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“Summertime” - Billie Holiday
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Love pulled her Range Rover to a stop in front of the three-story brownstone, feeling lucky to have found a spot right in front of the building. The tree-lined streets. The concrete sidewalks. The historic brownstones lined up and down the street with an odd mix of regality and a certain down-home charm. The community garden on the corner already brimming with colorful spring flowers. Lights beginning to flicker on as the sun began to set. Children making their way inside to prepare for the final days of school. Neighbors waving to each other or just offering a smile in acknowledgment.
It reminded her of home. Holtsville, South Carolina. The epitome of small-town America. Maybe that’s another reason that Harlem called out to her after her divorce. The similarities were clear. That familiarity between neighbors. That charm that southerners had. None of the briskness and coldness of rushed living to be found in the city. This was a community. This was more than a place to stay. It was home. A place to raise families and move at a slightly slower place in life than the hustle and bustle of Manhattan.
Grabbing her briefcase and oversized Coach duffel, she climbed out of the vehicle and activated the alarm. She stepped up on the sidewalk and removed her shades as she looked up at her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Greenville, sitting on the porch bouncing her one-year-old baby daughter, Kiley, on her knee. “Hi, Camille,” Love said, pausing by the steps long enough to stroke one of Kiley’s brown chubby cheeks.
“Hey, Love,” she said, smiling down at her daughter, who giggled as Love jiggled her cheek lightly.
A sad pang of regret hit Love because she wanted nothing more than to have children, but Byron had requested they wait until he wasn’t traveling and touring as much because he didn’t want to miss any of it. At the time, Love had agreed because she was busy with her business and she also wanted a more stable home environment for a child.
But now her marriage was over.
She dated, but there were no serious relationships in the works.
One-night stands were a definite no-no.
Love frowned at the image of a sperm bank in her future.
She gave Camille and Kiley one last smile, leaving them to their nightly ritual of greeting Camille’s husband, Aaron, on the porch when he arrived home from work. Love walked to her own home, her stomach instantly grumbling from the scent of cooked food filling the air from her other neighbor, Ms. Lopez.
As soon as Love unlocked her door and stepped inside her home, she hit the switch to bask the living room with light and used the remote from the small foyer table to turn on her high-definition sound system. Soon the sounds of Chrisette Michelle filled the air as she kicked off her red-soled alligator shoes and quickly shuffled through her mail.
Love had just set all of her things onto the travertine counter of the kitchen when her doorbell rang. Summer was her busiest season and she had had three separate bridal appointments that day. But zoning out in the tub before reading on the roof would have to wait. Her book club meeting was tonight.
Moments later Tashi strolled in using her carrying a bottle of wine and a bag filled with containers of takeout. Love could tell from the smell that it was sushi and tapas. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten since her last cake tasting at Sylvia Weinstock’s.
“Girl, I am starving, so Oran and June need to get it moving,” Tashi said, making quick steps into the kitchen to place everything on the wooden round table by the wrought iron windows.
Love’s cell phone rang. She retrieved it from her purse and then smiled in surprise and pleasure at the name on the caller ID. “Hey, I’m going to take this in my bedroom,” she said over her shoulder as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom.
“Excuse me, Miss Secrecy.”
Love ignored Tashi’s bemused drawl and answered the call. “Hi, Ayannah.”
“Hey, Love. I hope I’m not catching you in the middle of an event,” she said.
She tucked her cell between her ear and her shoulder as she untied her fuchsia cotton sundress. “No, not at all. So what’s up?”
“You know my brother, Maleek?” she began.
Love scrunched up her face as she moved about the room gathering a more casual outfit. “Uhm, who doesn’t?” she asked, visualizing the smiling face that endorsed a dozen different brands and kept him on the television in a nonstop rotation.
Ayannah laughed. “Well, he wants to throw this big, fabulous end-of-the-summer party in August before preseason, and I suggested that he hire you to plan it out.”
Love paused in pulling on a pair of black lounge pants, nearly toppling over onto the bed. “Ayannah, I would really love to, but I am booked for the whole summer for large events. Really, I’m not accepting anything new without at least six to nine months’ notice. I’m sorry,” she said, actually feeling remorseful.
“The budget is bananas, you know the press he gets, so the PR for you would be huge, and I know you could really pull this together for him.”
Love was shaking her head before she even spoke again. “Ayannah, I can recommend someone else. I would never half-step on any event, regardless of who the client is. I hope you understand.”
Ayannah sighed. “I understand, Love. But do me a favor. Just think about it overnight? For me?”
Love shifted her expressive eyes up to the ceiling as she bit her glossed full bottom lip. “I’ll tell you what. I will call in the morning with a yes or with a list of event planners that I highly recommend. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Love.”
Love pushed all thoughts of work away as she pulled a sports tank over her head. For one moment she allowed herself a second glance at her less-than-buxom breasts in the mirror before she left the room.
“Ooooh, I love these shoes,” Tashi was saying.
“My bride surprised me with those this weekend as a bonus,” Love said, walking up to take them from Tashi’s hand. “She’s opening a boutique.”
“Dammit! Why do I have such small feet!”
“Hell, why do I have such small titties?” Love joked. “It’s the luck of the draw.”
She kissed the cheek of her friends, Oran, a plump Afro-wearing sister whose confidence drew men to her like flies to honey, and June, a short and petite woman with fine features and a quiet sensibility who owned a cat named Garfield.
Love rolled her eyes as she spotted one of those entertainment gossip shows on the television. “Nobody but Tashi watching this,” she said, thinking the host, Guiliana Rancic, did look cute in the strapless metallic dress she wore.
“And you know it,” Tashi called out from the kitchen.
For a moment, Love flashed back to the day she saw the video evidence of her husband’s adultery. It had been Tashi who saw the blog posts and first gently broke the news to her.
“Even though I’m tired, I am looking forward to hearing what you all thought about the scene in the barn,” Love said, plopping down onto the corner of one of the three loveseats positioned around the huge fireplace.
Oran laid back on the couch and fanned herself. “This is one city girl curious as hell about a barn!”
June frowned. “Wouldn’t the hay scratch up your ass from all the...motion?”
“Shit, who cares?” Tashi exclaimed.
The ladies all laughed as they took turns passing the containers and filling their plates with heavy appetizers.
“Next on E! News we have exclusive footage of the basketball superstar, Maleek Trenton, and his entourage, all over New York...including this shot of him enjoying lunch at The Veranda in New York with pop superstar Gigi.”
Love’s eyes locked on the face of Maleek Trenton. Hearing his name drew her attention to the television as her friends continued to socialize around her. He really was as handsome as everyone proclaimed and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew it. The mix of his exotic-looking eyes and his deeply browned skin with his low-cut fade and full brows all combined to form one beautiful man. The sculpting of his body was sick—in a good way. Not an ounce of fat in sight. He was one amazing total package, there was no doubt about that. And his looks and his skills on the court combined to create an endorsement monster.
Ayannah was right that his every move was chronicled by the press, and Lovely Events would garner some amazing press for a successful event...but she was booked solid and so she knew in the morning her answer to Ayannah would still be no.
∞
Maleek sighed as he tilted his head back under the shower spray and let the water course over his body. The feel of the water combined with the heat of the steam was loosening his tight muscles. With his daily two-hour practice session, the shower felt damn good. Summer didn’t mean the end of working on his game and taking himself to another level with each passing season. Sleep was not for the driven. And every morning at five AM, he pushed himself to rise out of bed and drill himself physically. He had been doing that since his middle school days. Working harder. Pushing himself further.
He wished it worked as well to free his mind of the coulda, woulda, shoulda of the playoff games replaying in his head. Missed shots. Failed free throws. Bad passes. Holes in the defense. Ineffective plays. Fouls. Fuck ups.
It was always like that after any loss. It always hit him the hardest when he was alone. Truth: He wanted to win the division title and go on to win the finals.
Maleek Trenton hated to lose. He wanted a championship ring. He wanted his spot in the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts.
With one last stretch, he grabbed his washcloth and soap and lathered every inch of his body, smiling at how his sister kept his bedroom at her house supplied with all of his favorites. She made sure that he felt at home and even supplied his bodyguard, Yuri, with free usage of their guest house as well.
Foregoing a towel drying, Maleek strode naked and damp from his adjoining bathroom, his long member swinging back and forth across his defined thighs. Kicking the boxers he left on the floor earlier out of his path, he climbed back onto his king-sized bed and used the remote to turn up the volume on CNN as he slid on his glasses. Usually he wore contacts, but when he was alone or reading, he preferred his spectacles.
Grabbing his laptop, he logged onto his Twitter account and sent a general update to his million followers. He hadn’t posted since they lost and brought their postseason to an end.
Maleek shifted his eyes to the flat screen over the fireplace as the highlights from last night’s playoff games played. Beyond being an athlete, he was an avid sports fan with an interest in the series.
Soon the sun rose in the sky and Maleek turned his head to look through his glasses out the wall of windows that framed the towering trees of the backyard. For him, there was nothing better than waking up to the sun’s rays across his face. He never closed his curtains in the summer. There was too much of the sunlight to enjoy in just a few months. Ayannah knew how much he loved the summer season and gave him a room where he could experience it best.
Beep.
“I know you’re awake, Maleek Ali Trenton,” Ayannah said through the intercom system. “Come on down and tell me about this date with Gigi...and I might feed you breakfast.”
Maleek shook his head with a charming one-sided grin, his stomach growling as he removed his glasses and placed them in their hard case. Quickly he put in his contacts before he finished his morning rituals, including applying his favorite warm and spicy cologne that always drew a woman’s attention. He pulled on a crisp navy and white striped shirt, dark stiff denims, and pair of two-tone Kenneth Cole leather loafers with a matching belt. His platinum watch and jewelry accessories finished him off nicely.
“So fresh, so clean, boy,” Maleek jokingly told his reflection before leaving his bedroom.
He jogged down the stairs, the smell of breakfast reaching him. He found everyone in the octagon-shaped glass sunroom off the kitchen. “Morning, morning, family.”
His brother-in-law, Lance, and Yuri shared a long glance before they both gave him a look filled with warning before turning their attention back to their heaping plates. Maleek knew his sister had already grilled both of them about their knowledge of him and Gigi. Lance for his industry contacts and Yuri for his close contact with Maleek daily. They both were glad he was there for his turn and their freedom.
“A little birdie told me that you were spotted at The Verandah with Gigi,” Ayannah said, her short auburn hair already curled and spiked like she just stepped out the hair salon.
“A little birdie?” Lance drawled from behind his open paper.
Ayannah rolled her eyes as she handed him one plate with fresh fruit and croissants and another plate with poached eggs and ham.
“This little birdie wasn’t our competitor’s show was it...because we didn’t report on the Maleek and Gigi spotting,” Lance added, folding his paper and eyeing his wife.
Ayannah waved her hand dismissively. “I like Guiliana Rancic. Sue me!” she snapped, before smoothing her hand over her shortly cropped hair on her nape and cutting her eyes at her brother with a fake grin. “Now, Maleek—”
“I’m not dating Gigi,” he said around a big bite of honey-buttered croissant. “She wants me to play her man in her next video. I agreed. We celebrated with dinner.”
Lance sat up. “On the record?”
Maleek shrugged. “They didn’t ask me to keep it quiet,” he said.
“Good looking out.” Lance made a fist and tapped it to Maleek’s.
“Oh,” Ayannah said, sounding disappointed as she sat, her slender face in her hand, and halfheartedly stirred her tea.
“You want me to date Gigi?” Maleek asked, more than surprised.
“No,” Ayannah stressed. “I hate that I wasted a whole night worrying about you dating Gigi. A flippin’ video? What the hell ever.”
Maleek chuckled.
Ayannah glared at him. “Don’t you get sick of your name being linked to every random celeb-chick or groupie within a foot of you? Do you understand how sickening it is for me as your sister to have to verify your love life against the press...especially when some of the rumors are true, Mr. Single, Sexy, and hopefully Safe?”
Maleek held his hands up as he chewed a bite of cantaloupe. “What do you want me to do?”
“Settle your black ass down with a good woman,” she countered quickly.
“I’m not against that, just having a hard time finding one.”
“I can only imagine what you have sifted through, brother-in-law,” Lance added.
“Exactly,” Maleek stressed, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Ayannah made a face like she smelt a fresh pile of horse manure. “Sift...through? Okay, gentlemen, women are not ashes and matter of fact, they are more than asses.”
Lance opened his paper to hide behind.
Yuri focused on his plate.
Ayannah turned in her chair to face her brother. “Listen, take yourself out the running for the Golden Penis Award, Cassanova, and you will meet a better caliber of woman. Your problem is quantity and not quality. The women love you and you love the women. We get it. Now get over it.”
Yuri laughed but then wiped his mouth with a beefy hand when Maleek eyed him with a hard stare. His sister’s words were hitting too close to home for him, but she also had no idea how it was to be a wealthy man afraid to fall in love.
Ayannah sighed, rising to her feet and dropping her napkin onto her plate. “You know what, forget it. Just make it your life’s goal to keep your penis wet, Maleek.” She made a childish face and walked away.
“TMI, baby. TMI,” Lance said with a deep frown.
“Did you book my event planner?” Maleek asked.
Ayannah froze and turned on her heels. “Yes, she called this morning and declined,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I guess you ran into the first woman to turn you down, big little brother. See if them dimples will change her mind.”
Maleek slowly let his best, most charming, most teeth-baring, dimple-deepening smile spread across his face.
