Chapter 4
Andrès
Afew years ago, when I made my first million, I became a donor to my old high school. I kept in touch with coaches and a couple of staff members off and on. That was how I knew that her nephew played all those sports, and that was how I knew that she would be at the game.
I had come with the intention of proposing to her from the moment they asked me to say a few words about our donations. I knew it was crazy, and I knew that it was far-fetched, but I was willing to do whatever it took to get my friend back.
After I spoke to several parents, the coaches, and some of the players, I slowly made my way to the bleachers, where Kalliope sat in stunned silence. Her sister, Khatya, sat beside her, chatting a mile a minute.
I took the opportunity to drink in Kalliope’s stunning appearance after all these years. Despite wearing jeans, a baseball jersey, and a ball cap with her long, red ponytail pulled through the back, she was still beautiful, runway ready.
Her once dark-brown hair was now dyed a cherry-red, and her slim curves had thickened over the years. With her mouthwatering curvy hips, thighs, and ass, she was slim-thick, and her jeans fit her perfectly, as if those hips and ass had to be poured into the denim.
She lifted one perfectly, thick arched eyebrow as she noticed me taking her in. Those full, round lips turned down in disapproval, and her honey-colored, almond-shaped eyes, shining brightly in the sun, reflected pain and disbelief from within.
A golden hue shone from underneath her warm caramel skin, and I knew it was because she had spent a lot of time in the sun, as she was apt to do in the spring and summer. The golden hue did nothing to cover the pretty brown freckles that I loved, which dotted her Nubian nose and high cheekbones.
From the opened buttons of her baseball jersey, I could make out a couple of tattoos, the Libra scales of justice and a dragon tattoo right under her collarbone.
When she realized what I was staring at, she quickly lowered her gaze, and her long eyelashes shut out anything that I could have read in it.
“Andrès, you’re looking good and much different than you were when I last saw you over a decade ago,” Khatya mentioned.
“You’re looking pretty good yourself, Khat. Don’t look like you got a kid in high school about to graduate at all.”
“Thank you. That’s what Pilates three days a week and yoga two days a week will get you,” Khatya declared and smiled brightly. “Uhm, I need to catch up with Devon and DJ. It was good seeing you again, Andrès. Don’t be a stranger.”
“If all goes according to plan, I won’t be,” I replied to Khatya while staring at Kalliope. “Hello, sunshine.” I opened my palm to show her the heart that I took from her necklace all those years ago.
Tears shone in her eyes in the early evening sun. “You still have it,” she whispered in awe.
“I do, but I’m hoping that I can have the real thing.”
“Drè, I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re finally here. You have no idea how many times I dreamt of this moment. There were so many times I wished you were here, but . . . I realized how foolish I was to expect you to return for me.”
“I told you I’d be back in ten years to claim you. Are you married, Kalli?” I asked, lifting her left hand. I knew the answer to that question, but I needed to hear it from her mouth.
She pulled it back and looked at me with sad eyes. “Really, Drè? Is that all you have for me? You’ve been gone for ten years.”
“I mean, . . . damn. I have a lot more for you, Kalli. I just gave a whole speech out there on the field. A nigga was sweating bullets and shit, making a fool of himself on that baseball field under the hot sun with hundreds of people staring at me. What else can I say? Has life been treating you good?”
“Actually, it has. I’m not sure that I can say the same thing for you.”
“Damn. A nigga looks that bad?” I glanced down at my black Dsquared2 distressed jeans, my black silk tee, and my black Nami sneakers.
I sported a double rope around my neck, a Philippe Patek on my arm, and my silver hoops in my ears.
I had just had a fresh lineup, and my dreads were pulled up on top of my head.
“First, language, please,” Kalliope stated, holding her hand up to stop me as she looked around at the teens and kids running around. Damn, her voice sounded good after all these years, and I wondered how I had gone for so long without hearing it daily.
“My bad,” I replied, smirking at her and licking my lips because I damn sure wanted to taste hers.
“Second, I’m not talking about that. I’m saying that I don’t know how life has been treating you. Had it not been for random updates from your sister, Kalandra, I would have no idea if you were dead or alive.”
“Yeah, my bad.”
“No, it’s more than your bad. It’s—”
“Tee K, we’re about to head to the pizza place. Mama wanted to know if you’d be meeting us there?” her nephew, DJ, asked, running up to her with sweat pouring down his face.
“Manners, DJ.”
“Wassup, my guy. That’s dope, what you’re doing for the school and our teams and all. Did you really mean that? Proposing to my auntie?” DJ asked.
“Thank you, and yes, I meant every word I said. You don’t remember me because you were just a jit when I left, but I’m a man of my word.”
“That’s wassup. So, what happened to—”
“Uhm, that’s enough. Tell your mom I’ll be there soon.”
“Dang, Tee K. It’s like that?” her nephew asked, pressing his fist against his mouth in a teasing manner. He looked just like his mother.
“Yes, DJ. Boy, go with your mom. I’ll be there soon. Stay out of grown folks’ business,” she declared, playfully swatting at him.
I could tell by the affection between the two of them that they had a close relationship.
Kalliope turned back to me with a glare. “Where was I?”
“Why does he call you TK?”
“Not TK, but Tee K. It’s short for Tee-Tee Kalliope.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Where was I?”
“It’s more than my bad.”
“Yeah. You just dropped off the face of the earth. No phone call, no text message, not even a letter in a damn bottle, Drè.”
“I mean, that first year had a nigga not being able to see things straight. I was angry, bitter, and I had a lot of shit to work through, Kalli.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. You always worked things out with me. You could talk to me when you couldn’t talk to anyone else, and vice versa. But it was just like fuck me and my feelings, because you stomped an entire mud hole in my heart.”
“I told you that I needed to take some time away and get myself together. Kalli, you know that hurting you was the last thing that I wanted, but I wasn’t any good for anyone at the time. I was in a bad place, and you didn’t need that energy in your life. Besides, I had nowhere else to go.”
“You could leave the state to handle your business, but that didn’t prevent you from picking up a phone.
You damn sure didn’t need to drop off the face of the earth or out of my life for a decade to get your life together.
That was bullshit, Drè, and you and I both know it.
I’m not boo-boo the fool. It’s not okay for you to play me the way you used to play those heffas that ran behind you everywhere you went. ”
“I called you in the beginning.”
“The first few months. Then you stopped, and I heard from you a handful of times sporadically over the years. That’s no way to treat your best friend.”
She had every right to be furious and snap on me the way that she was. I tried to keep my composure, but it was hard. I was struggling to suppress my feelings for her, and being in her presence, all those feelings I thought were gone only flared back to life.
“I did what was best for both of us at that time.”
“How could you determine that was best for us? I needed you, Drè,” she whined.
“You were in a whole relationship with that . . . Leroy, Renault, Renfroe.”
“Remy.”
“Yeah, whatever. You knew that I had a lot of shit going on with my mama’s husband, my mama, work, all that shit.
Life was just too much, and I could barely handle it anymore.
I couldn’t stand back and watch you with that fake ass nigga.
I knew you deserved better than that. If I stayed around too long, we might not have been friends anymore. ”
“Why?”
“I would’ve bust ya nigga up.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed around longer then,” she muttered, batting her eyelashes quickly.
“Why? What did that nigga do?”
“He was a cheater. We just broke up last year.”
“Wait. You’ve been with that nigga all these years?”
She sniffled, rolled her eyes, and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Yes. Feels like a waste of years.”
“Why’d you stick with him all that time?”
“Because unlike you, he wanted me.”
“Don’t do that shit. You know—”
“I know what? Please tell me because I was left with so many questions. Wondering what that damn kiss meant, when would I hear from you, and when would I see you.”
“So, what? He was your cover?”
She nodded. “It’s all good.”
“What about this last year?”
“I’ve had a chance to focus on myself.”
“So you’re telling me you aren’t in a relationship now?” I knew the answer to that.
“I’m in a relationship with Jesus and myself.”
I chuckled. “Damn. Like that?”
“It feels pretty good from where I’m sitting. At least He’s a man of his word, a gentleman, and not a man that He should lie,” she rebutted.
“Well, I—”
“I really need to go, Drè.”
“Uhm, yeah. Can we pick this up later?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I don’t know.”
“Kalli, that wasn’t some stunt that I pulled out there for publicity. Every word that I spoke was real. This ring is real,” I declared, pulling it from my pocket and showing it to her again.
She shook her head. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
“I’m still the same man, just a better version.”
“I don’t know that.”
“Tell you what, Kalli. First, let’s get these tears out of your eyes, because you’re too beautiful and too precious to cry over any nigga, including me.” I wiped the tears from her eyes, and she giggled.
“You always knew what to say.”
“Second, I want you to wear this and think about what I asked you on the mound and the vow that we made.” I removed the ring from the box and slid it on her finger.
She gasped and shook her head as she stared at the solitaire rock on her hand. “I can’t do this.”
“Just consider it.”
She sighed deeply. “I don’t know.”
“Please. Can we meet up again?”
“Maybe.”
“Let me see your phone,” I demanded, holding my hand out.
She handed me her phone, and I sent a text message to myself. I saved my number in her phone as “My Love.” I handed her the phone back and saved her in my phone as “Wifey.”