Chapter 3 My Boo- Zane Simmons
Looking around at the boxes decorating the living and dining areas of my new house, I knew I had more than enough on my plate, and I’d made the right decision in declining my little brother’s request for me to step out for the night.
They were celebrating my cousin O’dell’s birthday at Club Déjà Vu, and while I wasn’t in attendance, I made sure the party was sponsored by me as a way to make up for my absence. As the owner of the club, all it took was a phone call to the manager to make it happen.
Aside from me needing to get my space in order so I could stop stepping around boxes every time I made a move, the club scene really didn’t do it for me anymore.
In my younger years, you didn’t have to ask me twice because I stayed in a VIP section, surrounded by bottles and women willing to sell their soul for a dollar.
However, as a thirty-five-year-old man with more stamps on my passport than I cared to count, it just wasn’t my preferred scene anymore, nor was it my idea of a good time.
I was at the age where I had done all I wanted to do alone, and I was ready to find a wife, have some kids, spoil them, and let them reap all the rewards from the blood, sweat, and tears I had put in over the years.
As I grabbed a box cutter, prepared to break down a few freshly unpacked boxes, my phone chirped from its place in the pocket of my sweatpants.
Glancing at the notification, I saw it was a text message from my younger brother, Zeke.
Before I had the chance to open the text message, a call was coming through from him.
“She’s looking good, isn’t she?” Zeke questioned as soon as I picked up the call. Considering the time, I knew he had to have already been at the club, but since his background was quiet, I knew he was more than likely in my office which was soundproof.
“Who is looking good?”
“Man, you didn’t look at the picture I sent you?”
“You must be talking about the text message you didn’t give me time to open.”
“Here I am trying to get you through the door to get another chance with her, and here you are blocking your own blessing,” he preached. “You need to move expeditiously, big brother.”
“Zeke, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked, tossing the boxes into a pile so I could eventually bundle them together and put them on the curb for bulk pickup.
“The picture was of Tara Morgan.”
“Tarana? My Tara?” I questioned for clarity, saying a silent prayer that he was really talking about her. “What the hell is her husband thinking letting her go out to a club on a Friday night?”
“From what I heard, she’s divorced,” Zeke nonchalantly stated, instantly causing my mind to go into overdrive.
“If you heard she got a divorce, why are you just now saying something to me about it?”
“Because what good would the information have done for you while you were in Europe playing overseas ball?”
“That’s what private jets are for. You should have said something to me, Zeke,” I chastised in frustration. If there was anyone who knew how much my first love meant to me, it was him, so for him to sit on the information wasn’t justifiable or acceptable in my eyes.
“Man, save all of that jet setting talk for the ladies. All I’m saying is she’s looking good, and there isn’t a ring on her finger, so maybe the rumor about her being divorced is true.
Don’t shoot me for delivering the information.
Now, the ball is in your court, and you have to make the decision on what to do with it,” he cryptically noted before ending the call.
All of a sudden, I had a change of heart, and I was ready to step out so I could be in the building to help O’dell celebrate his birthday amongst good company.
It didn’t take any additional convincing beyond knowing Tara was without a ring, for me to throw my tools down and head in the direction of my master suite to get dressed.
About an hour later, I was walking out of my front door dressed in a blue button-down Armani shirt and tailored Armani pants which fit my six-foot-three-inch frame to perfection.
Despite the money in my bank account, I’d never been the flashy type, so aside from my gold cufflinks and the diamond earring in my left lobe, I kept my accessories minimal, opting to wear one of my more simplistic Rolex watches.
I even opted to drive my all-black G-Wagon instead of one of my more luxurious cars.
The last thing I wanted Tara to think was that I was someone flaunting my success in her face because even though I appreciated the lifestyle my athletic ability afforded me, she had always been the missing puzzle piece to what could have been.
Admittedly, with all the time that passed, I was nervous to cross paths with Tara again, but if indeed I had a second chance at getting her heart, I was going to take it.