Chapter 20
We arrived in New York on Monday morning and Tyriq has been on go since we landed with meet and greets, press interviews, and meetings.
From morning to night, he’s been going hard and I’ve been supporting him at each scheduled pre-draft event.
Things are really real now. In Diamond Falls, everyone knows who he is and he’s still just Tyriq there, but here, away from our little city, he’s a celebrity, the predicted number one draft pick and shit has been crazy.
Everywhere we’ve been, he’s been recognized, praised, photographed, and questioned.
I’ve been stuck in a state of shock and awe but he’s remained steady, cool, calm, and his usually confident self.
However, today is the big day, draft day one, and he’s on edge.
Since six o’clock this morning, he’s been on the phone.
First, his mother and Quay missed their flights last night.
This morning, he was making arrangements with his agent, Mick, to get them on another plane.
They had to fly out of CFA to make it here on time and thankfully, their plane landed two hours ago.
He is scheduled to arrive on the red carpet of the Barclays Center at five-thirty and we are currently in our suite at the Baccarat Hotel and getting last-minute alterations to his tailored all black suit.
The poor tailor and his two-person team have to keep stopping and starting because Tyriq is so rattled that he’s sweating, slowing down the process.
He needs to calm down and I need to help him.
I’m sitting at the dining room table picking over room service, a granola parfait and a seasonal fruit plate.
I’m nervous too and my stomach or my baby aren’t being too cooperative today.
I’m not sure which it is but the end result is the same.
I’m not hungry but I need to try and eat something before tonight.
My nervousness is small as shit compared to his but I’m still keeping mine from him. He has enough on his mind to be concerned about me. Tonight is big, huge, and life changing. All of his dreams are about to come in a matter of hours and that’s the only thing that should be on his mind.
“Can I borrow him for twenty minutes?” I call out from the dining area but no one seems to hear me. So I cover my yogurt and fruit, stand, then walk into the living room where they are working. “Let’s take a twenty-minute break. I need to borrow him,” I say.
“Bae, they gotta get this right,” he says with slight agitation.
“I know and they have time. I need you for a minute,” I insist.
“Give me twenty,” he tells them. After placing a few pins in his jacket, the tailor carefully removes the jacket and Tyriq follows me into our bedroom. As soon as we have privacy, he looks at me with concern. “You good?”
“No, ’cause you’re not. Sit on the bed,” I say and he just stares at me with knitted eyebrows.
“Please, baby, sit down right here,” I say, directing him to the chaise lounge at the foot of the bed.
I step to him and place my hands on his chest. “Down,” I say with a smile.
Finally, he eases down on the chaise and I knee his leg.
“Open please,” I tell him and he does so I step between his legs.
I raise my hands and rest them on the sides of his face.
Staring into his eyes, I ask, “Why aren’t your hands on my ass?
I’m all up in your space and you’re not touching me. I don’t like that.”
A smile finally spreads on his handsome face, causing me to smile wider.
Then his big hands grip my ass. While holding his face, I lean in closer and touch his forehead with mine.
Our eyes lock and we just stare into each other’s eyes for a much-needed quiet moment.
I need his mind to stop racing, his heart rate to normalize, and his anxiety to dull.
I need him to focus on only the positives of today and definitely tonight.
After about five muted minutes, he mumbles, “What did you need, bae?”
“This,” I admit before softly pecking his lips.
“I want you to relax and soak this all in. Your momma and Quay are here now. Shit happens. Anyone can forget their ID. Push any other reason out of your mind. Fuck any other outside noise too. Today is all about my man, Tyriq Hill. He has been balling since he was two feet tall and he worked his ass off to be in this suit, getting ready to walk the red carpet in the NBA Draft.” My hands gently squeeze his face.
“Did you hear me? I said the gotdamn NBA Draft.”
“I heard you, bae,” he says with a grin.
“Well act like it,” I tease. “You did this. You dominated that combine. You! Ranked number one in all of the stats. You did that shit, baby. You and nobody else and you deserve everything that’s coming your way tonight.
I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.
So starting right now, I only want positive, you-did-this-shit vibes. Agreed?”
“You’re right, baby.” He pecks my lips this time. “Agreed.”
“Now, go let them get this suit together and I’m going to go check on your mom and Quay. When I get back, if you are all fitted, I’ll take care of you.”
I wink then kiss him passionately. When I take a step back, he stands then leans in and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, bae. I needed that.”
We walk out of the room and he heads back to the tailor. I grab my room key and cell from the dining table then head two floors down. I knock on their room door and Miss Latisha answers. She’s dressed in the hotel robe and white slippers and holding a coffee mug in her hand.
“Come in,” she says with a smile.
Our relationship is good. We have an understanding because we both love her son.
After our little talk on Mother’s Day, we have been really good.
She’s in communication with my mom and they are actively planning my shower with Rebel.
And just last week, she and I had lunch to discuss this trip and today.
“Did y’all get any sleep?” I ask as I enter.
“A little but I’m definitely going to need this.” She raises her coffee mug. “This is crazy.”
“It’s a lot,” I agree.
We turn the corner in their room and see the controlled chaos that’s their living room.
Their potential outfits for tonight are hanging on a small clothing rack and shoes are placed in front of it on the floor.
Assorted accessories are on one table and Quay is sitting in a chair, getting her hair styled and face beat.
A mirror image of this exact scene was in my suite an hour ago.
Tyriq’s agency reached out and thanks to a bad ass sistah there, Sovoya, all of this was arranged before we flew in. She gave me a list of local MUAs and hairstylists along with each of their Skroll accounts. I checked everybody out and made my picks. I sent them to her and she set everything up.
Quay spots me and quickly smiles. She’s being very careful not to move and interrupt the ladies. I greet Sharonda, Mika, and Kiraq and they all smile. I’ll see them one final time around four for final touches.
“I’m next,” Miss Latisha says as soon as we find spots on the loveseat and sit. “I think I’m going to keep my braids down though.”
“They’re pretty down. I love them.”
“I like ’em down too,” Quay mumbles. “Is he mad at me?” she asks.
“No. He’s not mad. He was just worried that y’all were going to miss tonight. That’s all. Once y’all got on that plane at CFA, he was good.”
“I don’t know why she keeps her license in her car. I told her she needs to have it on her at all times, not in that damn car. We got all the way to the airport and waited in that long ass line only for her to not have it and they do not let you fly without it. I bet she’ll keep it with her now.”
“Momma,” Quay whines.
“Don’t momma me. I’m gon’ speak my peace,” she says and Quay sucks her teeth. “Gurlll.”
“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” I say, trying to be the peacemaker. “Tyriq has his ladies with him and he wants to make sure we all look pretty for the cameras. Pretty and calm, no stress, no fussing.”
“Can I have my phone in there?” Quay asks.
“Yes but no flash or lights on the phone are allowed.” I turn to Miss Latisha. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear?” I ask and her face lights up. She’s a beautiful woman, but petite and short. Quay, and of course Tyriq, both tower over her and she looks so tiny next to them.
“I really like that sequined jumpsuit,” she says and I stand and walk to the rack. “I think it’s too long though. I don’t want to trip and fall on my ass.”
I push the other outfits back a little on the rack so I can get a clear look at the romper. It’s exquisite. The color is more of a clay red so it’s subtle which makes the rhinestones on the sleeveless top half pop. It cinches at the waist and has wide pant legs. I think it’s perfect.
“I love this,” I admit. “And I hope with these jeweled heels.”
“Yeah. With those. They’re comfortable and not too high.”
“The seamstress is still upstairs. If you want to wear this, and I think you should, we can have her come down and hem them.”
“Yeah, Momma. Do that. That was so cute on you,” Quay cosigns.
“Let me look at it one more time.” Miss Latisha stands.
She joins me at the rack, grabs the jumpsuit, places it in front of her, and walks closer to the full-length mirror. After staring at herself for a few moments, she agrees with us.
“Okay. Yeah. I love it too. Yeah, this is the one. Please see if she can hem it.”
“Alright. Let me get out of your way so I can check on him and send her down. Four-fifteen on the dot, we all have to be downstairs. Not a minute late. He’s on the red carpet at five-thirty. We’ll be inside at our table on the floor.”
“I want to see everything inside,” Quay scoffs.
“You should be able to. You’ll have a pass. Plus, his agent has a suite or something in the Barclays Center so there’ll even be food and drinks in there.”
“Good.”
“Okay. I’m out and I’ll send her down, Miss Latisha.”