Authors: Victor McGlothin
Down On My Knees (23 page)
Kenton laughed. “Okay, I know when I'm outnumbered. It was good seeing you again, Grace. Our products are flying off the shelves since you took the helm on our campaign with Allen Foray. Much respect.”
“Don't mention it. Dream Creams' success is doing wondersfor our numbers as well.” Grace winked at Kenton's fiancéewith the utmost respect. “Delta, hold him close, girl, he's a keeper.”
“He ain't crazy. I'd have him arrested then kill him dead if he tried to leave me. We's gon' get married and make us some babies,” she joked, pulling Kenton closer while she was at it.
“I know that's right,” Grace co-signed, genuinely happy for Delta despite having just met her.
“That reminds me of something we discussed at the tail end of our meeting,” Kenton mentioned in parting. “The right one find you yet?”
“Not that I know of, but a wise woman told me that I should learn to look lost.”
Delta's expression changed when she saw the two of them bonding in a way she wasn't all that secure with. “That sounds like great advice, Grace. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Delta. Nice meeting you. And Kenton, I'll be expecting a wedding invitation in the mail. Send it to the office,you know the address.”
Tyson jingled his car keys to announce that he was back and ready to take the party to that other place he'd hinted at. Grace stood up from the bar stool and took his hand. After exiting the restaurant, she yanked on it. “Hold on Tyson, wait a minute. You know, you told me that I would want more than you were willing to give, and you were so right about that. I do want more. Unless something has changed on your end, I have no business doing what you're trying to take me some other place to do. I'm way past playing around in hotel rooms near the loudest ice machines you can find. So, if that's still your best offer?”
Tyson huffed. He shook his head and gazed up at the darkening sky. “You're about to break my heart, aren't you, Grace?”
“Your spirits, maybe, but I've never been close enough to your heart to make a dent.”
Tyson appeared to be more disappointed than heartbrokenover the possibility of being turned down. “So what are you saying?”
“Look at me,” Grace insisted when he began pouting like a spoiled little boy. “Do you want to be my man, Tyson? Answerme. You want to be my man? Because that's the least I'm willing to settle for.” Grace placed her fingertips against his thick chest. “The very least,” she added to remove any doubt that she was serious.
Tyson winced as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. “Is it like that, Grace, the very least?”
“Yes indeed. See, there's this other guy I know.
He
wants to be my man.
He
wants to take care of me. And
He
is willingto love me back unconditionally.
His
name is
Jesus
, and what he's offering is a whole lot better than your sneak'n-freak'nidea of commitment. Sorry, but that's not gon' get it anymore. Not even close. Why don't you go on back inside and wave your car keys around? You're bound to catch something; brothas like you always do. I've got the second half of a freshman basketball game to make. Good-bye, Tyson.” He remained there, on that same piece of cracked pavement, with his mouth hanging open as Grace hit the avenue and disappeared into the sunset.
He
wants to be my man.
He
wants to take care of me. And
He
is willingto love me back unconditionally.
His
name is
Jesus
, and what he's offering is a whole lot better than your sneak'n-freak'nidea of commitment. Sorry, but that's not gon' get it anymore. Not even close. Why don't you go on back inside and wave your car keys around? You're bound to catch something; brothas like you always do. I've got the second half of a freshman basketball game to make. Good-bye, Tyson.” He remained there, on that same piece of cracked pavement, with his mouth hanging open as Grace hit the avenue and disappeared into the sunset.
24
A Can't-Miss Treat
L
eaving Tyson in the dust was the easiest decision Grace had had to make in weeks. She had regained her inner strength, and the fears that had consumed her were all but a distant memory. Although she was sorry for her recent transgressions,her repentant spirit was emphatically opposed to allowing brief moments of weakness to prevent her from being the Christian she wanted to be. Grace's expectations were high and her mind was fixed on enjoying life as intended,diligently seeking the Kingdom, and keeping her eye on that prize. She also expected trials and tribulations to continue because the Bible teaches that following Jesus requirescrosses to bear. No, it wouldn't be easy, but anything worth having never was.
eaving Tyson in the dust was the easiest decision Grace had had to make in weeks. She had regained her inner strength, and the fears that had consumed her were all but a distant memory. Although she was sorry for her recent transgressions,her repentant spirit was emphatically opposed to allowing brief moments of weakness to prevent her from being the Christian she wanted to be. Grace's expectations were high and her mind was fixed on enjoying life as intended,diligently seeking the Kingdom, and keeping her eye on that prize. She also expected trials and tribulations to continue because the Bible teaches that following Jesus requirescrosses to bear. No, it wouldn't be easy, but anything worth having never was.
After parking at the back of the high-school parking lot and noting the vast collection of cars, Grace gathered that the basketball game was more important than she had previouslypredicted. She didn't want to imagine how badly guilt and sorrow would have beat on her like a kettledrum had she missed it for a meaningless tryst with Tyson. Thank God for miracles, large and small.
Very appreciative that He was still in the blessing business,an affectionate smile accompanied Grace into the gymnasium.It beamed even brighter when she saw that Wallace manned the cash box at the door. “Heyyy Grace, glad you could make it,” greeted the extremely happy cash-box attendant.“That son of yours is lighting up the scoreboard.”
“Wow, it's packed in here,” Grace hollered over the cheeringfans. “Where's the other guy, the one who normally works the door?”
Wallace narrowed his eyes and pulled Grace closer to him so that he wouldn't have to shout his answer. “He was arrestedlast week. Got caught spying on the girls' locker room from a hole he'd drilled. They ran a story on the news and everything.”
“I haven't watched TV in months, but I knew something was wrong about him,” she said, while digging in her purse. “Here, this is all I have.” Grace pulled out a twenty, but Wallacerefused it.
“No, this one's on me. Enjoy the game.”
“What?” she yelled over the noise.
“I said, enjoy the game!” Wallace repeated louder. He handed her an orange-and-blue pom-pom fastened to a thin wooden stick. “You'll need this for the game. It's a good one.”
“Oh, thanks. See you later,” Grace answered before steppingaway to hunt for an available seat.
The second half got under way as she reached the home team's bleachers. André whizzed by her with the ball, blazingup the court. She watched him direct his teammates in the same fashion Wallace had directed his class. Players dashed in and out with precise maneuvers as André instructed.Grace was amazed at how fluently her child moved with the basketball. He was in a zone, scoring, slashing, and rebounding as if possessed. Everyone was screaming André's name and waving handmade signs to root him on. Intermittently,Grace glanced at the door where Wallace sat behindthe small table. Each time she looked his way, he was looking back at her. She almost felt like a high-school kid herself, participating along with a roaring crowd and shoutingnames of the players she heard others chant.
There was a time-out called with ten seconds left on the clock after André had his ball stolen. He'd been careless and dribbled it away from his body. Grace remembered Skyler telling him that would happen against a better opponent. The team's coach pointed his finger in André's chest when the boy lowered his head. Grace wasn't bent out of shape over some coach getting in her son's face about feeling down on himselfbecause she would have done the same thing had she been close enough.
“Keep your head up, boy!” Grace shouted boldly. “Don't give up, Dré, ten seconds is a long time!” Those seated near Grace applauded her optimism despite their team being behindby one point.
“You tell him, honey!” bellowed the leggy blonde Grace had met in line that night outside Wallace's classroom.
“Spartans! Spartans! Spartans!” they cheered increasingly louder as the referee whistled for play to resume.
Grace held her breath when the other team passed the ball around to run off the remaining seconds. André's expression hardened. Grace hadn't seen him so immersed in a battle since he was four years old and struggling to conquer the alphabet.With his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth the way she remembered from back then, André chased the boy who'd taken his ball. “That's it, Dré!” Grace screeched at the top of her lungs. “Stay with it!”
As if he'd heard his mother's voice amid hundreds of otherswho were shouting directives while the clock ticked down to six seconds, André lunged at the ball handler and cut his eyes at the opposing player moving toward him. He doubled back and slid between them. The ball dribbled off someone's shoe. Grace's heart stopped when André scooped it up and sprinted down the hardwood toward his team's basket.The clock ticked down to one second. Grace closed her eyes and turned her head away. A resounding hush fell over the audience as André hoisted a shot from the half-court line. The buzzer sounded just as the basketball swooshed through the net. Pandemonium filled the tiny gymnasium. Grace was the last person to learn that her son's team had won the game.
“He made it?” she asked frantically. “He made it?” All she could hear was screams of jubilation that André's miraculousshot was nothing but net. Her chest swelled with pride as he was mobbed by his teammates. Pom-poms flew, and Grace thanked God again for allowing her to witness André's finest moment.
Grace was jostled and shaken while receiving thunderous congratulatory pats on the back typically awarded to the fatherof outstanding athletes after they had performed the unthinkable,but she was just as pleased to accept the accolades that she deserved both as mother and father.
“Dré actually made that shot,” Grace said to Skyler for the umpteenth time as her son exited the locker room followinga short team meeting. He had the game ball tucked beneath his arm like the old teddy bear he wouldn't be seen without until he started preschool and discovered that teddy bears weren't allowed.
“Yeah, but he shouldn't have got his ball snatched in the first place,” Skyler teased him. “Ain't that right, Rookie?”
“You told me to keep it close,” André replied, with a colossal dose of humility. “I got it back, though, didn't I?”
“And you knew what to do with it too,” Skyler gushed approvingly.
“Atta boy,” Grace squealed with delight. “Ain't no quit in him.”
“I'm a Hilliard, Ma,” André said as if it went without saying. He handed Grace the game ball, then threw his long arms around her neck.
“What's this for?” she asked as Wallace eased up behind the family reunion in session.
“It's for the most valuable player, Grace,” Wallace informedher. She blushed when he reached out to congratulateher.
André nodded his head. “Tell her, Mr. Peters. The best player deserves the rock. We couldn't have done it without you, Ma.”
“I don't understand,” she said, confused by the ceremony and its sentiment. “I didn't have my behind out there fighting for every second until the time ran out.”
“Maybe not, but I heard you in the stands,” André explained.“I heard you telling me to stay with it.”
“Yeah, we all heard her,” Skyler joked, using his fingertips to plug both ears. “I probably won't be hearing anything else for a long time either.”
“Go on, boy,” she giggled. “If I didn't bust an eardrum every now and then, what kinda mother would I be?”
“Not mine,” André chuckled. “Y 'all ought to hear her yelling at me to get out of bed in the morning. That would wake the dead.” He and Skyler wandered off to join a group of students loitering near the exit.
Grace held the basketball like a Mother-of-the-Year trophy.“What do I do with this?” she asked finally.
Wallace rubbed the top of it with his left hand, then hunched his shoulders. “An award such as this doesn't come every day. It's suitable for mounting.”
Grace agreed. “Then that's just what I'll do. I'll have it mounted so everyone can see what my son thinks of me.”
Wallace slid both hands in his trouser pockets as he was accustomed to doing when nervous. “I'm very glad that you made it here to see the big finish. Some things can't be appreciated the same way, hearing about them secondhand. It kinda makes you want to celebrate, doesn't it?”
Knowing what he was driving at, Grace batted her eyes. “Are you asking me out on a postgame victory date?”
“That depends. If you'll say yes, I am. You know how hard it is for a man to deal with rejection from a beautiful lady. I'd hate to put it out there and have it come back all beat down and stepped on.” Although Wallace had made several attempts to contact Grace by phoning her, she hadn't returneda single one of his calls, so he figured his chances were slim to none.
Grace studied his pitiful expression and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. “Wallace, I would love to, let me check with Dré.” Grace had another reason to be thankful for endingup in the right place at the right time. Wallace's stock was rising in the available-men market. On a real date, she'd have an opportunity to investigate his long-term yield potentialbefore making a sizable investment. It was finally time for Corporate Grace to sit down and take notes for Grace the mother, and CEO of Team Hilliard. Regardless of the outcome,she had already begun to value Wallace's friendship immensely.
It took some doing, but Grace managed to tear André away from a particular cheerleader with a fondness for a coming-of-age Hilliard man. He was glad to hear that Grace wasn't there to drag him home. André had been working up the nerve to ask her if he could trot off for burgers with Portia.Grace wasn't in favor of him and the precocious cheerleaderbeing alone for a solitary minute, so she struck a deal.
“Get Portia's mother on the phone,” she demanded. “If she says it's okay, then Wallace and I will make it a foursome.”
“Ahh man,” André protested. “Ma, you're kidding right? Forget about it then. I don't like her that much.”
“Suit yourself. I'll tell WallaceâMister Petersâthat we can celebrate another time.” Grace turned to walk away, hopingAndré would experience a change of heart.
“Okay, okay,” he whined under his breath. “It doesn't matter that Portia's a sophomore, and a cheerleader captain with her own car?”
“Oh, that cinches it. Now I know that I'll need to holla at her parents. Her own car? Humph, I'll be standing over here when it's time to introduce myself to her people.” Wallace had been watching the interaction between them but couldn't make heads or tails of it when Grace returned wearing an odd expression. As he asked for the verdict, she shook her head. “I'm not sure,” she answered. “But I think I just brokereda double-date with my own child. Lawd have mercy.”
Portia whipped out a top-of-the-line cell phone and dialedup her father, who happened to be a judge. The HonorableHoward Rosewood spoke to Grace. He vouched that his daughter was extremely trustworthy and respectful for a girl her age. Then he went further and applauded Grace for caringenough to get involved. It was set, a double date at French's Fries, a greasy spoon that offered a clog-your-heart menu. Grace hadn't eaten any high-fat, high-calorie junk in such a long time that she was really looking forward to it.
Portia led the way, Grace followed closely, André and Wallace brought up the rear. Their caravan motored into the diner's parking lot. Grace was tickled when it appeared that the cunning little cheerleader-chick made an effort to park her foreign two-seater sports car at the farthest end of the lot so that she and Dré could enjoy a long, quiet walk up, and perhaps the same after dinner. The girl had spunk, Grace conceded. She liked that, mostly because Portia reminded Grace of herself as an overly aggressive tenth grader.
Wallace met them inside the burger pit. “I've asked for a booth, if that's all right?” His comment was directed at Grace, but her son intercepted it.
“I'd rather sit over there,” André answered, pointing across the restaurant to a small table near the kitchen. “Is that cool with you, P?” he hinted to Portia.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, we'll give the grown-ups some privacy,” she offered slyly. “Besides, they don't want to be bored with our juvenile conversation. Come on, Dré.”
Come on, Dré?
That little hussy had probably been ordering boys around since she'd discovered how easy that was to do. Grace had to hand it to her, though, she was a fast learner.
Come on, Dré?
That little hussy had probably been ordering boys around since she'd discovered how easy that was to do. Grace had to hand it to her, though, she was a fast learner.
When André started out after Portia, Grace tugged at his gym shirt. “Hey, you have any money?” she asked quietly so as not to embarrass him.
“Yeah, but she's treatin'.”
“So!” Grace snapped. “You shouldn't get in the habit of letting women pay your way. Man up and handle the check when it comes. Got me?”
“Yes, ma'am,” André answered, his eyes cast down towardthe floor. “Anything else?”
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