I shook my head and explained, “What I mean is, why Shift? You could –”
He cut me off. “Five years ago, yeah. Now, no.”
“What’s that mean?”
His eyes went back to the game.
End of subject.
I took a sip of champagne and my eyes drifted to the game. Then they drifted back to him and I tried again.
“Ty,” I called and he looked back at me but said nothing. So I continued, “I’m supposed to play your wife. That’s gonna be hard, I don’t know shit about you.”
He stared at me again then said, “Give and take.”
“What?”
“Give and take,” he repeated. “You give, I take. Then I give and you take.”
“You mean, I tell you about me, you tell me about you?”
He didn’t answer but held my eyes so I took that as a yes.
I could do this. I had nothing to hide.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“You pick what you wanna share. I pick what I wanna share.”
Totally doable.
I nodded to him to indicate that, took a sip of champagne then put a knee to the bed and moved in, sitting on a hip and leaning into a hand, knees bent, legs to my side.
“You know Ronnie Rodriguez?” I asked.
Again his eyes held mine for a moment before he answered, “Name’s familiar.”
I nodded again. He watched baseball. He was a man. It was a long time ago but these two things told me Ronnie’s name would be familiar.
“Basketball. Indiana University. Full scholarship.”
I stopped talking when he jerked up his chin and stated, “Scholarship yanked. Brother was juicin’, sellin’ juice to teammates and pimpin’ his basketball groupies to his fraternity brothers.”
Yep. That was Ronnie. Stupid. Or stupid when he wasn’t with me and he wasn’t. I was in Texas, he was in Indiana making f**ked up decisions. He needed steroids like he needed a hole in the head. Hoop dreams. Shit life. Projects. Desperate. Wanted a life where all that was a faded memory. Wanted his Mom and sisters seen to, his girl dripping gold. Wanted to make sure it happened and wanted insurance. Scholarship yanked and since he was dealing and pimping and ended up doing time for both, he was banned. He was destined for the NBA. Everyone said it. He wasn’t even going to get his degree. He was going to go for it the minute he was eligible. Then he f**ked it up.
“We started seeing each other when I was fifteen and stayed together until four years ago and it was over when he took seven bullets from a rival dealer who wanted Ronnie’s turf. His Mom and I chose closed casket seeing as two of those bullets he took to the face,” I shared.
Walker had no response to me sharing this shocking and tragic news of a talented man who lost it all in a hideous way. Then again, Walker had walked out of a penitentiary the day before. He’d probably heard it all.
“After he did time in Indiana, he got out, came back to Dallas and was loose partners with Shift. Ronnie was about the girls, Shift about the dope,” I told him. “But it was Shift’s dope that got Ronnie dead.”
Walker again had no response.
I took a sip of champagne and turned my head to face the TV but didn’t see the game.
And then, for some bizarre reason, reclined on a bed in Vegas with a man I didn’t know, I shared shit I’d never shared with anyone but Ronnie’s Mom and his two sisters.
“I loved him, crazy loved him,” I said quietly. “Thought I could live the life, straight and narrow, prove to him it wasn’t that bad. I didn’t have a degree. I wasn’t a hotshot basketball player. But I did it, though it was a struggle. Ronnie didn’t like struggle and he didn’t like to see me doing it. Lost his dream, lost his way, hooked up with Shift who he’d known for God knows how long, Shift dragged him down further. I never gave in but I also never gave up.” I took another sip of champagne then whispered, “Should have given up.”