Chapter 17
TATUM
Rori had me fucked up.
The most fucked up I could possibly be.
More fucked up than anyone had ever had me before.
And there wasn’t much I could do except stew about it, until I could get my ass to Blackwood.
First though, I had practice, a “voluntary” session with the new rookies we’d picked up in the draft. Before I needed to drive up a mountain to save my marriage I’d actually been looking forward to this.
Now, it was one more thing keeping me from making a necessary point.
It didn’t help that when I arrived at the practice field, it was crawling with fans and press, all wanting to get their first judgmental looks at the new class, supposedly. It quickly turned into heckling the vets about last season’s performances, that mistake in the wild card game, and whatever current public-facing dramas they had going on.
One particularly bold asshole had an oversized printout of Monty’s face he started brandishing as soon as I came out.
To any nearby staff that was listening, I made an announcement.
Somebody fix this shit, or I will.
Several folks went scrambling, and about ten minutes later, the crowd had found their manners.
I didn’t feel any better.
A date?
A fucking date?
By the time we were about a third of the way through practice, I’d normally have burned off any negativity I’d brought in with me. With such a highly physical activity, it was hard not to.
However.
Once I was lined up, looking at the opposing rookie, sweat dripping in my eyes, I didn’t feel any less agitated.
In fact… it was getting worse.
“Set!”
At the signal from the coach, my body dropped into position, legs tensed, ready to spring.
Why was I so damn mad?
When Rori and I talked about where things stood between us, I’d been right in alignment with the idea that we were just going with the flow, not trying to pin anything down. We’d both insisted we were “vibing”, latching onto that cursed ass word like it was a lifeline.
Really… it was feeling like a goddamn lie.
As soon as the ball snapped, I was off. I saw the flash of fear in the rookie’s eyes, but that wasn’t stopping anything.
I angled myself so my shoulder hit his chest hard, knocking him flat on his back after a brief slide across the grass as the whistle blew.
“Wilder! What the fuck are you doing?!” Coach Pierce yelled, getting in my face as people rushed over to help the rookie up.
“Teaching!” I countered. “He needs to keep his feet planted, he was just standing there like a dummy waiting to get hit.”
It wasn’t a dirty hit. I could’ve gone for his legs, or higher on his chest, things that could’ve actually hurt him. Right now, the wind was just knocked out of him, and he’d maybe be a little achy.
But if he’d been doing what he should’ve, it would’ve had a much different impact.
Which I’d been saying to him for the last four plays.
“That’s one too many hits like that, Wilder. This shit isn’t like you,” Coach said, redirecting my attention from where others were helping the rookie up. “Go get some laps, run that aggression off.”
“What aggression?” I asked, and Coach Pierce didn’t even give me a response.
Good for him.
’Cause I knew.
So I just went and got my laps.
As I passed the stands with the public onlookers, one in particular raised a middle finger at me, undoubtedly the same one with the big face Monty.
The same face I’d been imagining on rookies as I took them down in practice.
Probably not the best idea.
But if he hadn’t done the shit that he did, Rori wouldn’t be feeling as sensitive as she was, and there wouldn’t have been any room for misunderstanding around my statement in that interview.
No opportunity for her to have me as fucked up as she had me.
I couldn’t wait to hit the showers after practice and get back to my vehicle, so it would be a decent time for me to call Kev. It had been too late last night, and too early this morning.
Yes, they were in the playoffs, and his mental place was probably far removed from any drama that only very, very tangentially involved him, but still.
I made that call.
“What part of do not put me in the middle of this shit did you not understand four months ago, nigga?” he said as soon as he answered, no hello or nothing.
“My bad,” I told him. “This will be the last time, for real, but I need you to throw me one more favor, man.”
“That’s gonna have to be one heck of a lifeline,” he said. “I have been explicitly banned from telling you anything about the date Rori is going on tonight.”
“Banned?”
“Banned. Prohibited. Forbidden, if you will.”
“That’s messed up.”
“I don’t disagree,” Kev said. “Which is why I will say this: I, meaning myself, and the woman I married, meaning my wife, will be on a dinner date tonight at eight, in the private area at Honeybee. We will be joined by a certain very good friend of hers, and a certain inexplicably appealing to women cornball-ass teammate of mine that I would rather not spend any time off the court with. But this is the situation a certain football player has put me in.”
“What?” I asked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
Kev huffed. “I ain’t repeating none of that shit, man. Either you caught on or you didn’t, and I sure hope you did. ’Cause I’m gonna tell you this too; your situation is dire. There was a lot of back and forth out of my wife’s mouth over whether or not your ass was dumb. I defended you exactly once. Nah, Tatum ain’t dumb, he was just trying to blah blah blah. And what I got back was, Well, why the fuck is he acting dumb, doing dumb shit?’ So, man, actually, I gotta ask: are you dumb?”
I sucked my teeth. “No, I’m not fucking dumb.”
“Well then, alright, that’s settled. See you tonight.”
I heard a little chime and then looked at my phone again, and sure enough, the call had ended.
I frowned again, wondering what the hell had just happened, but because I, indeed, was not dumb. I only had to think back over what Kevion had said for a moment before I realized what he had been communicating to me.
He and Sierra were gonna be on a double date with Rori and some unknown Blackwood Brawler .
And me, apparently.
Cause they had me fucked up.
I should have driven.
If I had, I wouldn’t have been at the mercy of the airline for a last-minute flight that was first delayed for a couple hours, then sat on the tarmac for damn near an extra two hours before actually taking off.
By the time I made it to Blackwood, it was damn near ten at night, and it took another hour to get off the plane and into a car. With dinner at eight, I really was not trying to hear that there was any date left for me to interrupt.
And yet, there was, as confirmed by Kev.
At this point, I felt like the date had me fucked up.
Because what do you mean you’re skinning and grinning in the face of a woman I was skinning and grinning in the face of a week ago?
Was this how Monty felt?
’Cause if so goddamn, no wonder he wanted my head.
The Wi-Fi hadn’t been working on the plane, so I’d touched down to a barrage of texts from Kevion wondering where the hell I was and updating me on where they were.
Notably, there were no texts from Rori.
She had posted a picture of herself on her social media pages, hashtagged “date night”, wearing a little dress and heels that were clearly meant to impress.
And shit… mission accomplished.
Which, ok, cool.
Still, I didn’t fucking like it.
She looked good as hell though.
I knew Kev had been doing me a favor by delaying them at Honeybee and not leaving her alone with her date, but as I scrolled through the texts I’d missed, there was one that made me sick to my stomach.
They’d left Honeybee.
To have drinks at Rendezvous.
I had a drink with her at Rendezvous.
And then after our drink at Rendezvous, I had her spread out in front of that mirror in the room upstairs.
Was that why he took her to Rendezvous?
Because he wanted to have her spread out in front of the mirror in that room?
They have me so fucked up.
But I was cool.
I was cool.
I was committed to staying cool.
Until Kev replied to my text that I was almost there to let me know that Sierra had insisted that they leave, which meant Rori and ol’ boy were at the bar alone.
Now, did I think something was going to happen?
Not necessarily.
But Rori was a grown woman, a grown single woman, a free agent like she had made sure to let me know.
So, I would be as dumb as I had been accused of being to not take the possibility into account.
As such, I didn’t waste any time, not even bothering to catch my breath after hopping out of the car before I gave my ID to walk through the entrance at Rendezvous.
And there they were, right there at the bar.
Rori, sitting pretty, ass poking out beautifully atop her bar stool.
And ol’ boy, damn near hanging off his seat to get as close to her as he possibly could.
I did take a breath then, collecting myself just the tiniest bit before I went and sat my ass down on Rori’s other side. She was turned away from me and hadn’t looked up, but when I asked the bartender for a Kimble and Coke, she turned around at the sound of my voice.
I could see the slightest flash of relief on her face before it shifted to annoyance.
Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see.
Either way, I was here now, motherfuckers.
“Ah hell,” Rori said once she’d processed that I was sitting next to her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Having a drink.”
“Oh shit! Tatum Wilder?” her date spoke up, looking around her first to confirm it was me, and then standing up to come and shake my hand, completely ignorant to the death stare Rori was giving him.
I just looked at him.
He was dumb.
On the court and off, apparently.
Jay Cannon was the worst center in the league, and it was baffling to me that this motherfucker even had a place on a team like the Brawlers. I knew for sure there had to be some type of nepotism, paid placement, something going on with that.
The only explanation.
It also explained why Kevion had said what he did.
This dude was notoriously corny, but one thing nobody could say was that he didn’t keep a bad bitch. Which… good for him I guess. The problem was, this time he was trying to move into the unfortunate space I’d left between me and mine.
And I couldn’t have that.
“I’m a big fan, my boy,” he said, still pushing it while Rori was mumbling under her breath.
Still with his hand extended.
Instead of accepting it, I tossed my chin up.
“What’s up, man? I said. “You can go on ahead out. I’ll get her home safe.”
The smile faded off his face. “We’re on a date, actually.”
“Not anymore,” I told him, ignoring the blatant side-eye from Rori. “Like I said, you can head out. I’ll get her home.”
Jay smirked. “There’s no need to get her home. She’s already where I planned to take her. Our room is waiting upstairs after we finish our drinks.”
“Our what?” Rori spoke up, fully turning around now.
“Our room,” he repeated with clear implication that ending the night in a suite upstairs was the obvious endpoint.
So I was right.
He had planned on having her spread out in front of the?—
“Boy, I don’t know what the fuck you thought was happening here, but we don’t have any need for a room.”
His face scrunched. “I thought we were having a good time?”
“I’ve been cursing my friend out via text for leaving me with you and trying to figure out how to politely remove myself from this bar for the last… twenty-eight minutes,” she said after checking her watch. “Again, we don’t have a need for a room.”
“So you bouncing from athlete to athlete to athlete and I’m the one that can’t hit? Why am I paying for dinner and drinks then?” Jay snapped, and Rori’s eyes went wide.
“Wow.” She smirked. “Maybe your inability to seal the deal is a reflection of your in-game performance, just like theirs.”
“Bitch—”
“Say what now?” I cut in, standing up to full height to give him a more clear picture of what was happening here. “There’s not going to be any of that.”
Jay scoffed. “You couldn’t even claim her, but you wanna defend her honor? What the fuck is this?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be making him jealous?”
“If that had been the goal, this would be embarrassing for both of us,” Rori told him, and from the look that spread over his face… that cut him deep.
“I’ll have another bitch before I even walk out of here,” he declared.
Rori, still unbothered, waved him off. “Then please, go get her.”
“Nigga you owe me for the dinner and drinks,” Jay told me, and I laughed.
“Get it back in blood then,” I said, shrugging before I sat back down.
“Fuck both of y’all,” he huffed, then walked off.
I looked back at Rori, who’d picked up the drink she’d been nursing when I first sat down beside her.
“Well that was eventful,” I said, and she cut her eyes in my direction briefly before going back to her drink.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“Why?”
“You just ruined my date.”
“So?”
Her head whipped back in my direction, her hair flying and then landing in soft layers around her face.
“You so damn fine it don’t make sense,” I said, pretending she wasn’t giving me a look like she wanted to stab me.
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject,” I replied. “I’m explaining myself. She was just so fine I couldn’t help myself,” I said to the bartender as he delivered my drink. "You think it's a good defense?" I asked, and he cringed.
“I don’t know, man… looks like she’s not buying it,” he answered with a chuckle before he walked away, perfectly doing his job of not getting too involved with the shit the customers had going on.
"So you think you get to just do whatever you want to do?" Rori asked, wearing a stern expression while she waited for me to answer.
"Not at all. But I do want what I want, and I've never been one to back down from trying to get it.”
"Right." She nodded. "You wanted me to have a bad time on the date, so you went out of your way to ruin it."
"Nope." I shook my head. "What I want is you to myself, and I came to see you in person to make that happen. And for the record, I didn’t have to do much to ‘ruin’ your date, that nigga was doing a great job of that before I even walked in here."
“So that makes it okay then?” She rolled her eyes. “You are truly something else.”
"I’m something else?" I said. "Rori, you're sitting your ass at this bar looking like you’re trying to get swallowed up, and I'm something else?"
"Should I not look good while exploring my options? You're the one who told me?—"
"Man, fuck all of that," I interrupted. "I don't want to hear anything about vibes, free agency, high frequency signals, none of that bullshit. Don't say any of that shit to me again, it’s dead,” I told her. “We can pretend otherwise as much as we want, but we both know what it really is. I want you. You want me. So we're going to be together. That's it."
She raised an eyebrow, sitting there in stunned silence for a moment before she took a sip from her drink. "Are you asking me or telling me?"
I scoffed. "I'm telling you. I’m demanding it."
She took another drink, looking away from me for a long moment before her eyes cut back to meet mine.
“Okay.”