The Scorpio Skyy (BLP Signs of Love #16)

Chapter 1

DaMonte Ridley caught me along the side of the house, in a less populated area of his oversized backyard. I hated that for me. He was a big burly dude, which was concerning enough, . . . but then there was the fact that he was always so persistent.

Generally, I was pretty good at handling big, scary men.

My job as a player liaison, for one of the most successful sports management companies in the world, put me in constant contact with professional athletes.

And it was no secret that they tended to be oversized, strong as hell, and overly confident to boot.

There was also the fact that women too often fell at their feet.

I didn’t operate that way, which I felt sometimes made my job more difficult.

Sometimes players thought I was just “playing hard to get,” and if they just pushed harder, they could wear me down.

It really took some of them a minute to realize that I honestly didn’t want them.

DaMonte was one of those men. There was never a time we were going to run into each other that he wouldn’t shoot his shot.

“What’s up, DaMonte?” I asked as I tried to scoot past him.

I wasn’t worried about DaMonte touching me or assaulting me. He had too much to lose to take that kind of risk. I just wanted him to move around. I wasn’t interested, and I never would be.

For one thing, while I believed in seeing a person’s heart, their personality, and their spirit, .

. . your face couldn’t be one only a mother would love.

DaMonte wasn’t attractive to me. Actually, no shade, but I found him not just ugly, but quite ugly.

His wife was pretty, but he was ugly. And if he had any sense of self-awareness, he had to know that she was only with him for what he could do for her.

And that was reason number two as to why I would never give him the time of day.

He was married. Not only was he married, he was married to a white woman.

The important part wasn’t necessarily that she was white.

The important part was that he chose a white woman to stroll down the aisle in front of his friends, family, and the presence of the Lord, but he wanted to creep with black women under the cover of the night.

He wanted his white wife to be the “face” of his love story—but he wanted to sneak, dip, dodge, check into hotels, and cheat with black women.

“Why you always gotta look so mean, but be so damn fine? And smell so damn good?”

I stared at him silently.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” I questioned.

“Like something smells like shit?”

Oh damn , I thought to myself. Got to get better at not letting what I’m thinking show on my face . That “blank stare” thing keeps eluding me .

“I’m thinking that I’m sure Sylvie smells good, too.” Sylvie was his wife.

“Ain’t nobody talking about her.”

“But you should be, because she’s your wife, . . . and she loves you.”

“And I love how you smell.” He grinned his ugly grin.

“And I love when you take the hint, and take your married ass on, DaMonte.”

“Keep fucking with me, and I’mma tell True how you’re out here talking to clients.”

Ayana Truesdale was the founder and COO of Engineered Excellence Sports Management Group . In other words, she was the top dog, . . . my boss.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that a creep like DaMonte would threaten my livelihood because I didn’t want to flirt with him. Ugly men and short men were dudes that had the biggest chips on their shoulders, in my experience.

I eyed him with a frown. “And if you keep messing with me, I’m going to tell True exactly why I treat you the way I do. You’ll be out of representation from her management company before I’ll be out of a job. True doesn’t stand still for sexual harassment.”

It was his turn to be shocked. “Ay, ain’t nobody sexually harassing you, Skyy. Don’t be saying that shit too loud, I?—”

“Don’t be doing that shit too loud. Don’t start none, won’t be none. Now, I’m gonna walk away. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Ridley.”

“You too, Miss House.” He grumbled.

I didn’t care that his little feelings got stepped on, or that his understanding got messed up. Hopefully, he would finally learn the lesson.

I continued to move through the Juneteenth party.

DaMonte threw the party every year, even before it became popular to do so, because he was from Texas.

Every black person knew that it was a holiday down there, way before the rest of the country caught on.

I appreciated the opportunity to acknowledge such an important part of African American history.

However, I also found it cringe-worthy watching his wife at the event.

I wasn’t sure if it was her guilt or what, but every year, she ran around her own backyard trying to be everything to everybody.

I retook my seat on a cushioned bench right next to my best friend and former college roommate, Kelcie Woodson.

“Ugh, I wish Sylvie would sit down somewhere.” Kelcie whispered in my ear. “It’s so uncomfortable watching her stooping and bowing to everyone.”

“I know. If she starts saying ‘yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am,’ I’m leaving. I already had to threaten to report her ugly husband to True.”

Kelcie laughed heartily. “Girl.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and went in for another round of chuckles before speaking. “I don’t know why these men won’t leave you alone. You never give them any rhythm. What in the world implores them to shoot their shots?”

“The fact that other chicks continually and repeatedly bust it wide open for them.”

“Yeah, that does create a problem.” She sighed, and I understood why.

Kelcie was married to Travis Woodson, the starting quarterback for the Chicago Coyotes.

Travis was fine, talented, and successful.

Women had been coming for him since he first picked up a football.

He and Kelcie were college sweethearts, so she’d seen just how persistent and disrespectful women could be.

“Subject change,” I said easily.

As far as I knew, Travis was faithful to Kelcie.

And that was saying something, because I had tea on a great number of players and otherwise in the sports industry.

Not just in Chicago, either. That was due to the nature of my job.

If Travis was out there slinging dick, chances were, I would know it.

As a player liaison, my job was to work with athletes who were recently traded to Chicago sports teams. When they arrived, feeling all out of sorts and disconnected from the city, I worked to connect them with their new community.

If the client needed a place to live, I did the footwork. I met with the real estate agent and presented the client with a short list of options.

If they needed a new doctor, dentist, chiropractor, masseuse, trainer, physical therapist—I found a very short list of candidates for them to choose from.

If they needed a housekeeper, I had connections with all types of cleaning companies. Do you want one person to clean the spot? Two? Three? I could make that happen.

Need a daycare?

Babysitter?

Nanny situation?

Private elementary school?

Personal chef?

I could make those things happen for them.

Ayana Truesdale had liaisons in every major market.

I was one of five liaisons in the Midwest region.

When I was first hired at Engineered Excellence , I was based in the Indianapolis, Indiana – Londynville, Kentucky area.

Having grown up in Londynville, I was familiar with the ins and outs of the city.

Connecting athletes with service providers, housing, and almost anything else was easy for me.

I loved working in my hometown, but I couldn’t say that I didn’t dream of working in other markets.

I got my opportunity when marriage and a couple of children caused Chicago liaison Kitari Miller-Mann to want to retire from her position.

True hand selected me to take Kitari’s place, which was a huge honor.

Not only because Kitari was her niece, and she trusted her implicitly, but also because Chicago was the number three market in the country for sports teams.

The sheer number of athletes employed by professional teams in Chicago was massive.

While I had handled the Indianapolis-Londynville area all by myself, it took three of us to handle Chicago—myself, Paris Small, and Adam Worthy.

Though the three of us were assigned our own clients, we worked well together.

There was no rivalry or jealousy on our team.

If one of us happened on a new vendor that gave excellent service, we shared the contact info.

If we knew that a certain client was looking for something specific, it didn’t matter whose roster they were on; if we found it, we shared the info.

We called ourselves “The Awesome Threesome,” and I truly believed that us working together so well was why we were three of the most successful liaisons in the company.

The team in the East that handled the New York tri-state area seemed to always be involved in some measure of infighting.

I was thankful not to have ended up there.

In spite of any complaints I made, I loved my job. I loved my team, and I loved the company. I loved the players, too. At least I loved most of them. Many of them became honorary family members.