Chapter 3 Serra
Serra
“Angel’s running point with my clients,” I stated hating every word as I sat on the porch swing watching the sun setting over Lake Accotink.
“There’re a couple of endorsement deals that need finalizing before contract negotiations begin.
Other than that, everyone on my list is in good shape for a while.
I finished all the follow-up meetings I had with the possibles after CIAA.
But I wanted to take another trip down to Winston-Salem before summer break. ”
It took everything I had in me to keep the tears at bay and hoped the quick inhale and slow exhale wasn’t noticeable on the FaceTime call.
I watched Freddie nod, her flawless copper-hued skin sported a full beat that only amplified her stunning beauty.
“Graham hasn’t been signed yet,” she said.
“I called him myself the moment the first story popped up on social media. He felt comfortable with you. He trusts you and you know he’s not used to trusting anybody. ”
She meant those words to be consoling, affirming, but they only made my temples throb more fiercely.
The anger and embarrassment I’d been carrying with me like an unlucky charm was lodged in my chest. “And I reinforced that mistrust by getting caught up in a gambling ring that could not only destroy the career of one of the NBA’s most powerful point guards but could also tank mines too. ”
I hated every ounce of truth in that statement. Hated that I’d been so stupid, not just in love—again—but this time, in a more serious and impossibly public way.
“Look,” Freddie said, shaking her head. “Adrian brought this shit on himself. He was sloppy, arrogant, and stupid as hell. Not only did he know better than to be making bets on his own team, but he should’ve also known better than to fall into bed with a damn reporter.
A messy as hell and immature one at that.
I can’t stand a bitch that doesn’t know how to play her position. ”
Frederika Valentine, partner and senior agent at the Agbara Agency, was the daughter of an NFL team owner and former beauty pageant queen.
She was the most confident and loyal person I’d ever met.
And she was also the closest friend I had since being introduced to her four years ago by my then-roommate, Gita.
Freddie and Gita were cousins, and that meeting had not only led to a great friendship, but also the start of my career as a sports agent.
“I don’t even care about that,” I said knowing that was a lie. “I could dump his ass and get over the cheating but this…having my name and reputation linked to a damn gambling ring that was clearly breaking the NBA’s policy is unacceptable.”
“I agree,” Freddie nodded. “And that’s why you’ve hired a lawyer to protect you in the investigation. Have you talked to Zora yet?”
“No,” I replied with a huff. In my increasing agitation, my legs started lifting and falling, making the swing go a little higher and faster.
The growing creaking sound was evidence that it was probably higher and faster than this old swing was meant to go, so I forced my legs to still.
Clenched the fingers of my free hand on my thigh as if I thought that would help them remain that way.
“We were playing phone tag before I left the city, but her assistant sent me an email this morning with some appointment slots.”
“Take one,” Freddie replied. “Get off this phone with me and respond to that email. You need a full team behind you on this.”
Zora Masterson was a notable public relations expert. She was the fixer of all fixers with a reputation for being as cutthroat as any scandal in the sports industry. And she was best friends with Michaela Monroe, another one of the three partners at the Agbara Agency.
“No, what I need to do is work,” I snapped. “This leave of absence is going to kill me, Freddie. You know how much I need this career to work.” I hated the weakness in my voice. I’d worked so hard for so long to get rid of that shit.
The look came instantly as Freddie sat back in her office chair and stared at me through the screen. The look of pity that I despised.
“I know,” she said, her tone softer. “Just like you know my hands are tied here. We’re friends.
Hell, I love you like a sister, Serra, but the agency is business.
Not only do I have a third of an interest in its success, but I’m also dedicated to my partners, to making us one of the largest, most reputable Black women owned and staffed, talent agencies.
We all agreed that this was the best course of action to protect that. ”
She was right, I knew it. But I didn’t have to like it.
I didn’t have to be okay with finally finding the thing that I was not only good at, but that I loved, then having to walk away from it—even if temporarily—because some dumb ass, fine ass, rich ass, stupid ass, ballplayer decided to deny his side chick’s baby.
I sighed. A loud and long one this time, not caring if Freddie noticed my frustration. Sometimes it took too much strength to hide the obvious. “You’re right. I know. I hate this. Hate that I was so stupid.”
“Uh-uhn,” she said wagging a finger to amplify what I already knew was going to follow. “You can’t be the stupid one in this mess, that’s all on him. You did everything right. You did your job and you were loyal and loving in what you thought was a reciprocal relationship.”
“But what actually turned out to be just another game to Adrian’s trifling ass,” I added.
What I didn’t say was that I was sick and tired of this scenario.
Of giving my heart and expecting it to be cared for and cherished by the person I was giving it to.
Of falling in love, again. And losing badly, a second time.
Adrian was supposed to be my second chance at happiness in love.
My father and brothers adored him and the floor seats to his games.
We looked amazing together; two beautiful people living their best young lives in the limelight.
It was perfect…until it was madness. And before I could shake myself and call on the resolve and resilience, I’d built brick-by-brick over the past eleven years, I’d actually blamed myself.
I wondered what the hell I’d done to once again be the owner of a broken heart.
To contemplate why I didn’t deserve the pure, unconditional love that others held so dear.
“Right!” she exclaimed. “His trifling ass! Him, Serra, this is Adrian’s fault, not yours.
Now, do you have to jump into this fight you didn’t anticipate?
Yes, you do. And I’m standing with you, as a friend, because I know you would never do anything to jeopardize your career.
” She paused and leaned in so that her face was closer to the screen.
“And as your immediate supervisor, I’m telling you to accept this leave of absence as a reprieve.
Visit with your grandfather, go fishing, eat some of that delicious fried catfish at his restaurant, find somewhere to get you a good massage, and talk to Zora.
In six weeks, the investigation should be over, you’ll be cleared and your chair in that pristine bright white office of yours will be waiting. ”
I chuckled at that last part. “You’re such a hater. Everybody can’t love the gloomy black as much as you do.”
Purple was my favorite color, but my taste in décor—at my condo on New York’s Upper West Side and my office in Agbara’s Manhattan location—was all white. The color was clean, pure, perfect. It was the color that exemplified everything I was raised to be.
And while that was another path I declared unfit to continue on in the past few years, there were parts of me that still clung to everything my mother said—the good and the bad.
The toxic and the destructive. I was a mess of contradictions, a total wreck of a person who, in my parents’ haste to mold, ultimately turned out to be their biggest disappointment.
Well, at least for my father. The one good thing to come out of my mother’s passing when I was fifteen, was that she hadn’t lived long enough to see me toss the life they’d wanted for me out the window.
And now, make a mess of the life I thought was the better option.
After ending the call with Freddie, I did exactly as she said and replied to the email from Zora’s assistant.
I let her know that I was available for any and all of the time slots since the only thing on my agenda for the next month and a half was waking up to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee that Pop Pop couldn’t start his day without and sitting on his back porch watching the gorgeous sunsets.
Tonight, since Pop Pop was smoking ribs for dinner and they wouldn’t be done for another forty minutes, I decided to leave the porch.
I’d changed out of the dress and heels I’d worn earlier into a pair of denim shorts, a Carolina blue UNC T-shirt one of my clients had given me, and Tory Burch flip flops.
Pop Pop’s ranch-style home sat on three acres of land that backed up to the lake.
Beautiful mature trees stood regally in the distance while lush green grass carpeted the ground.
On a deep inhale I smelled the end of spring.
A fresh scent of fully blossomed flowers and lightness after the winter months that could be harsh on the East Coast. However, there was also a hint of anticipation in the air.
It clung to the cool breeze, which often settled in after sunset, and promised more sunshine and ultimately humidity in its wake.
I loved the summertime, always had. Coming here, to Providence, was a big part of that.
From the time I was eight years old, until I was fifteen, I landed on Pop Pop’s doorstep for two weeks every summer.
Those were the best fourteen days of my year.
They were spent swimming in the lake, fishing on the lake and helping Gran with whatever dishes she was prepping for the restaurant.
Ulysses “Crabtree” and Tradene Ruthers owned Lakeside Seafood, a restaurant located a couple miles down on the boardwalk leading to Providence’s shipping docks.
For all that downtown Providence looked like any other small town with its storefronts, and maximum eight-story business buildings, a fifteen-minute ride south of the town was the more rural areas.
Farmland, horse ranches and the docks occupied that space.
And that, for me, was better than any of the sports or science camps my brothers opted to visit during their summer breaks instead.
I loved it here. Loved the quiet and the majestic. The simple lifestyle and the big hearts that I always encountered here.
Yet, I never ran into Noah during those breaks.
When I met him and he told me where he was from, I hadn’t been totally surprised that our paths hadn’t crossed until we were both living on the campus of Cheyney University.
Noah and I were totally different.
He exuded strength and confidence, even as a grumpy twenty-one-year-old.
He’d told me his life was hard and that he was trying to make sense of the cards he’d been dealt.
While, I had led what most would call a good life—a two-parent household, four older and ridiculously protective brothers, a black Labrador named Caesar, and access to the best that my father’s law firm salary and my mother’s gynecologist’s paycheck could afford.
Noah and I were not cut from the same cloth, and yet we were inexplicably drawn to each other.
I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anything else before.
Or since, if I was being brutally honest with myself.
Which I tried to do as much as possible.
It was the only way I could begin to shed all the expectation draped on my shoulders by parents who had my life planned before ever seeing me as a white, peanut-sized dot on an ultrasound picture.
I was supposed to get my criminal justice undergrad degree from Cheyney, where both my parents attended.
From there, I would stay in Pennsylvania to attend the Penn Carey Law School.
Then walk into Ward & Associates as a first-year associate, just as my brothers had done before me.
When and why my mother had acquiesced to me being groomed to be an attorney instead of a doctor like her, I wasn’t sure.
Then again, the reverse Cosby Show life Peron and Sandra Ward envisioned wasn’t meant for me to understand.
It was only meant for their egotism and glory.
The day I realized neither of those things included me, my wants or needs, was the day I found myself.
The fact that it was also the day after I watched the love of my life walk out the door only made it more impactful. More imperative that I figure out a way to survive and thrive on my own terms.
And I thought I’d done that.
Fuck that, I did do that.
I earned my juris doctorate from Columbia Law, instead of Penn Carey.
Then, I mailed the degree to my father and skipped the graduation ceremony.
I accepted Freddie’s offer to join the agency as a junior sports agent and ignored my father’s ranting messages and my brothers’ calls to come home for a talk.
Talking to them had led to my first broken heart.
Now, after all this time, I was in Providence again.
In the one place that had offered me solitude and comfort.
Noah was also here. Once upon a time, he’d provided me with solitude and comfort as well.
I was almost positive we would cross paths again.
A part of me wanted that to happen sooner rather than later.
Another part dreaded our next meeting as the wound that had barely healed in eleven years now felt fresh and open.
The pain adding another layer to the disappointments I’d recently had to endure.
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe in the fresh spring air. My throat clogged with tears as my eyes blurred and my heart thumped. I covered my face as the first sob broke free. Then I fell to my knees and let it all out.