Running Interference (5 page)

“Work out with the Super Bowl MVP? It's genius,” Jillian said. “I'll help you promote it. We can set it up on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, you name it.”

MJ stayed quiet a beat too long. “There are probably some legalities and logistics you'll have to consider.”

Of course there were. She didn't even have Cam's blessing yet. “Let me call him first, okay? Then we can iron out the details.”

Because, come hell or high water, she was going to do whatever was necessary to get him on board with her plan.

God help her.

• • •

Cam helped his mother up the crooked icy steps that led to his aunt's house. This place was in even worse shape than his mother's.

The door flung open before they reached the porch and a woman squealed. “Get your ass in here!”

Aunt Yvonne's hand shot out to grab him when he was within reach. His mother's sister was never short on enthusiasm. Or perfume. He coughed as he wrapped her up in a hug.

“He's here! He's here!” The bouncy voice at his side belonged to his teenaged cousin, Corinne. Cam shook his head. The little fool was dressed in a crop top and booty shorts even though it was only 30 degrees.

“Get back in that house with no shoes and no coat!” Aunt Yvonne let go of him to grab Corinne and drag her inside. “You'd better be hungry.” She directed the threat at him.

“When isn't he hungry?” his mother asked.

He laughed and held the screen door for her. It felt good to be here. He hadn't been able to spend much time with them at the Super Bowl. He'd paid for their transportation and rooms and set them up in a stadium suite, but between media obligations and game prep, he'd only been able to share one full meal with them.

“Yo, man.” Cam's cousin, Detrick, sat on the couch with a heaping plate of food balanced on his legs. Detrick had been a year behind him at school and they'd always been close. Now they were lucky if they talked once or twice a year. Different cities. Different lives. It seemed rational when Cam wasn't here, but now that he was, it seemed kind of pathetic. This was family, man.

“You couldn't wait?” Cam teased.

“Nah. I don't wait for nobody, not even no Super Bowl champion.”

The noise level in the living room rocketed to a roar, and hands reached out to grab him. Cam bent beneath all the head rubs and back pats from his cousin, aunt, and mother.

“Where is he?”

He looked up to see Aunt Renee, wearing an apron and smile, coming in from the kitchen. She pressed a finger into her cheek and said, “You come plant one right here.”

“Nay Nay,” he said, and lifted his mama's baby sister right off the ground. She hadn't been able to make the trip to Arizona for the Bowl, so it was extra special seeing her now.

Over her shoulder, he could see into the kitchen, where a man he didn't recognize sat at the table. Skinny, hairy, and unsociable. Nay Nay's type.

Cam set her down and gave her a look that was supposed to inquire about the guy.

“You're so strong!” She squeezed his biceps. “Are there rocks in there? Take off this coat. I want a better look.”

Nothing like his aunts to embarrass him.

The man from the kitchen wandered into the living room, looking about as warm as Lake Erie.

“Jerry.” Aunt Renee hooked the guy's arm. “This is my nephew, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cam said.

The guy grunted a hello, and then planted a sloppy kiss on Aunt Renee's lips. “I'll see you later, baby.”

Nobody said a word until he left.

“You can do better than that,” his mother said.

Go, Ma
.

But Aunt Renee gave a sad shrug. “He's fine.”

“Fine ain't good enough,” Aunt Yvonne said. “You know Charles wouldn't let that man in this house if he were here.”

Aunt Yvonne's husband, a traveling bricklayer, ran a tight ship.

“Well, Charles isn't here,” Aunt Renee said. “And fine's as good as it gets in this neighborhood.”

She looked right at Cam.

Back when he'd been entertaining offers from colleges, Aunt Renee had made the most noise about him going far away and not looking back. “Get out while you can,” she'd said. As if he'd only get one shot. God, so many nights he'd lain awake wondering if that was what had happened to most of them—they'd missed their shots—and dreaming of the day when he could take them all with him. Big dreams. Some of them crazy naïve. Both his agent and his accountant warned him about the fleeting nature of a professional athlete's income. Relocating an entire family and being held responsible for their happiness and welfare didn't come cheap. One career-ending injury, and they'd all be screwed.

“Can we eat?” Corinne asked.

“'Course you can,” Detrick said. “What's it look like I'm doing?”

Cam made a plate and after chatting in the kitchen joined Detrick on the couch. “How you been, man?”

“Can't complain. Your mom got me a job doing linens for the hospice. Decent pay. Benefits. Nothing flashy but it pays the bills.”

Seemed to be the motto around here. That damn guilt pushed against his ribs, making it hard to comfortably swallow his bite of barbecue chicken. He did a lot for his family, but it never seemed to be enough.

“Met somebody,” Detrick said.

“Oh yeah?”

Detrick nodded. “At work. She's a little younger than me, but that don't bother her.”

Cam reached between his legs and lifted a bottle of beer. “How much younger?”

Detrick rubbed a hand across his mouth as he garbled “ten years.”

Cam stopped the bottle inches from his lips, and his jaw dropped. They were twenty-seven. “So she's seventeen?”

“One year over consent.”

Jesus.
He patted Detrick on the back. “Be careful. You don't need any little Ds running around. That gets expensive, man.”

“You speaking from experience?”

Cam nearly choked on his beer. “Hell no.” But he saw it every day with his teammates. A few thousand dollars here, a few thousand dollars there, several thousand more to prove and fight paternity. It was why he'd made the decision in college not to sleep with anybody he wasn't prepared to marry, which considering he'd been in back-to-back serious relationships hadn't been hard to live with … until now. Now, he might have to adjust that just a bit.

“Saw Sabrina on the VMAs.” Detrick whistled. “Looking damn good. You ever see her anymore?”

“No.” And he didn't care to. That was progress. Funny how a year after a break up you could see it for what it was—the best thing that could've happened. If she hadn't broken up with him, he would've spent the rest of his life jumping through hoops for a suspicious woman. He didn't deserve that. He knew what it felt like to be abandoned and cheated, and he'd never step out on another person. It pissed him off she thought he would.

“Cam, after you're done eating could you drive me and some friends to Coffee Bean?” Corrine smiled so hard she had dimples.

“You don't need no Coffee Bean,” Aunt Yvonne said. “And you ain't givin' any of your father's hard earned money to those people.”

“I have my own money,” Corrine said. “Please.” She trained her gray eyes on Cam.

He liked Coffee Bean. It reminded him of his go-to Huntington Avenue Starbucks back home in Boston, but he wasn't getting in the middle of this. “Not tonight, Rin,” he said. “We've got plenty of time for joy riding while I'm home. Besides … ” He smiled extra-wide, “I'd already planned to take you to the mall and spoil you.”

Her hug just about strangled him, and her screams rang in his ears long after she'd run upstairs. Probably to post it all over social media.

“Nice diversion tactic,” Detrick said.

“Well, it sounds like our mothers are not fans of Coffee Bean. How ‘bout you?”

“Nope.”

“Coffee not your thing?”

“People coming in and messing with my neighborhood is not my thing.”

Seemed to be the general consensus around here. His mother hadn't sounded too thrilled about the development in South City the few times they'd talked about it either. But, man, when you got out and saw how the other half lived, you wanted more and more of that. A little progress wouldn't hurt this neighborhood. More jobs. More things to do. It still wouldn't be enough to make him comfortable with the thought of his mother living here, though. But maybe it would make him feel less guilty about leaving the rest of them here once he convinced her to move to Boston.

“You see anybody since you been back?” Detrick asked.

“Lots actually. I stopped by Pop's gym.”

Detrick stretched out his legs. “Did you see Tanya?”

“Yep. I actually spent quite a bit of time with her today over at the school. Got my ass kicked in something called ‘the shuttle,' but I think it made her day.” He smiled.

“She's looking good lately. Must be all that football she's been playin'.”

Football? “Don't you mean basketball?” He'd never forget the day she turned down a scholarship to play college ball on the West Coast.
My family needs me here
, she'd said. And over the years he couldn't stop thinking that maybe she'd botched her one shot to get out too.

“No, shithead,” Detrick said. “I meant football. She plays for that WPFL team, the Cleveland Clash. Where the hell would she play basketball? We don't have WNBA in Cleveland.”

True. Cam stuck a fork in a Swedish meatball and stuffed it in his mouth. Football, huh? Something else he should've known. Something else she should've told him.

This was stupid. He was done waiting for her to call.

“I'll be right back.” He set his plate on the end table and stood.

Out on the porch, he huddled against the wind behind a peeling pillar. There was a good chance she wouldn't answer her phone, so at the last minute, he opted for a text.

He hit send, waited a beat, and then typed.

He added a very uncharacteristic smiley face emoticon just so she would know he wasn't trying to be a dick.

He switched the phone to his other hand and blew hot air against his palm before he shoved it into his jeans pocket and decided to go back inside. Two steps from the door, his phone rang.

Tanya.
He smiled. “You called. I knew you couldn't stay away after the day we had.”

She cleared her throat. “Listen, I'm chairing the faculty-student basketball game at school, and Rollins asked me to see if you would want to participate.”

“Are you playing?”

“Yes.”

“Then count me in.”

“You don't even know when it is.”

“I know what I need to know. Basketball with you. Sold.”

She went quiet. “Okay. There's something else.”

The front door opened a crack and his mother's head appeared. “What the Hades are you doing out here?” She saw the phone, and covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Hurry up. Nay Nay made a special cake.”

“I'll be right there.”

“Go,” Tanya said. “Tell your mom I said ‘hi'.”

“But you said there was something else.”

“I'll, uh, tell you tomorrow.”

He smiled. “You just want an excuse to call me again.”

More quiet. “Actually, we should meet. At the gym.”

“Okay. When?”

“Tomorrow night. I have practice at Carroll until seven, so I probably won't be there until almost nine.”

“You can't squeeze me in before then?”

“You've waited five years, big guy. You can wait twenty-four more hours.”

He heard the smile in her voice.

“Are you going to make it worth my while?” he chanced asking. There was a pause, and at first, he wondered if she wouldn't answer. Then her voice, smooth and sultry as hell, came over the line.

“Baby, I never disappoint.”

Now, they were talking.

Tanya had felt off all day. Tired. Anxious. Maybe it had something to do with her plan to exploit Cam. Maybe on some level she knew it was too much to ask. Writing out a check for thirty grand when you had millions was probably a heck of a lot easier than agreeing to spend hours a day in an inner-city gym entertaining any whack-a-doodle who was willing to pay a fee. But this really was her most viable opportunity. Pop couldn't argue with money the gym made from increased memberships.

On that note, Tanya locked her office door in preparation for the cross-town race to football practice.

“Aunt T, you got a minute?”

She turned to see her thirteen-year-old nephew, Jace, running a hand across the bottom of his nose.

“Hey, Bud. You okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly the slow nod turned into a frantic shake. He was crying.

She unlocked the door and motioned him inside. No seventh-grade boy wanted to be seen getting emotional in the hall. And no veteran offensive linewoman wanted to be late for practice. But what could she do? Maybe whatever was bothering him would be an easy fix.

“Sit.” She pointed to her desk chair. “What's going on?”

He sniffed a few times before he said, “I heard my mom on the phone last night.” When his voice hitched, her heart tensed. This had something to do with the damn divorce.

He ran his hand along the bottom of his nose, and she reached behind her for a tissue from the box on her desk.

“She said as soon as the judge says it's okay, we're moving to Chicago.” His inhale shook. “I wondered if my dad said anything about it to you. Like, is it true?”

Her jaw pulsed and her fists clenched. She wanted to punch something. What the hell were those two idiots thinking? Not what was best for their kid—that was for sure.