Chapter 9
ADRIAN
Kwamé and I took our seats, and for the first time, Kwamé didn’t seem so nervous.
Twenty minutes later, the players took the court, and I was salty as hell that the first person Damon sought out was Kwamé.
He looked dead at her and grinned like she was his woman.
I peeped him wanting to walk over, but his eyes bounced to my hand holding Kwamé’s, and he changed his stride.
His wife sat courtside, looking like money and smelling like it too.
Too bad the look on her face said she wanted to be anywhere but here.
She glanced at me and Kwamé, then smiled.
Her eyes drifted to Jessie and stayed for a second too long.
Her smile slowly faded, but she played off her curiosity by turning her attention back to the court.
Kwamé’s hand was tucked in mine, and her grip tightened some as she avoided Damon’s eye contact.
Leaning over, I kissed her ear, causing her to blush and giggle. “I can’t wait to get you back to the penthouse.” She blushed even more, giving me exactly what I wanted. “Everything’s aight,” I assured her.
“I know,” she replied. Her shoulders relaxed and so did the lines etched in her forehead. As if speaking it, she truly believed that everything was okay.
We made it through the first half without any issues arising.
If Damon was torn up about DeAnna, his demeanor didn’t give it.
He was putting his heart on the court tonight, much like he did every game.
To say that he wasn’t a star would be a lie.
Up close and personal, that nigga was as much of a beast in person as he was on the television.
The fact that he was Jessie’s father and that he didn’t even acknowledge her both angered me and made me breathe a sigh of relief.
Never would I step in the way of a man raising his kid.
However, Jessie… She was different. The bond I had with her was too strong for any nigga to come between, whether he was her sperm donor or not.
So, when he didn’t acknowledge her, it made me feel like there was no competition when it came to her.
Then again, in my eyes, a nigga who didn’t acknowledge his own child was as good as fuck boy.
I was raised to take care of any child I brought into the world, and there would never be a question about my kids having everything they wanted.
Jessie deserved the world, and I was the one who was going to give it to her despite me not being her biological father.
Throughout the second half, I noticed how much more Damon’s attention strayed to Kwamé. Kwamé remained chill, though. The anxiety she had about being here had dissipated, and I knew it was because I was by her side.
After the game, Kwamé waited inside the team’s conference room until the players received the announcement about DeAnna.
As expected, many of the players took it hard.
While Jessie and I waited in the lobby, I watched as group after group filed out of the conference room.
Kwamé’s patience was on another level because she took her time with each group.
Two hours later, she came out of the conference room.
Exhaustion was written all over her face, and I could tell that the mini sessions had taken a toll on her.
Noticeably, I never saw Damon come in or out of the conference room area.
That was cool with me. I didn’t want his ass ten feet from my woman without me present.
I took Kwamé’s hand and led her out of the building.
Russ opened the Suburban’s door for Kwamé while I buckled Jessie into her seat.
It was late, and she was starting to get a little fussy.
Kwamé kept her face to the window, and occasionally, she would sigh.
Heaviness was all over her. I wanted to relieve her of the burdens she felt.
By the time we made it to the hotel, I had arranged for dinner to be delivered. Kwamé gave Jessie a bath while I prepared our plates.
Dinner was quiet except for Jessie’s occasional offering of food. She gave me most of her broccoli but ate everything else. Her innocent actions brought humor to Kwamé’s eyes, so I was satisfied.
Shortly after dinner, Kwamé put Jessie down. Baby girl practically fell inside the playpen she was so damn tired. I unpacked Kwamé and I some clothes to get ready for a shower. She was beat, and I was ready to crawl next to her. Shit, if all I did was rub on her ass tonight, that was cool with me.
Kwamé’s phone rang, and she immediately groaned. If duty was about to pull her away from me and Jessie, a nigga would’ve been salty as fuck.
She answered the phone on speaker, “Hello?”
“So, you had my baby and wasn’t gon’ tell me?” the dude on the other end said.
Kwamé’s hand shook, and she stared at the phone like it was a snake. Calmly, I took the phone from her and mentally catalogued the unsaved number.
“Who is this?” I questioned just to be sure.
“Damon Brooks, nigga. You the nigga that was holding my daughter?”
“My daughter,” I clarified even as my blood boiled.
Damon chuckled. “That’s my fuckin’ baby, nigga.”
“Well, seems like you didn’t know about her.”
“‘Cause that bitch kept her from me!” he barked.
“Aht, aht. Watch that shit.” By now, I’d started pacing, feeling like I was ready to crush this nigga’s skull in a hundred different places.
“Fuck you, nigga! Put that bitch back on the phone!”
“Just know… You gon’ pay for that,” I warned him.
“Say, bruh, fuck you! Now, tell that ho I’m comin’ to get mine!” he threatened.
“Aight, bet, nigga. Come get her back in blood!” I hissed.
I hung up, then threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and surely shattered the screen. The commotion startled a sleeping Jessie and caused Kwamé to flinch in fear.
“Adrian,” she called when I turned to leave the room.
“Gimmie a minute,” I requested, not even looking back. I felt the utter fool rising up inside of me, so I needed a minute to control my emotions. If I said or did anything crazy, Kwamé would’ve walked away from me and never looked back.
Outside on the balcony, I lit a blunt as a million thoughts ran through my head. Scenarios for why Kwamé kept Jessie a secret from Damon wasn’t at the top of my list of worries. I was already planning how to kill this nigga ‘bout mine.
Here it was, I spent my days thinking about Kwamé and Jessie.
I held Jessie when she cried, made sure she was clean, fed, and safe.
Shit, I played fucking baby dolls with her.
She was my damn child! There wasn’t going to be any type of court or no shit like that.
Jessie was mine, and shit was going to stay that way.
I smoked enough to calm my racing thoughts, then went back inside to find Kwamé sitting on the edge of the bed. Absently, she rubbed her stomach, and she didn’t even notice that I’d entered the room. Silent, unchecked tears raced down her face. However, she just sat there.
I approached her, then kneeled in front of her. Placing my hands on her thighs, I leaned in to kiss her lips, then softly ran my fingers down her cheeks to wipe away her tears.
“I apologize for blowin’ up. It’s just… I’m man enough to admit that I don’t want another man raising Jessie. Yes, it’s selfish of me, but I don’t give a fuck.”
Slowly, her eyes focused on me.
“We need to talk,” she whispered tearfully.
“I’m right here to listen,” I urged.
She cleared her throat and said, “One afternoon, I invited Damon to my office for a session. He was late and asked if he could come after practice. I acquiesced because he was going through a tragic loss and needed me. He came to my office, we started the session, and everything was fine. At some point, I started feeling sick. He offered to grab me a bottle of water from the cafeteria. I thought nothing of it…”
I didn’t like where this was going, and my face showed it.
She shook her head as tears quickly and thickly skated down her cheeks.
“I woke up hours later… A bottle of wine was opened and sitting on my desk. I could taste it in my mouth, and some had spilled onto my carpet. It looked like two people had been having drinks together. I was partially undressed, bleeding, and sore.”
Suddenly, Kwamé dashed to the bathroom, and I knew it was because she had to throw up.
I was right behind her and helped her through the convulsing of her body.
Quickly, I stepped away to cut the shower on, then undressed myself, her, and drowned us under the shower’s spray.
We sat there on the shower’s floor, and I ran my fingers through her disheveled hair.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” she cried.
“Shh, mama. It’s okay. I’m right here,” I mumbled while fighting every voice inside my head telling me to kill anyone connected to that nigga.
“I have no memory of what happened. Then, the whole setup… I was afraid. I was afraid to report him, and afraid to say anything to Antonias. I was embarrassed that I allowed that to happen to me. I must’ve driven myself crazy with worry and fear when his next session approached.
He showed up with a smile on his face and pretended like nothing happened.
I asked him what happened that afternoon.
He looked at me like I was crazy. For a while, I psyched myself out and thought I was crazy, too.
Mind you, I knew damn well I wasn’t crazy. ”
“You were traumatized,” I supplied. “Ya brain was protecting you.”
She nodded. “Reality set in when I found out I was pregnant. I wrestled so badly over whether or not to keep Jessie.” She sobbed then, breaking my heart.
“I didn’t want to for obvious reasons. However, I decided that she was my wake-up call.
The life I was living was mentally and physically sending me to an early grave. Jessie made me slow down.”
“She’s the reason you took the year off,” I surmised.
She nodded again. “He didn’t know until he saw her at the game.”
And even then, that nigga played it cool. Damon was a predator. I was convinced of it. He played this shit too cool, and that made my stomach roll. He surely had other victims.
“Everything’s gon’ be aight, baby. “He’ll never hurt you again, and he’ll damn sure never get his hands on Jessie. You trust me?”
“Yes,” she declared against my chest.
Thirty minutes later, Kwamé had finally fallen asleep. I tucked her in and ensured that Jessie was still good inside her playpen. Turning the lights down, I left the room, closing the door behind me.
As I sat down on the living room sofa, I took my phone out to call Antonias. He answered on the second ring.
“Please don’t tell me something’s wrong,” he said.
“The babies are fine,” I assured him. “I just want you to know I’m ‘bout to kill me a nigga. I thought you’d wanna know.” With bile in my throat, I gave him the rundown of what Kwamé told me. Like me, Antonias blew a fucking gasket.
“I’m on the next flight,” he barked. I hung up, then hung my head. Adrian went out of the window. In his place was the as fuck to Adir’s crazy. That was how I handled shit. Crazy as fuck.
While I waited for Antonias to land, I traded my time between watching Kwamé sleep and finding out whatever I could about Damon. Dothan slid me some information which cast a little light on who Damon was off the court.
He grew up in Alabama and went to one of the roughest high schools in his city.
Although he’d gone to jail a few times in his youth, once he found basketball, he used it as a way to keep himself off the streets.
A couple of his friends died in a tragic drive-by shooting the night of their homecoming game.
That incident thrust Damon into a new mindset. His family was full of drug dealers and those who were closest to him either passed or went into the system. All that shit was fuel to Damon. He used it to claw his way out of the trenches.
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his fucking mind.
He had no record of children, and social media dated his love life back to at least three semi-popular chicks.
He and his wife married last fall and had been trying to maintain a low profile ever since.
Absently, I wondered if Alanis knew what the fuck her husband had done to my girl.
Just then a text came through my phone.
Dothan: Wifey boarded a plane to LA an hour ago.
Good, I thought. Regardless, Damon wasn’t going to see the sunrise.
Hours later, there was no hesitation as Antonias and I entered through the patio door of Damon’s mansion. It was pitch black in this muthafucka and it bothered neither of us. The night vision goggles we wore led us through the mansion without a single mishap.
We climbed the nice stately staircase leading to the second floor and let ourselves into Damon’s bedroom. He was alone in bed and snoring so loudly that he wouldn’t hear a train if it came through this bitch.
Removing the rope from my shoulder, I quickly and efficiently lassoed that nigga like he was prize bull.
By the time he knew what was going on, I had the rope around his neck and yanked him from the bed.
As conditioned as Damon’s body was, he was no match for me.
He was a beast on the court, but I was a beast in the muhfuckin’ streets.
If I was coming for a nigga, that nigga was as good as dead.
Dragging Damon from his bedroom, neither Antonias nor I said a word as Antonias tied the rope to the stair’s banister. Damon choked and grabbed at the black gloves I wore. Not an inch of my skin was exposed, so wherever he grabbed, it was covered by the black fit I wore.
After Antonias was done tying the rope, we hauled Damon over the banister.
His weight didn’t so much as cause the well-crafted banner to bow.
It was great craftsmanship. Silently, Antonias and I descended the stairs until we stood in front of Damon dangling from the second floor.
I folded and rested my hands at my crotch and observed the way he struggled to free himself.
This was how I handled shit. Quiet and to the muthafuckin’ point.
If that nigga didn’t know why I was killing him, he’d find out soon enough.
His sins would follow him out of this world.
He did my girl dirty, and he’d better be glad that this was all I could do to his ass.
Fuck his family. Fuck him. And fuck whoever was going to mourn him.