CHAPTER 10
Traffic wasn’t bad so it only took Persia about an hour to get from her house in Long Island City to Midtown where she was meeting Vaughn. He offered to come by and pick Persia up, but she shot that idea down. She was hesitant about having him meet her mother because she wasn’t exactly sure where their relationship was going. She was okay with taking public transportation into the city, but Vaughn wasn’t trying to hear it so he sent a car for her. She had the driver pick her up a block away from her house because she didn’t want her mother getting suspicious. She wasn’t worried about her mother following up with Nya, because she was currently out of the country so her lie was airtight.
As they drew near their destination Persia felt the butterflies in her stomach. She had been on a few dates with Vaughn already, but she still got nervous whenever they were out. Before she’d found out he was famous she had looked at Vaughn as a regular dude, but after the auction things had changed. Riding through Midtown in the back of a Town Car Persia reflected on how she had met Vaughn and how they ended up at the point where they were.
Persia had first met Vaughn at a club she had gone to with Chucky. Back then Vaughn wasn’t a superstar yet. He was fresh out of college and there as a member of the entourage of the rappers who had performed and Persia was there with Chucky, and her friends Marty and Sarah. Vaughn wasn’t like the rest of his crew. The rappers were loud, arrogant, and thirsty while Vaughn was very laidback. He and Persia made small talk that night and there was definitely a spark between them, but Persia was there with someone. When they parted company Marty and Sarah left with the rappers while Persia slid with Chucky. A few weeks later she would find out about the brutal rape of her friend Marty at the hands of the rappers. She received the news shortly after Marty committed suicide.
The next time Persia’s and Vaughn’s paths would cross would be months later at a record store in the city. Persia was fresh out of recovery and seeing Vaughn again caused mixed feelings in her. Vaughn wasn’t there at the time of the rape and had stopped hanging around the rappers when he found out what they had done, but Persia still had a hard time disassociating him from the rappers. Speaking with Vaughn that day in the record store gave her a better idea of what kind of man he really was, but she was still leery of him. It wasn’t until the third meeting when the ice would finally be broken.
The third time Persia’s and Vaughn’s paths crossed was at the auction. Persia was a guest of the hostess so that explained her presence at the gala, but she wondered how somebody like Vaughn had gotten in. At the time Persia was still clueless about his newfound success. Spending the few hours together Vaughn was finally able to get her guard down enough to let him prove that he was a good guy. To Persia’s surprise, Vaughn actually made pleasant company. Persia noticed that people seemed to be paying extra attention to them, snapping pictures and acting like they were a big deal, but it didn’t hit her as to why until the point in the night when they began the celebrity auction. Persia was stunned when they called Vaughn up on the action block, and introduced him as the recent second-round draft pick of the Philadelphia Eagles. It was then that the pieces finally fell into place.
Persia was so frazzled by the revelation that she didn’t know what to say to Vaughn so she slipped out of the gala without saying good-bye. The next day the newspapers were running with the pictures taken of her and Vaughn at the auction. Persia had heard through the grapevine that Vaughn had been searching high and low for Persia but she avoided him like the plague. She was still trying to deal with life after addiction and wasn’t sure if dating a celebrity would’ve been the healthiest thing for her at the time. Persia had no plans on pursuing Vaughn, but little did she know he had no intention of giving up on his pursuit of her.
She was surprised when she answered her bedroom phone one day and found Vaughn on the other end. Persia questioned how he had gotten her number but Vaughn refused to reveal his source. It didn’t take long for Persia to figure out that it had been Asia who gave it to him because she was the only person they had in common. Vaughn pleaded with Persia to go out on a date with him, but she refused. This was when the deliveries started. Every day for a week a large floral arrangement was delivered to Persia’s house with a card that read JUST ONE DATE. Persia’s mother was beginning to think she had a stalker, but Persia knew who was behind the deliveries. Vaughn vowed that the following week he’d start sending two per day until Persia agreed to go on just one date with him. Finally he broke her down and Persia agreed. Two weeks and several dates later they were at the scratch line of what could’ve only been described as a budding relationship.
Vaughn was into Persia and she liked him too. Because of the baggage she brought with her she had yet to tell Vaughn that she was in recovery and she was afraid of how he might react. She knew she would have to tell him one day, but it would be on her terms and in her own time. Chucky reappearing in her life might bring her secret out sooner than she planned.
“We’re here, Ms. Chandler,” the driver said, snapping her out of her daze.
The driver got out and came around to open the back door for Persia, extending his hand to help her out of the back seat. She looked up and saw that they were in front of a fancy-looking steak house. Something about it struck a chord with Persia, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t been there before.
The moment Persia stepped inside the establishment she felt out of place. There were older white people dressed in all their finery, enjoying meals and drinks. She self-consciously tugged at the bottom of her skirt feeling like it was too short.
The hostess greeted her with a lukewarm smile and asked if she had a reservation. She gave Vaughn’s name and suddenly the hostess’s demeanor changed. She went from borderline sour to pleasant and accommodating. The hostess led Persia through the spacious dining room to a booth nestled in the corner and sectioned off from the rest of the tables. It was there where she found Vaughn.
Vaughn was busy on his cell phone so he didn’t see her at first. This gave Persia a few seconds to admire him. He looked good in a dark-colored suit jacket and plain white shirt with no tie. His hair was freshly faded close on the sides, with thick, rolling waves on the top. When he finally noticed Persia he smiled, showing off his near perfect white teeth.
“Let me hit you right back,” Vaughn told whomever he was speaking to before ending the call and standing up to greet Persia. “Hey, pretty lady.” He hugged her.
“Hey, yourself,” Persia responded, drinking in the sweet smell of his cologne.
Vaughn dismissed the hostess and pulled the chair out for Persia. Once she was seated he sat back down across from her. “So, how was the ride out?”
“Traffic was light so it wasn’t too bad,” Persia told him.
“It would’ve been even better if you’d let me come scoop you in my new toy. Think about it: me and you on the open highway, blasting Mary J. with the top down and the wind blowing in our hair.” Vaughn painted the picture for her.
“Sounds like a blast.” Persia smiled.
“Feels even better,” Vaughn quipped back. “I don’t know why you never let me come and pick you up. I feel kinda like a creep by not coming to your doorstep and presenting myself to your mom like a proper gentleman.”
“I think it’s sweet and I respect the fact that you’re even willing to do it, but I think it’s a little early for all that,” Persia said, trying to take as much of the sting out of her words as possible.
“Damn, you act like I’m coming to ask for your hand in marriage,” Vaughn said sarcastically.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Me and my family just have some unresolved issues we’re trying to work through and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire of our bullshit,” Persia half lied.
“I can dig that, Persia. Just know that the offer was extended,” Vaughn said. “So are you hungry?” He changed the subject.
“Starving!”
“Good to know, because we’re about to eat like freed slaves,” Vaughn joked, lightening the mood. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
This took Persia by surprise. “Is that right? And how would you know what I like and I don’t?”
Vaughn shrugged. “I took a stab in the dark.”
“Well I hope your stab was accurate, because I’m too hungry to send my food back for something else.” Persia faked an attitude.
“You didn’t know? Accuracy is my middle name.” Vaughn rolled up one of his napkins and held it in a throwing position like he would a football.
“I don’t see how you fit that ego of yours into a helmet every Sunday night,” Persia teased him. “Speaking of football, how was practice?”
“Oh, it was an off day. Thank God.” Vaughn sighed. “My regiments in college ain’t got shit on these pro workouts. The coaches work you until you die, resurrect you, and work you until you die again.”
“Well with all the money they pay you guys I guess they’re trying to get their worth out of you,” Persia said.
Vaughn laughed. “You don’t know shit about football outside of what you read in the newspapers, do you?”
Persia shrugged. “Never had a reason to pay much attention to the sport until now.”
“Well, let me school you right quick. First of all, I didn’t go very high in the draft so my signing bonus wasn’t as heavy as people think. On top of that it’s not like I’m getting everything at one time; it’s broken up into payments. Factor that in with taxes and other shit and you’ll look at balling in a whole different light.”
“I never knew all that,” Persia said sincerely.
“I know you didn’t and that’s why I’m telling you. Now don’t get it fucked up; I’m doing way better than a whole lot of other athletes, but I ain’t where I need to be yet. Right now it’s all about getting out on the field and proving my worth and then I can hit them in the head for the long paper.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all mapped out.”
“Everything you strive to do in life requires a plan, at least if you intend to be successful at it. I might only be a rookie, but I’ve heard enough horror stories about dudes who come into the league ill-prepared and wash out. That ain’t gonna be me,” Vaughn said confidently.
“I’ll drink to that.” Persia raised her water glass.
“Cheers.” Vaughn touched his glass of wine to her water glass. “You sure I can’t get you something stronger than water?”
“No, I’m cool. I stopped drinking awhile back. I had a bad experience,” Persia told him.
“I feel you. I can remember back in college after we had this game against Texas. A bunch from the team thought it would be a good idea to creep across the border into Mexico for a night of fun. I got so wasted on tequila that I was up all night and half the morning puking my guts out. When Coach found out what happened he made us run until we damn near died.”
“Aww, poor baby.” Persia patted the back of Vaughn’s hand. “Sounds like your coach was a real prick.”
“No, he was actually one of the single most positive things in my life. Coach was a taskmaster, but I learned a lot from him about discipline, hard work, and an appreciation of beautiful things.” Vaughn laid his hand over Persia’s. She blushed and pulled her hand back. “Persia, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Why you keep dogging me like this?”
“What do you mean?” She was confused.
“I think you know what I mean, ma. I’m crazy about you and I know you’re digging me, but every time there’s even the smallest spark between us you go pouring water on it. What is it, does my breath stink? Do you think I’m ugly or something?”
“No, I think you’re very handsome and your breath always smells nice. Well, except for that one time when you had that pizza with anchovies,” she joked.
“I’m glad you can find humor in my heartache.” Vaughn frowned.
Seeing he was serious Persia felt bad about laughing. “I’m sorry. Your feelings are not a joke. I like you, I really do.”
“Then why am I still sitting in the friend zone?”
“It’s complicated,” she said. “I haven’t had the best of luck with relationships. Things didn’t end so well with the last guy I was seeing.”
“Who, that fake-ass gangster you were with that night we met at the club? I can’t say I’m surprised. I don’t know him, but from what I saw he seemed like a real grease ball.”
“How can you say that about somebody you don’t know?” Persia asked.
“For two reasons: for one, I’m a good judge of character; and for two, any man who would treat you wrong obviously ain’t about shit. Dig, Persia, I can understand why the way things ended with him would make you hesitant, but I’m not that dude. I’d really like to see where we can go with this.”
“But you hardly know me,” she pointed out.
“Because you won’t give me a chance to get to know you! I’m not asking for your hand in marriage or no shit like that, just the opportunity to show you that I have nothing but the best intentions.”
“We’ll see, but I can’t make any promises.”
Vaughn smiled. “Fair enough, baby. Fair enough.”
Persia had to admit, Vaughn was persistent when it came to something he wanted. It was one of the things she found attractive about him: his determination.
The wait staff finally arrived with their appetizer: a dozen large oysters on a bed of ice. Vaughn picked one up, and squeezed a lemon slice on it with a dollop of horseradish and a few drops of Tabasco sauce. He fed it to Persia, who seductively slurped it from the shell. A split second later when the horseradish hit her nasal cavity her eyes began to tear up. She downed her water while Vaughn tried to stifle his laugh. Their next course consisted of cold-water lobster and two rib eye steaks that were so tender Persia’s knife glided through hers like butter. For dessert they shared a chocolate mousse. It was shaping up to be one of the best nights Persia had ever had; then the other shoe dropped.
Vaughn and Persia were making small talk and cracking jokes when she heard a voice that made her head snap up. There was a group of men passing their booth, laughing and talking among themselves. The leader was a slightly older, but very well-built man, who had traces of gray peppering his low-cut hair. His ears, wrists, and fingers were flooded with diamonds, and hanging from his neck was a huge gold chain. The eight-inch bust of an Egyptian queen bounced off his chest while he moved.
When Persia spotted the man all the color drained from her face and her mouth suddenly became very dry.
“You okay?” Vaughn asked in a concerned tone, looking back and forth between Persia and the passing group.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Persia lied. She tried to shrink herself in the booth, hoping the man with the big gold chain didn’t notice her. The men had almost made it past the booth without giving Persia or Vaughn a second look, and then her luck ran out.
“Yo, ain’t that the kid who play for the Eagles?” a man who had been bringing up the rear asked loudly. This made the whole group stop and turn their eyes toward the booth.
When the man with the big gold chain spotted Persia she saw the light of recognition go off in his eyes and felt a tinkle of pee squirt down her thigh. She didn’t know him very well personally, but his exploits in the hood were legendary. His name was Ramses. He was the eyes, ears, and executioner’s sword for a drug lord named Pharaoh. More importantly he was the man Chucky had robbed before he and Persia made their great escape.
“How you doing tonight, fellas?” Vaughn greeted them like a man who was used to getting approached by strangers, not too inviting but not standoffish either.
“Man, I told y’all it was him!” the man who spotted them told his companions excitedly. He walked over to the table and shook Vaughn’s hand. “I saw you in that game when you came off the bench against Chicago. They were kicking y’all asses until you went on that two score drive in the fourth. That’s one hell of an arm you got.”
“Thanks,” Vaughn replied.
“I’m surprised to see you in New York. You thinking about requesting a trade and coming up this way?” the man asked.
“My heart is New York.” Vaughn glanced at Persia. “But my contract is in Philadelphia.”
The man continued to badger Vaughn with questions and even asked him to pose for some pictures. Persia could tell Vaughn was getting annoyed, but he just smiled and was as accommodating as possible. The whole time Persia could feel Ramses’s eyes on her. She dared not look his way out of fear of not knowing what he would do or say. Chucky had been the one who betrayed Ramses, but Persia had been his unwitting accomplice. There was a standing bounty on Chucky’s head and Persia wasn’t sure where she stood. She knew how Ramses dealt and feared that she had now also put Vaughn’s life in jeopardy.
“I know you, don’t I?” Ramses asked, startling Persia to the point where she jumped and almost knocked over one of the water glasses.
“Huh?” Persia asked for lack of a better reply.
“I said, I know you,” Ramses repeated. “Your name is Persia, right?”
Persia was stuck on stupid. She thought about lying and telling Ramses that he was mistaken, but that would raise a red flag with Vaughn. Ramses glared at her, waiting to see how she would respond, while Vaughn looked back and forth between them trying to figure out what the connection was. The secrets Persia had sought to keep were about to come out and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “Yes, my name is Persia,” she answered softly.
“I thought I recognized you.” Ramses rubbed his hands together as if he was planning something sinister.
Vaughn finally got tired of playing the guessing game. “How do you two know each other?”
“Vaughn, there’s something I need to tell you,” Persia began, but was cut off.
“You’re Face’s little girl,” Ramses said.
“Um, yeah,” Persia said trying to hide her shock. She thought sure that Ramses was about to expose her in front of Vaughn or worse.
“I thought so.” Ramses gave her a knowing nod. “Your dad was a good dude, a stand-up dude. Not like some of these larcenous fucks who are running around calling themselves hustlers these days. The kids today have no honor and would steal from the very pockets that feed them,” he said coldly.
Vaughn noticed the uncomfortable look on Persia’s face so he intervened. “Look, fellas, I don’t wanna be a dick or anything, but I’m feeling like I’m being rude by neglecting my lady.” He let them know subtly that it was time for them to move on.
Ramses looked down at Vaughn. For a minute Persia thought that he was going to make a move, but instead Ramses just smiled. “Sure, you’re right, kid. I can respect a man who knows when he’s got a good thing and tries to do right. Oh, but before I go I was wondering if you could sign an autograph for my son.” He helped himself to one of their cloth napkins and slid it across the table to Vaughn.
“Sure, I’m happy to do it.” Vaughn fished a pen from the pocket of his suit jacket. “What’s his name?”
“Make it out to Pharaoh,” Ramses said glancing at Persia.
“No problem.” Vaughn began scribbling on the napkin. “Is li’l man a fan?”
“Nah, we don’t fuck with the Eagles in my house. We’re Giants fans, but I figure seeing a kid from the gutter who made good with his life can inspire my boy to do the right thing with his.”
“Right,” Vaughn said awkwardly. “Well, here you go.” He handed him the autographed napkin.
“Appreciate it.” Ramses tucked the napkin away. “You kids enjoy your evening.” He turned to leave with his men.
Persia was thinking how she had just dodged a bullet when Ramses stopped and turned back.
“One more thing.” Ramses hovered over the table. “Persia, I’m trying to catch up with a mutual friend of ours. You remember Chucky who drove the red Beemer, right?”
“Yes, but I haven’t seen him in I don’t know how long,” Persia said, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet Ramses’s gaze.
Ramses leaned over and rested his knuckles on their table, causing his heavy gold chain to clank against a discarded saucer. “Are you sure? It’s real important that I get a hold of him.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Persia lied.
Ramses stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before nodding in approval. “Okay.” He stood erect. “But if you do happen to run into him, let him know that I haven’t forgotten about him.” With that Ramses led his men from the restaurant.
When the fear that had been gripping Persia during the whole conversation finally let go, Persia grabbed her water glass with trembling hands and emptied it in one gulp.
“You okay?” Vaughn asked in a concerned tone.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go home,” Persia said, not able to hide the nervousness in her voice.
Vaughn looked at his watch. “It’s not even nine o’clock. I was thinking we could hit up Times Square and keep the night going.”
“Maybe some other time. I’m suddenly not feeling very well.”