Chapter 16 #2
Lesha kissed her teeth. “Son, ain’t nothing for them to clean up so I told them to stop coming.”
“Like you pay them,” he scoffed.
“Zaire! Don’t play with me,” she fussed. “I don’t care who money it is…ain’t no need wasting it because the same way it came, it can go.”
He got quiet because that stung. He knew he had enough money to live good for the rest of his life but something about what his Mama said had him thinking about never playing golf again.
The league had been whispering about what to do with him, but he’d been avoiding his agent to find out the verdict.
Knowing her son, Lesha apologized. “That ain’t what I meant, baby.”
“How you know what I think you meant?”
“Cause I know my baby…always have and I always will.”
Despite having to raise her baby in the hood, Lesha was a great mother.
She worked hard and showed up for him in everything he did.
When he told her he wanted to play golf, she did everything in her power to get her baby there.
Lesha knew his life would be harder without his dad around to teach him manhood, but she was determined to keep him outta them streets and his eyes on the prize.
Nothing was ever a guarantee, but Lesha prayed for Zaire, looked after him and now he was the best of the best even when they tried to strip him of all he’d accomplished when everything was against him.
From his skin to the way he talked, he was never supposed to be in rooms with their children.
Now, he was owning them with his Black skin and hood knowledge.
Faith without works was dead, but a praying Black woman was a cheat code. God wrote the world with her in mind, her children were destined for beauty, strength, and royalty. If she covered you daily, it wasn’t a matter of if you rose, only when.
Her prayers traveled like lightning, hitting every closed door until it opened. When she claimed you, the heavens rearranged themselves to make space for your name.
Zaire knew that, it was why he loved Black women with his whole chest. Never using their bodies for his own pleasure, never watching her struggle without offering assistance. Lesha was a queen to him and he would always carry his women that way.
“It’s cool, Ma…I’m just in my head.” He gripped the top of his head like that would make some of it go away.
“And you runnin’,” Lesha sassed. “Your agent been blowing me up because you ain’t returning his calls. What’s really good?”
Zaire sighed. “I’ll call him later.”
“You gon’ call him TODAY.”
“Ma—”
“Don’t Ma me! I ain’t raise no coward. You stand tall with your head high. Fuck them people…if they want to put you out, so fuckin’ be it. But ain’t no need to avoid the things you can’t control, Zaire. You got money on the line. Now answer that man before I fly out there and beat yo’ ass.”
He shook his head. “I hear you, Lesha.”
“You better do more than hear me.”
“I love you lady.”
“Mmhmm…I love you too.”
Before he could say anything, someone knocked firmly on the door.
“Aight, I gotta get that,” he said ready to get her off the phone. Lesha was a lot sometimes and when she got to talking like she was still a young lady, he knew it was time to end the conversation.
“Cool, but call your agent.”
He laughed. “Bye, Ma.”
“Hmph.”
He hung up just as the knocking came again.
Zaire pulled on a dry shirt and some sweats and opened the door.
Ray stood beside True and Zaire smiled. “True Bruns…a golf legend.” He reached his hand out to dap True up.
True pulled him into a brotherly hug.
“Looks like Juniper is treating you well,” he smiled.
Zaire looked over to the pile of wet clothes. “Hell yea, it is.”
“Meadow and that damn plane,” Ray snickered like he knew what happened.
“She still flies that?” True looked over at him. “I remember when she was a tiny thing in the cockpit with you.”
Beaming like the proud father he was, Ray could only nod.
“What brings you out here?” Zaire’s voice cut through their trip down memory lane.
True wasn’t much shorter than Zaire so they basically stood at eye level. His face was smooth and his eyes wide with wisdom. He wasn’t nearly as old as Ray but at forty, True was Zaire’s senior by almost ten years and had years of experience dealing with the association.
True stepped back, inviting Zaire outside without saying it. “Wanted to check and make sure everything was good.”
“Or making sure I brought my Black ass out here?” Zaire’s brows rose in question.
True laughed. “You got me, nigga.”
Eyes going wide, Zaire was surprised to hear True speak his language.
“Son, all that cuh mess you be saying, don’t tell me you ain’t never heard a Black man say nigga?” Ray clowned, coughing out a laugh.
Zaire could only laugh too. “Real talk? I ain’t expect it…the league likes to wash all that Black off you.”
“Shit, they did,” True spoke his truth. “I ain’t as bold as you because I let a lot slide just to get along. In the end, my life is great and I’m still working but I won’t lie and tell you there isn’t a lot of things I wish I would’ve done differently.”
“Like what, cuh?”
“Man,” True ran his hand down his face. “So much,” he sighed. “Just know you’re the better man so don’t ever let them think you’re not.”
“Shit, don’t feel like it.” Zaire stared past them, watching Meadow switch her little body onto the porch. She was teasing him, calling him in the only way she knew how.
True followed his line of sight and only smirked. “What you thinking, Z?”
“I don’t even know if I want to play on their green anymore,” Zaire mumbled, hating the words that came out of his mouth, but he’d been thinking about it for a long time.
He hated the idea of shucking and jiving for those White people as much as he hated Meadow for tip toeing around what she was feeling.
He knew it wasn’t love but damn, it could be.
Ray threw his frail arms in the air. “Aww, hell nah, cuh…you too goddamn good to quit.”
“I ain’t quitting…look at it as retiring.”
“Too young to do that too. You got years left in you…at least ten,” True tried to talk some sense into Zaire. "All you need is a redo...new team that’s gonna work for you , clearer head…”
Zaire let it sink in. “I had a hard time getting Ertan. Them muthafuckas ain’t fuckin’ with me like that. All my sponsorships done pulled out. Shit Nike stopped making my shoes and it ain’t even been a month since it all went down. Feels like they all just turned their backs on the cash cow.”
“What you think I’m here for? I want you to win, King…you deserve to win,” True spoke like he was one hundred percent sure Zaire was the GOAT.
“What you supposed to be? My fairy god daddy?”
“Shit, if that’s what you need to believe in yourself again, then hell yes.” True shot back. “Look, I ain’t here to blow no smoke up your ass or get your hopes up but there’s another tournament coming up… ‘bout a month away. If you want to compete, it’s yours.”
“How? You talking about getting a new team and shit. How I’m gon’ do all that that fast?”
“Man, let me work…I got you. Just be ready in all that blue L.A. shit you like to stunt in, put the chains on too.”
Zaire huffed. “You really tryin’ to get me banned.”
“Nah, I’m trying to get you seen and you don’t have to sacrifice who you are or where you come from to get there. Let your god daddy work, king.” True clapped his hands together like he was the man with the plan.
Zaire could only trust him, ’cause regardless of all that shit he talked, he loved the game…loved the wins. And in a twisted way, he loved his losses too.