Center Courtship (3 page)

“I don't have any other options. Why, am I supposed to take a limo?” I asked, “Or a Prius?”

Aaron laughed and smacked my arm. “If you think it will make it, I'll take your word for it.”

“Hey, don't judge a book by its cover, or a truck by its rust,” I said.

We walked back towards the shop and I said goodbye to Aaron. When I walked into the customer area, Steve was standing behind the counter talking to Donald who was holding the door he had requested when he came in.

“Here she is, Mae can help you,” said Steve as he stepped away from the cash register.

“How many times have I shown you how to use the register, Steve?” I asked with a sigh and quickly checked Donald out.

“So, that Aaron. He seemed like a nice guy. He stopped and talked to us for a few before he came up with his cart. Turns out he and Greg know each other from somewhere.”

“Yeah, he's a nice guy. I don't know him overly well. But we took a few classes together.”

“He said you were looking good.”

“Shut up, I'm not in the mood.”

“You ok?”

“No, not really. Do you think I could trust you to watch the counter if I cut out a little early?” I asked.

“Why, what's up?”

I gave him a rundown on Brandon. “I need to get to his house and grab a bag of stuff and get up to Elsu's house.”

“That's right! That's today! That poor kid, he was looking forward to seeing the big star too!” Everyone at the shop was ecstatic when Brandon had won the contest. “Maybe you'll get to meet Saraya!” he said with a dirty smile.

“What is it with everyone and this Saraya?”

Steve pulled out his phone, did some quick swiping and tapping and showed me a picture of a beautiful black woman. Saraya. “She's pretty,” I said. Tall, slender, flawless skin and beautiful brown eyes, the picture showed her at a red carpet affair with a skin tight floor-length gold dress that hugged every curve perfectly.

“No, sweetheart, she's not pretty. She's stunning, hot, gorgeous and sexy. Pretty doesn't do her justice,” he said with a glimmer in his eye.

“Steve, I never took you for a star struck fan.”

“I'm not usually, but this chick is something different.”

“Yeah, different like every other Hollywood bombshell,” I said. “So, can I trust you with the counter?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's a dollar, right?” he smiled.

“No, that's tomorrow. Today it's buy one get 3 free. You're such a nerd,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, I traded the parts Aaron took for him installing one of his pieces out by our sign.” I looked at the counter and realized he left his photo album. I pulled it over and showed Steve the pictures. “If he comes back, he'll want this,” I said. “I'll call him to let him know he left it just in case.”

“These are pretty rad,” said Steve as he flipped through the pages of the book.

“Rad? Are they hip, too?” I loved teasing Steve, he was like an uncle to me.

“Go, before I start giving away the shop. Be sure to give Brandon a high five from all of us here.”

After finishing some last minute things, Little José and I headed to my brother's house. Once inside the door of their two story Tudor-style home, I was greeted by Jezebel and Jersey, the family's St. Bernards. I gave them both some love and headed to the dining room. A grocery bag was where Gina said it would be. Looking inside I saw a basketball, a few shirts, a pair of tennis shoes and other odds and ends. I really hoped Elsu wouldn't mind signing all of this stuff.

I gave the dogs some treats and threw the tennis balls for them a few times before I headed back to the truck. I checked my phone and saw that Gina had texted me the address. Independence was about forty-five minutes away so I headed out on the open road to get there by five.

When I pulled up to a large iron gate surrounded by a stone wall, looked at the keypad and wondered if I was missing something. Was I supposed to know a code? Was there a magic button to push to summon someone from inside? Just as I was about to push the star button, I heard a man's voice. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes, I'm here for Brandon Rogers to see Elsu Benjamin,” I said shakily.

The gate opened and I pulled through. The parking area in front of the house was not far off the street, but it was massive. I saw several black SUV's parked to one side so I pulled in beside them. The front of the house was sparse. Not much in the way of landscaping, or greenery of any sort, for that matter. The house was 3 stories tall and covered in different shapes and sizes of rock. A brief walkway with 3 steps that led to a small porch was left of the front of the house. The only pop of color on the shale colored house was a golden-yellow door with a black door knob, flanked by narrow windows. It was not at all what I had
expected, but then again, what does one expect from a rich basketball star's home? I grabbed Brandon's bag, and threw my coat back into the cab. It was an unseasonably warm November day, no need for a jacket over my coveralls. I looked at my reflection in the truck window and realized I was still a scuzzy mess.

I scaled the stairs and knocked on the door. Quickly, the door swung open and a black man not much taller than I am stood before me. He looked past me and then at the bag in my hands. “Can I help you?” he asked.

I was suddenly nervous. I don't do well with confrontation, real or imagined. Most is probably imagined. My mouth dried and I stared at the man. He was short, but huge. The veins in his neck that slithered beneath the neckline on his button-down dress shirt made it clear that he was nothing but muscle and not to be messed with.

“Ma'am?” he said.

“Sorry,” I stuttered. “I'm here on behalf of my nephew Brandon,” I said.

“This day is for Brandon, not some random fan,” he said curtly.

“Brandon couldn't make it, he's been injured. I'm just here to ask Elsu to sign some of Brandon's things since he can't be here.” I crinkled the bag to indicate the location of the items in question.

“There's our star writer!” A short gray-haired man appeared behind the first man. “Who are you?”

“I'm sorry, I'm Mae. Mae Rogers. Brandon's aunt.”

“Where's Brandon?” asked the stocky man flatly.

“He's been injured. I was sent up here by Gina, his mom, to have Elsu sign some things for him.”

“Is he here?” I heard a voice from behind the men at the door. Elsu stepped into my line of site. I'm not a fanatic by any means, but as most people do when confronted with someone who is a celebrity, they get a little star struck. He was tall, taller than I had pictured. He was dressed in basketball shorts and a zippered warm-up top, all emblazoned in the colors and logo for the new team. They chose orange, black and white for their colors with a vicious looking owl as their mascot. The Whoopsters adopted the
colors of the Massillon high school to try and show camaraderie with the community.

I smiled up at Elsu and I could see in his face that he was a bit confused. “Sorry,” I said.

He looked at me with furrowed brows. “Who are you?”

“I am Brandon's aunt, Aunt Mae. Brandon was hurt a little while ago.” I said as I attempted to offer my right hand for a shake. The paper bag in my left hand promptly ripped and the contents fell out.

Elsu grabbed the bouncing basketball out of midair and the other two men bent to pick up the rest of the things. “I am so sorry, I feel like a fool. I was just wondering if you'd be able to sign these things for him, and I'll be out of your hair in a second.”

“You're fine, come on in. We'll find you a new bag,” said Elsu. I stepped into the foyer. The floors were a high polished dark wood, and the walls were an imitation gold-colored stucco that was a few shades lighter than the door. To my left sat a large wooden foyer bench with a row of hooks for coats. Each hook held a jacket decked out in the Whoopsters logo and colors. I briefly wondered how many of these things one man needed. To my right, was a closed door. I stepped through the foyer and was struck by a massive room. A grand kitchen sat to the left in the open space. Dark wood cabinets hid the appliances and the counters were all a dark green quartz. An island containing a work area and bar stools created a divide between the kitchen and living area.

Towards the back of the room there was a single black leather sectional and a large flat screen TV. Two end tables containing lamps sat at either end of the L-shaped couch. For the size of the room, these things seemed like they were drowning. Way too much space for way too little furniture. Floor to ceiling windows covered the wall behind the TV. From my angle it was hard to see what kind of magnificence the windows must look out onto.

I turned to my right and saw there was a table set up with a white tablecloth covering it. Sitting on top was a rolling hot dog cooker like I'd seen in gas stations. There were buns, an array of condiments, chips and popcorn, and a bunch of cupcakes that were gathered together to form a basketball. Balloons in orange
and black acted as centerpieces and a cotton candy machine stood nearby.

“Oh no,” I said suddenly. “Was this all for Brandon?”

“Yep,” said Elsu, as he walked to my side. “Where is he?”

“He was playing outside with his little brother, the basketball went into the street, his brother ran after it, and Brandon knocked him out of the way but got hit instead,” I said with a pout.

“Holy crap! Is he…ok?”

I looked at my watch gauging where Brandon and his parents might be in the hospital visit process. “They took him by helicopter to Akron, I don't know much more.”

“That is horrible! Can you call his parents?”

I pulled my phone from my coverall pocket and I was quickly reminded that I looked like a bum. The stories these people would tell when I left would ensure my hermit status for the next 60 years. I dialed Gina. She picked up on the third ring. “Mae? Did you get everything signed?”

“No, I'm still here,” I said. “How is Brandon? Elsu wants to know.”

“Really? You're with him now?” I heard Gina get jittery.

“Yes,” I said as I looked at Elsu. “I'm going to put you on speaker.”

“Ok, they did some x-rays and are going to do a CT scan to see if there's any internal damage but he seems ok.”

“Where is he now?” asked Elsu.

“Is that him?” I heard Brandon squeal with excitement in the background. “Is he there?”

“I'm here, buddy. How are you doing?” asked Elsu.

“I'm ok. I broke my leg and my arm.”

“Yeah, but you did it protecting your brother, do you know what that makes you?” asked Elsu.

“No, what?”

“That makes you a hero, big guy! I promise you that once you're better, you and your brother can both come up here and we'll make up for the missed visit. How does that sound?”

“Great!” I could hear my nephew smile. He doesn't do that often.

“Mae, they're here to take him for the CT scan, thank you SO much for helping out. And thank you Elsu, we appreciate everything,” said Gina.

“No problem, take care Brandon,” said Elsu. I hung up and smiled at this tree trunk of a man.

“Thanks, you just made his day, probably his year!” I said.

“I just feel bad for the guy,” said Elsu.

“Well, if you could sign those things, I'll be out of your hair. I feel bad for making you go to all this trouble,” I said as I waved my hand over the table of goodies.

“No problem, there are plenty of people here who will probably take care of this,” he smiled. “Hey, since you're here, do you want to take the Brandon tour? You could record it and show it to him.”

“Sir, I don't recommend that,” said the man who had opened the door for me.

“Why not?” asked Elsu.

“Because,” said the second man. “We don't know who she is. We don't even know if she really is Brandon's aunt. She could be anyone. The fact that you've allowed her into your home is rather frightening as it is.”

“Are you Brandon's aunt?” Elsu asked as he turned to me.

“Yes, I am. Listen, I'm not here to start any trouble. I don't know how to prove to you that I'm his aunt. I have pictures of him on my phone.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and started searching for my proof.

“You can Photoshop anything,” said the first man. “She could just be a hysterical fan.”

“I am not a fan,” I said. “Not a
hysterical
fan. Actually, I'm not a fan, I'm just neutral?” I had somehow confused myself.

“What will it hurt if she takes a tour anyway?” asked Elsu.

“You're suggesting recording the tour? So she has an insider's guide to the layout of your home?”

I started walking toward the kitchen island, where Brandon's stuff had been placed, and began tucking his belongings under my arms as I started fighting back tears. “What are you doing?” asked Elsu.

“I'm leaving. Like I said, I'm not a fan, I'm just an aunt doing a favor for my nephew. All I asked anyone for was
signatures on these 12-year old sized shoes, this 12-year old sized shirt with the word “Rogers” personalized on the back, a basketball, and these other 12-year old owned knick-knacks. I didn't mean to cause anyone here a headache. He's a special little boy with mild Asperger's who spent three months in his room writing
you
a letter telling you how much he loved you! I'm not here to get the blueprints for your house. I'm not here to take pictures or video I'm here to help my nephew.”

“Hey, calm down. You're fine. Please, stay,” begged Elsu. “These guys get a little anal sometimes.” He pointed to the large, short, black man. “This is Millard, he's just concerned about keeping me safe, and this is Carl, he's the team's PR guy. He's here to take pictures of Brandon for the team's website and social media.”