“Yeah.” Zaire’s eyes went dark. “Say it.”
She opened the folder.
“He said, and I quote…‘Cooks is a phenomenal athlete, but athletes need discipline. He struggles with accountability and… money management. He spends money on his hood and vulnerable women. Strip clubs, cars…those chains he loves to wear…’”
True stopped pacing and looked up like somebody had slapped him. This was the shit he didn’t like about the sport. If a Black man said it, it’s a lie. If anyone else says it, it’s the God honest truth. The Sports Network deciding to even give Ertan a national stage to spew hatred was beyond him. It was like they were all rooting for a Zaire to fail simply because he was unapologetically Black.
Zaire gritted his teeth while his heart pumped fire. He didn’t understand why Ertan wanted to ruin him so bad. If Ertan wanted to be a part of the team, then Ertan should’ve been a better team player. Zaire knew Ertan had to know their time was coming to a close eventually.
Kendra cleared her throat and continued.“‘When you surround yourself with people who don’t have structure or stability, it affects every decision you make. I cut ties because he wasn’t focused. He is still showing off for the hood. I wish him the best…but I couldn’t let his environment ruin both our careers, and honestly, he’s a disgrace to the association.’”
Zaire inhaled so slow it hurt. His chest inflated and deflated a slow speed.
Lesha muttered, “Mark ass bitch.” She was ready to pull up on Ertan and make him say all that fly shit to her face.
Ray shook his head. “He got some nerve.”
Kendra set the papers down with a sigh. “He didn’t mention Meadow’s name directly, but he didn’t have to…people connected the dots.”
True finally spoke up. “Let’s be clear, this ain’t ‘bout money management…this ain’t ‘bout professionalism…this is jealousy - straight jealousy.” He jabbed his pen into the table. “He mad Z fired him and landed an endorsement in less than a week. Mad he didn’t get to sign off on it. Mad he’s not part of the team no more. Pissed that my young king showed up and showed out in Mossbury and made them choke on all that anti-Black shit.”
Zaire’s eyes became hooded. There was a storm brewing inside of him. A big, violent storm he couldn’t put down like a club after a bad swing. He rubbed his forehead, eyes slipping shut. He didn’t understand why they didn’t want to just let him play. Why was giving him what he deserved, a place on the green so fucking complicated for them?
Every move he made in this world was a fight.
Every inch of peace he earned was carved out of concrete.
And now the one thing that gave him quiet…Meadow, this house, this land were being dragged through the mud because somebody he trusted chose revenge over integrity.
The guilt sat loud in his throat. He brought chaos to Meadow’s doorstep. He brought trouble to people who already carried more than their share, and he hated himself for it.
Kendra cleared her throat gently. “We need a statement. Something firm but grounded. Something that acknowledges the situation without feeding it.”
True added, “And we gotta pivot the narrative back to your game. You worked too hard to let this derail you.”
Zaire nodded but stayed silent. It all sounded like the best thing to do. It also sounded like something he shouldn’t have to do. No one brought up the other players issues. The never got on national television to air out their scandals. But when it came to him, they did it with cheeky smirks on their faces and smut on his name.
“Say something,” Lesha finally demanded, arms still crossed but voice softer. “You been holdin’ all that anger in your shoulders for an hour.”
Zaire exhaled. “I don’t care about no fuckin’ statement.” His voice was gravel…that deep, controlled tone that real fear lived under. “I care about that girl upstairs cryin’ ‘cause the world don’t know how to mind their fuckin’ business.”
The room went quiet.
“You talkin’ ‘bout an image,” he snorted, eyes sharpening, “but right now, my only image is makin’ sure she’s safe. I’m not playin’ the media game no more, not when it cost her tears.”
True nodded. “Then tell us your real priority.”
Zaire lifted his head. “My priority,” he said, “is this house…this family…this land…and Meadow. I’m already rich.” That cocky west coast shit oozed out of him.
Lesha’s mouth curved into a proud, quiet smile.
Ray pushed off the fridge and walked toward him. “Son, say what you gotta say, mean it when you say it and stand on it.” He placed a big hand on Zaire’s shoulder. “Every good man gotta decide who he fightin’ for.”
Zaire nodded, letting those words plant themselves like seeds.
Kendra tapped her tablet. “Then here’s what we suggest. We build a campaign that redirects the story. Focus on the transformation of Green Driving Range. Emphasize your connection to the land. Shine a light on Meadow’s family legacy. The narrative becomes about preservation, not scandal.”
True agreed. “We highlight the investment side. You become the athlete using his platform to protect Black land ownership. You flip the story on its head.” He picked up his phone, calling whoever to make whatever shake.
