I glanced around the room, noticing that the entire team was beginning to fill out the seats. That included both offensive and defensive lines, along with the special teams. Our sessions rarely consisted of the entire team coming together.
“Hell if I know,” I answered Kelvin. I made my way down to a middle row, following Kelvin. He sat a couple of seats in while I chose an aisle seat. Sitting in a lecture hall already had me on edge as it was, no way I was about to sit in the middle of the row.
“Money management?” Kelvin read out loud from the screen at the front of the classroom.
I sat back in my seat, arms folded, and pushed out a hefty breath, ready to be bored to fucking death. Glancing up at the ceiling I decided to count the cracks above to pass the time until this shit was over.
“Gentlemen, the coaching staff and myself, as well as the team owners, have decided that making money management lessons a part of training camp would be a great idea. The problem is …”
Wah. Waah. Waah. Wah.
That’s exactly how Coach McClellan was starting to sound, just like the teacher fromCharlie Brown. My eyes narrowed.Have Kyle, Kennedy, and Diego ever even watched an episode ofCharlie Brown?I wondered as I continued to stare at the ceiling. Kids these days didn’t know good television. I’d have to try and find some episodes on Youtube or somewhere to show them. I doubted their parents would go out of their way to introduce the joys of Charlie Brown and his gang to my niece and nephews, so it was up to me.Uncle Tyler to the rescue, I mused, grinning to myself as my eyes remained transfixed on the ceiling above.
Just as I trying to recount my favoriteCharlie Brownepisode my nostrils were hit with a smell that had my stomach muscles tightening and the hairs on my arms and neck standing. I popped my head up from the back of the seat just as a petite figure blew past me, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor as she confidently strode toward the front of the room.
As if it had a mind of its own, my body sat up out of the laid back, lazy position I’d been in mere seconds prior. When the figure turned around, my heart rate picked up speed as if it knew I was just preparing for another grueling workout.
“Daaamn, shorty is fine!” Kelvin whistled under his breath but loud enough for me and a few of the other guys to hear.
“Hell yeah.”
“I’d hit that.”
My hands tightened into fists and my jaw clenched for a reason I’d never experienced a day in my life.Jealousy.
“Team, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Ms. Destiny McDonald. Ms. McDonald is a certified financial advisor with years of …”
The coach’s words again fell by the wayside as I took her in. She was little, probably around five foot three, but the heels she wore gave her at least three or more inches. The white and black polka dot silk blouse she wore stopped right at her waist, revealing the curves of her hips. Her mahogany skin held a healthy glow, and her oval face stood out thanks to the short haircut she wore. The woman was beautiful. For the first time since entering the lecture hall I regretted not sitting closer to the front of the room. Her physical beauty was only heightened by the fact that as Coach McClellan talked she stared around the room, hands clasped in front of her, completely unintimidated by the fifty or so sweaty jocks in the room. Including the team’s players there were about fifteen on our coaching staff. That meant in a room of close to seventy men, she was the only female in the room, and she held her ground, staring at and studying every single one.
When her dark brown eyes finally connected with mine, my gut clenched again. My fists tightened, and a sensation I’d never felt started at the top of my head and moved through my entire being. Her gaze lingered on me for just a second longer than she’d intended. I don’t know how I knew that but I did and it caused a grin to open up on my face.
“I expect you all to give Ms. McDonald your full attention,” Coach McClellan finished up saying.
She took a step forward and her perfectly plump lips that were coated with a clear gloss opened slightly, preparing to speak. I leaned in, needing to hear her voice for the first time, but she was cut off.
Immediately, I grew annoyed and agitated when instead of a feminine voice, I heard, “What the hell can this bi—” The voice cut off as the woman at the head of room raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, daring him to finish that word. “Female teach any one of us about money? Was that your ten-year-old Honda Civic I pulled up next to in the parking lot?” Leonard Riggs asked before breaking out into a round of laughs. Snickers from around the room began to join in as well.
The tops of my ears began to heat up as the anger that’d come from nowhere grew in my belly. I shot a death glare in Leonard’s direction. That kid needed to be shut up. He was just beginning his second season in the league as our team’s cornerback and he had a mouth on him that needed to be closed. That moment just solidified for me that I’d be the one to shut it, eventually.
But before I or Coach McClellan could respond to Leonard’s statement, the Ms. McCloud—I hadn’t caught her first name, too caught up in staring at her when coach had first said it—held out her hand, warning coach off. She stepped forward.
“Yes, Mr. Riggs, that is my ten-year-old Honda Civic you so lovingly parked your Bugatti next to. I would’ve thought my Honda was more your speed since it’s foreign and all. Isn’t that what your rap star friends always tote? Having foreign cars? But,” she moved even closer to Riggs, stepping up one then the second stair, “unlike yourleasedBugatti and your friends’ vehicles, my Civic is both foreign and paid off. Do you know what that means, Mr. Riggs?” She paused.
“Nah, what?” Leonard challenged.
“It means that over the last six years I’ve had my car, the three hundred dollars that would’ve went to car payments went to my investment accounts instead. Along with the other funds I’ve saved in costs for higher car insurance deductibles, gas, and more. And over the course of the last six years, I’ve more than quadrupled my net worth by not spending on extravagant, luxury items that depreciate as soon as they’re driven off the lot. And do you know what that means, Mr. Riggs?” She paused again.
No answer.
“It means that I could stop working tomorrow and never have to worry about having a roof over my head or about where my next meal is coming from. Andthatis what thisfemalecan teach you about money.” She stared at Leonard for another second before moving back to the front of the room. “Now,” she clapped her hands, looking at the rest of us with a heart-stopping smile on her face, “are there anymore questions?”
A banging sound sounded as my back bumped against the seat behind me. I was, quite literally, knocked over. I stared at the tiny, slip of a woman who had just stunned our entire football team and coaching staff into silence. I was pretty sure my fate had been sealed in that one moment. When I finally tugged my gaze from her face to peer up at the screen behind her, I knew. Emblazoned across the screen was her name, title, and picture. Destiny McDonald, Certified Financial Advisor.
Destiny indeed.
“I fucking knew it,” I heard Kelvin say to me in a low voice.
In spite of my not wanting to take my eyes off the woman at the head of the class, I turned my head slightly in Kelvin’s direction. “Knew what?”
