TWO

Yvonne spun around in the middle of the kitchen. She said, “So, does this ensemble meet your approval, Mrs. Fountain?”

“Umm-hmm,” was all Trina said as she dipped several pieces of fresh trout in her special homemade batter and then dropped them in a hot cast-iron skillet. It didn’t take long for the fish to turn a golden brown, the batter making it all crispy. She turned the fish over and got some more pieces ready to put in the skillet.

Yvonne’s first cousin, Maurice Fountain, came in from the back carrying a tray of vegetables he’d just taken off the grill. “What up, Cuz?” he said, while putting the tray on the counter and then going right back outside.

“Hand me that plate with the paper towels on it,” Trina told Yvonne as she started scooping out pieces of trout. She pulled the oven door open and checked on the crispy-baked home fries. “Answer the door for me.”

“The door?” Yvonne said. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“You hear it now” was all Trina said when the bell rang again. She hadn’t heard it the first time either. Just knew that Curtis, who was very prompt, would be at the house about this time.

“So are you going to help me out a bit and answer the door?”

“Uh … yeah,” Yvonne said and went up front.

Trina just shook her head to herself, thinking, “The baby is so goofy at times. But that is what makes you love her.” She couldn’t wait to see Yvonne’s face when she came back in the kitchen with Curtis Parker trailing behind her, trying to sneak and look at Yvonne’s booty when he knew she wasn’t watching him.

The doorbell rang a third time and was followed by heavy knocking. Whoever this person was sure did want to get into Trina and Maurice’s house awfully bad. “OKAY,” Yvonne yelled, before peeking out of a side panel to see who was on the other side.

Curtis Parker saw Maurice’s cousin peeking at him and wished the girl would open the door—he was hungry and ready to eat. He stared back at her and rang the doorbell one more time for good measure.

“Just hold your horses,” Yvonne hollered out and finally opened the door, stepping back almost three feet when Curtis Parker stepped inside and got too close for comfort. That good-smelling whiff of his cologne was enough to make her want to move back even more. But she didn’t want to appear rude, or act as if she found the man offensive in any way—far from it.

“Hold my horses? Been a long time since I’ve heard that one, girl,” Curtis said, laughing, secretly marveling at how tiny Yvonne Fountain felt standing next to him. He was a very muscular six foot four, which wasn’t all that tall by today’s basketball standards. He moved a foot closer to where Yvonne was standing. He noticed that she moved some more, so he moved closer to her again, just to get a rise out of her. This was fun. It had been a long time since he’d had that kind of effect on a woman, and he found it refreshing.

Yvonne moved some more and smiled up at him, then looked away. What in the world was wrong with her, smiling at Curtis Parker like that? She was a grown woman raising two daughters on her own and should know better than to be grinning up at a man like that.

“Trina done with that fish?” Curtis asked, now anxious to get back in the kitchen and get some food in his stomach. It had been a long day, full of meetings and more than enough paperwork. Folks always thought that being the head coach of a basketball team was all about what they saw happening on the court. But that was only a fraction of the job. If he didn’t do all of what had to be done behind the scenes, there would be nothing to see on center court. He had to parent, raise money, pay bills, do budgets, train, administrate, recruit, schedule, meet, and advocate, and this often happened before he got to his job description—coach.

Yvonne bobbed her head yes and started walking back to the kitchen. Curtis followed behind her at a leisurely pace, so that he could enjoy the scenery. Maurice’s cousin was fine and putting a hurting on those snug-fitting lowriders she was wearing. Few women could look that sexy in a pink T-shirt, blue jeans, and pink Timberlands. That pink was shimmering against Yvonne’s cocoa-colored complexion. And those large round chocolate- diamond-colored eyes sparkled when she flashed that wide, full mouth into a heartwarming smile. Coupled with that firm, round butt, it was enough to make him want to ask the girl if they could “go together.”

Curtis looked at that booty bouncing in those jeans some more. It was taking considerable restraint to resist the urge to pull a quarter out of his pocket and find out just how far it would go after it bounced off Yvonne’s behind.

Yvonne had the uncomfortable feeling of heat bearing down on her backside, and decided to take a seat and get her butt out of the line of fire when she caught Curtis studying her with his head tilted to the side and a crooked grin on his face. Why did this negro have to be so cute? He was long and muscular, deep dark chocolate like a Mounds candy bar, and had eyes that lit up with merriment when he smiled. She thought his eyes were his best feature.

Yet, as cute and engaging as Curtis Parker was, Yvonne had to remember that he had yet to express any kind of interest in turning in his player’s card. Plus, he always had some woman hanging on his arm whenever she saw him outside of a basketball game. Come to think of it, this was one of the few times Yvonne had seen Curtis without a woman trying to hang all over him.

“My man,” Maurice said when he walked through the door with some more grilled vegetables and hush puppies.

“Man, did you just take those hush puppies off of the grill?” Curtis asked.

“Something Trina tried out on me and it worked. They are very good. You only put them on the grill for about a minute and a half, and man!” He picked up a fat hush puppy and held it out to Curtis. “Here, taste it.”

Curtis chewed, and then fanned his mouth. “It is good but hot. I need some water.” He picked up a hush puppy and turned toward Yvonne. “Here, baby. Taste this.”

Yvonne held out her hand, but Curtis just walked over and put the hush puppy in her mouth when she opened it to say something back to him. She chewed and then fanned at her mouth.

“Whew … This is good but it is real hot!”

“Just like me, baby,” Curtis said, grinning. “Good but real hot.”

Yvonne gulped down some ice water to cool her mouth down and give that Curtis some time to cool down, too. He was just too grown for his own good. Maurice shook his head at his head coach and boss. Curtis was so wrong, and he knew he was being wrong and was enjoying every minute of it. Maurice noticed that Curtis had the exact same expression on his face as the one he had when one of the players stole the ball during a game, and nobody had seen it coming.

Maybe that is what his cousin needed—a man who knew what to say to get past what appeared to be an impenetrable wall of protection. But then again, Maurice understood why Yvonne was like that. She had not encountered any man worth her time, and didn’t have any patience for foolishness from brothers who knew good and well they were of substandard quality where she was concerned. And it wasn’t because his cousin was a snob—far from it. It’s just that she deserved better than those rotten scraps he’d seen some brothers have the audacity to throw Yvonne’s way.

As much as Maurice wanted his cousin to have a man in her life, he knew that this man had to be right—he had to be a brother whose heart and mind were turned toward Jesus. Curtis Parker was the only man who came close to fitting the bill. And even he was short a few credentials, since he needed a serious overhaul where his relationship with Jesus was concerned.

Curtis was enjoying messing with Yvonne. She was so sweet and unworldly, and it tickled him that he could get to her with the basic rudiments of flirting. He had grown accustomed to hardened women who fancied themselves to be more cosmopolitan and sophisticated than they were—women like his latest girlfriend, Regina Young, who was a staff attorney for the university. Yes, Yvonne was definitely a breath of fresh air, even if she was way too tight with Jesus for his taste. Curtis wasn’t so sure he’d know what to do with the kind of woman who would tell you that she loved Jesus, and you knew that she meant it.

Trina put some more fish on a platter, took the home fries out of the oven, and started making a colorful arrangement of the grilled vegetables. She mixed some fresh lime juice, melted butter, and crushed red peppers in a bowl before giving it to her husband.

“Baby, go back out and baste the corn.”

Maurice took the bowl and told Curtis, “Man, grab those cigars laying next to my laptop and come on outside with me.”

Curtis picked up the cigars and then hesitated for a moment. He was enjoying Yvonne’s company and wanted to stay inside with her.

Maurice opened the back door. “Come on, man, we can get a few good puffs in before dinner’s ready.”

“Yeah, Curtis,” Trina said while making a pitcher of iced tea. “You and Maurice better go outside with those funky-smelling cigars. ’Cause I know you don’t think that I’m going to let you sit back and puff on those things in my house. It already smells like trout. What do you want? You want it to end up smelling like butt, too?”

“Trina!”

“Don’t Trina me, Maurice Lester Fountain. You know good and well that the trout and those cigars will make this house smell like some old wino’s butt.”

Yvonne wrinkled up her nose and pointed toward the back door. She had never had the “privilege” of being close enough to a wino to get a whiff of stank wino behind. But she’d gotten her fair share of glimpses of the back of some winos’ unwashed pants. And she could tell just by looking at the way the pants dropped down past the contours of their behinds, that the last thing you wanted your house to smell like was how those pants seats looked.