To Buy a Vow Page 13

  Ashton shrieked with laughter. “Nedra! I’m mad at how much sense that makes!”

  I chuckled and sipped my beer. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

  She just shook her head and dug into her nachos. I followed suit and once again wondered what kiosk she’d gone to. The steak on these nachos was so tender that I could cut it with a tortilla chip. I started to repeat my question from earlier when my phone chimed, notifying me that I’d received a text message.

  My fingers were covered in cheese sauce, so I decided to answer it later. Ashton must have heard the noise because she glanced at my purse, and her gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary in my opinion.

  She looked up at me. “Hey, so, I guess it’s safe to say that you were feeling Hawk last night, right?”

  I nodded. “I feel like that’s an understatement. I was ready to solicit him for sex like some strung-out hooker.” I laughed but Ashton didn’t join in; she just looked thoughtful.

  “Okay, hypothetically speaking: if you were to see him again, would you still want to take it there?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “Hell yes. That man was grown-man fine, and I know he is working something serious because I felt that shit when we were dancing. He was actually being a gentleman last night because he kept trying to back up—I guess so I wouldn’t feel him—but he ain’t know that all I wanted to do was feel it. And it felt like it could put me to sleep.” I pursed my lips. “Mm, mm, mm.”

  Ashton giggled. “So, you wish you could see him again?”

  “I mean, everything happens for a reason. Maybe I wasn’t meant to go there with him, and that’s why it didn’t happen.”

  Her eyes widened and I quirked a brow at the alarmed look on her face.

  “Wha—”

  “So, you don’t want to see him again? You don’t want to hear from him?”

  I gave her a shrewd look. This heffa was up to something. Lucky for me, she couldn’t hold water if I gave her a bucket.

  “What did you do, Ashton?”

  She gave me a furtive look. “I’m sorry!”

  Her whining only annoyed me.

  “I asked, what did you do?”

  She wiped her fingers on a napkin and twisted the paper in her hands. “I gave Hawk your phone number.”

  I glared at her. I love Ashton—I swear I do—but this bitch was bad for my health. She constantly had my blood pressure all high because her paranoid behind had me thinking she did something horrible, only to find out that she was freaking out about meaningless ass shit. I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my frazzled nerves.

  “Ashton. My love. My boo. My sister from another mister—”

  “Please don’t be mad at me!”

  I grabbed my beer and took a long sip from the plastic cup before dropping it back into the cup holder with a sigh.

  “I’m not mad at you, Ashton. I’m annoyed with your dramatic ass, but I’m not mad at you.”

  She ducked her head, shamefaced. “Are you sure?

  “I said it, didn’t I? When did you even have the opportunity to do that, though? You left before both of us.”

  No longer in fear of being yelled at, Ashton was back to her perky self, bouncing her slender shoulders and munching on a nacho. “Oh, I saw him this morning.”

  I tilted my head. “You saw him? Where?”

  “At Fred’s house. I was getting ready to leave when he showed up. He recognized me, though, and asked for your number.”

  There were so many things that I needed to get a handle on.

  “Wait, who is Fred?”

  Ashton froze and her face got that panicked look again for a brief moment before she chuckled to herself and shook her head.

  “Fred is the guy I left with last night.”

  I eyed her for a second, concerned about the bevy of emotions I’d just seen flit across her face. What did she have going on?

  “Anyway! You got a text message and that reminded me of this morning. You should look at it; it might be from Hawk.”

  Oh, right. After Ashton’s shenanigans, I’d forgotten all about the notification on my phone. I stuck the last chip from my tray into my mouth and wiped my fingers before digging into my purse to find my phone. The text had come from a number that wasn’t saved in my phone. I squinted. The area code said 870, and I knew damn well that wasn’t a Texas number.

  “Sorry, Ash. I think this was some kind of spam. It’s an 800 number.” I started to swipe left to delete the message when Ashton grabbed my wrist.

  “Wait, let me see.”

  I held up my phone, so she could see the number. After a glance, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me.

  “This ain’t no damn spam, Nedra!”

  I snatched my phone back. “The hell it ain’t! The only 800 numbers I know come with bill collectors on the other end.” I didn’t have time for them games today. All of my student loans were paid off years ago, and my credit cards weren’t even close to being maxed out. They had no reason to be reaching out to me.

  Ashton whipped out her phone and tapped the screen quickly. She shoved her phone under my nose, and my eyes damn near crossed. I leaned back and read the information on the search engine. I bucked my eyes at her.

  “And? I don’t know anyone from Arkansas, so this is definitely spam.”

  Ashton’s sigh was full of frustration. “Why are you being so dense, sissy? That’s Hawk who texted you. He’s from Arkansas.”

  My eyes widened. Oh. Okay, that made sense.

  I shrugged. “Well, how was I supposed to know that? Hell, how do you know that? Did y’all discuss that at breakfast as well?”

  She picked up her beer and brought it to her mouth, mumbling under her breath, “Maybe if you’d read the message you’d know.”

  Was she giving me sarcasm?

  “Okay, okay. I’ll read it now.” I tapped the notification and read the message.

  UNKNOWN: I can’t stop thinking about what you were going to say.

  I guess Ashton was right. This had to be from him because this message, if read out of context, would be random as hell. I bit my lip. The knowledge that he was thinking about me like I was thinking about him was…heady. What I wanted to say was a tad too intimate to say through a text, though. I needed time to figure out a way to express what I wanted from him, now that we were no longer at the club and in a cloud of lust. I darkened my screen and put my phone back into my purse.

  Ashton looked at me expectantly. “Was that him?”

  I nodded and focused my attention on the court where the rookie game was beginning.

  “Yeah, that was him.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jermaine

  When You Have To Go To The Mountain

  “Aye, Hawk, look at this.”

  I peeled my eyes from the screen where I was watching an episode of 30 for 30 and looked up at Trina. She stood over me with my cell phone in her hand. I took the phone and squinted at the picture of me on the screen.

  “What’s this, Trina?”

  “It’s an Instagram post.”

  I cut my eyes at her. “I know that, smart ass. Why are you showing me this?” It looked like one of those man crush Monday posts, but it was from the day before on Sunday.

  Trina ran my social media accounts and was instructed to like any post I was tagged in, as long as it was positive, and keep it moving. Unless I was tagged by someone I personally knew, she never even had cause to show me the post.

  “Because this shit is funny as hell. Did you read the caption? She posted you for her Side-Nigga Sunday.”

  “Side-Nigga Sunday? What the hell is that? I’ve never heard of that shit before.”

  I now read the post with fresh eyes. It was a picture of me wearing a slim, pale blue suit and no tie. The first couple of buttons of my dress shirt were undone, and I sported a pair of fly, dark sunglasses. The picture was captured as I stepped out of a limousine and buttoned my jacket. I remembered the outfi
t as one I wore to the NBA Awards the previous year.

  When I finished analyzing the picture, I read the caption.

  @nedgotthatheat: My MCM position is closed until further notice but this man is just too fine to ignore so I had to create a new position just for him. #SideNiggaSunday #GrownManFine

  I smirked at that last hashtag and touched my thumb to the picture, frowning when my handle didn’t appear anywhere on the screen. “What the…?”

  Trina peered over my shoulder. “Oh, she didn’t tag you.”

  “Then how did you find this?” There were only twenty likes on the picture and even fewer comments. I clicked the comments button and my question was answered for me as I saw where I had been tagged. Of the three comments, one was someone else agreeing that I was, indeed fine. The second comment, though, was the one that caught my eye.

  @sunnyincaliashton: Heauxs get real bold on the innanets I swear. You know you want @jermainehawkins to be your #mancrusheveryday! Witcho lyin’ azz!

  I chuckled at that one. The original poster didn’t think it was too funny though and posted a responding comment.

  @nedgotthatheat: @sunnyincaliashton I knew I should have blocked your creepin’ ass a long time ago. I WILL hit that button if you tag another muthafucka in my comments though. Creepin’ ass creep.

  Huh? Whoever this was, she posted about me but didn’t want me to see it. It was unusual but not so odd that Trina would need to show it to me. I clicked the original poster’s avatar picture to take me to her profile where I hoped to get better insight into what I was supposed to be seeing.

  There was no description and almost all of the pictures were of food. I’d had to scroll through three weeks of pictures before I hit pay dirt. I sat up straight on the chair I’d been reclining in while I watched T.V.

  There she was.

  I vaguely heard Trina mumble a smug “Mmhmm” before she walked off and left the room.

  The goddess—my goddess—smiled up at me through the five-inch screen of my cell phone. There was that sexy ass tapered fade that she wore. Those almond-shaped, rust-brown eyes that had regarded me warily at first while at VR were now open and inviting. The tantalizing bow-shaped lips that had been a sensual painted brown that night were a striking red in the picture on my screen.

  Damn, I needed to see her again.

  She had never responded to the text message I sent her on Saturday, and the way she practically ran away from me Friday made me hesitant to call her, for fear of her hanging up in my face. I might be tough, but getting hung up on was too much for even me. I even acted out of character and revisited VR after Sunday’s game, hoping that she might show up.

  My thumb hovered over the message button and, unbidden, I thought of what DB would say. I already knew. Just like my mama said, he’d been spinning that same line to us since we were youngins. He’d tell me that the women could wait.

  “Pussy will always be there. Focus on ya hustle!”

  I shook my head and hit the button. Nedra—my goddess—wasn’t just pussy. It wasn’t about pussy with her. Yeah, I’d like to know how hers felt on the inside but other than that, I felt something when I first saw her. I don’t know what it was, but I couldn’t ignore that it was there.

  So, I slid into her DMs.

  @jermainehawkins: Ignoring the fact that you never responded to my text message, I’m hurt that you’ve relegated me to side-nigga status. I’m definitely over-qualified for that position.

  Immediately, I locked the phone and set it on the armrest of the reclining chair. I didn’t expect her to respond right away, and I’d be damned if I sat there staring at my message, over-analyzing that shit. I returned my attention to the screen and attempted to lose myself in the program. Five minutes later, my phone chimed, and I snatched it up quickly to see that I had a notification from Instagram. She’d replied to my message.

  @nedgotthatheat: Nope. Side-niggas stay texting because they know better than to call. Looks like you’re in the right position after all.

  She ended it with a winking emoji, and I guess it was supposed to be cute, but I felt like she’d just chumped me off. I’d sent her a text message because of how leery she had seemed to be of me at VR. Now, after reading her message, I wish I had followed my first thought and called her. That could be corrected, though. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her name. Pressing the video camera, I waited while the phone dialed.

  Seconds later, the face I had just been admiring filled my screen. I raised my eyebrow at the scowl she wore.

  “Hold up. Why that face?”

  “I’m trying to see why you video called me instead of voice called me.”

  I chuckled. “Because I wanted to hear your voice AND see your face.”

  Her mouth dropped into an “o” just like it had that night but this time, she recovered quickly, biting her lip for a second before speaking.

  “Oh.”

  I cleared my throat. “So, uh. How do I get promoted from side-nigga status? Do I have to kill the first nigga?” I knew without a doubt that there had to be a dude lurking somewhere. A woman as fine as she was, as dynamic as she was, couldn’t possibly be single. It defied physics.

  She laughed and it was a throaty sound that shot a zing of desire to my dick. “Nah, he killed himself.” She said it so nonchalantly, I had to wonder what ole boy had done.

  I whistled. “Damn. How did he do that?”

  I watched as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it for a second before she answered me. I wonder if she knew how expressive her face was. She was contemplating telling me, and I could clearly see that she was both nervous and sad about it. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and huffed.

  “He divorced me.”

  I felt my eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” She muttered that so low that she probably thought I didn’t hear it. Her eyes fell to something in her lap, and I could see the melancholy instantly overcome her.

  “Well, since there’s a vacancy, put ya boy on.”

  She rewarded my teasing with a smirk.

  “Sorry, Hawk, that position has been dissolved.”

  Instantly, I corrected her. “Jermaine.”

  “What?” Her brows met with confusion. I didn’t blame her; I had been a bit abrupt. As soon as my nickname fell out of her mouth, I knew that it wasn’t right. I didn’t want her to address me the way that everyone, outside of my family, did.

  “Call me Jermaine.”

  “Why?”

  The question surprised me. I mean, I didn’t expect her to get giddy over my request for her to be on a first-name basis, but I did expect her to just do it. Also, I didn’t really know what to tell her. I couldn’t say that it didn’t “sound right”. That shit didn’t make sense.

  “Because I asked you to.”

  She tilted her head. “Excuse me? You know what I’m asking you. Everyone calls you Hawk. Why do you want me to call you something different?”

  I shrugged and my eyes flitted over to the television. “I mean…it’s my name, so…”

  She sucked her teeth. Annoyance was written all over her face. “You know what? I’m gonna go. I don’t have time for bullshit, and I see that’s what you’re on, so I’ll leave you to that.”

  Then my phone beeped twice, and I found myself staring at the call log. She hung up on me. Actually hung the fuck up on me. I couldn’t believe that shit.

  “What the fuck?”

  I wanted to say more, but the cryo-sleeve wrapped around my knee buzzed, signaling the end of my session. Trina walked in just as I was bending over to unzip the sleeve. She perched on the arm of the chair and watched as I maneuvered the sleeve off and slowly bent my knee.

  “So, did you pull a creep move and slide into her DMs?”

  I frowned. “That ain’t creep shit.”

  She laughed. “It definitely is and that must be a yes. Did she respond?”

/>   I nodded, reveling in how loose my knee felt. I’d been blessed thus far not to have any major injuries during my career, but I still beat my body up several times a week so, I made it a point to get in some physical therapy on a regular basis.

  “What’d she say?”

  I handed Trina my phone to get her to stop asking questions. Her slender fingers moved deftly across the screen, and her eyes moved fast as she read our short exchange.

  “Okay,” she trailed off, the word dragging out for seconds. “What happened after this?”

  I transferred the sleeve to my other leg and started the session. Then I recalled the even shorter video chat for Trina. When I was done, Trina gave me a dumb look.

  “Okay, what’s that look for?”

  “Why didn’t you just tell her why?”

  I knew she meant why I asked the goddess to call me by my first name instead of the nickname everyone addressed me as. I sighed.

  “Shit, I didn’t know it would be that big of a deal.”

  Trina leaned away from me and tossed her long braids over her shoulder. “You ain’t got to lie, Craig.”

  I laughed at the Friday quote. “I’m not lying, Trina. That ‘Hawk’ shit didn’t even sound good coming out of her mouth. It ain’t feel right. I want her to call me Jermaine because that’s my name. That’s me.”

  Trina squinted her eyes at me for a moment then a smile appeared on her face. “Call her back.”

  “What?” My neck jerked back and I frowned. “She hung up on me; she doesn’t want to talk to me right now.” Plus I hated to be hung up on. I was contemplating not calling her again for a while.

  Trina rolled her eyes and stood up. Her fingers started moving over the screen of my phone, which she still held in her hands. When she handed it back to me, it was ringing and I noticed she had initiated a second video call to the goddess. “I guarantee she wants to talk to you. Just give her the details behind your answer, and you’ll be fine.”

  I nodded. She checked the cryo-sleeve on my leg before turning to exit the room just as an irritated face filled my screen. I know it was cliched as hell, but she really was cute when she was mad. I laughed at the expression on her face.