Chapter 5
TATUM
I don’t even have her phone number.
That was what kept running through my head as I dealt with the “aftermath” of shorty deciding to set the world on fire with a picture I didn’t even know was being taken, and a five word caption that wasn’t even like… a caption.
She just said fuck it and posted that shit.
Very unhinged behavior.
The exact kind of shit I loved, but was notably supposed to be avoiding.
“In my defense, doing something like that seemed very out of character for her,” I told Cole, my agent, who in turn raised an eyebrow and leaned in, elbows propped on the table, fingers laced together.
“Tell me everything you supposedly know about the character of a woman engaged to a known womanizer who posted a picture of your notable arm tastefully, I guess, draped over her nude body post-coitus without your knowledge,” she said, and the only thing that kept me from opening my mouth to answer was a subtle head shake from Jordan, her husband and fellow sports agent.
It was a rhetorical question.
Which I knew, but hated, and wanted to challenge.
Still, I followed Jordan’s lead. I’d never “won” one of these verbal sparring matches with Cole, as much as I enjoyed them. And a situation where I was quite clearly in the “wrong” wasn’t going to be the one where I suddenly emerged victorious.
When I didn’t offer a smart retort, Cole rolled her eyes. “Boooring,” she groaned, faking a pout. “Anyway, luckily, popular sentiment is on her side in your little love triangle, so I don’t think the drama should affect your contract negotiations, but still. We don’t need any weirdness right now. Please keep it cool for a few more weeks?”
I shrugged. “I was keeping it cool. I didn’t even go to the club with everybody.”
“Do you think fucking Montgomery Rudolph’s fiancée days before you play his team in a match that will determine if the Kings proceed to the championship is a better headline?” Jordan snorted, then clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to contain his laughter.
So of course, I laughed too.
And then Cole couldn’t help herself either.
But… in all seriousness…. Yes, kinda.
From the comments surrounding it all, there was clearly a contingent of the population who saw me as some kind of knight in shining armor. There was another that was thinking more along the lines of Mr. Lowdown, but shit…
I was okay with that too.
He wasn’t gonna beat my ass, so fuck it.
“Look, I know everybody is on edge since we barely made that wildcard, but my performance has been as good as it’s ever been, right?” I asked, and despite her fussing, Cole nodded, right along with Jordan.
“That’s never been in question,” he agreed. “But… man, take it from a former troublemaker myself, you want the deck as stacked in your favor as you can get it. The Kings pulled their shit together enough to keep head above water, but if the championship doesn’t happen, the front office is going to be looking to shake shit up. If you’re valuable on the field, and marketable off it, that will be reflected in your offer.”
I huffed. “So I need to tap dance?”
“Never,” Cole denied. “Just… keep the messiness to a minimum, especially with women who are engaged to someone else. Especially the competitors. Which is like… the norm anyway, right?”
“The norm is not getting side bitches pregnant.”
“Is it?” Cole asked, eyebrow hiked as she stood from the table. “It’s actually disturbingly common these days, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, the drama meter is off the charts here, Tate. The situation is bad news all around.”
“She’s not bad news,” I countered, frowning. “Monty’s bitch ass is the one causing the drama, but I’m getting fussed at, she’s being labeled as something to avoid… this is wild, Cole. You don’t see how fucked up it is?”
“I see exactly how fucked up it is, which is why I’m advising distance,” she answered. “Listen, I think Aurora Mitchell is fabulous, okay? Smart, beautiful, driven, my type of hype all the way. I would love to sit next to her at a women’s empowerment brunch or something, and guess what? We still use the BabyBee app. Rori is amazing! But you know what she isn’t?”
“What?”
“Single!”
“That’s subjective.”
Cole groaned. “It’s really, really not. Monty Rudolph’s obscenely large ring on her finger is damn near as objectively not-single as it gets.”
“But—”
“Taaate,” she groaned again. “Don’t misunderstand me. On a personal level, when I saw that post, my first thought was, yes miss mamas, give him back that same energy. Your weirdo ass side chick recording this woman while she’s hurting, putting it on the internet, making it seem like they are the victims? Fuck Montgomery Rudolph,” she said, arms crossed. “But then, I recognized that big ass Kings logo on the naked arm draped around her, and my next thought was, oh shit, that’s my client. And as your agent, I have to be honest with you. You’re fucking your money up.”
With that said, Cole tossed her hands up.
Next to her, Jordan shrugged.
And I… couldn’t argue.
They knew more about this corporate shit than I did. Her father owned the damn team, so she’d been entrenched in Kings football since before I even knew what a football was.
“Fair enough,” I agreed, since really, there wasn’t anything to argue about.
At least, not with them.
Once we’d switched gears to other things and wrapped up, I left the meeting with a new purpose in mind. Aside from my agents not being too happy about it, there wasn’t much negativity coming my way from the situation, grace I was granted because I was a man. Sure, there was gossip and shit, people talking about it on their little podcasts, longform threads on socials, but my involvement was being positioned like I’d just been used.
Which… I kinda had, but there was no negative spin on that in my mind.
It was just… framed in a calculated manner that I knew wasn’t really the way things had gone down.
And I could also assume, based on the little I did know about Rori, that the narrative was bothering the shit out of her. Most people saw through the bullshit of the side chick making it seem like Rori was in the wrong. Popular sentiment was that she hadn’t done wrong enough on that angle.
The whole got her lick back by fucking somebody on the opposing team right before an important game angle though…
That one was tough.
I swiped my contacts list open on my phone, scrolling to figure out any direct connections I might have with Aurora.
As I scrolled, I came across a name that made me give a little nod.
Kevion Ward.
Hm.
I didn’t really know him, but we were cool enough that we’d exchanged numbers a few years back while volunteering at some charity thing. Aurora had been in full “bestie” mode with Kevion’s wife at the game, so it stood to reason that he probably knew her.
I tapped on his contact and typed out a message.
Hey man, maybe a strange ask, but do you have contact info for Aurora Mitchell from your wife for me?
I was back across the parking lot from my meeting at Richardson Sports Management, getting into my car when my phone buzzed with a reply.
Damn, you taking down folks’ fiancées, got me asking my wife for favors, whose woman you creepin’ on next, man? – KW(Brawlers)
Greedy mf, damn! – KW (Brawlers)
I chuckled as I read his words, not bothering to text back. I hit the button to just call instead, pulling out of my spot as it connected.
“And impatient. You a bold motherfucker,” Kevion laughed. “I was typing the number, damn.”
“It’s not that,” I jokingly pleaded. “I’m trying to find out… do you know Aurora, or that’s just wifey’s homegirl?”
Kev scoffed. “Rori Mitchell is doing facials with my wife and daughter in my primary bathroom at this exact moment, so…”
“So you know her yourself then.”
“Yeah, Rori is cool.”
“Just cool?”
“She’s great, we love Rori,” he amended. “She’s also engaged.”
“Why do people keep telling me she’s engaged?” I huffed, tossing a hand up like he could see me. “What is that supposed to mean to me?”
“Well, to a reasonable man, it would mean she was off limits, but clearly that’s not you.”
“Clearly?”
“Clearly.”
“Damn,” I chuckled. “That’s the word around town now? What, I’m grimy?”
“If Monty wasn’t so indiscreet with his shit, yeah, it probably would be. But everybody knows he ain’t shit, and everybody likes Rori, so…”
“Lucky me, right?”
In this context, I meant it sarcastically, but thinking back on the time I had spent with Aurora…
It was accurate.
Tasting her, being inside her, encouraging her, watching her thick, pretty ass come unglued on my dick… ten out of ten unforgettable experience.
She’d had my ass so damn comfortable I was in the room snoozing it up while she was sneaking pictures for the internet, and sneaking out.
Rori was already gone when my alarm went off to wake me for my flight back to Connecticut to get back into the game for the week. I hadn’t even known about the picture until I was on the plane for the short trip, finally giving some attention to the notifications taking over my phone.
The fact that the picture wasn’t posted on her page anymore was, to me, evidence that she’d just been having a moment, and evidence that this internet shit wasn’t really her speed.
Not the gossip train.
If it was, she would know that deleting the post didn’t matter. It had already been screenshotted and disseminated from hundreds of sources by the time she realized she didn’t actually want the attention it would bring.
Honestly… I was a bit concerned about her mental state.
All that shit, and it was her birthday?
Very chaotic.
And to me?
The largest blame fell solely at her fiancé’s feet.
“Do you know ol’ boy?” I asked Kevion, already suspecting the answer.
I mean, everybody knew Monty. He was a highly-skilled defensive end with multiple championships under his belt, the most defensive player of the year awards in the league, and one or two overall MVP nominations, which weren’t easy to come by. If I couldn’t say shit else, he was a problem on the field, getting on my goddamn nerves every time I had to protect my quarterback from him.
He was a household name.
I couldn’t say that I knew him, though.
“We were all in college together,” Kev answered, knowing I meant on a personal level. “We met because Sierra and Rori became friends.”
“But he’s not your friend?”
“I… wouldn’t characterize our acquaintance that way anymore,” he said, choosing his words carefully in favor of being diplomatic. “He switched up, and I don’t really like how he gets down, so I keep a respectful distance.”
Oh.
Okay.
Not neutral at all.
“So if I take her from that nigga…”
Kevion sighed. “This isn’t my business at all, you know?”
“Noted.”
“Let me say this though… on more than one occasion, I’ve had to be talked down from putting my foot up his ass,” Kev said. “Rori is a regular over here, pretty much family, and it’s just… too many tears lately, you feel me? She’s upset, which gets Sierra and baby girl upset, and… I’ll say this. There haven’t been any community tears today.”
“Heard you.”
Loud and clear.
We ended the phone call, and my phone chimed a moment later with what I noted was the direct contact info for Rori, which I opted against using right away.
It sounded like she was in decompression mode anyway.
Instead, I spent time running through my task list for the day, which I’d prepared on the plane. It was Tuesday, and I had to be ready to hit the ground running at an early hour tomorrow morning, in preparation for Sunday’s game.
Against the Blackwood Behemoths.
Monty’s team.
That wildcard status had been hard won, and making it to the divisional rounds had been… shit, a miracle. Even though my personal stats were already impeccable—on the field for damn near every snap, not a single sack on my watch, only two penalties—it wasn’t time to slack.
I had to keep that exact same energy.
We were the lowest seed in our conference, which meant playing the highest, the Behemoths. I couldn’t even front. They’d been dominating the whole time, and were the apparent favorite to win the championship.
The Kings weren’t to be counted out quite yet though.
Which was why I had preparation, conditioning, and training on the brain.
It had to be at forefront, especially since the season, like it did every year, was wearing on me. The physicality of the football wasn’t benign. It was hard on the body, and I felt that shit more and more every year.
I had to stay on top of it, if I didn’t want to be paying for it in lost mobility post-retirement.
I made my way to the team facility to get a massage and some heat therapy, checked in with Coach Underwood, and watched some film from the Behemoths’ last game. I fielded calls from nosy asses in my phone trying to get some inside scoop about Rori, kept hydrated, fixed myself a dinner packed with clean protein. I’d load up on the carbs in the morning, before hitting the field.
It wasn’t until I was full, showered, and ready to head to bed at a time that supported waking up early as fuck that I navigated back to my text thread with Kevion to snag Rori’s number.
My thumb was poised to save it when a message popped up from an unknown number.
A voice note.
Frowning, I switched gears, going into the message to tap the play button beside the soundwave indicating the length of the message.
I recognized the voice immediately.
“Tatum… hi. Um… this is Aurora Mitchell, from last night. I… shit, I’m sure you know who… I didn’t have to… shit. Okay. Um… I’m calling to… well, this isn’t a phone call, actually, but… you know what I’m saying. I just… I wanted to apologize. I do apologize for dragging you into my drama. I wasn’t thinking about your tattoos being super distinctive, just keeping your face out of it, which clearly didn’t work. Which is such a violation of your privacy. You didn’t ask for, or agree to being put on blast on the internet. I mean, who the hell does, right? Well… I guess some people do, but that doesn’t seem like you. Not that I know you that well to say one way or the other. And it’s fine if you do like that kind of attention, I’m not saying it makes you a bad person or anything, I just… shit. I feel like I’m making it worse. Um… I just… I’m sorry. For real. And I totally get it if you’re pissed at me, but I needed you to at least know that. That I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t do anything, but still. Uh… if there’s anything I can do, to... I guess make it up to you? Let me know. But don’t be weird. I… I don’t know why I said that. Like, the gall to tell you not to be weird, after what I did? Audacity is just running around rampant, huh? I… whew. Um… yeah. I think that’s all. I think it’s getting weird now, so it should probably be all. Bye.”
When the message was over, I just sat there a moment, stunned, before I chuckled.
Un-fucking-hinged.
I listened to the voice note again, making sure it was as chaotic as I thought.
Yes.
Yes it was.
Maybe more.
Then I checked the number the voice note had come from, confirming it was the same as what Kevion had given me before saving it to my contacts. From there, I debated texting or calling, but ultimately decided on just hitting the button to call.
I preferred to do my caking in real time.
That was, if somebody was on the other end of the line.
I waited and waited for the call to be picked up, ready to leave a voicemail if it wasn’t. I was choosing what lane of chaos I would follow to match her energy when suddenly, the call connected.
“Tatum! Hi,” she huffed into the phone, her voice high with strain, clearly out of breath. “Um… I guess you got my message?”
“A full two minutes of bedlam? Yeah, I got it,” I laughed, grinning at the quiet groan she let out. “Apology not accepted.”
“Oh!” she yelped. “I… um… that’s completely understandable.”
“Stop trying to be so damn nice,” I said, shaking my head as I dropped to a seat on the couch in the sitting area of my bedroom. “I don’t accept your apology because I don’t need it. I hope the picture made your nigga shit, throw up, pass out, cry, all that.”
Rori giggled, but quickly tamped it down. “Um… I appreciate the sentiment,” she started, sounding muffled at first, like she’d been covering her mouth. “But he is officially not mine anymore. I mean, he was already not really mine anyway if we’re being completely for real, but… yeah.”
“Okay, okay, you decided you were done?” I asked, unable to keep a note of disbelief out of my voice, based on the conversations we’d shared that night.
Rori scoffed. “You don’t believe me?! I sent him the ring via courier, changed the locks at my condo… done.”
I nodded. “Well shit… I’m impressed. But… I can’t lie. I’m also a little disappointed.”
“Huh?”
“I planned on taking you from him,” I told her. “You’re kinda messing up the flow.”
“Wow,” she laughed. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not available to be taken from anybody. Or taken at all.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmhm,” she confirmed. “I am a single woman, officially. And that’s okay.”
While what she was saying didn’t particularly fall in line with my plan of flying her out to Connecticut so I could find myself inside her again as soon as possible, I was kinda… proud?
“You’re on your free agent shit. I like it,” I told her, and could hear the smile in her voice when she replied.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” She was quiet for a moment, and then, “It’s kinda scary.”
“Not liberating?”
“That too,” she agreed. “Just… also terrifying. I’ve never been single, in all my adult life. I don’t even really know how.”
I scoffed. “It’s easy as fuck. You make all your decisions alone, you only have to make one side of the bed, you don’t have to check in with anyone while you’re out doing grown folks shit…”
“Well yeah, but… you make all your decisions alone. You come home to an empty bed. You risk the unknown to do grown-up shit with new people.”
“How is that different from the position ol’ boy already had you in?”
“Wow.”
“Shit,” I said, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“It’s fine,” she sighed. “You’re not wrong. He definitely had me out here exposed to God knows what, and that was just the things I was actually aware of. Who knows what kinda… shit. Here I go again, way off topic. I reached out to apologize, not pull you into my bullshit.”
“I don’t go anywhere I don’t want to, sweetheart,” I countered, kicking my feet up on the ottoman. “If I didn’t like the conversation, we wouldn’t be having it.”
“But we shouldn’t be having it. You’re practically a stra?—”
“Don’t you dare say that shit,” I cut her off, laughing.
“It’s true though!”
“I wasn’t a stranger when I was trying to tongue kiss your cervix though?”
She sucked in a breath. “Wow. We should call it a night.”
“Nah, now,” I chuckled. “After that shit you pulled, don’t you think you owe me?”
“What did I pull? The picture?”
“The making me miss breakfast,” I countered, head tipped back.
“Huh?” she grunted. “I was long gone by breakfast hours.”
“Exactly. You took what I planned to have with you. I dreamed about that particular feast, woke up with my mouth watering, ready for it. But you left me starving. That’s cruel.”
“Oh God,” she giggled. “You’re a mess.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. When do you plan to give me what you owe me?”
She sucked her teeth. “What do I owe you?”
“Pussy for breakfast.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Hold up!” I urged. “As compensation for my pain and suffering, I’ll settle for a picture of it. Wherever you are right now.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Oh, you don’t take inappropriate pictures no more? You done with that? Retired?”
“Wooow!”
“I’m fucking around,” I assured her, laughing. “And I do need to take my ass to bed.”
“This early?”
“Gotta be at the practice field first thing,” I explained. “We gotta get ready to whoop on your nigga… I mean, your former nigga’s team this weekend.”
“Wait, what?!”
“Mmmhmmm. Should be nice and awkward, thanks to you.”
“Oh my God, don’t do that.”
“I’m actually deadass,” I chuckled. “But it is what it is.”
“I’m so?—”
“Nope,” I cut her off. “Not necessary.”
“Ughhhh!” she groaned, frustrated. “And is my apology from earlier still unaccepted?”
I grunted. “Hell yeah, stop apologizing,” I told her. “And Rori?”
“Yeah.”
I hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up, hoping she would take it to heart.
“Stay done.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, before she finally spoke.
“Good night, Tatum.”
Damn.
“Good night, Aurora.”