Chapter 2 #2
He let out a light chuckle. “I mean, yeah, if the situation calls for it. But I’m more low-key with it. I move in silence.”
“Closed mouths don’t get fed.”
“True. But if I’m doing my job, a closed mouth won’t stop me from feeding her.”
I glanced over at him and found him staring at me.
My heart slammed into my chest.
He licked his lips. “Making sure she’s good, taking care of her, keeping her happy, safe, and wanting for nothing.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “I take my time, but I’m thorough. You feel me?”
My pulse quickened. Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yeah, I feel you.”
“You like grand gestures?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
I looked at the man groveling across the bar and shook my head. “I like what’s real,” I answered, getting back to the game. “I don’t like a lot of attention, so doing all that would be”—I hesitated before settling on a word—“embarrassing.”
“Like that call?”
I smiled, pleased at how he’d read my mind. “How are the refs not seeing anything the Wasps are doing but flagging the Monarchs for everything?” I complained.
“And they’re giving my boy a fifteen-yard penalty for the same shit the Wasps did and weren’t penalized for,” he added.
“You and I both know that Tim Bradley is the league’s golden boy.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s the only quarterback who can literally cheat and everyone turns a blind eye.”
He chuckled under his breath. “That’s the truth.”
“I can’t wait until the truth comes out about him.”
“Believe me, the league knows. There’s just too much money wrapped up in him to do anything about it.”
I tapped my nail against the bar. “And that’s the problem. It’s all about the money.”
“It’s a business. They run it like a business, and the players are pawns. That’s why players need to invest in themselves and not just be pawns for the system.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the passion in his words or the way in which he was articulating his point, but I was very attracted to him in that moment.
“I feel the exact same way. I always wondered if there’s something in place for them.”
“There is, but…”
His hesitation intrigued me. I tilted my head to the side. “But what?”
“I’ve been working on something that’ll help bridge the gap. I have the business plan, but I don’t know…”
The tinge of uncertainty was endearing.
“You should do it,” I told him, resisting the urge to pat his back or squeeze his hand. For some reason, I felt compelled to comfort him with physical touch. Instead, I clasped my hands in my lap. “You really should.”
“You think so?”
I nodded. “Something that helps players empower themselves sounds necessary and important. Honestly, I’d need to know more about it to say for sure, but I feel the passion when you speak.”
“I wouldn’t mind telling you more.” He lifted his glass to his lips with his eyes trained on me. “Maybe you could look it over.”
Staring into the depth of his brown eyes, I murmured, “I could do that.”
Neither of us said anything as we held each other’s gaze.
He took another sip before placing the glass back down. “You’re cool as fuck, you know that?”
I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah.”
He smirked. “I don’t usually—”
Before he could finish his sentence, two attractive women in low-cut tops ran up on the other side of him.
“Hey, excuse me,” one interrupted with drunken giggles and flirtatious vibes.
“Hi!” the other one chirped, grabbing his shoulder.
He glanced over his shoulder at them.
“Are you Lamar Anderson?” the shorter of the two wondered. She tucked her ash-blonde wig behind her ear and smiled up at him.
He shook his head. “No, I’m not,” he responded, turning back to me.
He wasn’t rude, but it was clear that he wasn’t interested in entertaining them.
“Are you sure? You didn’t play football for Spring Hill High School?” the taller one asked.
With a tight smile, he turned toward them. “I think you have the wrong guy.”
“No, I’m sure of it…” The taller one leaned forward.
The shorter one, the one closest to me, looked over his shoulder at me and then did a double take. “Jummy?”
The childhood moniker that had haunted me from eighth grade until senior year knocked the wind out of me. I stared at the shorter woman as she tossed the ash-blonde hair over her shoulders. She didn’t look familiar to me at all.
“Oh my God, Olivia, it’s Jummy,” she said in a singsong tone.
Olivia!
My eyes darted to the taller one and then narrowed as her features came into focus.
I know that’s not who I think it is.
“Morgan, I don’t know who Jummy is,” Olivia said, even though I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. She shifted her attention to Lamar and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m more interested in getting to know him.”
The shorter one, Morgan, continued. “She went to high school…”
As she talked, I decided to excuse myself to the restroom. I needed to compose myself. I slipped off the barstool and immediately caught Lamar’s attention.
His head snapped my way, and he reached out for me. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me.
I gasped at the unexpected sensation.
“My bad,” he apologized in a rush, removing his hand from me. “You’re, uh, you’re not leaving, are you?”
I could still feel his touch and the way he’d engulfed my wrist. “Just going to the restroom,” I told him. “I’ll be right back.”
He nodded. “Okay, cool.”
I glanced beyond him, and the two women were glaring at me.
I started to turn, and I caught his eyes sweeping over my body. My face flushed, and I made a beeline to the bathroom. As soon as I got in there, I grabbed the porcelain sink and hung my head. My heart was racing, my mind was spinning, and my blood was boiling.
Morgan looked completely different, but I remembered her name.
I remembered how she’d always followed Olivia’s lead.
She was Olivia’s right-hand woman. And from the looks of things, nothing had changed.
She was a follower. She was part of the problem, but she didn’t do anything without Olivia’s say so.
Olivia Chapman had been the quintessential mean girl—a pretty, popular cheerleader who most girls wanted to be and most boys wanted to be with.
But she wasn’t a good person. She perfected nice nasty.
She did her dirt in such an underhanded way that only those affected by her saw her for who she really was.
She had teachers, parents, and her minions fooled.
But anyone who’d had the bad fortune of getting in her way saw her for the conniving, heartless bitch that she really was.
I squeezed my eyes shut and then let out an exasperated breath. “What the hell?”
I’d spent the last twelve years recovering from their bullying.
Rebuilding and rebranding myself, I broke out of my shell and became the woman I’d always wanted to be.
Therapy helped me achieve a sense of peace that I could hold on to through the emotional turbulence of the last few years.
Yet seeing Olivia and Morgan and hearing them call me Jummy had almost taken me back to a dark place—a place that made me want to fight.
I hadn’t seen them since high school graduation, and I wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t changed.
But I was surprised by the visceral reaction I had.
Lifting my head, I stared at myself in the mirror.
My almond-shaped light-brown eyes were framed by naturally long lashes.
My caramel skin was flawless thanks to a host of skin-care products and removing stress from my life.
Even without lipstick or gloss, my bow-shaped lips had a natural tint and shine.
I hadn’t seen my beauty back then, but I saw it now.
“Fuck them.”
Taking a step back, I turned to view myself from the back.
The yoga pants fit perfectly and accentuated my bubble butt.
The way my clothes clung to my thick, pear-shaped body was the saving grace to my otherwise-bland attire.
I wasn’t dolled up like Olivia or Morgan, but I looked good, and as a grown-ass woman who was very secure in myself—inside and out—I wasn’t going to let them disrupt my night.
Pulling out my cell phone, I sent a text to my best friends in our group chat.
Jazmyn Payne: Why is the one person I hoped to never see again at this bar?
My phone rang almost immediately.
“Hey, Aaliyah,” I answered.
“Who?” she screeched, forgoing a greeting.
“Do you remember that bitch who bullied me in school?” I replied.
“The one you beat up?”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t say I beat her up. I knocked some sense into her.”
“You knocked her ass out, so you beat her up.” I tried to interject, but she continued. “Anyway, what is she doing at the bar? Better yet, what are you doing at a bar?”
I started pacing from one side of the bathroom to the other. “I needed to get out and clear my head.” I rushed past that to get to my point. “So, I’m talking to this man—”
“Oh really? And you didn’t tell him you were unavailable?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop. I’m at a sports bar talking to this man about football,” I clarified. “And Olivia and one of her minions come up to him and start flirting—while we’re mid conversation!”
“Rude!”
“Right?”
“So, are you interested in him?”
Heat crept up my neck. “It’s not like that. We just … clicked. We’re talking football, so inevitably that means I’m friend zoned.” I sighed loudly. “Regardless of that, I refuse to let Olivia get her gnarled hooks into him because…”
Olivia always got what she wanted, I continued my sentence silently.
“Because what?” Aaliyah asked.
“Because she’s not a good person, and he is.”
The surety with which I said that gave me pause because I’d just met the man. But the statement rang true in my gut, and it had taken me a long time to trust my gut again.
“If he’s as cool as you think he is, he’ll see through it. And if not, it doesn’t matter because you’re not interested in him.” She paused for a second. “Or are you?”
“It’s giving friend vibes. But you are missing the point! These two walked up and called me Jummy. After all these years! It took everything in me not to flip.”
“What is Jummy?”
“It’s their clever play on jumbo. This boy Olivia liked in eighth grade chose me to be his partner in science class, and she decided to make my life miserable from that point forward by calling me Jumbo Jazmyn. She shortened it to Jummy so the adults wouldn’t know what she meant.”
“I’m so sorry, Jazz.”
“It’s fine now. But just hearing that bullshit name sent me to a place where I was seeing red. If they had said it one more time, I might’ve hit them. So I just walked away.”
“You did the right thing,” Aaliyah encouraged. “So, what’s your plan now?”
“I’m going to take his attention back.” I walked out the door and made my way to the bar.
“Good! Don’t let them mess up your night.”
“Exactly,” I told her as I took my seat next to Lamar. “There’s five minutes left in the game, so I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, but listen … this is a meet-cute—”
“Good night, Aaliyah,” I interrupted, snickering as I ended the call.