat beside him so I could hear him better. He had a soft voice that went along with his shyness. He was one of the quietest boys in the group, but also one of the most talented from what I’d seen. He was shorter than the other boys but got the ball through the hoop every time he took a shot.

  “Her phone’s off.”

  “Oh…anyone else you can call?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re Shemar, right?”

  There was a flicker of something in his eyes…surprise, maybe. I guess he thought I didn’t know his name, but I was good with names, had a crazy memory. I still remembered the names of every classmate I had in elementary school. Having a memory like that could fuck with you sometimes, though.

  He nodded his answer.

  “You know your address, right?” He should’ve, but shit, you never knew about stuff like that with some kids.

  He nodded again.

  We sat there in silence as I tried to decide what to do. I could give him a ride home, grab him a burger or something on the way. It was after five, and I knew he had to be hungry. But shit, I wasn’t trying to do all that without his parents’ permission. That was a recipe for trouble with who I was and what I did for a living. People were always looking
for a come-up, and I wasn’t trying to be a fresh meal ticket for anyone.

  I had decided to take him back inside and see if maybe there was an emergency contact on file for him or something when one of the glass front doors opened, and Kim Hampton walked out. I wasn’t surprised to see her since her car was the only one left on the lot besides mine.

  She turned to lock the doors, glanced over at us, and jumped a little. “Oh! I thought I was the only one left here.”

  “Naw, me and Shemar been out here chopping it up. He’s-uh-still waiting on his ride,” I said. “Says his mom is supposed to be getting him but her phone is off, so he can’t call.”

  She pursed her lips and then started chewing on the bottom one. That was sexy as hell to me.

  “Why don’t we go in here and see who’s on your emergency contact form, okay?” she asked, giving Shemar a smile.

  “Can Coach McClain come in with us?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he needs to be on his way. He’s a busy—”

  “Naw, it’s all good. I got the time,” I cut in.

  “Uh…okay. Well, you gentlemen can follow me. I just need to disarm the alarm and—”

  The sound of screeching tires snatched all of our heads toward the parking lot where we could see a small Toyota racing toward us and jerking to a stop. A woman hopped out, short and thick and wearing jogging pants and a hoodie in ninety-degree weather. She had a panicked look on her face and a noticeable bruise under her eye.

  Rushing toward us, she yanked Shemar into a hug. “I’m so sorry! The time got away from me. You ready to go, baby?”

  Shemar nodded, a relieved look on his face.

  “Good, I gotta get back and finish dinner. Daddy got off work early.”

  There was an unmistakable shift in Shemar’s demeanor. He almost looked as if he’d changed his mind about being relieved to see his mother. As a matter of fact, as she tried to steer him toward the car, he didn’t move but remained glued to the sidewalk.

  “Shemar, come on!” she hissed.

  “Aye, you good, Lil’ Man?” I asked.

  He looked up at me and opened his mouth, but his mom preempted him. “He’s fine, just don’t like my cooking. Always be wanting McDonald’s. Come on, boy!”

  This time, he followed his mother to the car, climbed inside, and as she gave me and Ms. Hampton a wave and pulled off the lot, he hung his head.

  Ms. Hampton and I stood there in silence, both of us staring after the car until I finally said, “Something ain’t right with his mom. You see that bruise?”

  Turning to face me, she nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m gonna talk to our onsite social worker in the morning, see if he can look into the situation. Thanks for hanging with him while he waited for her. That was very kind of you.”

  I gave her a lopsided grin. “It was nothing.”

  “No, it was definitely something. And I feel like I need to thank you again for still coming to volunteer after all that mess with—”

  “It’s all good, Ms. Hampton. I don’t hold grudges, and I know when someone is just flexing. That’s all he was doing.”

  She shifted her stance, poking a hip out. “Still, thank you. You are truly one of the good guys.”

  I tipped my Cardinals baseball cap at her. “No problem.”

  Silence filled the air around us as we both just kind of looked at each other. Then she said, “Um,” and I said, “Uh,” simultaneously.

  Then we both laughed. Well, actually, she giggled.

  Looking up at me with wide eyes, her lashes fluttered as she asked, “Why are you so tall?”

  Was she flirting with me? Shit, I hoped so, because I had just decided she could have me if she wanted me. On my mama, she could. “Uh, they tell me my dad was real tall, and my mama wasn’t exactly short.”

  She smiled. “No…what I meant to ask was, how tall are you, Mr. McClain?”

  I shrugged. “Wikipedia says I’m six-eight.”

  “Is Wikipedia correct?”

  “Naw, I’m six-seven and a half. Just a little taller than my brother.”

  “Big South?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, You a fan of his?”

  “Of course, and of you, too!”

  “For real? Cool.”

  She smiled at me, and I smiled at her. It was awkward and kind of nice…really nice.

  “Um, so I guess the King’s Dream Community Center has taken up more than enough of your time today, huh?”

  “Naw, never that. I’m honored to be able to serve the community, but I guess I should head on out. Gotta be up early in the morning. Uh…see you later, Ms. Hampton.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. McClain.”

  “Goodnight.”

  4

  I should’ve gotten a sandwich, too.

  That thought resonated in my mind as I scarfed down my salad and realized it wasn’t really hitting the spot for me. I consciously tried to eat healthier on the days of my Stiletto Step Class, because I guess I wanted to be lighter on my feet, but I also knew expending all that energy after work with only this little salad in my stomach was a recipe for disaster. I was liable to pass the hell out in the middle of class.

  I was contemplating leaving my office again to grab a burger when my assistant’s voice poured through the intercom speakers of my phone. “Ms. Kim, uh…you have a visitor?”

  Was she asking me or informing me?

  “Okay…but didn’t I tell you I was on my lunch break, Peaches?”

  “Oh, I forgot! Want me to tell him to make an appointment?”

  I sighed as I closed the top of my dissatisfying salad and grabbed a napkin to wipe my hands. “Well, who is it?”

  “Leland McClain.”

  Leland McClain?! “Oh…give me about five minutes and then send him in.”

  “Okay,” she chirped.

  Yanking my bottom desk drawer open, I grabbed my purse and dug inside for my lip gloss and mirror. I’d just decided I looked presentable when the door to my office opened and Peaches ushered him inside. All six-foot-seven-and-a-half of his fine-ness waltzed in wearing a purple and gold Cyclones track suit. All I could think was: wow! I mean, he was young, but at thirty-five, I wasn’t exactly old old. Maybe…

  “Uh, good afternoon. Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” he said, with a nod toward the salad that still held prime real estate on my desk.

  “No, no, it’s fine. Um, have a seat.” I watched him sit in the chair in front of my desk, lean forward, and prop his elbows on his knees. It wasn’t like I was hard-up for sex or anything, but damn! Leland McClain was pure sexiness. “What can I help you with, Mr. McClain? I see you’re here early today. Want to add to your volunteer hours, maybe teach a STEM class or help out with the garden the boys have been tending?”

  He chuckled, cocked his head to the side, and licked his lips. “Naw, I ain’t really good with math and science, and I put in more than enough time working my aunt’s garden back in the day. I actually wanted to check on Shemar, see what your social worker found out. He’s been missing from basketball camp the last couple of days.”

  It took me a second to realize who and what he was referring to. It’d been a rough week of me putting out various fires since I’d found him and the young man sitting outside the building.

  “Um, yes…I talked to my social worker about it, and he’s promised to make a home visit,” I responded.

  Leland gave me a slow nod. “When?”

  “When? Uh, when he can. We have thirty boys in this summer program alone, most of whom are living in poverty or single parent homes, and many are experiencing and/or witnessing all types of violence. We also have a girls-only program running simultaneously. We are grossly understaffed for what we’re trying to do here, but we’re determined to get the job done. Rest assured, Shemar will be taken care of.”

  “Yeah, well…I know how things like this can slip through the cracks, how kids can end up hurt or forgotten, especially black kids.”

  Lifting my eyebrows, I leaned forward. �
��You did notice that I’m black, as well as every single person who works in this building, right?”

  “Yeah, and us black people are known for half-stepping when it comes to serving our own.”

  I tilted my neck back. “And that’s what you think we do here at King’s Dream? Half-step?”

  He shrugged then squared his broad shoulders. “Maybe not everyone.”

  “So you’re insinuating that my social worker is? Or is it me who you think is going to drop the ball with this young man?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know enough about you or your social worker to insinuate anything. I just know people tend to ignore poor black kids, especially rich black people. And well, it’s clear how you got this job, so…”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “So you believe I don’t take this job seriously because of how you think I got it?”

  “How I know you got it.”

  “Mr. McClain, I have a degree in social work. This job is my calling, no matter how I got it.”

  “Then why don’t you do the visit yourself? Why you gotta hand it off to someone else?”

  “Because I am the director. Someone else gets paid to make the home visits. That’s not my job.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.”

  I scoffed as I sat up straight and pursed my lips. “You know what? I don’t have a damn thing to prove to you. You’re temporary, a volunteer who’ll go back to his life once this summer program is over and not give a second thought to Shemar or any of the other boys that we’ll still be looking out for.”

  “You don’t know me to say some shit like that. How about spending time training these boys is my calling? How about I make it my business to volunteer in some capacity year-round, and I know what I see at these community centers. Y’all might be trying to make a difference, but there’s always one or two kids that are forgotten. Shemar is smaller and quieter than the other boys and easy to forget. I’m just making sure y’all got his back. That’s all.”

  I folded my hands in my lap and heaved a sigh. “Look, we’re going to take care of Shemar just like we take care of the eight hundred or so children, black children, who utilize this center in one way or another year-round. No one is ever forgotten here, because I make sure of it. Now, I have work to do, and I’m sure you need to go dribble or jump-shoot or assist or ball-hog or alley-oop or something. So…goodbye, Mr. McClain.”