Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (37 page)

“Okay. Have a good one.”

I disconnected the call and searched my missed call log. There were calls from my lawyer, Chesney, Coach Lou, the
Kings
general manager, Jerry, and Divine. This was real. I had a job on my team. I collapsed onto the pillows mounded on the bed.

“Thank you, God,” I whispered with squeezed eyes. “Thank you…”

My throat closed, fighting down the cry clawing up my belly.

My eyes danced all around the elegant and luminescent solarium in wonder of the ambiance filling the room. The sun streaming its presence inside, highlighted the chic décor in every detail of its motif. Tables were strategically dispersed, lined with off-white linen, and topped with fine crystals and white peaked-bloomed tulips mixed with tuberoses. My mother’s touch. She loved fresh flowers and it was evident that preference had been passed on to me, considering the fresh snowballs and zinnias I kept in the kitchen and those occupying the bedrooms of Trent’s place. It was my
thing
, as he’d said.

I was at one of the largest country clubs in Essex County, a place where my mother made the most use of George’s expensive membership. Today, it was in the name of charity. It was her annual fundraiser for an organization she ran that assisted under privileged young girls with exceptional academic scores with financial aid for college. She actually did much more with the girls, but this particular event was to help with tuition.

My mother invited me for the first time and I didn’t understand why. When I was a teen, and before I got pregnant with Kyree, she made me work the event in some capacity. A few weeks ago, after church, I received my first invitation from her. I explained I was in no financial position to donate. I knew the plates were upwards of five hundred dollars. She insisted that I come along and bring Kyree. There was a perceptive spirit of sincerity in her approach, so I couldn’t decline, but as I sat absorbing the elegance of the place, I wondered why she would want me here.

Kyree was off with George somewhere in the country club while I sat waiting for Lashawn, who asked that I arrive early so we could chit chat. I had no idea why when we saw each other, even if briefly, when I dropped Ky off at her place to play with her son. It would always be a quick encounter where I wouldn’t even come inside. I felt awkward and fraudulent sitting here and couldn’t wait for her to arrive so I wouldn’t be the only broke attendee today. Lashawn’s mother, my aunt Magness, would be another plate holder who likely didn’t cover it. She and my mother were pretty tight, but Aunt Magness wasn’t in possession of the same  number of bank accounts as my mother, thanks to her successful corporate attorney husband, George.

“Hey, girl!” I turned and found Lashawn approaching the table, sheer excitement bouncing from her eyes at seeing me.

Lashawn’s skin tone was lighter than mine, not much different but a glowing almond complexion. Of course she was taller, near five-foot-seven. She wore a fitted floral midi dress with a black background, making her appear smaller than her size six frame was, though she didn’t need it. Shawnie looked good in her open toe slingbacks and black top handle bag that I was sure was
Michael Kors
, but she rocked it like a
Celine
. There was something endearing about her simple style. I guessed it was because of her gold-digging ambition. Lashawn always dreamed of marrying a rich man like my mother had to take care of her. What always tickled me was her inability to at least play the role of wealthy diva to attempt to attract that type of man. Today she wore a tapered cut with fiery red hair at the top. I could tell it was freshly done.

I stood to enfold her in one outstretched arm.

“You tell me to get here thirty minutes early for you to arrive ten minutes late,” I teased while in her embrace.

“Girl, Kia had mad people in that salon today and you know I can’t trust nobody else with my do, especially if I’m coming to one of Aunt
Cheri
’s events.”

Lashawn was one of very few who pronounced my mother’s name likely the way my mother’s mother intended. She’d say
Sherry
with a southern curl like pronouncing “cherry” instead of my mother’s preferred
Chéri
with a short ‘a’ like the French. My mother was nowhere near French, only visited there countless times after I was born. She actually changed the spelling on her birth certificate to solidify the distinction. The change was seamless, seeing she had been introducing herself with the short ‘a’ since a teenager. It was another mark of her pretentiousness.

“Well, I’m glad you made it. I was getting bored sitting here by myself. You know I hate these stuffy events.”

“Girl, these bougie fundraisers be giving me all types of life. Making me feel fancy and shit.” She took the seat next to me as she spoke. “But never mind that. Tell me about Trent. You keep with a tight lip about him.”

I frowned considering that. I didn’t do it intentionally.
It’s probably because the man constantly throws me off and I’m never able to keep up with him emotionally.

“Hmmmmm…” I tapped my chin. “Tell what?”

Lashawn’s neck popped back and eyes went out. “Biiiiiitch,” she attempted to whisper. “What’s it like being with him. Do you guys go out with other celebrities—” she gasped with inspiration. “You met his bestie, Jordan “Fine-Ass” Johnson? That chocolate thang is fine as
all
fuck!”

Sucking in air, I was hit with relief of being able to answer that question. “I just met him last weekend, up in Connecticut.”
Another mark of Trent’s wall of distrust yielding to me.
 

“For real, girl? Ain’t he fine? Does he really like strippers like that? You know he stay photographed with a famous dancer.”

I took a moment to consider that. I didn’t know anything about Jordan Johnson—or JJ, as Trent called him—other than he was handsome, charming, and possessed my most valued impression: he was very accepting and understanding of Trent’s extreme and sensitive mood swings. It was clear to me that at some point in getting to know Trent, JJ decided to embrace all of his quirky characteristics.

When we met at his plush home, JJ immediately picked me up in a big embrace and swung me from side-to-side like a ragdoll, but gentler. Trent clasped my fingers as JJ held me, showing his possessiveness. I could tell JJ didn’t mind and was expecting it. In fact, he was likely playfully taunting Trent with the act. We talked over a drink in his sitting room, and I could tell JJ and Trent couldn’t be any more different off the field. Jordan was more cultured, educated, secure in the sense that he was openly social, and nowhere near the taciturn nature Trent took on. Overall, he was a big kid too, just in a more endearing manner. 

After dinner at a fancy restaurant there in Connecticut near the stadium where the Kings played, we went to a club JJ had asked us to. Trent was hesitant to go, but I coaxed him into accepting, wanting to be around his close friend longer, thinking it would give me more insight into Trent. JJ had immediately warmed to the idea of me being on Trent’s arm. Apparently he’d heard a lot about me, including from that Alton Alston. Those athletes ran a tight circle between them, and that made me feverishly curious about what Trent had shared with his friends about me. But JJ never made me feel I was outside of their chemistry or that he was untouchable, considering the way people responded to his gregarious presence.

Oh my god, the way people flocked to both men as though they were the mayors of the city or bigger—the president of the damn free world! Women threw themselves at JJ and Trent, but what was most notable about JJ was that he was respectful about ignoring them and keeping them at bay for my comfort level. It was obvious throughout the night, and when I’d commented on it afterwards to Trent, he confirmed it. Trent wouldn’t let go of my hand as he crowded over me from behind while JJ’s bodyguards led us to a V.I.P. section of the club where we had some level of privacy.

Trent had fallen into his comfort zone quite nicely at the club. Even if he didn’t say it, I knew he’d been having a great time and was well relaxed in the public atmosphere by the way he grinded on my backside as I gazed over the loft railing of the closed off V.I.P. area. The D.J. shouted out both Trent and JJ all night, but Trent was entranced with the feel of my booty being forcefully buried in his hardened crotch. I swear, Trent went between two extremes now that we were intimate: an oversized twelve-year-old and a sex-maniac. I never minded the latter. The former was something I’d been managing, too. 

At one point in the night, when JJ thought our privacy had been compromised, he went off on his security about not catching a patron who had been recording us on his camera phone. Apparently, JJ had spotted the man. He waved his arms, cussing out everyone on his team, including the person whose phone had been taking in the ruckus. When Trent said it was all good and to relax, JJ explained he knew how big of a deal it was for Trent to be out and he didn’t want to violate that. That JJ was very protective of Trent instantly warmed me to him.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “When I met him, he was more like familiar family. He was funny and mannerly, giving me the spotlight.”

“That’s it?” she asked with wide eyes and descended shoulders, clearly disappointed.

“Yup.” I nodded successively. “Completely sexy and…human like everybody else.”

I didn’t know how to tell my cousin she had no luck with JJ. I could’ve been wrong, but he was the type to settle with a real woman who wasn’t jaded by his celebrity. I didn’t know what he put on to the public because I didn’t follow him, but when I talked to him in the privacy of his own home, he spoke about family values and social norms, various topics that didn’t include having a trophy wife for the cameras. He seemed to have had some substance to him.

That apparently came through without me elaborating because Lashawn let go of the topic of Jordan Johnson.

“What’s Trent look like naked? How does he fuck?” she continued with her line of questioning.

My eyes blossomed this time.

“Oh…” I hummed again from realization. “That?”

“Uh! Yeah! You can’t keep holding out on me, Jade!”

I sat back in my chair. Took a moment to consider what my answer would be. Lashawn was really my only friend. I’d never been the type to have a roster of confidants or associates. Growing up I preferred to be around males rather than females, only using both species when I felt they were necessary. However, Lashawn was never the kind of confidant that I shared my heart with. She was just a cousin conveniently around my age who wasn’t stuck up or thought she was better than anybody else. Lashawn and I were a lot alike with ambition of being something we weren’t. She wanted to be a trophy wife groomed to handle a man’s wealth like my mother. I wanted to be liked by those I chose to attach myself to. I now, at twenty-five, understood that to be a flaw. My cousin, on the other hand had no idea of her blemish.