8. Figuring out the Defense
Chapter 8
Figuring out the Defense
Mia
M y body twirled in the heavy linens in search of my phone.
I tapped the nightstand in different spots until a thump confirmed I knocked it to the floor.
The vibration of my phone danced against my rug until I bolted my body upward.
Ding!
When my doorbell sounded off, I threw the bedding to the side and exited the bed.
Kneeling, I found my phone and a hard huff exited my mouth.
It’s 9:00 a.
m.
on a Tuesday; who in their right mind would bother me this early?
Ding!
I stood on my feet and moved toward the front door with the right mind to curse this visitor.
Right now, the person on the other side of my door entered intruder status.
Without viewing my app, I opened the door to a young man in a polo with We Do Flowers across the front.
“Mia Robinson?” he questioned.
I counted to ten for an internal reset before I answered.
“Yes, I’m Mia Robinson.”
“We have a delivery for you.”
“We?” I questioned.
The young man shifted to the right, and my mouth parted.
Six mini sized vans sat outside my house with two parked in my driveway.
“Oh, and this belongs to you,” he said while handing me an envelope with pink crayon writing.
I giggled at the “from Daddy and Harley” message on the card.
Opening it, I covered my mouth at the I miss you, Ms.
Mia message.
I assumed the blue water and stick people were us in the pool.
My eyes watered and I sniffled at the picture.
“Where do you want the first set of flowers?” the guys asked.
“How many flowers are we talking about and what kind?”
The guys smiled, and I squinted as a response.
“Mr. Allen bought every pink and white rose within a 15-mile radius,” he said, and I blushed in disbelief.
I stood by the door and scanned my living room to assess if I held enough space.
“Put them in any open space you can find,” I said.
The delivery driver waved at the other vans as I moved out of the way.
As vases of pink roses entered my house, I stood in the kitchen, watching in awe.
The white roses were brought in next, and I offered the table and then soon, the kitchen island.
I tried tipping the drivers, but Marcus handled that as well.
He disclosed they would receive a higher tip by turning me down on my offer.
I stood in the living room, examining my living space.
Vases ranged from tall and narrow to short and wide.
My eyes glossed over as I videoed the space.
No man had ever gone out of their way to express their affection for me.
The men I’d dated did the bare minimum, and I accepted it.
Why, the question bounced in my head.
Finding our text thread, I uploaded the video to Marcus.
Me
You are too sweet, but I think this was Harley’s idea.
Have her call me later.
I love my card.
Thank you for the roses.
Being it was nine, Marcus should be at practice, letting me off the hook.
Next I loaded it into my friend’s group chat.
Stacie
Addison did his big one.
I rolled my eyes at her message, letting out huff of annoyance.
Kindness
Wow, Addison is making it known he is interested.
I scoffed before I corrected them.
Me
These are not from Addison.
Be serious.
Three bubbles jumped on the screen, including I’m sorry GIFs from both Stacie and Kindness.
Stacie
Well, do tell because you jumped to protect the sender real quick.
I covered my mouth as the realization of my anger came to the forefront of my brain.
Shit, I was defensive.
Kindness
Stacie, she did get a little testy and I love it.
Me
You guys need to relax.
I’m trying to credit the right person.
As I moved to my bedroom with a vase of pink roses, I tried processing how I could get around telling them all my business.
Stacie
And who is he?
Kindness
I have all day, Mia.
I placed the vase on my nightstand and stepped back to take in the fresh flowers.
My phone vibrated in my hand, and I bounced my shoulders at Marcus’s name.
Marcus
Harley can’t get all the credit.
Butterflies flushed through me as I rested against the bed.
“Mia, get it together,” I said to myself before I responded to his message.
Me
She drew me a beautiful card.
Please have her call me later.
Marcus
And what about her daddy?
I sat on the bed and read his text message again.
The thoughts of his lips and hands all over my body teased my thoughts.
Me
What about her daddy?
Marcus
Do you miss me?
I covered my mouth as I gave a shy giggle.
Marcus
I miss you.
Me
Marcus
Marcus
Do you miss me?
I’m not going to stop until you answer my question.
Me
I don’t have to respond.
The phone rang in my hand, and my heart dropped to my feet.
Marcus Allen appeared on the screen, and, in a panic, I answered.
The sound of a whistle blowing in the background exposed his location.
“Do you miss me?” his deep baritone voice asked.
I danced my eyes around the room for a few minutes.
“Marcus, you should be paying attention to the field. Not on the phone with me,” I said.
“I’ll come by, and you can tell me you miss me to my face,” he said.
“I miss you,” I blurted.
If Marcus came by my house, we were having sex, which defeats the purpose.
I’m supposed to be on my healing journey.
Hell, I didn’t know where or what I was supposed to be.
Marcus was my walking fear of a man with an adorable little girl.
“I miss you, too. I have to go. Drills. We will discuss your surrender tonight,” he said and hung up before I could object.
“It’s Mia, invading your podcast airwaves. As you guys know, Tuesday nights, we are live for the sports question of the night. Tag us in your social media post and it might get read live on air. And for those who are brave, call us. Tonight’s question is who’s the best quarterback so far this season? I have an unpopular opinion to be nice. I’m going with Kirk Winters in LA. This was not an easy call. The Football League is having a monster beginning of the season.”
The lights from the keyboard lit and Scott held up number two.
I punched it.
“This is Mia. I’m ready for your take,” I said.
“Mia, man, you are crazy. How you go against Bryce Prescott? He is playing lights out. The connection with him and Marcus and the fact he ain’t beat Vick’s ass puts him at number one,” a youthful voice said.
Through the glass, Scott bent over the desk, holding his stomach in laughter.
He held up the number three, and I pushed the button.
“Bryce Prescott is the best QB with his fine ass and when is he coming back on the show,” a woman said and my mouth parted.
The horns sounded off as Scott hit the boards.
He held up the number four, and I pushed the button.
“The best QB is, indeed, my QB, Bryce Prescott. This comes from personal experience, considering he throws the ball to me.”
I closed my eyes and reopened them to Scott standing from his seat.
He mouthed, who is it?
“Marcus Allen, some will say you’re biased. He is your QB,” I said back into the mic.
Scott rolled his hand in a circular motion, wanting me to keep Marcus on the phone.
“Not at all, Mia Robinson.”
“Okay, tell me why Bryce Prescott is the better QB than Kirk Winters?” I asked.
Without a mirror, I knew my smile had widened.
The phone silenced before her voice boomed.
“Bryce has better accuracy. He can score outside the pocket, and knowledge of the game. He knows his plays and yours. Danny is a pocket passer, with a respectable arm, but he can’t move outside the pocket.”
I smiled and then dropped my head, unable to argue with his point.
Inside the pocket, he would rip you apart, but he rattles easily.
“All valid points, but I’m going to say you’re biased because you’re Bryce’s teammate,” I countered.
“True, but the question we should be discussing is why you keep dodging me and my daughter. We miss you, Mia. Don’t we, Harley?”
“I miss you, Ms. Mia,” her youthful voice said into the phone.
I swallowed hard and searched for my phone.
“Harley, thank you for my beautiful card. I’ll come get you this weekend if Daddy approves. Enough of my personal life on the air. Thank you, Marcus, for your opinion on the best QB. We are heading to break,” I said.
My thumbs worked overtime as I typed in our thread.
Me
Marcus, I can’t believe you.
Marcus
Mia, I’m on you like a playbook.
I’m going to keep showing up.
A hard knock came from the window, with Scott pointing toward the mic.
The commercial zoomed by.
“It’s Mia and we’re asking you for the best QB of this season,” I said.
Scott raised the three, and I pushed the button.
“Mia, I need you to lock down Marcus Allen’s fine ass. Girl, what are you doing? Cut off this mic and go play step mommy,” the caller said, with audacity riding in her tone.
“Thank you, caller, but who is your QB?” I asked, to get the conversation back on track.
“What the hell is a QB? My man is listening to this show. But I looked up Marcus Allen, he’s fine and all you need to be worried about,” she said.
I sat my head in my hand before I hung up the phone.
Scott reclined in his chair, laughing at the caller's response.
Without his guidance, I pressed a random call.
“Mia, I know you ain’t playing my boy, Marcus. Look, I need you to keep him happy. I’m betting on Houston for the Elite Bowl,” a caller said.
I hung up on the caller.
“Until the phones cool down, let’s check social media,” I said.
My phone had been on fire from the moment Marcus and I hung up. My newsfeed all vouched for him with women telling me to secure the bag. I rolled my eyes because I had the bag without Mr. Allen.
“Mom, I made it home safe,” I said and pushed in my security arm.
With the lights illuminating my house, the sight of the roses sent happiness flowing through me.
“Did you double check?” she said.
I tossed my purse on the couch and kicked off my shoes by the coffee table. A glass of wine screamed my name, and I was determined to answer.
“And who is Marcus Allen?” she asked.
Before I hit the threshold of the kitchen, I paused my steps. Of course, Trendy Robinson heard about the live today. It was trending on social media, and it had LA feuding with several Houston players.
“Mom, it’s good for ratings. And my podcast is climbing the charts,” I said, hoping it would be enough to satisfy my mother.
She paused for several minutes as I stood still, as if she could see me.
“Okay. Well, the girls from the country club called me talking about a man wanting to take you on a date. I told them, as he should, my daughter is beautiful. She has my genes.”
I held in the amused reaction I wanted to give and entered the kitchen.
“Mom, you did not say those words,” I coached her to keep talking as I put the phone on speaker.
“You bet I did. Mia, I love your full body. When I first met your daddy, the first thing he said was, ‘I need a woman with some meat on her bones.’”
I shook my head as her words echoed through the kitchen. Opening the wine fridge underneath my white, waterfall-marble island, I selected a red wine. My hand gripped the blue opening, and I pulled it toward me.
“Your daddy loves my versatility. I can prepare a five star meal with the same hands I can prepare neck bones and greens.”
Opening the gold handle, I removed a wine glass, but my phone flashed. I tapped the screen to see a text.
Stacie
Marcus sent those damn flowers.
Me
It doesn’t matter, Stacie.
Stacie
Let him pin your feet behind your head.
Too late.
“Mia,” my mother said.
I snapped out of the image of Marcus handling me in the bed, flipping me over as if I was a pancake on a breakfast griddle.
“Yes, mom.”
“Did you hear me?” she said.
“Yes, you said a Robinson woman is not a woman to be held in a box,” I replied as I secured the electric cork opener over my bottle.
“Exactly, well I need to get dressed before your daddy gets upstairs. The USPN ratings were high today.”
I peered down at the phone and twisted my lips at the horror she implied.
“Bye, Mom. Love you more than designer bags and a fur coat,” I said.
“Love you more,” she said and hung up the phone.
I stuffed my phone in my back pocket to carry my glass and wine bottle. Passing the black-and-white photos of black women with red lipstick hanging on the wall, my phone vibrated. There was one person I wanted to talk to and the thought alone scared me. The pull and softness my heart developed for him had me in the danger zone. But I couldn’t go back down this road again. I need insurance this time around.
I sat my wine glass and bottle on the nightstand. Removing my phone, Marcus’s name appeared on the screen.
Marcus
Harley wants to talk to you.
Opening my phone, I called him on video. A little girl with a missing tooth answered.
“Ms. Mia, I heard you on the podcast today,” she said with wide eyes and a hair bonnet.
“How did I do?” I asked, and she covered her smile with her hand.
“I say you did good. Is this your job?” she asked.
“Yes and thank you for the card. It’s hanging on my fridge. I want everyone to see it when they come over.”
“I can make you more,” Harley said.
I sat on the side of the bed and smiled at the beautiful little girl beaming back at me. She could be Marcus’s twin with her features and skin tone.
“I would love it if you would, Harley,” I said, and she giggled with excitement.
“All right, let’s wish Mia good night and say our prayers,” Marcus said.
She frowned before passing the phone to him and we stared at each other.
“You hold, Mia Robinson,” he said and then sat the phone down, making the screen go black.
“Dear God, we want to thank you for our blessings, help Daddy to win the game, bless Ms. Mia, heal Granny’s knee and keep the devil at bay. Amen,” a small voice said.
I pulled in both lips as my emotions lingered in both softness and amusement. On the one hand, she prayed for me and in the same breath, prayed for her granny’s knee.
“Love you, princess,” Marcus said, and my heart melted.
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
A handsome chocolate face and trimmed beard with succulent lips reappeared on the screen. Those same lips pleasured my body with ease a few days ago.
“It’s my turn,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.
I heard the door shut and watched as Marcus became comfortable. From his movements, I could make out his bed was brown, typical for most men.
“How can I help you, Mr. Allen?” I asked.
He gave me a knowing expression because we both knew the answer to his question.
“Mia, I want you to commit to me and Harley,” he said.
I threw my head backward at his request. Something in me wanted to say okay, but I needed to protect myself this time around.
“Marcus, it’s complicated,” I said as my eyes watered. “I can’t connect my heart to anyone right now. I’m new to the dating scene and I’m still trying to figure things out,” I said.
I wiped away my tears with the palm of my free hand. Marcus waited, allowing more tears to flow before he said anything.
“I’m sorry. He was cruel, but I’m not him. My dynamic is different, and we both know you already love my daughter. I’m the one with the most to lose here. What if you wake up and say being a stepmom is too hard? You are in the prime of your life and fine as fuck. A man could approach you tomorrow with no children or baggage. Dating me does come with the expectation of you stepping in the role of a stepmom and primary caretaker during the season. The decisions I make impact Harley. If things don’t work out, I’m the one rocking my daughter to sleep. We both are taking a chance, Mia.”
Listening to his words, I viewed things from his perspective. His situation was different from Nathan. He has been a single parent from day one and they are a package deal.
“You have a point. We can’t undo me meeting Harley.”
“I’m asking for you to try love again but with me,” he said.
“I don’t know.”
“You know I’m not giving up. If anything, I’m going to apply more pressure,” he said.
The seriousness in his eyes alluded to his intention to stand on his word. “You are mine, Mia.”
Marcus
Standing in the living room, on the outdated, pet-soiled carpet, my imagination wondered. After removing the wall separating the kitchen and the living room, the open concept would bring a sense of warmth and light. Mia would be preparing dinner while Harley sat at the island to keep her company. I’ll be on the couch, holding my newborn while my grandmother rested her eyes, as she would say. The scent of love and family would infuse the space.
Mia’s resistance stood in the way of my dream of a wife and expanding my family. After listening to her reasoning, I couldn’t blame her stance. My brain refused to travel to a place where someone could snatch Harley away. The hurt radiated through her trembling voice as she gave me more details about the breakup. Nathan snatched more than a child, but a dream, from Mia.
A creaking of the front door sent my body turning in its direction. Bryce’s eyes traveled to the ceiling and back to me. We smacked hands as we greeted each other.
“Marcus, why am I standing on a dirty ass carpet?” he asked.
I peered down at the dated, brown-stained carpet before I found his face again. “This is my house,” I said.
Bryce folded his arms as he took in the rest of the living area. A wall blocked the view of the kitchen and backyard. The iron stairwell and vaulted ceiling gave a glimpse of the former design.
“I know you’re getting this renovated, right?” Bryce asked, his arms folded across his chest.
“Yes. I’m going to a little demo and my crew should be here in about an hour,” I said.
Bryce dropped his head before raising it again. “You’re going to be doing demo? And who is your crew?” he asked.
“The guys I’m trying out for my construction company?”
“When did you start a . . .Never mind?” he said.
Bryce surveyed the dated space, unable to see my vision before questioning me again.
“Marcus, man, do you know what you’re doing? I can’t have you getting hurt. You’re my primary target.”
I grinned as I took in the tightness of Bryce’s jaw line. Tapping his shoulder, I attempted to calm his reservation. “I have a construction management degree. My grandfather taught me how to frame, sheetrock, insulate and lay concrete. I’m going to carry on his legacy. There’s something special about building your own home,” I said.
Bryce surrendered his shoulders, relaxing his body. “Man, you have hidden talents and shit,” he said.
I snorted at his comment and led the way into the kitchen. The boxed-in kitchen held brown upper and lower cabinets. With my drill, I removed the first three doors from the upper cabinets as Bryce watched. Before I could move to the opposite side of the room, he interrupted me.
“Why did you call me out here?” he questioned.
I tossed the door on the pile resting on the floor before I gripped the handle of the sledgehammer. “I need your advice on Mia. She’s making me pay the tab for another man running out on the bill.”
“What!” Bryce questioned, with confusion resting in his crowded brows.
I huffed as I realized Bryce didn’t catch the metaphor. “Her ex let her take care of his baby. The one he cheated and created, and then he snatched her away. Now, her guard is up. She is afraid I’ll pull Harley from her if we break up. But, she doesn’t understand I’d kidnap her ass before I let her leave. You know what I’m saying?”
Bryce’s eyes widened at my statement. He rubbed his nonexistent beard as he glared back at me.
“Marcus, you can’t kidnap this girl, dude. You down bad,” he said.
Making love to Mia and not being able to hold her at night consumed me more than football. I’d been racking my brain for a solution to bring down her emotional walls. A crack in the door could fumble her into the end zone.
“I know she is my wife, but she isn’t budging on us exploring something deeper,” I said.
Gripping the end of my worn, blue shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“Marcus, it’s been almost two weeks. Give her some time,” Bryce advised, but I dismissed his sound advice.
“Why wait when I know she is meant to be my wife?” I asked.
Bryce gave a half hearted shrug. Why waste time playing the dating game when my heart already told me she was the one.
“You need to give her something tangible. Put some skin in the game to show her you’re serious. Find a way to separate yourself from Nathan,” he said.
“I’m open for ideas,” I said.
When Bryce didn’t say anything, I aimed the sledgehammer at the first cabinet. The impact crumbled the old, rotten, wooden shelves.
“I got an idea, but it’s risky,” Bryce yelled, pausing my next swing.
“I’m listening.”
Bryce folded his arms. “Give her some power to make some decisions regarding Harley. Think about it. What says ‘I trust you’? I think it’s called power of attorney or some shit. Get your agent to find you a lawyer,” he said.
The idea unnerved me. We’re discussing my daughter. It could either work or blow up in my face.
“At this point, I don’t think you have any other options. It’s worth exploring,” Bryce said.
He was right. I needed to do something unexpected to break the wall down. Once she stopped holding back I knew she would fall in love.
I smiled at Bryce before I swung the hammer at the next cabinet.
“And the wide receiver stood on the white line with the numbers and the princess threw the ball. He caught the ball and touchdown!” Harley continued her part of our bedtime story.
I chuckled as she used her hands to showcase her throwing a touchdown.
“The End,” she said.
Harley squirmed with hard giggles as I tickled her until she struggled to catch her breath.
“We will kick off a new story next week. It’s time for you to go to bed,” I said as I pulled the purple butterfly comforter up to her neck.
I kissed her forehead and exited the room. Eddy was still sitting in the living room, which was unlike her, but I’m glad she did. I rounded the recliner to see her eyes focused on the TV. Sitting across the room, I gazed at her until she grabbed the remote and shut down her show.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she said.
In the past, I would dispute her claim about needing her words of wisdom, but I’d grown to know better.
“Mia, she won’t budge on us moving forward. Some man in her past allowed her to raise his daughter and then snatched her away. Granny, I could tell by the sound of her voice that it almost killed her.”
“Now she’s afraid to get close to you and Harley,” Granny said as she lowered the leg portion of her brown suede chair.
“Yea. I am thinking about giving her some power of attorney papers to Harley. My lawyer said I could rescind it if needed.”
“Because you need to show her you’re serious,” Granny confirmed my thoughts.
I observed her putting her hands on the arm of the chair to position herself to get up.
“And what else?” she asked.
My head hung at her question as I coached myself to say the forbidden words. “She told me if I could give her something, she would move in. Mia was joking, but I’m going to push the envelope. I know you don’t do the shacking up, but I need you to get on board with this one. My gut is telling me she is the one,” I said as I then held a nervous breath.
Granny’s worn, gentle eyes closed and opened again. “Marcus, this is your house, baby. I know you go above and beyond to respect me, but it’s your decision. You kids do things different nowadays. Don’t you get relaxed, a ring better follow soon. Harley loves her and you know how shy she is with adults. I’m all right with it,” she said.
The tight ball anchored in my chest released, allowing air to flow. I watched as my granny slid to the end of her chair.
“Mia isn’t the only one that’s been hurt. Don’t you smother her and you have to trust she won’t leave, Marcus, or it will never work. Be honest with her about your troubles. You’re my baby and I spoiled you instead of pushing you to talk to somebody. Have your momma called?” she questioned.
Thinking about the woman who gave birth to me sent me into emotional limbo. Sometimes, my anger flares at her calls and other times, I’m numb.
“She hasn’t stopped calling and I don’t answer,” I said.
Granny stood, straightening her matching heather gray jogger pants and sweater.
“I’m sorry my daughter failed you and my grandbaby. But you have to make peace with your past before you run into the future. Mia also needs to make peace with some things, too, but I can tell she is working on it.”
Granny walked down the hall to her room, leaving me on the couch. Placing my hands at the crown of my head, I rubbed it down my face until it ended at my beard. As much as I wanted to deny it, the old woman was right. Before my thoughts could settle, an unknown number appeared on my phone. The words of my granny were already on a mental replay. Staring down, I hit the button to send it to voicemail. I don’t have to make peace today.