The Player (10 page)

17

The winding staircase that was a focal point in Kyle’s house was treacherous for someone wearing high heels. Harlow pranced down the steps holding fast to the railing, her long, shapely legs expertly crisscrossing, just like she was parading for view in a beauty pageant.

Kyle whistled when he saw her. “Let me get a good look at you in that dress.”

It was a sequined mini, with a plunging, scooped neckline in the front. The back was a little risqué, since it was so low cut. But it helped to show off her hourglass figure. Complemented by fire engine red three inch heels, she was as tall as Kyle.

“Am I overdressed?” she asked, since he wasn’t wearing a suit.

“No, you’re perfect. I want to show you off. Don’t change a thing.” Even her skin was sparkling, like some burnished brown antique. The way the red played off her complexion made him realize just how beautiful everything was about her was, from her luminous, almost black eyes, to her full, sensuous mouth glossed in candy apple red lipstick.

Kapono was acting as their driver this evening, and even he gave her a compliment. “You look very lovely, Miss Harlow.”

“And you look very handsome, Kapono.”

He was pleased by what she said, holding the door open for her and racing to the front, but not before checking out his slicked back hair and straightening his bow tie in the driver’s side mirror.

Getting Kyle to keep his hands to himself was the hard part. “I just want a little taste,” he moaned, pushing her skirt up and trying to pull on her thong.

“Behave yourself.”

“I can’t help it. You drive me crazy. Who can resist those legs? You’ve got legs that go on for days. It’s just like Mount Everest. I’ve just got to climb ‘em in order to get to the mountain top.”

To pacify him she propped her legs on his thighs so he could slowly caress her skin.

The party at the owner of the Renegades’ palatial estate was bigger than Kyle had let on. Harlow felt like she was walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. The whole house was nothing but a glass menagerie from top to bottom. On all three floors, partygoers could be seen drinking, dancing and mingling with the rich and famous.

Heads turned from the moment they walked in.

Kyle kept a tight hold of her waist as they snaked through the crowd. There seemed to be little groups of people congregated together, like men who were clearly there to talk business, glamorous stars being cornered for interviews by a number of reporters, wives looking bored as they either sat or stood, searching in vain for the man who’d brought them there. Different styles of music competed to be heard over the raucous laughter and conversations. Kyle introduced her to his coach, who wore a track suit fit for the 1980s and a sour expression that said he wanted to be anywhere but there. Kyle also brought her over to a group of older gentlemen, saying they were all affiliated with the team. Each one kissed her on the cheek, calling her “little lady.” That seemed to be the standard greeting for both wives and girlfriends. There was no way she’d be able to remember all their names, so Harlow simply smiled and nodded for a time.

The biggest surprise was seeing Willa arm and arm with Darren. They were chuckling and laughing to each other so much, Harlow could swear they had something going on. Excusing herself to hit the ladies room, Harlow was swept back into the front of the house by a sudden surge of the crowd.

“Wow, hey pretty lady, I think you need my help,” Darren said, getting to her side so quickly, she was startled. He took her elbow, leading her near the main staircase.

“Thanks, Darren. Do you know where the rest rooms are in this place? I’ve smiled and been kissed so much, I need to check my makeup.”

Darren took a step back, his eyes taking in just how lovely she appeared tonight. “The lady in red. Um, um um. You look good every time I see you.”

“Aw, you always say the sweetest things.” If she didn’t know better, she could’ve sworn Darren blushed.

Across the room Kyle spotted his little brother Shaun bobbing his head to the music, a baseball cap turned backwards on his head. Making a beeline over to Shaun, Kyle practically growled in his face.
“Didn’t I tell you to come straight home?”

“It took longer than I thought to clear out all my stuff. And I had some people to say goodbye to.”

“Like who? That entourage you brought to the party?”

Shawn craned his head sideways, giving his multi-racial crew a nod. “Hey, they like to hang with me, what can I say?”

“
Do not bring them to my house
. And I’m not footing the bill for them at any hotel.”

“Relax, bro. My friends have their own money.”

Kyle was skeptical of that, especially since none of them looked over twenty-one. Whatever money that group had was either from their parents or from doing something illegal.

Going from sleepily mellow to suddenly animated, Shawn began bouncing up and down. “Fuck the po-lice!”

“Shaun . . . what’s wrong with you?”

“Dude, it’s-it’s the Ginjaman!”

“Who?”

“The Ginjaman’s here, man!!”

Kyle turned in the direction Shaun frantically pointed, hearing the commotion before he realized the cause of it. A handsome, reed thin man had paparazzi swarming over him as he froze in a stance that looked more like a snarling mugshot. With his trademark long braids and gravelly voice blaring over everyone else’s, one of the biggest stars on the planet had just crashed the party.

*****

Shit! She recognized that laugh and that wide swagger of a walk. It was Ozzy! Flanked by two bodyguards and a trail of scantily clad women following them, her ex was warmly greeted by several football players and some excited party-goers. Harlow just about shoved her drink into Darren’s hand. “Darren, I’ve got to-”

“Go take care of Kyle. I’ll run interference with Ozzy.”

He got a grateful, trembling smile in return as Harlow spun in a complete circle while searching the packed crowd for Kyle.
Where the hell was he?
Since he wasn’t boisterously loud, she couldn’t track his whereabouts by voice. And she’d already asked enough people who were getting curious about her frantic behavior. Just when she finally spotted him, Kyle zeroed in on Ozzy with Willa’s help. Both men were like two gunfighters at high noon, stalking each other from opposite ends of the town. Kyle stepped away from Willa even as she tried to grab his arm to pull him back. He just shrugged he off, that’s how determined he was to meet Ozzy. And Ozzy was hearing none of Darren’s gushing praise. His bodyguards blocked Darren from moving forward and with each step Ozzy plowed through the crowd, until the only thing standing between them was . . .
her
.

Instead of having her back to either man, Harlow stood sideways so that she could throw out a left hand or a right arm in case things got heated. “Kyle, this is Ozzy, my ex-husband. Ozzy, this is-”

“Kyle McClure.
How yuh doin’ man?”
Ozzy said, pumping Kyle’s outstretched hand up and down, then pulling him into a quick chest bump.

“Glad you could come,” Kyle said, giving her a smug side-eye so she’d know everything was cool.

“I’ve got drinks for all!” That out of breath voice was Willa’s, and Harlow noticed that Willa somehow had Ozzy’s favorite brew, as well as Kyle’s.

Ozzy gave Harlow a quick peck on the cheek, whispering, “Just thought I’d come ta check on yuh new man.”

“Did you bring Reina back with you?”

“Naw. Meh auntie and yuh Ma busy fightin’ ovah her. They’re mad at us. Say we nevah taught Rennie how to speak proper Trini.”

“You left her there?
How could you!”

“Slow yuh roll. She’s with family. Yuh still a free woman. Yuh still boss. Come with me and we’ll go get her.”

“You-” Swallowing back anger and an off color comment, Harlow was fuming. How could he leave Reina with Eustace, the same woman who’d stated out loud that Ozzy didn’t need to marry anyone so dark skinned? Old hurts bubbled to the surface. The teasing and the torment at home and when she attended high school in America.
“You’re really pretty to be so black,”
kids and even some adults would tell her.  Their words, while well-meaning at the time, were an instant confidence zapper. And even after landing Ozzy, the man of her dreams, it never let up.

No, she wasn’t gonna do this here. Cameras were trained their way, as if the reporters could sense a story. But there wouldn’t be one tonight. “I’m leaving with the man who brought me,” she told him.

“So yuh serious about this one?”

Since he’d asked her directly, she didn’t mince words. “Yes I am.”

Ozzy shrugged, as if it meant nothing. But she knew better. “See if yuh ball player can top this,” he said with a deliberate, sly grin.

The string quartet had to make way for Ozzy and his crew as they took over the stage. A laptop got plugged into a speaker, and a familiar beat from one of his hit songs filled the air.
“Renegades!! Where all my Renegades?!!”
Ozzy yelled, demanding that the audience put their hands up. He stalked, scowled and spit out lyrics at a lightning pace. It was Ozzy doing what he did best. Hyping up the crowd and getting them to party. Women hiked up their dresses and grown men tried to emulate Ozzy’s hulking stage moves, as he told the men in the crowd to grab their woman and “Bend her Ova.”

Harlow wondered if any of these people even knew his music, because some of them looked bewildered. It was probably a combination of alcohol and the party atmosphere. And Ozzy being Ozzy, he started screaming soon enough about what a genius he was and who’d stolen lyrics from him. He was still that same kid who had to prove he was the fastest mouth around.

“But nobody can steal meh woman. No man!” he screamed. “Harlow, this one’s for you, baby.”

Launching into his first hit song,
“Woman is Boss”
Ozzy urged Harlow to join him on stage, but all she wanted to do was hide among the crowd. Thankfully there were a few very bold young ladies who hopped on stage, emulating the moves she’d done for his video. Mortified at all the attention, Harlow gripped Kyle’s arm.

“Is he always like this?” Kyle said, patting her hand.

“I never told him about the party. I don’t even know why he’s here.”

“Don’t worry. I’m bigger than him. I’m pretty sure I can knock him out.”

“Kyle!”

“I’m kidding, Harlow.” He kissed her forehead. “You know what I see? I see a guy acting out. A guy who knows he’s just lost the best thing that ever happened to him. And that’s gotta hurt.”

18

From a vantage point high above the party-goers, Ozzy was able to spy on Harlow and her new man. He’d waved off the groupies who wanted to cozy up to him, preferring to brood all by his lonesome. It wasn’t like this day would never come. Hell, he’d dreaded it for a long time. They’d gone through the whole gamut of emotions during their marriage and even after the divorce. There were times he thought they’d work through it, only to have something happen that pulled them apart once again. It was either his time on the road, or her need to give Reina a stable home life.

As he watched Kyle McClure whisper something into his ex-wife’s ear that made her laugh, jealously reared its ugly head.
Did she think this guy would be any better?
Fuck naw, since he’d be on the road with just as many females waiting for his ass after a game like he’d had after a concert. So how come she was willing to give him a chance?

Ozzy wanted another shot at the title. He wanted his ex-back, and as he fumed over Kyle’s hands roaming along Harlow’s lower back, sliding dangerously close to her butt, he felt like leaping off the landing and taking a swing at the guy. And if he was drunk enough, he would have. But the cold reality of what he was witnessing fueled his self-pitying. Like a bad car accident, he couldn’t help but watch.

She was happy. Happier than she’d looked in a long while. Ozzy didn’t know which part made it hurt worse. He groused over the fact that the man she’d fallen for was on a team he hated, and deep down, that the guy was white had a little something to do with his funky mood.

*****

Ozzy was so out of it, he didn’t realize Harlow was the one touching him on the arm. When it dawned on him that this wasn’t a drunken vision, he began posturing.
“Come gih yuh man his due. You’re still meh woman.”

Harlow looked over her shoulder, thinking he was talking to someone else. “Ozzy, I think yuh had a little too much to drink. I haven’t been ‘your woman’ in a long time.”

“Come ‘mere. Let me holla at yuh.” With a firm hand around her waist, he guided her into a corner, staggering the entire way. “Yuh look beautiful tonight, but yuh know this is a whole ‘nother ting going on here. Whole ‘nother ting. There’s lots a women here, but none like you. None of ‘em can hold a candle to yuh. So watch yuh self. I’m already hearing tings, here and there.” He did a little bob and weave, like a boxer. “Yuh understand?”

She nodded, hoping to humor him. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Of course. I will always look out for yuh. Always. But . . . ah . . . you and that man, that quarterback . . . Not enough women like you here. And none on the arms of a white guy. None of ‘em got ‘em a millionaire all-American quarterback. I’m seeing ‘em look at yuh, wondering how yuh done this ting. So be careful.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He squinted one eye. “I see how they’re looking at yuh, how good yuh look in that dress. Yuh don’t have nothin’ hanging out, but yuh shine just the same. And they only got sexual thoughts. It’s ‘cause of who we are. We’re island folk. But yuh let me know if even one of ‘em try something yuh don’t like. If they disrespect yuh-”

“Ozzy, I can take care of myself, but I appreciate your concern.”

“Yuh let me know if they disrespect yuh,” he repeated, acting like he hadn’t even heard her reply. There was no sense arguing with him about it, especially not here. She looked over the balcony, searching the crowd for Kyle.

“A little birdie told me to come here tonight,” Ozzy mumbled, as if he were talking to himself. “Say Mr. big time quarterback wanna propose marriage to yuh.”

Excitement was replaced by sadness. “A little birdie. Let me guess. Was her name Willa?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “She neva said her name. But don’t marry him. Me and you, we belong, us two. Me, you and Reina. I don’t know happened to us, Harlow.”

“I grew up, Ozzy. That’s what happened.”

He stumbled toward her, trying to place a sloppy kiss on her lips, but Harlow turned her head. Ozzy’s weight dragged them both down, until one of his bodyguards came over to hoist him up. She asked them to make sure he got back to his hotel safely. Without two guards to hold the groupies at bay, women began filing through, calling Ozzy’s name. Harlow bumped shoulders with a number of them as she struggled to get downstairs.

Maybe it was the fact that one group she passed had their heads together, as if they had a bit of juicy gossip. Harlow was only human. She liked to know what people were saying as much as the next person.

“That place is nothing but a hangout for gangbangers and thugs-”

“Why would someone want to cause trouble for the team?

“I find it hard to believe that Virgil did some of the things stated in that report. We need to find out who’s against the team-”

Dear God. They were talking about her.

Only they didn’t realize it. Harlow stood there as if her feet had grown roots, unable to do anything but nod, fearful that someone would suggest stoning those who dared to speak a bad word about the Renegades. What about the other things the article said? That overall, the team not only a Virgil problem, but a “bully” problem. That some members of the coaching staff encouraged team mates to “be the bigger bully” not only on the field, but during practice. Someone thought the meaner the team behaved, the better they’d play. That they could strike fear into the hearts of their opponents by being tougher and dirtier. As she walked away, Harlow winced at one particular fan who complained about new players being “Cry-babies” and not real men like Virgil and Kyle. To have her man mentioned in the same breath with Virgil was just plain wrong.