1. Soleil
SOLEIL
Day One
The first group of attendees of the Immaculate Angels charity event were flown to Iredia on a Saturday morning.
My ticket was for a seat in coach with the option to upgrade to first class.
At the cost of an additional fifteen hundred dollars, I decided that I was cool in coach. Actually, I would’ve been fine at home.
I never really wanted to take the trip, because all along, it was supposed to be a Father’s Day gift for my daddy if I won, which I did.
Unfortunately, the day after I told him about the trip, he tripped over his “lady friend’s” puppy, fell down the stairs, and shattered his left ankle.
After emergency surgery for the complex break, he was looking at up to a year to return to his full strength and mobility.
That meant either I took the trip myself, or I forfeited it.
I was all prepared to forfeit the trip. After all, I won it.
It wasn’t like the money came out of my pocket.
Besides, going on a solo trip wasn’t really my style.
I liked to have familiar people to talk to on trips.
Going on a trip by myself to a romantic island while staying at a luxurious resort sounded like a special kind of loneliness hell to me.
But neither my father nor Bryanna would let me talk myself out of going.
We disembarked the plane at an airport in Felicidad.
There were about one hundred of us on the plane, and three more planes were expected to bring attendees throughout the day.
We boarded a shuttle provided by Quietude Resort and Spa, and before I knew it, we were headed toward the resort.
I whipped out my phone and shot a text to my daddy.
Me: Hey Daddy. I landed on the island. We’re headed to the resort now. I’m the only black person and single person on this shuttle. I really wish you would’ve let me stay home.
Since my father was one to stay glued to his phone, his response was almost immediate.
Daddy: Baby Girl, you’re going to be fine.
Don’t waste time complaining about the negatives.
Start categorizing the positives. Look out the window of that shuttle you’re on.
Can you see the ocean? Is it a special shade of blue?
Does it look like Lake Michigan or like something you’ve only ever imagined?
Is the air different there? Can you taste the salt in it? Tell me something good.
I smiled to myself. Phillipe Baptiste could always find a way to bring positivity into my life. He didn’t believe in staying down in the dumps. He believed that there was always a blessing or two to count.
Me: Oh Daddy.
Daddy: I love you.
Me: I love you right back!
When I texted Bryanna, I took my daddy’s advice. I only concentrated on the positives.
Me: Hey girl. Hope you’re having fun in Los Angeles. Iredia is beautiful. I’m on the shuttle headed to the resort and all I can see is miles and miles of ocean shore. The water is the perfect shade of blue.
Bryanna: Girl, it’s a hot mess here . . . in a good way. LOL. You know I love being around other MUAs, learning things, and shooting the shit. I’m having a blast. We partied until four this morning. I haven’t even been to bed yet. Iredia sounds gorgeous. Send pics!
Just focusing on the positive had me feeling better already.
I sat back in my seat and enjoyed the view.
Once the shuttle bus exited the expressway, it went down a few quaint streets.
Some looked like they had been dropped out of the past—small shops with big picture windows, colorful displays, and nautical-themed awnings that backed up to the harbor.
I focused my phone and took a few shots for Bryanna and shot them off to her.
I made myself a promise as the shuttle began to slow down as it approached the resort.
This whole thing is out of our comfort zone, I told myself silently.
But that doesn’t mean that we can’t or won’t have fun.
I promise to try new experiences. I promise to be open to new things.
I promise to say yes more than no. I promise to make memories that I can take home with me.
As I waited in line at the reception desk, I was given a fruity frozen mocktail and a quick overview of the hotel’s lobby level by a helpful staff member.
The reservationist that checked me in gave me an itinerary of the week’s events, along with my room key.
The bellman who transported my bags regaled me with tales of things I shouldn’t miss seeing on the island.
By the time I made it to my room, all of the tension had left my body, and I was genuinely smiling.
My room was gorgeous. Five hundred and fifty square feet of neutrally colored elegance with a sliding glass door led to a cute balcony with a view of the beach.
I squealed happily once the bellman left, and I was alone.
Then I stretched out on the rattan bench at the foot of the oversized king-sized bed and opened the brochure that detailed the week’s offerings.
There was an event that started shortly—a player meet and greet.
Different players would do meet and greets all day long, timed to coordinate with the guests’ arrivals.
The first one was happening in a little less than one hour.
The players in attendance at the first meet and greet were Stuart Robinski, Preston Wilcox, Connor Haag, and Spencer Charles.
I’d never heard the name Stuart Robinski before, so I couldn’t put a name to a position, but I knew the others.
Connor Haag was on special teams, and Spencer Charles was either a cornerback or a safety.
I knew his name, but I couldn’t remember his position.
Preston Wilcox was a running back. Since Preston was my favorite player, not based on his skill, but based on his fineness, I stood from the bench.
I needed to shower and make my way to Conference Room B, so I could meet and greet Preston.
I cracked open my luggage and pulled out the essentials: the outfit of choice, head wrap, toiletries, makeup, perfume, and shower shoes.
The bathroom was just as opulent as everything else, but I didn’t linger.
I showered quickly, did a natural makeup beat on my face, and stepped into my strategically purchased sundress.
Next, it was off with my head wrap and on to finger-combing my silk-pressed strands into a bouncy bob.
After slipping into my strappy sandals and grabbing my purse, I left my room and headed for the elevators.
My ride down from the seventh floor was quiet, as I managed to have it to myself.
I took a few deep breaths. Not that I was nervous about meeting the players.
I wasn’t nervous about fangirling, either.
In my position for the Bison, I often came into contact with players.
I was more-so nervous about walking into a room filled with people by myself.
After taking another deep breath, I decided that it was what it was.
There were the promises I made to myself—I would be open to new things and to make new memories—that I recited under my breath.
By the time the elevator doors slid open on the lobby floor, I was composed.
I followed the signage to Conference Room B where the meet and greet was being held.
The room was tastefully decorated. It didn’t look like a children’s party with the team colors saturating every space.
The only nods to the team were the backdrop behind where the players stood, a few signs that thanked the donors, and a few big, beautiful flower arrangements that featured flowers in deep blues and shocking oranges.
The room wasn’t packed out, but there were definitely people waiting for their opportunity to meet and greet the players.
I spotted Preston Wilcox right away. He was talking to the man standing in front of him, but his eyes were on the ass of the woman speaking to the player next to him.
As the man moved away, a pretty blonde wearing a short, summery cocktail dress stepped up.
She and Preston exchanged a few words and a few smiles.
She moved beside him to take a picture, and he bent to whisper something into her ear that made her smile.
As she moved closer to him, his hand drifted down and cuffed her ass.
Both were grinning big as the photographer snapped the picture.
I shook my head to myself. Not because I was mortified or anything. I never expected him to be a perfect gentleman, just because it was so stereotypical. Still, I got in the line designated for Preston Wilcox.
As I stepped up, there was no way for me to miss the quick up-down perusal he gave me. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Hey. It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand for a shake.
He grabbed it, still not looking me in the face. “What’s your name, sweetheart? ’Cause I’m tempted to call you thigh meat. All that dark-brown leg peeking outta your dress is making me wonder what it would feel like draped across my shoulder.”
I gave a chuckle that held no humor. “Were those really the first words outta your mouth? Okay.” I shook my head.
This was why I didn’t date in real life.
Too many men only saw women as the object of their sexual desires.
“If I wanted to have sex with an athlete, trust, I wouldn’t have had to travel a thousand miles to make it happen. ”
He smirked before leaning down close to me. “What would your talking-ass mouth look like filled with my dick, Thigh Meat?”
Before I could respond, the photographer yelled out, “Smile!”
The picture was snapped, and I didn’t even want to see it.
I knew I looked crazy; my expression would either be a grimace or a frown.
I backed away from Preston Wilcox so fast that my feet got tangled up, causing me to stumble.
It wasn’t Preston who reached out to make sure I stayed on my feet. It was the player standing next to him.
“You cool?” he asked, making sure I was steady on my feet before releasing me.
I gave him a quick glance. “I am. Thank you.” I didn’t linger.
I made my way through the crowd, headed toward the back of the room.
“This was a complete waste of time,” I mumbled to myself as I made my way back to the elevator.
My plan had immediately changed. Instead of “meet the players,” it became go to my room, exchange the strappy heels I was wearing for my more comfortable gym shoes, and figure out another way to spend the hours before lunch.
Fuck trying to impress these players, I thought to myself. They ain’t trying to impress me. That asshole wasn’t even trying to be polite. He was trying to set up some coochie to fall into.
On the way back to my room, I checked my phone where I’d downloaded the itinerary from a QR code. At 2:00 p.m. the resort offered a wine and cheese tasting. I wasn’t particularly fond of wine, but I liked cheese. I would make sure to have my face in the place for that experience.