Chapter 4
NYAKO – NEW BEGINNINGS & FRIENDS
“Care to share a drink with me?” I invited the handsome man whose face had just turned down at the news that our planes had been grounded indefinitely.
“Excuse me?”
“A drink. It’s Valentine’s weekend. If we can’t be with the ones we love, then . . . get drunk with the ones we’re with,” I joked.
His brow furrowed, his head tilted, and he pointed his finger.
“Aren’t you Nyako, the model?”
Smirking, I gave a simple nod. “Most people don’t recognize me without all the hair and glamour makeup.” I had cut all my hair after the JoJo debacle. I usually wore sew-ins and added pieces for shows and public appearances. I seldom wore my short cut with the shaved sides in public.
I wore a pair of baggy jeans, an oversized sweater over a turtleneck, boots, and a ball cap. When I traveled, I usually skipped the glamour part and opted for comfort instead.
“You have a very unforgettable face,” he remarked.
Lifting an eyebrow, I replied, “I hope you meant that in the best ways.”
“I do. I have always admired your beauty, and I love your name. It means ‘girl’ in Swahili, right?” he asked eagerly, excited to share his familiarity with my culture.
“It does. It is my mother’s native language.”
“I’m Navy Prather. I play for the Sea—”
“Lions hockey team out of Cherokee Springs. You’re the left winger.”
“Yeah. You a fan?”
“No. I’m not into sports, especially not hockey,” I declared, laughing.
“Let me guess, . . . too violent?”
“You might say that. I can only take so much testosterone, and all that fighting doesn’t help.”
He nodded. “I can see that. How did you know who I was?”
“You’re a big deal in the hockey world, and especially back home in Cherokee Springs. Your face is on all the billboards, and you’re on almost as many commercials as I am. It’s hard not to know who you are.”
He laughed. “How are you taking being stuck here so casually?”
Lifting one shoulder, I shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it, other than wait for a suite to be prepared for us and wait out the storm. It’s not like we have to sit here in these uncomfortable chairs for hours,” I teased.
We were seated in the premium private terminal of the airport. Not only had the flights been grounded, but there weren’t any luxury vehicles or shared rides coming into or leaving out of the airport. The blizzard was extreme and the worst of its kind on the East Coast in decades.
Everything was luxurious in the premium private terminal, from the plush leather and velvet club chairs to the premium bar selection. Servers attended all our needs, and luxury cars provided service to and from the airport, but not today. They were short-staffed and had no car service available.
Navy took a seat in the chair opposite mine and ordered a drink. “This is crazy. This isn’t how I planned to spend my Valentine’s weekend,” he announced.
“I don’t think any of us had, other than the staff, of course.”
He nodded and looked miserable as he stared into the drink in his hand. “You didn’t look too happy when you entered the terminal.”
“Since you don’t follow hockey, you wouldn’t know that we just got our asses kicked.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
“Figuratively. If you think that I look bad, you should see the other guys,” he replied teasingly, pointing at the scratch above his left eyebrow.
“Fight or the game?”
Shrugging, he replied, “They’re both one and the same.”
He turned his attention back to the TV overhead where a reporter was giving an update on the weather on the Eastern Seaboard. I took advantage of that opportunity to take in his beautiful features. Navy Prather was roughly one or two inches over six feet tall and 220 pounds.
He appeared to be mixed with golden caramel-colored skin, wavy hair, and thick, silky eyebrows over almond-shaped, bedroom eyes that ended in a bed of long, curly lashes that looked like silk, and most women would die for.
“Where were you headed?” I asked.
“Cherokee Springs.”
I laughed. “That’s where I was going. Home sweet home. Do you just play out of there, or are you from there?”
“It’s my hometown. It’s been a rough few weeks, so I planned to spend time with family. I knew I was cutting it close, but I thought I’d be making it in time for my parents’ annual Valentine’s Day ball.”
“I’ve had enough of balls. I planned to go home to celebrate loving myself.”
“That sounds lonely.”
I laughed dryly. “Honey, you can be in a room full of people and still be all alone. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
“I know the feeling. I thought women lived for this day.”
“Most of us do, but you have to make the best of the situation, right?”
“True.”
He glanced at his phone, winced, and then powered it off.
“Bad news?”
“Huh?”
“That look on your face. Did you just get bad news?” I asked, pointing my drink in the direction of his phone.
“Not necessarily news, but my ego is taking a bashing.”
I smiled. “I’m a good listener. Who’s doing the bashing and why?”
He dropped his head, chuckled, and then shook it. “Trust me, baby girl. You don’t want to hear this story, or you’ll be on the side with all the other women who are bashing me right now.”
“Try me. I’m not a conventional thinker.”
He angled his head, chewed on his bottom lip, and looked at me through narrowed eyes.
“Okay, here goes. I was in a relationship with a woman, who I dated for about a year. It wasn’t serious at first, and we were dating other people. After a while, I changed my mind and wanted to become serious. I proposed and she accepted.”
“Sounds like you didn’t get your happily ever after.”
He sipped his drink and eyed me. “Fast forward one year later, after an awesome win over the Chicago Seals, and we were leaving the arena heading back to the hotel. Everyone planned to go out and celebrate later, but first, I wanted to call my fiancée and celebrate with her.”
“I’m guessing your fiancée didn’t want to celebrate.”
“Oh, she was celebrating. She was kissing another man on a big jumbotron right outside of the arena I had just played in. Turns out, she was at a basketball game with a football player, and the team they were rooting for had just come back from almost certain defeat and tied the game. They were celebrating that with a kiss for the whole world to see. I invited her to my game, and she was not able to come because she had an out-of-town work trip. Yet, here she is . . . in the same city that I was all along.”
“Damn. Did you confront them?”
“Yeah. Right there at the game. I headed over to the stadium with my entire team and coach begging me not to go, threatening me if I did. I went anyway. I confronted them, he and I fought, she begged me to forgive her, and I told her to get her shit and get out of my place. That was last year on Valentine’s Day.
Now here we are one year later, and she’s marrying him in the same church we were supposed to be married in, wearing the dress that I had said I would love to see her in. ”
“Ouch! That’s gotta hurt.”
He shrugged his head from side to side as though weighing the cost of his decision.
“I mean, I’ll get over it. In the meantime, they’re blasting it on social media, sharing videos of the fight that occurred, and ragging on how I lost the girl.
The horrible part is that a lot of the women are homing in on how I moved toward her, and she shrunk back.
They’re trying to insinuate that the violence I exhibit on the ice extends at home, and that’s why she probably found her a new man. ”
“I’m sorry. I hate that for you. That’s not fair.”
“It’s fine. It’s all a bunch of bullshit.”
“No, it’s not right. I mean, haven’t you gone through enough? I hope she cheats on him, like she cheated on you.”
He laughed. “Anyway, we’re on a bye week, and coach decided I needed to head home to spend time with my family.”
“That sounds like a plausible resolution.”
“What about you?”
“Mine isn’t so dramatic. My boyfriend wasn’t who I thought he was, and I broke up with him. I was thirty-one and ready to settle down. Now I just love and value my freedom, independence, and not having to answer to anyone. I’m sure you can understand that.”
He chuckled. “Obviously.”
“Anyway, my family doesn’t get it. They are always talking about my eggs, ovulation, and age. I hate that society places these expectations on women. As women, we do it to each other too. My mother, grandmother, and aunts are always pressuring my sister and me to marry and have kids.”
“How old is your sister?”
“Twenty-five. She’s living her best life right now.
She’s my PA, and like me, she’s enjoying her freedom.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. In the last year, my views have been changing, but I don’t need anyone pressuring me to feel how they do.
I’m not even sure that I want kids, but does that make me a bad person? ”
“Hell no.”
“The way today’s climate is, the government, the education system, and these crazy ass kids running around like little killing machines, .
. . that’s a no for me. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want someone to cuddle with, have sex with, and great conversation over a shared meal and drinks.
Yes, I do want to eventually share my life with someone, but I don’t want to rush it.
I just want to enjoy the road getting there.
I don’t have time for heartache and heartbreak.
I need me and my person to be on the same page. ”
He lifted his glass in the air, and I lifted mine, and we clinked them together. “Say that again, ma’am.”
We smiled, staring into each other’s eyes as we sipped from our glasses.
“Why don’t we make a pact that no matter what suite we have that we come back here in the terminal and have drinks and dinner together tonight? That way neither of us have to be alone,” he suggested.
“I like that,” I declared with a smile. He held his glass up, and I clinked mine against his.
“To beautiful beginnings and new friends,” he declared hopefully.
“I could use a new friend,” I replied suggestively as I took a sip from my glass.
Our eyes locked over the rims of our glasses, and I felt the heat surging through me.
I wondered what his full, thick lips would feel like caressing my body and pleasuring me in ways that I hadn’t been pleasured in some time.
I fantasized briefly about how his big arms would feel wrapping me up.
“You okay?” he asked as a slow, easy smile slid across his full lips.
“Yeah. Just lost in thought is all.”
He reached inside of his pocket, pulled out a quarter and declared, “I don’t have a penny, but I’d pay a lot more for your thoughts.”
I giggled and shook my head. “I don’t think you want to know my lonely thoughts.”
“Maybe if you shared them, they wouldn’t be so lonely. You don’t have to be either you know. If you just let me in,” he suggested before he pulled his glass to his lips again.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re no longer talking about my thoughts?”
He winked. “Depends on what type of thoughts you’re having. If they’re mirroring mine, we could definitely be talking about your thoughts.”
I pressed a hand against the back of my neck and glanced outside at the snow that was still coming down hard, thick, and fast, and I felt warmth grow up my face. I would love for something else to come hard, thick, and fast. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips.
“Now I have to know what you’re thinking.”
“I think that we should create a memorable experience tonight that will allow us to forget the pain our exes caused us, even if just for one night. Even if we never see one another again, this Valentine’s Day can be as beautiful as we’d like it to be.”
He reached out and caressed my thumb. “I agree. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s to you too.”
“Ms. Bellacorte, we have your suite available,” an attendant announced, interrupting our conversation.