Fiction Series: 4th Quarter Love - Chapter 2
“Oh so your ass is alive”
I look up from my desktop at my annoyed best friend and smile, “Of course I am, why would you think otherwise?” she rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of my desk. “Well it might be because your ass turned your fucking phone off after you found your boyfriend sucking off his assistant, and the fact that I haven’t heard from your ass in 5 days!”
I’ll admit I had pulled a disappearing act. I slipped off to my favorite Korean spa, and cut the world off for a few days. I just needed some time to get my head together after everything that happened Tuesday, especially after my little experience at the bar that night.
“I apologize for causing you to worry, just needed some alone time. I’m good now and you’ll never guess who hit on me at the bar Tuesday night.” Kay just looked at me, and since I figured she was not going to play my guessing game I just blurted it out, “Quinton Matthews”
Kay just looked at me, and I quickly remembered who I was talking to. Unlike me, a die-hard football fan and loyalist to my beloved Atlanta Knights, Kay was not into sports. Every time we went out somewhere to watch a game she only talked about asses, outfits and cute shoes. So I googled a picture and turned my screen around.
“GAH DAMN THAT NIGGA FINE!!!!! Whew lawd I need to change my panties is his dick big!? He looks like his dick is big, and his lips so soft, so I knew he ate that box like a champ. Was it good!? Tell me the details, especially the nasty ones!” She leaned forward and waited for me to respond.
“Well I certainly hate to disappoint you buttercup but I did not sleep with him, matter a fact I didn’t even let on to the fact that I knew who he was, let alone that I could recite his numbers from the past 5 seasons. I told you I was on a man fast.” Kay reached forward and felt my forehead; I just sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’m not sick.”
She just shook her head “Well clearly there’s something wrong with you, because I’m almost certain you own his jersey in every damn color, so the fact that you didn’t take the opportunity to jump on his dick worries me. My best friend would never pass that chance up.”
“Well first of all, I don’t own his jersey in every color.” That was the truth because there was a gold one that I could never find in my size. “Second of all do you remember what happened the last time I jumped on a strangers dick at a bar…no? Let me remind you, we dated for 6 months and then I found him sucking off his assistant, so excuuuuse me for keeping my legs closed this time.” I felt myself getting worked up, so I took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“Are you done throwing your little tantrum; or do I need a drink to survive your dramatics? I mean lets be real here Liv, you didn’t even like Stephen. He was a good lay and that’s about it. All you did for the past 6 months was complain about him, so I’m not buying this “I’m hurt” act you got going on right now.”
I rolled my eyes because she was right, I wasn’t hurt. Hell, I was relieved. Stephen annoyed the fuck out of me. The way he talked, walked, ate, and he didn’t season his food. Like what kind of black man living in the south don’t put salt on their damn chicken!? I mean sure we matched each other in drive, success, and wealth but that’s it. I only felt a spark with him in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or that one time on the Marta train; but even that spark had lessened.
Now that I had a second to think about it, what really bothered me about Stephen was that he never lived in the moment. Everything with him was planned, there was never any spontaneity. I had woken up to the same text every morning and eaten the same unseasoned chicken every Thursday night. Even his sex had a routine, I always knew what was coming next and there was no way I could spend my life with someone like that.
“I know, but……” I’m interrupted by a knock on my office door. “Come in.” My assistant, Tasha, opens the door, well I assume its Tasha but I can’t sure because of the large bouquet of flowers she has n her hands. “Liv, these were just dropped off for you, and they came with a napkin instead of a card.” Tasha set the bouquet down and placed the napkin next to them, she started towards the door and before she closed it turned and said “I just want to point out that it’s September, and Gardenia’s have been out of season for about 3 months now.” She winks and then closes my door.
Who the hell is sending me my favorite flowers in the middle of September? “So what does the napkin say?” Kay’s voice brings me back to reality, and I reach for the napkin. In the messiest handwriting I’ve ever seen a simple question, “Drinks, Friday at 8?” the napkin is from BlueBar, and I know this could only be from one person.
“Well what does it say?” I hand the napkin to Kay, and she reads the message. “Well this is unique; I know your ass is going, right?” To be perfectly honest I don’t know the answer to that question. Part of me wants to go because this is Quinton Matthews, but the other part of me remembers I’m on a man fast, which means no new men. But a taste won’t hurt…right?!
So I waited for my brown beauty from BlueBar to reach out to me. I checked social media and had my assistant, Terry, going through each and every single email with a fine tooth comb. I mean she had to be trying to get in touch with me. After two days of nothing I finally decided I had to take things into my own hands. I went back to BlueBar and paid the valet for some information. Turns out Miss Olivia Johnson was a frequent visitor of BlueBar, and I figured the best way to run into her again was to set up camp at the bar.
She didn’t show up on Friday night, I sat there for damn near three hours and no Olivia. I tried again Saturday night, and again no Olivia. So here I am on a Tuesday night stalking her IG and Facebook pages, instead of getting ready for Sunday’s game, like a desperate man. Her Facebook is normal, pictures of family and friends and a link to a website for Olivia Desiree Events. I click on the link and I’m immediately graced by the most beautiful picture of Olivia. It looked like it was taken mid-laugh, her smile was big and her eyes were shining bright.
I felt my blood rush to my dick, as I continued to look at the picture. I wondered of her eyes would shine that bright once I got her under me or on top of me or beside me. I shook my head and refocused on the task at hand. I had to get my black ass back in the same room with her before I could even think about fucking her. Well make love to her, and then fuck her. She looks like the type that needs to be finessed before she gets nasty.
I read the description of her business, and I have to say I’m impressed. I didn’t know what to make of Olivia Johnson after our first encounter. I knew she wasn’t on no Instagram model shit, but I didn’t exactly expect her to be a boss. Looking through her gallery I saw that she had done events for the mayor, governor, several celebrity weddings and a few charity events with the hometown baseball and basketball teams. Actually looking through her website pissed me off, because she looked at me like I was some regular dude. There’s no way she did business with the Atlanta elite and had no idea who I was, and here I was turned on again.
There’s something about a woman who isn’t overwhelmed with my “celebrity status” that just does it for me. Living in Atlanta as a professional athlete doesn’t allow me the opportunity to meet many women of substance. Perfect example would be my ex, Rochelle. I met Rochelle at the club, and I know what you’re thinking, “Why would he think he was gonna find something good with a girl from the club?” Well she was fine, her ass was fat, and I was in a different place. Anyway I spent 2 years with Rochelle.
Everything was perfect when we first started dating. She wasn’t a typical NFL girlfriend, didn’t want tickets for everyone in her family. She never asked for money, and even got upset when I would splurge on stuff for her. We just clicked, the sex was mind-blowing and I was getting ready to ask her to move in with me. All of a sudden shit switched up, she started hanging on a little too tight. I would get text messages every 5 minutes when I was on the road. They weren’t cute texts, no nudes, nothing nasty just crazy. “where are you?”; “are there women around?”; “why aren’t you answering me?” It was like all of a sudden she couldn’t trust me. I’ll be honest, because I’m a man and I own up to my shit, I have cheated before in relationships, but I had been faithful the entire time I was with Ro.
I was willing to let the craziness go, because I had really grown to care about Ro, and then shit went all the way left. We were in New Orleans, and if you know anything about football the Knights and the Generals HATE each other. We have an unwritten rule in the league, no wives or girlfriends while on the road. They can come to games of course, but they are not permitted at the hotel. This is mainly to protect the players who are cheating, although certain players will say it’s a way to focus on the task at hand. I know that’s bullshit, and so does everyone else. Ro had been upset after I explained this to her, again, which was strange because she never wanted to come to away games with me. So anyway, it’s the night before the game and I’m looking over film and going over the game plan when I get a call from my cousin Michelle.
Chelle had been staying with me because she had recently moved to the city after graduating law school. Since I was gone most of the time, I figured she could hold my penthouse down for me while I was on the road. Somewhere in the insanity of the season I forgot to mention this to Ro. So it’s the night before the game and I get a call from Chelle talking about some crazy woman banging on the door, threatening to shoot the locks out. I told her to call security, and that’s when she informed me that security had been called and the crazy woman shot at them as soon as the elevator opened. They called the police and there was a standoff happening. Ro had seen pictures of Chelle and I at lunch, and entering my building, so she jumped to the conclusion that I was cheating on her.
She wouldn’t talk to anyone, but me and was threatening to set my floor on fire. I ended up hopping on the team plane and heading home to talk her down. After about 6 hours of convincing her that Chelle and I were related and not fucking each other she surrendered. By time the madness ended the Knights were down 27 points in the last 4 minutes of the game. Did I mention this was the final game of the season? Yup, the one game we needed to win to make it into the playoffs. So not only had my girlfriend been arrested and charged with several felonies, I had become the most hated man in the entire city of Atlanta overnight.
I clearly ended things with Ro, and moved on, well tried to move on. She would not accept the fact that I was not going to be in a relationship with her anymore, and had stalked me from jail for about a month and a half while she awaited trial. She pled guilty to all charges, and was sentenced to 6 years in prison. So here I am 3 and half years later with restraining orders out the ass, and finally making my way back to the top. The last thing I needed to do was start chasing after a woman but sex was getting old. I wanted a relationship, I craved a partner, someone I could build something real with and I felt like Olivia was the one.
I learned a lot about Olivia as a business woman from her website, but it wasn’t until I clicked on the “About Me” tab that I learned about her as a woman. The first picture that popped up was her in one of my jerseys!!! I knew her ass recognized me, turns out she had been a season ticket holder for 12 years, and she was raised as a Knights fan. I also learned that she was a big Beyoncé fan, a Comic book nerd and that her favorite flowers were Gardenia’s; just like my Grandma’s. I don’t typically believe in signs, because frankly that’s some girly sap shit, but this whole thing just felt different. I had to see her again, and see if this, whatever the hell “this” was, is real.
It was the middle of September and I pulled out my phone to text Terry, because I didn’t know where the fuck I was gonna find Gardenias. I would find them though, because I had a plan.