Basketball Jones (25 page)

I hadn’t been outside, but I could tell by the coldness of the wood floor against my bare feet that it was a typical January day. I loved the solitude of an empty house and was reminded that I needed to find a place of my own.

I decided right there that I would go to New Orleans immediately. Enough lying around and doing nothing. I was going to see how the sale of the house was coming along—more specifically, when I might expect the cash I would need to buy another house.

I pulled a couple of pairs of slacks and a couple of shirts from the small guest-room closet and grabbed some warm-ups and enough underwear for four days. When I got ready to pack my shitload of toiletries and sneakers, I suddenly remembered
that the bag I used to carry them in was probably somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi River, most likely discarded by Judi’s henchman.

I started to head for Lenox Mall to pick up a new duffel bag but didn’t really feel like going all that way and dealing with the crowds returning unwanted Christmas gifts, so instead I went into Maurice’s bedroom to see if he’d left something I might borrow. I was sure he wouldn’t mind and I planned to return before he did.

I opened the door to his bedroom and peeked around the door like I was expecting Maurice to be sitting there lounging on his chair.

The room was immaculate and decorated in sort of a masculine Laura Ashley that combined bold floral patterns with touches of leather, like the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed.

There was a new forty-six-inch flat-screen television on the wall above a maple dresser and pictures of Maurice’s family and one or two old boyfriends. There were stacks of books with samples of invitations Maurice had spent hours looking over for his party, and stacks of comps of male models applying for spots as eye candy for the big bash.

The door to his large walk-in closet was slightly ajar and I figured this was the place Maurice might keep any luggage. I noticed a set of Louis Vuitton bags that I’d never seen him carry or brag about and figured it belonged to one of his friends, so I decided not to even touch it.

The closet, like the room, was well organized and had the feel of a color-coordinated sock-and-T-shirt store. I was almost afraid to touch anything for fear of messing up his stuff. In the corner of the closet, I spotted a couple of black leather luggage pieces and thought I was in luck.

The first one I saw other than the LV bags was a large leather bag the size and shape of a hatbox. Not exactly the piece I was looking for, but I pulled the top off to see how deep it was.

To my surprise there were various snapshots of young African American men in various stages of undress. Some were strangely sexy while a few were downright pornographic. Looking more closely at a few of the pictures, I decided I was intruding, so I closed the hatbox quickly.

I found an even bigger surprise when I opened the second leather bag. Instead of containing pictures, it had stacks of new hundred-dollar bills. Maybe this was money from donors for his party, but still I wondered what the hell Maurice was thinking. Surely he knew how dangerous it was to leave all that money lying around his place, especially with the rough trade he liked going in and out of his house at times.

It was way too much cash to leave around, especially considering the type of thug boy Maurice sometimes kept company with. I wondered if he was involved in some illegal cash-only venture or just wanted to keep his money close to him. It suddenly looked like I would be heading out to Lenox after all. I hoped that all the pissed-off people with bad gifts and the bargain shoppers were taking a break or had run out of money.

I snuck back into New Orleans like a fugitive. I took a hotel room at the Hyatt Place Hotel, about thirty miles outside the city in a small town called Slidell.

I didn’t venture into the city until the Friday after New Year’s Day. Part of my choosing the remote location was because I didn’t want to risk the chance of running into Judi or Dray, but also because all the decent hotels in the city were booked solid with the both the Sugar Bowl and the National Championship football games being played in the Superdome.

The only person I told was Jade, who had invited me to a chicken dinner at Willie Mae’s Scotch House. It seemed like a safe bet since Dray wasn’t big on fried food and I certainly couldn’t see Judi having her ass up in the joint.

The place was packed, and we had to wait about forty-five minutes before we were seated. I didn’t mind because it gave Jade and me a chance to catch up. She looked good and it appeared she’d added a few more tracks of hair to her well-kept weave.

“So,” she began. “Two weeks turn into two months for you. What were you doing all that time? It looks like you lost weight. Have you been eating right?”

“I’ve been trying to lose some weight,” I said.

“Sure you have.” Jade laughed.

We were finally seated and handed menus.

“I must have a ton of mail.”

“Got it right here,” Jade said, reaching into a black leather bag. She handed me two stacks of mail held together by a rubber band.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Now tell me again why you aren’t staying at your fabulous place?” Jade asked suspiciously.

“I’m selling it and I don’t want to be there when they bring in new owners. Might cost myself a sale if they see my black ass sitting up in there.”

“I heard that.” She laughed.

“Speaking of black, can you believe Obama won the Iowa caucus?”

“That was a shock. Do you think he can really win?” Jade asked.

“One day, but I still think we get a white boy this time.”

“You ain’t said nothing but the truth. All people need to do before they vote is to pay a visit down here. I know you read about how our kinfolks acted when they announced they were tearing down the housing projects.”

“Yeah, I have mixed emotions about that. I’m still hoping to work with Brad Pitt’s project, doing what I can.”

“How is it going? I saw something on television about him the other day.”

“I can actually see progress being made. It’s really wonderful what he’s doing. His people say families may be moving into the new homes before the end of the year.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t run into him. I usually run into famous people. Used to happen to me all the time when I lived in Los Angeles.”

The restaurant was buzzing with conversation. Fortunately Jade and I had been seated at a small table, so we didn’t have to shout to hear each other.

“Are you still working hard?” I asked.

“I guess you could say, ‘Hardly working.’ I was able to give up my waitress gig but I still do a few facials and massages here and there,” Jade said. “I met someone and he takes pretty good care of me.”

“Who? Reggie Bush? Did you finally meet him?”

“It’s not Reggie but I did meet him. Reggie at last!” she said sarcastically. “Not quite what I was expecting. He’s short and I think he doesn’t have much love for brown sugar.”

“Don’t they all,” I said with a smirk.

“That’s why I found myself a basketball player.”

“A basketball player? Who?” I asked, wondering if it was somebody I knew. Wondering if it was someone Dray knew.

“He doesn’t live in New Orleans, so I might be moving to Cleveland.”

“Is it LeBron James?” I asked excitedly.

“Ain’t he married? Miss Jade don’t do married anymore, baby. No, it’s not him, but it’s one of his teammates. I went to a Hornets game because one of my clients gave me tickets. My seat was with the wives, so I was sitting right behind the Cavaliers bench.”

“So how did you meet him?”

Jade took a sip of her water.

“I was minding my own business, but I noticed him checking me out. I was dressed in a pale pink pantsuit and of course the pants were hugging my assets. So anyhoo, when I was leaving, this young guy runs me down saying that somebody on the Cavaliers asked me to wait for him outside the locker room. I knew it was him and I didn’t have shit else to do, so I took a chance and waited to see what he was talking about.”

“What happened next?”

“We went out for cocktails. I liked his talk and the next week I was on a flight to Cleveland. Just like that. And to think how I spent all that time chasing a man who don’t even like my type.” She grinned, recalling the meeting, and I sensed she enjoyed telling the story and finding the path to love.

I was so happy for Jade, but marveled at how differently the world played out for gay and straight people. I’d watched the wives section of the game countless times, feeling like I was as entitled as any of those women to be sitting there. But no matter how much I meant to Dray, that could never happen for me. I never kidded myself that it would, but hearing Jade’s story and seeing how easy it was for a woman to step into a man’s life and be accepted so quickly made her news a little bittersweet.

“What’s his name?”

“Paul Peters,” Jade said.

“Is he a brother?”

She frowned. “Of course he’s a brother.”

“How tall is he?”

“ Six-five,” Jade said proudly.

“What do you like about him?”

“He’s crazy about me.”

“That’s good.” I smiled. “What else?”

“He is sexy as fuck.” Jade laughed.

“How so?” I asked, suddenly interested in sex once again, even though it was the straight kind.

“Let’s just say he can get the panties off without raising my skirt,” Jade said with a sexy wink.

I’m sure I blushed at that. “I’m so happy for you,” I said. And I meant it too. Jade deserved her sexy basketball player. Even if I couldn’t have mine, I was happy for Jade.

The waiter sat two sweet teas on the table and I looked at him and mouthed “Thank you.”

“I’m happy for me too,” Jade said. “Seems like my little blackmail paid off well for me.”

My heart stopped for a second. “Blackmail? What are you talking about?”

“Well, the woman who gave me the tickets was one of my clients. Bitch never gave me the time of day. I would go out to her house, one of those brand-new mansions, and give her a facial and massage, and she wouldn’t even look my way. Bitch thought she was all that. You know how white girls can be.”

Jade picked up the menu for a moment and then put it right back down on the table.

I felt there had to be more to the story. “So come on, tell me what happened.”

“It seems her husband plays for the Hornets. One day, when I had finished her facial and massage, I was in the bathroom off her master suite washing my hands. When I walked back out into her bedroom, she was on the phone, all frantic. She kept saying, ‘Are you sure it’s not my husband’s? What happens if he can tell it’s not his when the baby is born?’ I thought to myself, Uh oh, this is some soap opera shit.”

“What was she talking about?”

“The bitch is pregnant and her husband ain’t the baby’s daddy. I heard the entire shit. I wanted to turn and leave but I couldn’t move. When she turned around and saw me standing there, you would have thought the bitch was looking at a ghost.” Jade laughed at the memory.

“Is her husband white?” I asked, trying to think of the white players on the Hornets.

“No, that’s the kicker. Her husband is black. She was fucking around with one of her husband’s best friends on the team, and he’s the daddy. But I think the friend is either white or real light-skinned. When she realized I’d heard her entire conversation, she basically admitted it to me and told me she’d do whatever I asked. It surprised me, because she came off as this really tough bitch for a white girl, but I guess she’s out of her mind worried about her husband finding out he’s not the baby’s daddy.”

For a moment I couldn’t wrap my head around Jade’s story. Could it be who I thought it was? Rather, who I prayed it might be? Certainly Judi couldn’t be so stupid, I thought. I knew Dray was close to a couple of his teammates, including a white center named Craig Wilson and a light-skinned brother with green eyes, Dalton Sharpe. Dray even once mentioned that one night when he’d gotten loaded with Dalton and Craig, he’d thought about telling them about us, but had quickly come to his senses.