Talking to Jaheim on the phone was mostly allowing him to say everything he wanted to say to me last night. It was a bunch of mush-mouth bullshit about how sorry he is and how he’s never made a bigger mistake. He wanted to come out here to have this conversation, but I told him absolutely not.
He can wait until I get back. I’m on vacation, and while it was nice to hear his voice, I still have nothing to really say to his terrible behavior of late. I don’t need to take this shit from him.
Upon stepping out of the bathroom, I hear my brother’s voice and peek around the corner to see him speaking with number 18, 20-year-old rookie Paul Parker Pierson, also known as “P3”. He’s easy on the eyes, fun to talk to and a good time to joke with.
The two of us are pretty close in age, so naturally we get along with one another well when I come to these events.
Tommy thinks he has a little crush on me and is adamant I keep my distance. “Keep things professional”. I’m not even thinking about that boy like that, trust me. I mean I like him and I think he’s nice to look at, but I’m not chasing after him. He’ll break my heart easy. He’s new to the league, is probably way more immature than he wants to sound like he is, and women throw themselves at him constantly.
“My sister is young as hell. I see the way you look at her and try to talk to her. She’s really sensitive, and a bit of a trouble maker. You don’t want any parts of her, or me when I’m mad for the matter. She’s a flirt with a short attention span as you saw at the table a few minutes ago. She’s got some daddy issues too, just let her be.”
Stunned by the boldness of such a statement. I step from behind the wall and offer him an applause bigger than any other he’ll ever receive in his entire career.
“That was really good Tommy, especially given you’re a loner that’s scared of rejection due to the fact that your mommy always chose a glass of wine over a post-dinner conversation with you about your day at school. That’s the real reason you run through more girlfriends than underwear. Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”
Paul bites the inside of his mouth and looks as if he had rather not heard the shit my brother just said.
“I didn’t mean to offend you A-”
“I don’t give a damn what you meant to do. You said what the hell you just said and I heard you. That’s the only reason you are sitting here trying to make an excuse. Don’t fucking talk to me.” My eyes catch water and I storm off back upstairs to go up to my suite.
Before I do though, I stop at the front desk and demand they reprogram my room key based on a lie that I “misplaced” the one I was given. I told them I would hate for a stranger to just have access to my room. The “stranger” I don’t want to just be able to come into my room would be my batshit crazy brother.
I still can’t get over the fact that he pretty much aired me out like that in front of a person I barely know. And then he went and told the boy that “I’m a flirt with a short attention span.” What the hell does that even mean?
That I’m some kind of hoe? For someone who’s only had sex once, I’ve already been accused of being a “loose” little girl by everyone in my family.
My dad has called me “too stupid over sticks to function”. My mom has come out of her mouth to call me an “attention whore”. Micky straight up called me a hoe for sneaking that boy into my room way back then. And now Tommy is saying the same thing in his own way.
Why do they think of me this way? What have I ever really done to make them believe this? Why is this the only thing they can say to me, no matter what it is I do that may upset or bother them?
I walk along the edge of the rooftop pool. It’s pretty late so no one else happens to be out here to interrupt my ability to cry in peace. I wipe my eyes and take another pull of the pen that I think just died.
I turn it over to look at the bottom of it and there’s a red light that blinks three times in a row.
“Wonderful.” I stick it in the top of my dress and then I hear whistling from behind. I turn to see Desmond standing near the door with his hands in his pockets.
“You’re stupid. Why are you following this closely behind me when we are out in the open like this?”
“I just came to check on you. It won’t look crazy if that’s the case. I really did just want to make sure you were straight. Plus, every hotel we come to, it’s kind of my thing to check out the pool. Sometimes I sit near it and put my feet in, if I’m feeling up to it. Something about the water soothes my nerves before a big game.” He goes on about his pre-game ritual I really care nothing about.
“Lovely. Well, I’m fine. You can have at it. I’m going to get ready for bed. Goodnight Desmond.” As I walk past him. I feel compelled to stop and acknowledge him.
Maybe I need to acknowledge these assumptions about myself. Maybe I need to lean into that side of myself a bit more. I’d probably get more of what I want, and less of what I feel I don’t deserve then.
“You can come check on me later if you want.” I look him in the eyes as I speak to let him know what I mean by that.
He nods as if considering it, but really not sure.
“That would be a stupid thing to do would it not?” He seeks clarification.
“I won’t say anything if you don’t. You’ve “checked” on me once before, it wouldn’t be anything I don’t expect.”
I get upstairs and undress. Upon grabbing my robe out of my suitcase, I feel it would be best to not overdo it by dressing naked underneath, the way I originally planned to.
I have a point to prove though. To whom? I’m not sure. Maybe to myself. Maybe I just want to redo last night so that losing my virginity wasn’t a complete waste of a body. I don’t want to not remember the experience. Tonight is my chance to rewrite this chapter of my story.
I put on my matching blue cheetah print bra and panty set, then wait about an hour and a half before I hear a knock at the door. The same knock as before. But I make sure to look through the peephole first to see that it’s who I’m expecting.
I open the door eagerly pulling Desmond into the suite. He laughs as quietly as possible and I move to take control of the situation immediately.
I’ve spent the last few minutes looking at some stuff online I feel would make this moment so much more worthwhile.
“So… I pretty much had an idea of how I wanted this to go the first time…” I speak honestly, taking his face into my hands.
I reach up for his lips and kiss them.
He pulls his face back to look me in the eyes. It seems as though he’s not down with the idea. But why come up here to begin with?
I kiss him again hoping he gives in.
“Amanda, what the hell are we doing right now? You know this can’t keep happening right?”
I shrug and take a seat on the sofa. I cross my legs up on the coffee table in front of me.
“So why are you up here then?”
He just stares at me.
“How often do you cheat?” I don’t know why I’m asking this? What is it that I want to know?
He tucks his hands into his pockets and shrug.
“You know.” I tell him unforgivingly.
He sighs and sits next to my feet on the table, hesitant to answer my question.
“A lot.”
“Why?” I need to know.
“Because my wife don’t love me no more. I keep fucking up and she’s over it. But we are still together since we have nothing else to do.”
Makes sense.
“Do you make a habit of sleeping with younger girls? Like me?” I want to know that I’m not a fetish for him. I need to know that there’s some other reason he’s sitting across from me right now.
He looks sickened by my question.
“I’ve never done anything like this. I never planned on it either. Last night was a mistake I can’t take back, so I’m trying to make it right?”
I shrug at his response.
“It couldn’t have been that much of a mistake. You’re up here right now. You knew exactly what I meant by “come check on me.” Right?”
I stand up and open my robe slightly to tease him the way the woman does in a movie when she’s trying to seduce a man.
He looks straight ahead at my chest and then back up at my face.
I bend down next to his ear to whisper.
“So you saying you wouldn’t fuck me again if you had the chance to?” I smirk to myself knowing he would.
He’d be stupid not to. He’s already in the room, why leave and not take advantage of the fact that no one even knew he was up here?
He lets out a hiss of air and I peck his lips before disappearing off into the room.
I drop the robe and he walks in right behind me closing the door behind himself.
“Does Thomas have a key to the room?”
“He doesn’t anymore.”
He frowns as he takes his shirt off.
“What the hell do you mean? You got the room key changed, for this?”
“Oh relax, we got into a little bit of a thing and I’m not talking to him right now.” I inform him, but I don’t want to talk about Thomas.
He laughs and nods his head.
“You’re just like her. The attitude, the entitlement. Cause I know good and well your ass ain’t paying for this room.”
I shrug more focused on the “her” I’m supposedly just like.
“I’m just like who?” I fold my arms as he walks over to me in nothing but his briefs.
“My wife.” He kisses me in the center of my neck.
Why the fuck would he compare me to her?
“I’m nothing like her. If I were your wife I wouldn’t have let the cheating slide. I don’t like to share.” I grab him by his little beard to look me in the eyes and he falls into a full on fit of laughter.
“You don’t get a choice in that nowadays do you?”
I look at him as if to say “who doesn’t get a choice?”
“If you tell me that you’re mine, I’m holding you to that 100%. I’ll be at EVERY game if I have to. They let bitches work from behind a laptop now don’t they? not that I’d need a job. A hobby maybe.” I smile thinking about how easy it should be to be a basketball wife that keeps things in check when it comes to her man. A wife to a rich man literally doesn’t have to work if she doesn’t want to. “Where you go, I go.”
“I love the commitment. But I’d never go for that.”
“That means you intend to cheat. Always have.”
“And always will.” He kisses me on the mouth to end the conversation.
I pull him down between my legs and turn us over so that I’m on top.
He looks caught off guard and I find the expression funny.
“I learned something new.”
“Oh yeah.” He relaxes his back against the bed and interlocks his hands with mine.
“Yeah.” I smile and lean down to suck on his neck.
He smells so damn good. And he feels better. His body just feels so well manufactured. He’s stronger, and sturdier.
If the girls in any of the videos I’ve watched can at least pretend like sex feels good to them, so can I. And maybe it will. I know there are plenty of women who willingly do this on the daily. They must find it somewhat enjoyable, right?
My stomach growls loudly while I begin to move my underwear to the side. And just as he starts to pull his briefs down, he stops.
“You didn’t eat? You left the dinner early and didn’t come back in…”
I shrug not caring to speak on the situation. Pulling his face toward mine, I try to kiss him again. Only I’m denied. My shoulders drop and a sigh escapes my mouth.
“What happened?” He persists.
“My brother told P3 not to talk to me because I’m a 304.”
He widens his eyes.
“Your brother did not say that shit.”
“He did.” Bothered by the fact that for some reason I actually did want to try and do something with him tonight, I climb off. It just seems like he’s too distracted for anything sexual to happen.
“But I mean, you still have to eat.”
A slight chuckle catches me by surprise as I bend over to pick my robe up off the floor. My goal remains to seduce as much as I can, so I hold his gaze as I tie it shut.
“You can go since this clearly isn’t happening tonight. I don’t need a dad by the way, I have three of them. And they are all fucked up individuals who berate and bully me every single day and have been doing the shit my entire fucking life! So if you think you’re going to add onto the thousands of things I’m being told to do constantly, you are sadly mistaken Desmond.”
He gets up to start putting his clothes back on.
“Amanda, you have a lot of issues I really don’t want or need any parts of and I see it now. Last night was about more than the both of us being drunk, high, or whatever the fuck. You’re trying to prove some kind of point to your people. And whatever that point is, I’m not going to let you use me to do it. I figured you might’ve just been trying to make a mature and conscious decision to undo the mindless one we both made. And I wanted to help you do that because I know a woman’s first time is a big deal. But this is beyond me baby.” He preaches. But I genuinely don’t care to hear from anyone else that I have all these issues.
“Yeah I’ve got fucking issues. So do you. Call your wife and kids to tell them goodnight for me when you get back down to your room. Get the fuck out.” I walk into the bathroom to get a good look at myself in the mirror.
When did everyone start to see a problem with me? With my presence? My existence? I remember being loved and adored. They used to treat me like the world was mine to have. I was always given the best of everything. And then suddenly, wasn’t worth anything but the worst.
I used to love going out with my dad to Home Depot, or Best Buy, when he needed to repair minor stuff around the house. Or sometimes he just wanted to make a few impulse buys without my mom, the unofficial accountant of the family, knowing. He’d convince me not to tell her about his unnecessary purchases by taking me to get ice cream on the way home. And she is also the unofficial family dietitian, who was always adamant we all stay away from sweets.
Every birthday, Mickie would take me to build-a-bear workshop to get a new “baby”. I had a thing for this bear he got me when I was 2, and the we somehow lost it on a road trip. Apparently, I threw such a fit that our parents sent him and Tommy into five different stores to find me one that looked similar. So it’s always been his gift of choice for me. Or it was, from ages 3 to 10.
I don’t remember being a bad kid. I really don’t remember being as angry as I am now either. Or having anything seriously traumatic happen in any of our lives. So I can’t put my finger on what would cause such a shift in attitude toward me on behalf of my family.
My brother finds me at the table where I’ve rested up to eat my breakfast, alone. I’d like to remain at peace away from everyone who could possibly cause me any upset.
He sits across from me with a plate full of eggs, hash browns, and sausage.
“So you thought that shit was cute? Getting a new room key?”
I just smile at him.
“Good morning brother. How’d you sleep?” I snicker unphased, chewing my bagel amused by his expression.
“You’re so disrespectful it hurts.”
“No you are. What you said was really mean, and it hurts my feelings that you feel that way about me. I was thinking last night you know…” I start, knowing I’m high enough to talk my shit without getting overly emotional. I don’t want to just shut down, it will be really hard for me to get back to baseline if I do.
Silently, I laugh in attempts to prepare myself for the blow of dangerous words to leave my lips within the next few seconds.
“I started thinking about things last night and it’s like everyone in the house has collectively decided to hate me at the same time. And, I know you’re just going to call me dramatic or tell me I’m generalizing. But no, I was treated like a princess for the first 8 or 9 years of my life and then things just changed. I don’t know if it’s because I was no longer a cute little “puppy” to be coddled? Or, if it was due to me coming into who God made me to be as a person.” I shrug showing emphasizing the fact that I genuinely don’t know.
He drops his fork and his hardened demeanor melts. I can tell he’s listening. One thing I know for sure about this particular father of mine, my big brother who sits just across from me hours before a huge game, is that he doesn’t like to see me hurt.
“Daddy, Mommy, Mickie, and now you… All of you just decided I was too difficult to tame. But this shit is not it. And I’m at the point where I’m willing to walk away from all of this when I turn 18. And you all never have to see me again. I’ll figure it out. I know I can. I don’t need y’all. I’ll miss you of course, but I don’t need you if you’re going to turn your back on me like the rest of them.” He must be warned. I can be cold, even if it’s not want I truly want for my relationship with him.
He gets up and smushes himself into the booth next to me. He wraps an arm around me.
“Please don’t say shit like that Man Man.” This is what he used to call me. Him and Mickie never cared to call me by my government. They were rough with me when it came to playing around. It’s like I was the third brother who just so happened to be born a girl. I was outside just like them doing experiments with chemicals and blowing up bugs with our cousins on camping trips.
I got in the fake boxing ring after cutting pieces of the pillow out to wrap around my hands to make boxing gloves. Even Mickie, at his much bigger age, found shit like that funny. We were just always doing wild stuff together, and we had each other’s backs when it came to the consequences if there were any. And then I was the only one left to deal with consequences.
Maybe my parents, who were focused on nothing but the “big picture” and their plans, only cared to have two boys.
“I wonder if my birth was an inconvenience sometimes? I’d never make my child feel the way I do right now. It’s like none of ya’ll knew how to raise a girl. I was just born and tolerated up until a certain point and now it’s too much. It’s not my fault though.” Water runs from the wells of my eyes and I must quickly catch the tears that threaten to put my weakness on display for all to see.
“Damn Amanda, I didn’t know you felt like that. I’d never want you to feel like that. You’re the only girl, if anything you should feel the most protected, and cherished. And I’m sorry for the fucked up shit I said last night. You’re not damaged. You’re not an inconvenience. No matter how many mistakes you make, none of that makes you any less loveable. I’m sorry. You know, I don’t know how to do this though… How to raise you. I’m your mother and your father right now and you’re not an easy child. None of us were though, so don’t think I’m singling you out. It’s just, I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to fuck you up.” This is the most honest he’s been with me in a while.
He’s not the one to fuck me up. I’m not his problem, I’m Mitchell and Alaina’s.
“I’m supposed to be this example when I’m still figuring my situation out too. Mom and dad were wrong for throwing you at me like this with no warning. I love having you around truly, but it takes a village to do this shit. That’s why I don’t have kids of my own right now… But I guess I’m learning with you.”
He just hugs me and I can do nothing but embrace him. I can never stay too mad at Tommy though, because I need him. He is literally all I’ve got right now.
“I love you kid.”
“I love you too.” My arms release him and I pull myself away to confirm my cool with a smile.
“I still don’t want you messing around with my teammate. You’re not meant to be a baller’s wife. If you can’t handle that little nigga from the school, you can’t handle a road man like P3.”
I kiss my teeth and roll my eyes at his remark.
“Here you go with this bullshit. I don’t like the man like that. I never did. If anything, I want the one I had back, bad. You might think it’s stupid but I don’t give a shit, frankly. I want him back, and you were wrong for not telling me that he came to the house on my birthday.”
“Maybe, if you would have answered your phone dummy you would’ve known. Clearly you felt strongly about not talking to him, cause you turned your phone off.” He shakes his head and reaches for his plate. “His punk ass is upstairs right now you know that? I saw him walking into the lobby last night when I went down to grab an extra pillow. He’s on the couch.”
I gasp and cover my mouth in shock.
“He came all the way here for me?” I’m genuinely so happy to hear that my baby is not playing about me.
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, pulling the room key out of his pocket to hand over to me.
“Go.”
Engagement