Vérité

by Rachel Blaufeld

  “Hey, Tingly,” Lamar called out to me, “you have a good time with our guy last night? Stole him away from our post-game celebrating.”

  His comment made me blush, stripping away any remaining post-sex glow from my mood. A tiny trickle of regret dripped down my spine. Was I taking Tiberius away from the team? The guys were his only family now . . . was I ruining that?

  Lost in my thoughts, I barely heard Tiberius yell, “Shut the fuck up, Mar. Don’t be jealous!” But doubt had crept back up inside me, not allowing my brain to process his words.

  The remaining days of the year passed with Tiberius practicing, me running, and eating dinner with our teammates. Chey and Stacy were back on campus after forty-eight hours with their families; it was nice to have them around again. We watched TV and hung out while the men’s team used the field house—the women’s team always got second pickings.

  Through all the camaraderie, I forced a smile and tried to be social, but I couldn’t get the damn devil off my shoulder. It gripped me with its talons, whispering in my ear that I was all wrong for Tiberius, distracting him from what was important, tainting his life with my crap when he didn’t need it despite what I felt back at the B&B.

  Two days after Christmas, Ginny had texted to say she was back on campus and staying with Bryce. I couldn’t help but think how much had changed since early fall. She’d been single, a young girl with a crush on a boy she’d been assigned to tutor. I’d been single, jilted and heartbroken by my professor. We’d both been focused on our sports and studies, loners when it came to our social lives.

  Now we had boyfriends—also both athletes—and crazy roommates who were up in our business. Our lives kept intersecting, Bryce encouraging the football team to have my back with my very own teammate, Logan, and the basketball team becoming fixtures in our dorm suite. Our seasons were over, but we were woven even tighter into the overall athletic fabric of the school.

  But I couldn’t help but wonder: Was that what was best for Tiberius? I’d over-involved both teams with Logan and stolen Tiberius away from team gatherings.

  By New Year’s Eve, Ginny was off again to see Bryce in a bowl game, and I was at a basketball game, even though I wasn’t sure I should be. I’d begun to see myself as toxic when it came to Tiberius, believing that he was the only positive in the relationship while the negativity from my baggage leached into every crevice and corner of campus.

  Everything in our lives had changed, but for how long? Despite growing up in such extreme wealth, I’d never really known stability. Ginny seemed almost complacent, but I was too nervous to even feel settled.

  My stomach was doing more than its usual churning, butterflies battling in my belly, as I sat in the field house waiting for the game to start on New Year’s Eve. When someone tapped me on the shoulder, I almost jumped out of my seat. A shiver ran down my spine when I turned to the left and saw an enormous man sitting next to me. His cheeks were ruddy and his belly hung a bit over his pants, but you could tell that in his day, he’d been attractive.

  “Tingly?” he said, his voice gruff and deep. When I nodded, he extended his hand. “Coach Smith.”

  Slipping my hand into his, I tried to give my firmest handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m sure you’re curious as to who I am and why I’m here.” He spoke but kept his eyes trained on the court where the two teams were warming up, and I nodded. “I understand you’re involved with Tiberius Jones.”

  Another nod from me. I had no idea where this was going, but I was afraid to speak or say anything that would hurt Tiberius.

  “Tiberius is very talented. We expect him to be a full-time starter next year. We went to great lengths to recruit him, and we like to keep our star players happy. We also like them to be free from distractions like complicated relationships.”

  Tight bands constricted my chest, and I pinched my finger hard to keep from crying.

  “Well, we hear things in the locker room, and I know your parents recently made a visit to campus with Dr. Dubois.” He turned slightly in his seat, his kneecap brushing my thigh for a moment. “It’s none of my business what happened between you and the professor, but when it affects Tiberius, it is. We’ve all done stuff in our pasts, and I was under the impression you had put that whole episode behind you. But that’s not what I heard in the locker room. The guys got involved in a scuffle with your dad? And Dr. Dubois was there? I heard Tiberius was very upset over the whole incident.”

  “Sir,” I said, turning my focus on his large forearm resting on the armrest. “You can rest assured that I’m done with Dr. Dubois, but with all due respect, you’re not my coach, so your opinion doesn’t matter. Coach Wallace believed in me enough to let me back on the squad. I don’t really know you, so I’m not sure why it matters other than you think I’m going to screw something up for your team. I’m not.”

  Without waiting for his reaction, I got up and left. It was time to end it with Tiberius.

  Even though I put on a tough face with the coach, I knew he was right. My fears had proven to be true: my family was back to screwing everything up for me. Tiberius didn’t deserve that. He should have better. The best. He should get sweet and good from now on—neither of which was me or my past.

  Tivoli. Toast. Tuna. Taylor Swift.

  I had to stop the stupid game immediately because Taylor Swift only made me think of the night the guys were concerned I would turn Tiberius into a Taylor Swift groupie.

  As if.

  My phone pinged with a text message.

  TIBERIUS: What happened? I thought you were coming to the game?

  ME: Something came up.

  TIBERIUS: You coming to the party?

  ME: No. I’m not feeling great. You go, though.

  TIBERIUS: I’m coming over.

  ME: Please don’t. I want to be alone.

  TIBERIUS: WTF?

  I didn’t respond. Powering down my phone, I slid in between my cool sheets and cried myself to sleep. A short time later, I heard Tiberius knocking on the door and ignored him. Ginny was out and the women’s team was on the road, so I was all alone on the brink of a new year.

  Which was exactly what I deserved.

  I felt his gaze on me before I fully woke. Prying my crusty eyes open, I saw Tiberius in the corner of the room, watching me sleep. He was leaning against the wall, one foot on the floor and the other resting on the wall behind him.

  “Ty?” I asked. “How did you get in here?”

  “I have my ways. What’s going on, T?” He pushed off the wall and paced my room.

  I swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here. First, I really don’t think I would like to know how you got in. And second, we need a break. It’s too much, too fast.”

  “What?” He whipped around toward me, his face tight with tension and anger. There was no hint of his adorable dimples anywhere.

  “We need a break,” I repeated. “Please leave.” I sat up in bed, pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, trying not to rock back and forth in despair.

  Tiberius narrowed his eyes on me. “That’s junk, but you know, I’d never not respect your wishes so I’m trapped. And that’s junk too because you know I’m gonna leave. I don’t know what happened, but I’m gonna figure it out and fix it, Rex. I’ll be back,” he said. “You’re not acting right, and that’s such bullshit.”

  His basketball shoes barely made any noise as he stomped out of my room. Either that or I didn’t hear it over the loud thumps of my own heart, although I did hear the slamming of the door behind him. It reverberated throughout the empty dorm suite, along with my shock at how easily he acquiesced to my request.

  Obviously, he believed this was for the best. Either that or he really meant he’d be back.

  The first few weeks of the New Year passed in a blur. A new semester had begun with different classes and a new schedule, but I was very careful to not share my schedule with Chey or Stacy. I knew the team was trying to find me, corner me, and g
ouge my eyes out or worse.

  “Girl, Jamel is hot to find you,” Chey told me at least once a day. “You better run faster.”

  No way in hell they were going to let this lie; this being pushing Tiberius away with no warning whatsoever. I varied my comings and goings, walking to class different ways each time. I was like a fugitive on the run when it came to my former life and the men’s basketball team.

  Funny, how the year before I hid from my own self-hatred, and now I was on the lam from people who actually cared for me.

  I dragged my ass to every class, winding around back ways to the buildings. Desperate, I found coffee places farther and farther away from campus to drown myself in caffeine and my own misery. In class, I caught myself doodling, tracing emblems like Tiberius’s tattoo rather than taking notes, or Googling basketball scores.

  But I was also avoiding Nadine. She’d caught up to me after class the first week back. “Oh, em, gee, Tingly, I heard you ended it with that buff hunk of a guy, Tiberius. Are you okay?”

  She meant well . . . or not . . . I didn’t really know. She was such a typical college coed, all fun and frivolous with perky tits, and always squealing. Why couldn’t she be quiet and reserved like she was when she was running? That was the Nadine I could appreciate.

  “I’m doing okay.” I put on a brave smile. “Just need to concentrate on school and getting out of here,” I lied.

  “Well, Logan said he knew it would happen, said the guy’s bad news.” Making her point, she whipped her head around, flipping her hair so fast it almost took me out.

  I let out a little snort. “Not sure Logan is the authority on anything, but thanks for checking on me,” I said with a polite smile as I edged away from her and our conversation.

  “Maybe we’ll all go to a party soon?” Nadine called after me brightly.

  My situation was made even worse by the fact that Pierre was back. I wasn’t sure how he weaseled his way back on campus or why. I’d cut off all contact with my parents after they offered Tiberius a hundred thousand dollars per year for the next five years to end things with me—in an e-mail. How they got his e-mail address, I had no clue.

  This had happened sometime in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas . . . wouldn’t they be happy to know I did it myself? For free just because Coach Smith asked?

  I’d seen Pierre a few times on campus in the Languages building. He was never really doing anything official when I saw him, mostly talking or laughing with a faculty person or an old colleague. He had something up his sleeve, and I wanted nothing to do with him or his plans. All I wanted was for him to disappear.

  That wish was especially fervent today. I was sitting in a small bistro on the outskirts of campus after finishing up a tutoring lesson with Robbie, my new student. Lindsay had hooked him up with me after meeting him in her Italian class. He was a nice guy from her high school in Long Island, dark-haired and with a good build, and unfortunately was interested in way more than tutoring from me.

  Nursing a latte, I closed my eyes as I tried to shrug off the day, which included Robbie’s relentless advances. In Italian, of course.

  The chair across from me screeched on the tile floor as it slid out. “Ma chérie, how are you, love?” was addressed to me in a thick French accent.

  A shiver slid down my spine as I opened one eye. “Pierre, just go. Don’t do this.”

  He sat down uninvited across from me and cupped his hand over mine, which was already holding my mug. I hated the fact that we were sitting in a café, our hands jointly wrapped around a coffee mug—something I’d only dreamed about when we were together, and now he gave it to me so easily. Back then, all he gave me was his dick and false promises. Who knew what he wanted this go-round?

  “Ah, good to see you still enjoy your café,” he mumbled, his accent more pronounced than usual. He was laying it on thicker—for my libido, I supposed.

  “What do you want?” I said through gritted teeth, trying not to make a scene.

  “I’m back in the area. Consulting, I think is what you Americans call it? Since your parents overlooked our relationship, and I left for the year until you were twenty-one, and I’m not American. I don’t really know, but I escaped with only a slap on the wrist. That’s how good I am, bébé. I’m sure it helped that your dad made a sizable donation to the school’s agriculture department. Serves him good in his type of work.”

  Disgusted, I watched the way his words rolled from his lips. I used to love the way he spoke, but now I deplored his lingering Vs and the way he touched his tongue to his lips between words. He was such a pompous prick.

  “You still didn’t tell me what you want from me.” I was getting testy, my voice raised slightly.

  “You, Tigger. I want you. I left Patricia,” he announced proudly, as if he’d done me a monumental favor.

  I stood up, leaving my half-finished latte. “Never. Not in this lifetime, Dr. Dubois.”

  “But, Tigger, we could be so good together.” He jumped to his feet, apparently prepared to chase after me. “With all that money, we could do anything.”

  “Oh, are you finally admitting that this is what this is all about?” I narrowed my eyes, finally seeing him for the absolute con artist he was as we faced off.

  Pierre gave me that Gallic shrug that I used to love. “Well, in the beginning, I thought you’d get bored with me after sleeping with me a few times, then make me a quick dollar to leave you alone. But you didn’t. I kept thinking you’d take an interest in one of those fraternity boys, but then you went and ruined my career.”

  His gaze sharpened on me. “When Patricia left . . . with all her money . . . she mentioned that I should contact your parents, maybe they would take me in or something. That gave me the idea, and imagine my surprise when they bit. They needed something from you, and I needed them. Together we figured we could get you back on track. I just didn’t think I’d find a black guy in my place, chérie.”

  His candor surprised me. The man didn’t miss a trick; he let it all hang out.

  Edging closer, he placed his hands on my neck, leaning in to either whisper something to me or to kiss me, I wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t matter.

  Furious, I put my hand up in the air and yelled, “Stop!” and breathed a sigh of relief as he backed away. There was no way he could touch me now after all the witnesses in the coffee shop saw me warn him off.

  That was before I looked toward the door and saw Trey and Lamar crowding Pierre as he walked out, steering him forcefully toward his silver SUV parked at the curb. Had they been watching him or me? What were they going to do to him? I’d witnessed what happened to Logan when he crossed a line, so their seeing Pierre with me would probably not bode well for him. Especially if they heard his accusations about a black man taking his place.

  My entire body shook from the chill that ran up my spine and out my fingers and toes. I dropped back into my seat and gathered my coffee mug closer, willing its warmth to seep through my veins. Closing my eyes, I prayed Tiberius wouldn’t take it on himself to “talk” with Pierre. I didn’t want Ty to get hurt—which was unlikely—or get into trouble.

  Crap, that man had infiltrated every one of my free thoughts, especially when I hurried home to take a run. It was the only way I knew to shed the anxiety and stress racking my body. As I pounded the concrete, “Paid in Full” by Eric B. and Rakim boomed through my iPod, courtesy of Jamel and Trey. I’d left my iPod at Ty’s one day and came back to several new playlists.

  This was one of the songs Tiberius and I danced to, and I didn’t know why I tortured myself listening to it, but I did. My skin burned underneath the fleece-lined leggings and Polartec jacket I wore, and it wasn’t because of their insulation or warmth. My cheeks stung in the wind, probably bright pink or red. Not because they were chapped, but because of Ty and what he did to my heart.

  Not my body—my heart. Tiberius saw through all the bullshit and made me feel worthy, and that alone set my soul ablaze.
>
  It didn’t help that he wouldn’t let it be. He texted every day. Usually it was just hey or hello or thinking about you. Sometimes he mentioned that the team won.

  I never texted back or admitted to watching the games, but I couldn’t help myself. A few times, I sneaked into the field house and stood up by the rafters to watch the action. It was a good plan, no one saw me or knew I was there, until one night when Coach Smith cornered me again after a game. I was rushing out of the field house, running toward the exit before anyone saw me, and was shocked when the coach grabbed me and pulled me into a dark corner.

  Who did this asshole think he was? Ty’s boss and protector, that’s who.

  “It’s going good, girl. Let him be,” he said tersely as he gripped my forearm. “Glad you listened to me. But don’t keep hanging around here. His head’s clear, and he needs that.”

  This time, I couldn’t avoid the tears falling. They poured down my face as I jerked away from him and headed back to my room, my head swimming with T words the entire walk back.

  Touché. Tunnel of love . . . sucks. Tuna Niçoise. Tramp. Trollop.

  Unfortunately these weren’t the more positive words associated with the letter T. My little coping technique had gone over to the dark side.

  Slamming my door behind me in my rush for my bed, I looked up when I didn’t hear it bang shut. There was Stacy, her foot keeping the door from closing.

  “You ready to come clean?” She cocked her head to one side, narrowing her eyes on me as she hooked her hand on her hip.

  I shook my head and forced out a no, but my voice wavered from the quivering of my bottom lip.

  Stacy’s expression gentled as she slid onto the end of my bed. “Come on, girl. You’re a mess. You broke up with a good dude. Why?”

  She looked tired again, with dark circles under her eyes, but she was taking the time for me. Her concern for me broke through my defenses, but I wasn’t the only one with problems. It was time for a little quid pro quo.

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s going on with you,” I said, putting the deal on the table, and she nodded.