“No, this is all on me,” Tristan said. “Literally,” he added and chuckled. “Let me replace your drink for you.”
“Thank you, but instead of the drink, can I have your autograph for my boyfriend? He’s a huge fan, and then you and I can call it even.”
“That works too,” Tristan said as the woman pulled a notepad and pen from her purse and handed it to him.
She flashed a grateful smile. “My boyfriend’s name is Stanley.”
Tristan hurried to scribble a quick message and signed his name. He handed back the notebook.
“Sorry about your coffee,” he said, trying to act cool despite his beige dress shirt having a big wet spot on it and his brown pants sticking to him.
“It’s okay. I’ve been trying to cut back on caffeine anyway. I just hate that your clothes are ruined,” she said, and again, he assured her that it was okay.
Once she left, and one of the servers started cleaning up the mess on the floor, Tristan was stopped by another woman.
“Essence, it’s been too long,” he said and gave her a side hug while she kissed his cheek.
She smiled at him and said, “It’s always good seeing you, Tristan, and I’m glad you’re up and moving around. As for Cree,” she nodded her head toward the door that Cree had left through, “don’t give up on her. You know how stubborn she is, but I think you two should talk.”
She backed toward the door as he nodded.
“I agree, and we will.”
“Great and good luck,” she tossed over her shoulder before leaving the building.
When he turned around, his brother, Quincy, was there.
“Are you done messing around?” Quincy asked with a wicked grin on his face.
Tristan was three years younger, but anyone could tell they were related despite their physical differences. Both had the same skin tone with a similar eye color and stood at 6’3 with broad shoulders, but that’s where their similarities stopped. Tristan was more muscular thanks to his rigorous workouts while playing football. He also was clean-shaven and dressed more casually, while Quincy had a full beard and could almost always be found wearing a suit.
“You haven’t been here five minutes, yet you’ve managed to ruin the day of two women,” his brother cracked. “Cree looked as if she could murder you, and that other woman has to go without her afternoon coffee. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Man, shut up,” Tristan grumbled.
Laughing, Quincy held up a container that held two drinks, and in the other hand was a paper bag. “I ordered for you, and Jamal saved us a table. Are you staying or going home? You look like a wet dog.”
Tristan ignored his brother’s taunt. Yes, he looked a mess, but he didn’t have time to run home and then come back. Since he’d been the one to ask to meet up, it would be rude to bail on them.
“Nah, I’ll hang out,” he said.
Once he went home and changed, he planned to pay Cree a visit at work. She couldn’t get rid of him that easily. They were going to talk, and they were going to talk today. He wasn’t taking no for an answer no matter how much she threatened him.
Tristan unbuttoned his shirt, glad he had a T-shirt beneath it. Granted, the T-shirt was wet, but it was darker in color and didn’t look as bad.
As he followed Quincy to the dining area, a couple of people stopped him for an autograph. He had to admit these days that the requests were a nice boost to his ego. Months ago, he had learned the injury he had sustained during a football game shortly before Christmas was career-ending. He’d been devastated. Playing in the NFL had been a dream come true, and he thought when he retired, it would be by choice. Instead, he’d been forced to retire because despite his incredible recovery, he was no longer able to play at the same professional level.
“Man, you sure know how to make an entrance,” his best friend, Jamal, said when they joined him at the table.
“I guess some things never change,” Quincy added. “Even as a kid, Tristan wanted to be the center of attention. I thought for sure when he moved back here from Philly that he’d be leaving his fans behind. Apparently not. Chicago still loves him even though he abandoned them to go and play for another team.”
It was true. Tristan had only played for Chicago during his first season in the NFL, but then Philly made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. For years, he lived his dream, even though it hadn’t been for the home team. He had hoped to one day play for Chicago again, but Philly had been good to him.
Now that he was no longer in the league, and had moved back to Chicago, he hadn’t known what type of reception he’d receive. But if he was honest, there was only one person whose opinion he cared about right now, and she wanted nothing to do with him.
As they talked and drank their coffees, Tristan couldn’t help but think about his interaction with Cree. It had been years since they’d had their disagreement, and clearly, she wasn’t over it. How the hell was he going to make things right with her if she wouldn’t even give him the time of day?
“I didn’t know Cree could get any more beautiful,” Jamal said. “I almost didn’t recognize her, and that sexy ass haircut only enhances her beauty.”
