Chapter 2
AURORA
I decided against my available option of being driven to the game by a chauffeur. I didn’t feel like being treated like some precious cargo, surrounded by security and assistants and whoever else. All that shit only made me more conspicuous, which I hated, and besides that… it was incongruous with messy ass headlines.
I didn’t feel like pretending today.
I did take a nice ass vehicle though. I pulled up to the security gate at Stellar Stadium’s private lot in a matte black luxury Jeep, flashing an ID and a smile that made the guard do a double take.
Shit.
My heart sank as I realized he not only recognized me as more than just a name on the VIP list, but he was about to make it a thing.
I didn’t need a thing.
“Ay, you think you could get Monty to sign something for me?” he asked, finger poised over the button to open the gate, but not pressing it, because why would he care that I didn’t need a thing right now?
It wasn’t his fault.
Wasn’t his problem.
As such, I kept my smile plastered on. “Well, he is a man of the people, so I don’t see why not. I’ll tell him he should come to a game to see you, okay?” I said, doing my best to let that smile come through in my tone.
“Thank you, thank you.” He grinned, peeking over his partition like he was trying to get a better look at me. “You wanna know something? You a fine motherfucker, girl. Them niggas online was saying you probably not that bad in person, and that’s why Monty be running around with Yams.”
I frowned, for so many reasons, but mostly… “Yams?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Yams. Cause that’s his side piece, and she got that wago?—”
“You know what,” I interrupted, shaking my head.
Fuck being pleasant.
“I really should get in here, the game will be starting soon…”
“Oh yeah fa sho,” he said, then hit the button to engage the gate. “They really don’t make ’em like you no more, do they?”
If I ram the gate while it’s opening, would it mean a little less damage to the car?
“Monty knew he had a good one who would stick beside him, you know. It really takes?—”
Okay fuck the car.
“You have a good night!” I called over whatever nonsense was still spilling from his mouth, just barely clearing the gate with either side of my car. Luckily, the valet wasn’t nearly as talkative, nor was the security guard who put the wristband on that gave me clearance to access my courtside seats.
My phone buzzed in the tiny purse I’d had to hand over to be searched at the security booth before I was paired with a different guard to walk me through the tunnels to the court access area.
It was Sierra.
Please tell me you’re not bailing on me – S. Ward
Nooo! Literally walking in right now. I texted back, sticking the phone back into my purse as we cleared the tunnel, onto the brightly lit court.
It was already loud, but got immediately louder as soon as I was in the open expanse, nothing blocking the cacophony of excitement from the fans of the Blackwood Brawlers.
The season was in full swing, and going well, so energy was high. There were plenty of celebrities, influencers, socialites, and other athletes in attendance. Hopefully nobody was paying much attention to me.
Still nerves tightened my stomach in knots as I breezed past crowds of people in the stands with my head held high. I was still an unwitting member of the professional athlete’s wives and girlfriends club. And especially since “my” athlete tended toward mess, the chances of me having a picture snapped were never zero.
So…I made the best of it, with my supermodel walk turned on, bundles swinging, my heels marching in a cadence that was every bit of that bitch as I made my way to my designated perch for the night.
Shit.
My steps faltered as I zeroed in on where I was supposed to be sitting.
More specifically, on who was already nearby.
Ah hell.
I hated ending up next to men at these things, because they always felt a compulsion to make small talk instead of focusing on the game they’d ostensibly paid thousands of dollars to see from this vantage point. If I was especially unlucky, they wanted to run through Monty’s highlights like I didn’t already know or test me on my knowledge of football as if I had fucking expert tattooed on my forehead.
Luckily, the small group of men seemed more embroiled in their own conversation than interested in paying me any mind.
Thank God.
They didn’t even look up as I approached, but my seat mate did, a huge smile spreading over her pretty ass face. The rich brown skin, full features, perfect white teeth, and big, bright eyes framed with luxurious “natural” lashes were Sierra Ward’s signature look.
As her best friend, even I wasn’t immune to the charm of those eyes, instant comfort rushing through me as her gaze locked on mine.
But… there must have been something in my expression.
I caught the slightest questioning narrow of her eyes before she put her public face back on and stood to greet me with a hug.
Immediately, cameras went off around us.
Not unexpected.
“You look amazing,” she said, squeezing me tightly. “I see you decided to give me a run for my money.”
“I couldn’t be looking like a bum next to you when all the fashion blogs post your picture tonight.”
She sucked her teeth as we took a seat. “Oh please,” she said, waving me off. “You’ll have your own posts, where I get cut out the picture.”
“Not the same thing,” I countered, taking a moment to peek around at who else was in attendance. I counted at least six A-listers with just a brief glance. “With a lineup like this, any articles about me won’t have anyone to do with my clothes. Monty made sure of that.”
“Which reminds me, you didn’t respond to my text earlier.”
“What text?” I asked, genuinely confused.
She raised an eyebrow. “Diminishing returns.”
Oh.
Oh.
When I just rolled my eyes and didn’t say anything, she smirked, reaching over to pat my knee. “Not a conversation for here. We’ll talk later.”
She was right.
These days, people were going as far as reading lips, trying to get any little piece of tea they could out of what would otherwise have been a private conversation. But there was no such thing in public anymore, and hell, barely in private.
Before I could agree or disagree to the conversation she was hinting at, the lights in the arena dropped, cueing all in attendance that something was about to happen.
Sure enough, a moment later, a voice over the loudspeaker started booming. “Blackwooooood, are you ready for some Braaaaaaawler Basketbaaaaaaaall!?
Shortly after that greeting, the theatrics began, a full blown light and smoke show as the players were introduced.
The loudest reaction in the arena of course happened when one Kevion Ward was introduced.
He jogged onto the court and came straight to where we were sitting, doing a whole handshake with Sierra —complete with a kiss—and giving me a quick dap of acknowledgement before he moved on around the court to complete the team’s choreographed pregame show.
That sweet gesture was another thing that was going to have a bunch of think pieces behind it.
I wasn’t sure how Sierra handled it when people reason latched onto moments like this between them as some supposed proof that Kevion was a dirtbag. Monty’s name stayed in mess, but that was because his ass was messy.
It made sense.
But apparently, professional athletes didn’t publicly, proudly show affection for their partners unless it was to put on a show.
I knew it wasn’t like that though.
Not with them.
Now, I firmly believed it wasn’t up to anyone except a person’s spouse to say whether they were good at being a spouse or not. I also knew from firsthand experience that men were very often trash, and were going to do whatever they wanted to do, regardless of how much they supposedly loved their wives.
And… maybe Kevion was a closet dirtbag.
But he also loved the shit out of Sierra and their daughter, made obvious in his actions and behavior where they were concerned when no cameras were around.
And honestly?
It showed in the level of security Sierra carried herself with.
She was… breezy.
If he was fucking around on her, it would show up in the way she conducted herself and engaged their relationship, and not to mention… she would have told me.
Or… maybe I just wanted that kind of certainty for her, really, really bad, since I couldn’t say any of the same.
Anyway.
As much as I hated the level of constant scrutiny my friend was under, I’d be lying if I claimed it didn’t feel good to relax because I was nowhere near the biggest “celebrity” in the vicinity, which meant all eyes would not be on me this time.
I settled back, ordering a drink when the opportunity came and eased into watching the game and talking with Sierra and the occasional person who came up to us instead of worrying about anything else that was going on.
Until the attendance of the courtside seats became what was going on.
It was a normal thing for the camera crew to come around, focusing on who was seated courtside, those shots got attention. Still, I had to plaster pleasantry instead of annoyance on my face as the camera person settled right in front of me and Sierra, and suddenly our faces were broadcast on the massive court screens.
“Stellar Arena, let’s give it up for the first lady of Brawler Basketball, Mrs. Sierraaaaa Waaaaard!”
Consummate professional, Sierra was quick with the perfectly balanced smile, waving to the cheering crowd before she threw up the Double-B hand sign, which really sent everybody into a frenzy.
They rested on her for another moment, and I expected them to move on to another actual celebrity, but then the focus moved to… me.
“Our first lady is joined by?—”
My stomach lurched.
“Everybody’s favorite Black girl in STEM, Roriiiii Mitcheeeell!”
Oh thank God.
No mention of Monty.
I didn’t know who was in charge of the script they were using to announce things, but I was certainly grateful to have my successes instead of my drama as the focus. I blushed over the title the chyron was giving me to the whole arena.
For Sierra, it had said FLOBB – First Lady of Brawler Basketball, perfectly sensible as the star player’s wife.
For me, it said tech mogul.
Which was something I’d never considered myself, but of all things I could be considered to the general public?
It was among the most flattering.
I took a page from Sierra’s book, throwing up the Double-Bs myself and smiling at the crowd.
As I watched myself on the screen though, the guys beside me—the ones who had been too embroiled in conversation to pay me any attention—looked up, realizing they were on the screen too.
And it was apparently not the only thing they realized.
Specifically, the one who was seated closest to me, on the other side of two empty chairs.
He did a full-blown double take, looking at the screen, then me right beside him, then the screen, then back at me.
“Damn you fine.”
The crowd was so loud that I couldn’t actually hear him, but could see the words on his lips plain as day.
The whole arena could.
So the whole arena reacted, setting off a chain of whistling and cheers that I couldn’t do anything but blush about, trying mightily not to give into the urge to physically hide my face with my hands.
Sierra laughed as the camera person finally moved on, putting him fully on the screen. “You know who that is, right?”
“No, I do not,” I hissed through my teeth, purposely not looking at the screen, hoping the camera would find Vanity Kirkland or Elodie Perry or somebody, so we could just move past and pretend that hadn’t just happened.
But Mr. “Damn You Fine” was keen on correcting my lack of knowledge of him. Next thing I did know, he was in the seat next to me, leaning in closer than Sierra was.
Fine.
A little more distance than Sierra was giving me, but still.
“Excuse me,” he said, with enough of an accent I could tell he was from somewhere far from Blackwood.
“Yes?” I said, inclining my body juuust enough to meet his gaze, just enough to not be rude.
Shit.
I was not expecting him to lock expressive brown eyes with me the way he did, just immediately looking down to the bottom of my damn soul.
“You said your name was Rori?” he asked, forming my name carefully on his lips.
“I didn’t say anything,” I corrected with a smile. “But yes, Rori.”
Because I could guess pretty well what was coming out of his mouth next, I took a chance, offering him my hand before he could get his name out of his mouth.
My left hand.
Awkwardly.
“You are?”
“Tatum Wilder,” he said, looking a little confused over my offer of my left hand.
He took it though, and immediately I realized that I may have miscalculated.
I wanted to make sure he saw the ring on my finger, so we could dead that line of conversation before it got off the ground. What I hadn’t anticipated was him keeping a hold of my hand anyway, as he let me know, “All my friends call me Tate. Country Boy Tate for the fans.”
“Oh, nice,” I told him, with the slightest pull of my hand to get it away from his. “Congratulations on having fans?”
He chuckled over my response, giving my hand a last little squeeze before letting it go.
“Thank you, I think.”
With that, I turned away. No intention of being rude, I just needed there to be some finality to the interaction that was undoubtedly already being spread across the internet, with some invented salacious twist.
When I looked back at Sierra, she was barely containing her amusement.
“He plays for the Kings,” she said.”One of Kevion’s favorite players.”
“Oh,” I replied. “A professional football player. Certainly a stand up guy.”
“Don’t be like that,” Sierra laughed. “I’ve heard a lot of good things. Everybody loves him.”
“First of all, everybody loves Monty too. Second, what does that have to do with me?” I asked, giving her a look. “What are you trying to do right now?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing,” she countered. “I have an excellent matchmaking record.”
I sucked my teeth. “I’m engaged.”
“Are you?” she replied. “You sure?”
“The ring is literally on my finger.”
“So? Take that shit off.”
“I am not about to do this with you right now,” I told her, shaking my head to end our whisper-muttered conversation and focus my attention on the basketball court.
It was not a conversation I wanted to have at all.
But I especially wasn’t about to engage it here.
“You mad at me?” she asked, after a bit of time had passed with neither of us speaking.
I rolled my eyes.
“Of course not.”
If I was mad at anybody, I was mad at myself, for even being part of a narrative I would—easily, emphatically—tell any of my girlfriends to remove herself from.
Immediately, bitch, have you lost your mind?!
I just… couldn’t seem to do it for me.
“Anyway,” I said, clearing that negative train of thought from my brain. “Let’s talk about something else. How is my girl doing in school?”
The girl in question was Sierra and Kevin’s fourteen-year-old daughter Janiyah. She was an itty-bitty thing when Sierra and I first met and became friends, but I was around them so much that it felt a bit like we’d grown up together.
“Oh,” Sierra huffed. “Let me tell you about your little friend!”
I leaned in, ready to hear everything she had to tell me, welcoming the full diversion from the topic of my life. It led into something else, and then something else again, and the next thing I knew, it was time to leave.
The crowd was in a frenetic, but positively charged, state because of yet another Brawler win. Not that they would have been in less of an uproar from a loss, but victory gave it a unique energy.
“All right, miss thing, thank you for coming out with me. You sure I can’t take you to dinner, or, do you want to come by the house? We can order in, have some drinks…?” Sierra asked as she led me through the tunnel to the private exit she and the other family members used to leave the court, then the arena.
I gave the valet my ticket and shook my head. “Yes, I’m pretty sure you’ve got some victory neck to throw anyway, don’t you?”
“Uh-uhn,” she said, laughing. “I gave have a good game head, so it’s front loaded.”
“Ah, smart woman,” I giggled. “Still though… I’m good.”
She groaned. “I don’t like it, but I’m gonna let you rock. But now that we’re alone… I’m not letting this rock,” she said, grabbing my hand.
My left hand.
“When is enough going to be enough?”
I let out a huff, shaking my head. “Honestly… I… I don’t even know if this means anything anymore. If it ever meant anything. But I’m trying not to think about it too hard, because if I do that, then… I…just… not today.”
Sierra sighed, then pulled me into a hug. “Of course, doll. Not today. Can I say it yet?”
I grinned, pulling back to get into my purse and check my phone.
No update yet from Shannon.
“Nope!”