“Ready for your close-up?” Kenya tucks her hair behind her ear and stands from one of the two chairs in the middle of the small room. Two cameramen maneuver around short bookcases, setting up lights and microphones.
“Yup.” I step back when she reaches for my arm. A frown draws her brows together.
We get mic’d up and take our places in front of three cameras. After a sound check, Kenya motions to start.
“Thank you for joining us, Antonio. It’s been quite a month since we last saw you on the pitch,” she says, her eyes steady, with no hints of softballs. Her legs cross in a knee-length bluedress. “How is the team handling the recent development with the ownership?”
“We’re rolling with the punches, but we’re happy things are finally coming to light,” I say honestly. “I can’t speak for other teams, but when we play at a certain level, we hope the higher-ups match that energy with equal investment. That hasn’t been the case. Hopefully, what happened to us will set a precedent moving forward.”
“You’ve been noticeably absent on the field. There’s been lots of speculation about the reason you haven’t started the last three games. Some reports allege disputes with the coaching staff. Others, the team. Care to set the record straight?”
I run a hand down my beard. “It’s crazy how quickly the media turns on you based on assumptions. I consider myself to be a team player and a good captain. I respect my coaches, and I love being part of the Steel. I’m not a perfect man, but I am my parents’ child at the end of the day.”
Kenya leans forward. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve never been with the bullshit,” I say. “Frank Mancini’s development corporation had ties to a company that took something important from someone I care about. We exchanged words, and I sat out from there. What was done in the dark is coming to light. Quite frankly, I hope he gets everything he deserves.
“Mancini is vile, and he never cared about the team, in my opinion.” I look directly into the camera. “He once told me, ‘I own you, boy.’ Karma isn’t the only one who proved to be a bitch.”
Reese will have my ass for this, but she’ll survive.
“Well, then!” Kenya snaps her fingers. “You heard it here first. Now that we cleared that up, let’s talk about what’s next. The Steel are the front-runners to win the playoffs, with eightconsecutive wins under your belt. Any plans you care to share if you come out victorious?”
I smile at Miriam when she walks in. “Yeah. I’m going to the Space Center with this one. Come here, Doe.”
Kenya frowns when her eyes land on Miriam. “Who is this?”
“My future wife,” I say, pulling Miriam to sit in my lap. She’s a deer caught in headlights, likely because of all those damn ruffles on her blouse. “You interested in a trip to Houston?” I wrap my arms around her and kiss her lips.
“I’d like that, but I think our steak dinner at Amato’s is in order first.” The grin she aims up at me stirs inside my chest.
“Okay. How long has this been going on?” Kenya asks, doing her best to recover.
My eyes stay on my best friend, my forever. “You could say I’ve loved her all of my life, even when I didn’t think I deserved her, or that she would give me a chance. We’ve been friends for years, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have a partner who’s kind, brilliant, and my favorite person. There is one question I never asked you, Doe.”
Her eyes turn into saucers.
“Not that—not yet.” I pull a sheet of paper from my pocket with a laugh. “You getting this on camera, Kenya?”
At her nod, I unfold the crinkled white page and hold it up. It reads, “Will you go out with me?” with a “yes,” “no,” and “maybe” box.
Miriam snorts at theBrown Sugarreference. Her laughter shakes her ruffles and tints her cheeks pink. “I cannot believe you.”
“You gonna answer me in front of America?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “Always yes.”
Epilogue
Miriam
Eight months later
“What can I get you?”
“An Aperol spritz please.” I offer the bartender, who’s in classic black and white, a smile.
“Interested in a pomegranate Prosecco punch? It’s our specialty cocktail for the night.”
