Basketball Jones Read online

  “Yeah, like you said, two days on, take off a day to let your body heal, and then we hit two days in a row. That’s the schedule I try to keep all my clients on.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I gave Cisco some dap and watched him walk out of the room to the sound of my phone ringing again.

  It felt good to be needed.

  A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that sounded like a slap against naked skin woke me early the next morning. I sat up in bed, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, when I heard a voice.

  “Do I have to come all the way over here to talk to you? So why haven’t you returned my calls, Aldridge?” Dray was standing a few feet from my bed, removing his V-neck T-shirt. His presence damn near gave me a heart attack. He caught me completely off guard, so much so that for a second I forgot how angry at him I was.

  “I got the messages too late,” I lied. “I was going to call you first thing in the morning.”

  “Did you miss me?” He sat on the edge of my bed and removed his sneakers and socks. Then he stood up and dropped his warm-ups to the floor. Down came his boxers, which he kicked across the room.

  “Of course I missed you.” The rage I felt in the Los Angeles hotel suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

  “I’m sorry about spoiling our trip, AJ. I really am. I didn’t know she was coming. I had no idea Judi was going to show up. I wanted to spend my birthday with you.”

  “I know.”

  “So you forgive me?”

  “You know I do.”

  Dray walked over to my music system and turned on the iPod. Suddenly Ne-Yo’s voice filled the bedroom. Dray was breathtaking to look at walking around the room, nude with his ten and a half inches of Mississippi pride dangling. I couldn’t take my eyes off his muscled thighs, narrow hips, and plump, muscular ass.

  He crawled into the bed and began kissing me. Dray’s kisses were sometimes so deep it felt like he was plowing into me. I remember when we first started messing around he wouldn’t kiss my lips, only my forehead and sometimes my neck. Boy, how things had changed. He climbed on top of me and began to grind his pelvis against mine. The pleasure I felt from his kissing only intensified.

  As Dray removed my underwear, I noticed a dreamy smile softening his face.

  “I want you so bad, boi. You know that?”

  “I want you too.”

  “Show me.”

  “How?”

  “You know what I like.”

  “You like my sex, huh.”

  “That’s not all I like.”

  “Really? What else do you like about me?”

  “That you’re handsome. Smart. And I know you really care about me,” Dray said as I stared into his soulful eyes.

  “How much do you care about me?”

  “Come on, AJ, you know how I feel about you.”

  “Tell me.”

  Dray looked away for a moment and then smiled at me and said, “I love you, boi.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “You know I do. I don’t know how I could make it without you.”

  “You’d survive,” I said.

  “Barely. But why are we talking about serious shit? I thought I was handling da business,” Dray said as he got back on top of me.

  I playfully pushed him off me, and reversed positions so that I was now on top of him, kissing his chest. I moved my tongue down his body until I reached his groin area and then buried my face into his lap, taking in every inch of Dray’s Mississippi pride.

  When I woke up later that morning, a huge smile crossed my face. Dray was still lying in my bed, staring at me and gently rubbing his huge hands across my forehead. I had just assumed he would go home after I went to sleep. I needed to call Cisco and change my training session.

  “So sleepyhead finally wakes up,” Dray said.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, sitting up in the bed.

  “What, you expecting your other boyfriend?” Dray teased.

  “Now, you know he comes during the day when we know you’re at practice.”

  “Just don’t let me catch you with that nigga.”

  “Who said he was black?” I said as I got ready to leave the bed, only to be pulled back by Dray grabbing the bottom of my white T-shirt.

  “Come on, Dray, let me go. I got to pee,” I pleaded.

  “Not until you give me a kiss.”

  I turned around and quickly gave him a peck on the lips and then raced to the bathroom. I tried to call Cisco but got his voice mail, so I left a message. When I came back some ten minutes later, after making sure I’d brushed and flossed my teeth, combed my hair, washed my face, and moisturized my body, Dray wasn’t there. I called out his name but he didn’t answer. I went down the stairs and when I got halfway down I could smell food. Wonderful food.

  I walked into the kitchen and there was Dray in his boxers and T-shirt, managing three different pots and pans on the stove top.

  “I hope you’re hungry, baby, because I sure am.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cooking us breakfast.”

  “Don’t you have to get to practice? Or go home? Is Judi going to be looking for you?”

  “I got that covered, babe. No practice this morning and Judi is down in Miami doing some furniture shopping. You got me all day.”

  “When is the last time you cooked for me?” I asked. It had been so long that I’d forgotten what a great cook he was. When we started dating in college, he used to make hamburgers and homemade potato chips and then pour blue cheese over them. I loved the fattening snack. I thought for a quick moment about Judi being down in Miami spending Dray’s money, but I wasn’t going to let something I couldn’t control ruin my day.

  “It’s been a while. That’s why I’m making your breakfast favorites.” Gesturing from one pan to the next, he said, “We got scrambled eggs with onions and cheddar cheese, grits, honey-glazed bacon, and some store-bought biscuits. It looks like you’re out of blueberry jam but I found some strawberry.”

  “It smells great.”

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Some coffee.”

  “That’s not good for you, baby. How about some cranberry juice?”

  “So I can’t have coffee?”

  “Cranberry juice.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s better for you.”

  “So you know what’s best for me,” I teased.

  “I think I do. Hey, I been thinking that maybe we ought to change our password,” Dray said.

  “Why?” Ever since Dray had gotten married, we had a password that only the two of us knew. If I got a text or e-mail that seemed strange or didn’t sound like Dray, I would ask for the password, and he did the same with me. We changed them every now and then so as not to get caught with some of the sexy messages we sometimes left for each other.

  “Just makes sense. I know women and I know Judi. She usually does her best snooping when she’s been away. I erase all my texts and e-mails but you never know. I still have two cell phones she doesn’t know about.”

  Our current password, which we’ve had since we’ve been together, is “speed bike.” Dray thought of it when he came up with the bright idea in Atlanta to buy us matching speed bikes that we kept at my house. Now it would be my time to come up with a new password.

  “So what’s it going to be?” Dray asked.

  I thought for a minute and then said, “Basketball Jones.”

  “I like that. What does it mean?”

  “Basketball Jones … I got a basketball jones for you,” I sang.

  “So you got love for me … huh?”

  “Yeah, I got a jones for you, Mr. Drayton Jones. I love you.”

  “That’s what’s up, AJ,” Dray said, placing a spoonful of fluffy yellow eggs onto my plate.

  Seven,

  A couple of days after Dray’s homecoming, I walked into Café Du Monde for a cup of my favorite caffeine. It seemed like everybody who lived in New Orleans came here, along with crowds of tourists, so the place was always packed, especially early in the morning when the house specialties, beignets and chicory coffee, were served.

  I paid for my coffee and decided it was cool enough outside to sit on one of the benches across the street at Jackson Square. Just as I reached to open the door, someone called out, “Where are you going? I’ve been looking for you.”

  I turned around and there at a corner table was Jade, waving and motioning for me to join her. She was dressed nicely in a crisp white shirt and a black pencil skirt, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Jade, how are you doing?”

  “Doing well. Why don’t you cop a squat?”

  “Okay, I think I will. I was going to sit in the park,” I said as I took a seat.

  “Too many crazies over there for me. You know what I’m saying? Where have you been? I’ve been coming in here every day hoping I’d run into you.”

  “I had to go out of town. How have you been?” I asked, thinking if she was so psychic, Jade should have known that.

  “Did you go someplace exciting?”

  “I went to your old stomping grounds, Los Angeles, even though I was staying in Beverly Hills.”

  “I bet you stayed at the Peninsula.”

  “How did you know that?” I asked, slightly alarmed.

  “It’s the best hotel in the city. I used to work there part-time in their spa. And you know I’m psychic.”

  “It is a nice hotel.”

  “How is that bitch of a city doing?”

  I took a long sip of coffee. “I wasn’t there long. How is the job search going?”

  “Oh, I got the job as a cocktail waitress, but I didn’t get any of the evening shifts yet. I’m making decent tips at least.”

  “How about that other job?” I teased.

  “You mean giving facials and massages?”

  “No, the one you came here for.” I smiled.

  She smiled back. “I haven’t met my potential husband. I heard they’re not even in New Orleans right now. They’re in some place called training camp and won’t be here until the end of August. But I can wait,” she said with a wink.

  “Does Reggie Bush live in New Orleans?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I plan to FedEx one of my pictures to him at the Saints office. I know it’s not a fresh idea, but it’s a start and will get the ball rolling. If that doesn’t do the trick, I’ll find out the name of the club where the players hang. I might have to go out with one of his teammates first, but trust me when I tell you I will meet him, you know what I’m saying?”

  she said, raising her cup. “But in the meantime I need to make some money so I can get the right outfit. That way I’m ready to dress like money when that time comes. Real ballers aren’t attracted to broke bitches. And I’m not attracted to broke brothas with good dick.”

  “You strike me as the kind of young lady who gets what she wants,” I said, grinning.

  Jade smiled back and took a sip of her coffee and then had a surprise question for me.

  “So who are you dating?”

  “I don’t talk about my personal life,” I said a little too fast.

  “Oh, baby, I heard that. But you’re gay, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t mind answering that question. Plus I didn’t want any advances from Jade in case she didn’t land Reggie, so I nodded and smiled.

  “I knew that, and believe me, Aldridge, it doesn’t matter to me what box you check. But I appreciate your being so honest with me. You hear what I’m saying? I meet a lot of these down-low brothers and they make me sick with their lying asses.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Just tell me what side you butter your toast on so neither of us wastes any time.” She leaned in and said, “Don’t mean we can’t still be friends, right? You never have enough friends, especially when we both new to the city. But you a nice-lookin’ man so you probably got a lot of boyfriends or whatever you call them. I had lots of gay friends when I lived in Los Angeles. I used to have coffee with some of them every morning at the Starbucks in West Hollywood.”

  “I’m very happy,” I said. An image of Dray lying in bed popped into my mind.

  Jade pulled her cell phone from her purse to check the time and practically jumped up. “I gotta run. I’m meeting somebody about some big money.” She finished off the last of her coffee and folded her newspaper, then stuck it in her bag.

  Before she put her cell phone in the bag she handed it to me and told me to punch my number in. I did and gave it back.

  “Now give me your phone so I can put my number in it. Maybe we can meet for lunch or dinner sometime soon. That way I can keep you posted on my job search and you can make up lies about who you dating and who you not. But I bet you are like me and like jocks.”

  “You might be psychic, but I know you’re crazy, Jade,” I said, laughing. I pressed my number into her cell. I was growing fond of her. She was almost the only friend I had in town.

  “That’s why I like you. It didn’t take you long to figure that out.” Jade threw me an air kiss and headed out the door.

  Later that evening I was in my office looking over sketches for some designs I wanted to show the people at Brad Pitt’s organization, when my phone rang. It was Jade. She was crying and asked me if I could meet her at the bar at the Ritz-Carlton, which was one of the hotels that was running full tilt. I’d been to the hotel a couple of times since it was only about three blocks from my house.

  When I walked into the bar, I saw Jade nursing a glass of white wine.

  “Jade, is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem. Are you okay?”

  She gave me a peck on the cheek and said, “I’m okay, AJ. I just needed someone to talk to. I had a date with this guy who stood me up. I guess dudes down here are just like they are in Los Angeles. Plus my landlord is on me for my rent, and not without letting me know that if I give him a little pussy we could work things out.”

  “Are you serious?” I hoped Jade didn’t call me down to borrow some money. I didn’t know her well enough to be writing checks for her rent.

  “Should I report his ass or just look for another place to stay?”

  “You need some money for a deposit if you move,” I said. The bartender came over to us and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I ordered a glass of merlot.

  Jade continued to tell me how tough it was being single and low on money and how something was going to have to give. She looked so vulnerable at that moment that she reminded me a little of my sister, Bella, only grown up. I told her everything was going to be all right, but wasn’t really sure that it would. After all, I hardly knew Jade.

  When the bartender brought back my glass of wine my phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I looked at it and realized it was from Dray. “Who is that girl with you?” I looked up and noticed the restaurant connected to the bar. Dray was facing me with a frown. There was Judi sitting with her back to me, and I wondered if she knew her husband was texting me. I texted him back and told him Jade was just a friend. He texted back, “Make sure you’re telling the truth. Also cut your little date short. We just finished our salads and I don’t want to chance us coming face to face with you.”

  I texted back a simple “K” and suggested to Jade that we go around the corner for dessert. I was relieved when she quickly agreed.

  Eight

  By noon Maurice had left three messages, which had me worried. Normally he wasn’t the type to chase after anyone. You either got in touch with him or he kept a cool distance until you did. This was something about Mo’s personality that I never completely understood. It was as if he kept score, almost waiting for your misstep, which he inevitably would bring up later and throw in your face during the heat of an argument, long after you’d forgotten about the so-called misstep—if you were even aware of it in the first place! I endured the highs and lows of this often labor-intensive friendship simply because after all these years I had an inexplicable fondness for him. Maurice ran hot and cold like a faucet but beneath all the bluster was a basically good guy who suffered from low self-regard. If I had ever had the courage to broach this delicate subject, I’d have told him that his expectations for himself were set so high that no one could live up to them. Instead I listened patiently over and over, while he ranted about one perceived slight or another, the daily injustices that he alone faced, and sooner or later, a quick rundown of my own personal failings as a friend. Fortunately, I understood Maurice well enough to know not to take his jabs too personally—just as important, I knew also how to smooth the situation over before it got out of hand. However, there were times when I asked myself whether our friendship was worth all the extra effort. Weren’t buddies supposed to grant one another the space to screw up now and then? Lord knows I cut him massive slack in that department. I guess we take our friends for who they are, all the messes along with the blessings. Maurice talked a good I-don’t-care game, but I knew better. There was something sensitive and hopelessly romantic about Maurice.

  I remember one miserable rainy evening during the last days of autumn when I got a call from Maurice. From his question “Do you think black gay men will ever learn to treat each other right?” I knew something was wrong. I asked him to repeat his question to make sure I had heard him correctly and he broke down in tears that wouldn’t stop. When I showed up at his apartment a short while later, he was still crying.

  During the Memorial Day Black Gay Pride festivities in Washington, D.C., Maurice had met Cullen J. Hartwell, one of D.C.’s resident pretty boys, at the big closing party. He was tall and broad shouldered, and a dangerously handsome man with hazel eyes. Cullen was the kind of guy who when he walked into a room—any room—people took notice. It didn’t matter if they were gay, straight, or suddenly confused. Maurice had charmed Cullen with his quick wit, but I sensed from the beginning that Maurice thought he was stepping out of his league by pursuing Cullen. He went to D.C. every chance he got, taking rooms in the best hotels since Cullen told him he still lived with his parents and couldn’t have overnight visits. Sometimes when I was supposed to pick him up at the airport I would get a call from him telling me he’d decided to stay another night. When I asked Mo how Cullen was in bed, he told me they were waiting until they made a commitment before engaging in sex. Without asking I knew this was Cullen’s decision and not Maurice’s. He always told me that he had to check out the sex before he would allow himself to become emotionally involved with any man.