Chapter 2
Although things were heating up for me at work, with the season starting to really get going, I still made time to take Wyndi to dinner.
We went on a Monday night, since Tuesdays were typically the lightest days for Coyotes players.
I wanted to discuss the scope of the date I was hoping to take her on.
Honestly, it was a big expectation, considering that we didn’t know each other.
When we arrived at the table the restaurant’s hostess led us to, I pulled out her chair for her and waited until she was settled to take my seat on the opposite side. “Thanks for coming out tonight. It was a long ass day, so I won’t keep you out late. I just wanted us to talk about the date—”
She interrupted me with a grin on her pretty face and amusement dancing in her brown eyes. “Oh, this isn’t the date?”
“Nah, this isn’t the date. This is having a meal together, where I let you know about the scope of the date so we can make some decisions.”
“The scope of the date? Say more, because this sounds serious.”
“Where’d you go to college?” I asked.
“Walker University. It’s in Indianapolis. Why?”
“That’s an HBCU, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever played golf, Brown Eyes?”
She eyed me suspiciously as she picked up her menu. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?”
I laughed. “She did. My bad.”
She eyed me some more. “I actually enjoy golf. Do these questions have anything to do with the date?”
“Calm down, killer.” I laughed. “They do.” I fingered my beard subconsciously. “I wanted to gauge your understanding of black college traditions before I dropped this on you. I went to Londynville University, and I’ve been named the grand marshal of the homecoming parade.”
She screeched, her excitement making me chuckle. “Congratulations! What does this mean?”
“This means that I wanna take you to homecoming weekend with me.” I held up my hand.
“I know it’s a big ask. I mean, we don’t even know each other, and I’m talking about spending an entire weekend together.
I just . . .” I hesitated momentarily. “I think it’ll be fun.
I don’t think there’ll be a dull moment.
And I really don’t want to go alone if I don’t have to. ”
“Ugh, that’s a really public event. I know it’s gonna end up on social media. And with me being on social media with Preston not that long ago . . .” She let her thoughts trail off.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Baby, if that shit doesn’t bother you, trust me, it doesn’t bother me.”
“It kinda does bother me, though,” she admitted.
I nodded. “I get it.” And I did. “There’s a different judgment that happens to women.”
“Right?”
“Maybe you could wear dark glasses and a nondescript baseball cap . . . or a cowboy hat. That shit is all the rage. You’ll be on trend.”
She giggled. “Maybe. I know I shouldn’t let what other people think of me control my actions, but sometimes it’s hard. Especially when they might talk crap about me on social media.”
“It’s up to you, Brown Eyes. Think about it. Wheels up a week from Thursday.”
I finally picked up the menu. I didn’t eat out often, but the chef at Kindred Soul Kitchen and I played football together in college.
He’d hung up his cleats and discovered his passion for cooking.
Whenever I fell through the restaurant, he would go out of his way to make sure my food was as healthy as possible for the setting.
He didn’t do anything spectacular, but he left off buttery sauces and/or anything that added unnecessary fat or calories to my dish.
I almost always got the grilled Alaskan salmon, cabbage, and broccolini.
The waiter appeared, and we placed our orders. Then I looked over at her. “I know you probably get this question all the time, but how’d you get into blinging out footballs for the Coyotes?”
She chuckled lightly, before telling me about sending a pair of blinged-out sneakers to an athlete’s infant daughter.
“That was resourceful as hell.” I complimented her.
“Yeah. At the time, I was young, ambitious, and fearless. My thought was that all they could do was toss the shoes out. You know what they say—nothing beats a failure but a try. So, I gave it a try.” She shuddered.
“I didn’t see it working out for me like this, but I’m so glad it did.
I love what I do. Even though I’ll probably never be independently wealthy, I make enough money to sustain myself comfortably.
Now, let me ask you a question. Did you make a conscious decision to become a kicker, or did you fall into it?
I mean, you don’t really hear about too many black kickers, or any, really.
And professional football is highly black, so it’s interesting that some positions seem like they exist for white men to do ’em. ”
“Professional football isn’t as black as it seems,” I began.
“I mean, the players are mostly black, but the coaching staffs, the front offices, and the people making the decisions are not. I definitely didn’t fall into kicking.
I told my parents that I wanted to play football when I was headed to middle school.
They weren’t behind the idea. My mother is an orthopedic surgeon.
She sees a lot of injured athletes, from peewee leagues all the way to professionals.
She already knew what a sport like football could do to bones.
“They raised a stubborn boy, though. I wanted to play football. I wasn’t gonna take ‘no’ for an answer.
So, they gave me their ultimatum. The only way I could participate on the middle school team was as a placekicker.
Man.” I dragged out the word. “My middle school team didn’t even have a placekicker position.
One of the tight ends was kicking the ball for the team.
My dad made a large contribution, and the next thing I knew, Fair Meadow Academy had a kicker. Me.”
She giggled. “Your father made a contribution? So your family has money? You’re not their financial savior?”
“Nah. I’m not their financial savior. Not even close.
They couldn’t understand why I would want to get beaten up, bruised, and manhandled at first. They felt like I should leave that kind of physicality to the guys who needed to lift their families out of tough situations.
They felt like I was trying to take an opportunity away from a guy who needed it more than I did.
I think that was another reason they made me go for kicker; they knew nobody was gunning for that position. ”
The server arrived at our table with the food.
“This looks delicious,” Wyndi said, moving her eyes from her plate of jerk chicken, dirty rice, and collard greens to make eye contact with the server. “Thank you.”
I glanced over at her, appreciating the fact that she thanked the server. “Where’d you grow up, Wyndi? I’m a Kentucky boy. I have a little accent. I don’t hear one on you.”
“Oh, I’m from here. Born and raised on the South Side of Chicago.
My family’s originally from Kansas City, Kansas.
My grandparents were high school sweethearts who married right after graduation.
They relocated to Chicago when my granddad got hired on as a train driver for TrailTrack.
” She chewed and swallowed some of her food.
“You said your mother is a surgeon. What does your father do?”
“He’s CEO of the family’s company, Grand Aviation. You ever heard of it?”
She shook her head as I watched her lips wrap around the fork. Fuck! I thought. She had the prettiest lips.
“It’s uh,” I stammered. “It’s an, uh.” I shook my head a bit to clear it of the sexual thoughts now marauding through it. “Yo, it’s a private jet company.”
Her eyes were like saucers. “A private jet company? Your father’s family owns a private jet company, and your mother is a surgeon?
” Before I could respond, she spoke again.
“I’m with your parents. Why in the hell are you playing a sport for a living that could give you brain damage when you don’t have to? ”
“I love it.” I gave her a grin accompanied by a shrug.
“You must, because that’s crazy.” She took another bite of food, chewed, and swallowed. “Do you have any siblings, or were all of your parents’ hopes and dreams riding on your shoulders?”
“I have two younger sisters, two nieces, and two nephews. Grand Aviation will survive. You have any siblings?”
“I’m my mother’s only child. She tried to duplicate her parents’ success by marrying young.
She didn’t vet him properly, though. They got married less than a year after they met.
My daddy turned out to be a rapscallion.
” She snickered after she said that. “I don’t mean to laugh.
It’s not funny that my parents’ marriage crashed and burned.
It’s just funny to me that my grandfather never uses my father’s name.
He always refers to him as that rapscallion motherfucker your mother married.
I don’t know how they’re raising them in Kansas City, Kansas, but my grandfather has always been a little ratchet.
A little rough around the edges. My mother says that even when I was a baby, my grandfather used to coo at me and tell me in baby talk that my daddy was a no-good nigga. Who tells a baby that in baby talk?”
I laughed aloud. “I need to meet your grandfather. He sounds like my kinda people. What’d your dad do to make your grandfather hate him so much?”
She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “He had a whole other family on the West Side of the city.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. He worked at a factory, and he got hurt there one day. They rushed him to the hospital. My mother showed up, all big and pregnant with me. The other woman was already there. She worked at the same factory, so she had the inside scoop.”
“Damn.” I let out a low whistle.
“Like I said, rapscallion. Anyway, my father has several children, so, technically, I’m not an only child.”
“Did you ever spend time around him or your siblings?”
“Sparingly.” She didn’t elaborate. I didn’t press.
Our conversation continued, moving easily from one topic to the next.
As we wrapped up our time together, I told her what was on my mind.
“From the few times we’ve interacted before today, and seeing you on social media, I thought you would be the shit.
But actually getting to sit down with you, and spend some time?
You’re definitely who I thought you would be and more. ”
The fact that she blushed deeply was cute as hell to me. I liked how her heart was pure and that a compliment could make her cheeks burn pink.
“Thanks. You’re pretty much who I thought you’d be, too.”
“And who was that?”
“Somebody kind.”
I nodded slowly. “I know I’m making a big ask with this weekend trip for homecoming—”
She cut me off before I could finish. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I will actually consider going, Kaynaan.
I’m gonna take my time and weigh the situation.
I’m thirty-two. I kinda feel like the way I moved with Preston wasn’t representative of my age and my level of maturity. I don’t know, I—”
It was my turn to cut her off. “Don’t do that. You had some fun this summer. Everybody deserves to have some fun.”
She gave me a small smile.
I gave her a wink. This woman was going to be my undoing. I could already feel it.
Later that night, right before I climbed into bed, I got a text message.
Wyndi:
Hey. I’ve decided that I’m gonna take you up on your offer to go to homecoming with you. It’s a date.
I grinned my ass off, but I was also curious.
Me:
What made you change your mind?
Wyndi:
Ugh! I knew you were gonna ask me that and it’s so embarrassing.
Me:
Tell me. I won’t throw it up. I’m not cut like that.
Wyndi:
I was creeping on Preston’s socials. I wanted to see how many times he posted me, and I don’t know, put things in perspective. And this . . . rapscallion swiped all the pictures of me. It’s like I never existed.
I was glad she couldn’t see me, because my smile was wide as hell.
His immature ass had just done me the world’s biggest favor.
He would probably throw up if he knew his decision to erase her from his socials was the reason she agreed to spend a weekend with me.
Wilcox’s clown ass just kept doing me favors.
I was gonna have to get that dude a Christmas gift.
Me:
That’s messed up. Sorry.
Wyndi:
*the meme of Viola Davis grabbing her purse and walking away* It’s so obvious that you don’t mean that, Kaynaan.
Me:
Sorry