Chapter 13
CHARLOTTE
I push up from my desk to stand by the glass, watching the players. A handful are shooting, and I assume others are in the weights room or with the trainers.
I check the time, knowing his flight would have landed.
I let out a breath because every minute feels like an hour, and I am already over today.
Then, I see the significance.
An angel number.
A sign to trust the process.
To let go and have faith that it’s a sign of harmony in my life.
A positive change is coming, and I’m on the right path in my finances and relationships.
My cell rings, with Franklin’s name lighting up the screen.
“Hey,” I say, a little more upbeat.
“Are you attending the meeting to greet Brandon Johns?” I don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t call him BJ.
“No. I have a personal appointment.”
“You booked a personal appointment today?”
“Yes. I told you I had another commitment when you first asked.” I storm back to my desk and find the details of an artist friend from college who is now a tattooist. I had no intention of attending that meeting. “Please welcome him for me.”
“I’ll be leaving that up to you, Lottie. It’s protocol.”
“Protocol when I have never met the player, and he has never played for us.”
“Point taken. I’ll keep you informed.”
“No need. It will only ruin my day.”
“You’ll need to face him eventually.”
“Yeah, when it pleases me, Frank,” I say louder, reminding him who is in charge.
“He is in the market for a new manager.”
“Not my problem.”
“Okay. I’ll get Walter on it.” I roll my eyes. “The board decided not to give Brandon his previous playing number.”
“I expected not when we issued it to the rookie last year.”
“Stefan,” Frank clarifies.
“I don’t care what number you issue him. Number seven stays with Stefan.”
“It’s already been issued. His name and number are printed on the cabinetry in the locker room—”
“Not interested,” I interrupt. “Bye, Franklin.”
I grab my purse and head toward the door, not wanting to be here when he arrives. I text Dwayne to meet me downstairs.
I need you to accompany me into the city.
Is this the appointment Franklin was asking about?
Yes. For a tattoo.
brANDON
My feet move slowly as I step into the home of the LA Sharks. While my mind is thinking positive thoughts, my feet move as though they are weighed down with lead. I walk up to the receptionist’s desk, Ewan right beside me.
The young girl smiles. “Mr. Johns, I’ll have security direct you to the boardroom.”
“No need. I know the way. My security will accompany me.”
“You both need to sign in.”
“Easily done.”
A lie. None of this is easy. The long hallway stretches ahead, each step heavier than the last. I pause outside the boardroom, the weight of what’s to come pressing down on me. Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep, steadying breath, willing myself to hold it together.
“Are you okay?” Ewan asks.
“No matter what happens in there, I don’t want you to react. You’re to remain silent.”
“You make it sound as though it might break out into a fight,” he says, concerned.
“It might.” A certain someone would take the opportunity to throw a punch. “No matter what, don’t interfere.”
His brows pinch before he nods.
I push open the door, and the men around the long wooden table all stand. Walter, the general manager, claps his hands, and the others in the room reciprocate the welcome.
“Welcome home, Brandon.” He strides over to me and shakes my hand. This man has fought to get me here, and I should be thankful, not ready to turn and bolt out the door.
“Thank you. I’d like to introduce my security and personal trainer, Ewan.”
“I see why he’s your security.”
Ewan shakes his hand, and we slowly make our way around the room. With each welcome, my heart rate picks up as I search the room looking for her. It’s not that I expected her to be here, but the absence of the governor and CEO is blindingly obvious.
Finally, the president and vice president of basketball operations step forward—Franklin and Jobe.
Jobe shakes my hand, and my earth tilts. How is this happening? The reality of it all knocks me off-kilter. Grabbing hold of the back of a chair, I steady myself. Her absence clarifies I’m unwanted, so why go to the trouble to drag me here against my will?
“Take a seat.” Jobe pulls out the chair beside him. “You’ll be fine.”
I don’t believe him.
These aren’t ordinary moments I can take in my stride. I never wanted to come back here. I feel dragged from under the ground and forced to be here, and now I’m supposed to be thankful for my resurrection.
For the next thirty minutes, the staff speaks briefly about their role and asks if there are any questions. Since I barely heard a word with the ringing in my ears, I don’t have any. I need to get out of here to gather my thoughts. Head back to my new apartment and…
“It’s time to head down to the locker room.” Jobe stands and straightens his designer tie. No one wears a suit like the Hendricks brothers, not even the governor of the Stingers. “Thank you to everyone who came to welcome Brandon. We don’t need a parade to show him his new jersey.”
Jobe holds out a hand. “Lead the way.”
“I’m sensing tension,” Ewan murmurs.
“Wait till the sister gets here.” He gives me a surprised look. “I’ll explain later.” Should have before. “Moja gre?ka.” My fault.
We walk through the treatment room to the locker room.
My mind is a blur as I read the names and numbers on each cubicle.
Number seven remains with the rookie, Stefan.
I can’t help but feel hurt. I stop mid-step at Byron Hendricks #19 and reflect for a few moments, then force my gaze away only to land on Brandon Johns #22.
22
I look at Jobe, but he fails to understand the significance. Charlotte’s birthday is the twenty-second of February, and her twenty-second birthday was a special night for both of us.
“Who selected my number?”
He checks his cell and looks disinterested in small talk. “It was available.”
He acts like no thought went into it, yet Charlotte is going to hate it.
As though summoned, she appears in the doorway. “Sorry, I, um…” She hesitates and goes to pull the door closed.
The room falls into an awkward quiet. I can’t hear it, but my God, I feel it.
Her floral scent wafts in, and I’m reminded of every time our bodies were entwined, her scent encasing me and swaying my thoughts.
“Charlotte,” Franklin says loudly. “Our new recruit is here.”
She glares at Franklin, but I cannot take my eyes off her. I’m stunned into silence and frozen in time. She is more beautiful than I remember, but that’s not the reason I’m drawn to her.
Galaxies move, planets align. The universe moves for me, for us.
Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, ruby red lips, and dark lashes framing her sexy blue eyes. She is wearing a white designer suit, and all I see is her angelic aura.
It’s not what I see but what I feel, what I have always known.
An undeniable pull between us.
The reason I have been resurrected.
I’m not here for nothing.
Hell is suddenly my heaven.