“Now that I might consider.” I won’t tell her how long it’s been. We do have some boundaries.
“Who knows?” Banner continues. “You might meet someone you really like.”
An image, one I’ve suppressed for months, breaks the surface. Petite, slim, curvy. Platinum blonde hair. Cinnamon skin. Dark, defiant, sultry eyes that can look right through a man and show him nothing at all. Lotus DuPree. I know she lives here in New York, but each time we’ve seen each other in the past, she’s made it clear she wasn’t interested. Her, I would summer fuck. Her, I might even summer fling, but she was with another guy when I saw her at the team Christmas party. Maybe she’s taken. As interested as I am in her, I’m not sure she reciprocates, and I doubt I’ll get the chance to find out.
“Uh, yeah. Maybe, but I’m not gonna hold my breath.” I take in the glimmering lights against the city backdrop.
“Well, be open. And remember no growling or scowling at this party tonight.”
“But those are two of my favorite things.”
“And don’t agree to anything,” Banner adds sharply. “If Jean Pierre presses you, tell him your agent will be in touch with an answer.”
“Which will probably be a hell no.”
“Glad, come on,” she says, abbreviating my on-court moniker “Gladiator.”
The irony is I’m so tired of fighting. Not on court, but after all the drama with Bridget, definitely tired of fighting off the court.
“Okay. No growling. No scowling. No committing to anything. Got it.” I drop my head back against the leather headrest. “Can I go now?”
“Yes. Let’s debrief tomorrow.”
“Bless you. Bye, B.”
“Bye, Kenan.”
As soon as she hangs up, I close my eyes and try to absorb the quiet into my very pores. Extended conversations, even with people I love, sometimes leave me feeling drained. I’m an introvert. The things that refuel me don’t involve people at all. I love being alone.
“Children and bored adults need to be entertained. Grown men living with purpose require time and quiet and energy.”
That’s what my dad used to say.
God, I miss him. Thinking about the wisdom he always shared with me, sometimes welcome, sometimes not, sears me even a year after his death.
“Son, fuck her, but don’t keep her. The two of you are oil and water, and will make each other miserable.”